Free Somebody Wonderful by Kate Rothwell

as near as you can get. You know that.”
    Always quick to cheer up, Daisy dimpled at him. “Michael, you are too modest. I mean you’re not a man who can’t rub two pennies together, someone who lives-to-day. I know you’re a good steady gentleman and have real plans. A policeman makes some very good money. Didn’t you say you made almost a thousand dollars a year?”
    Mick had not discussed the subject with her. Had Daisy’s father been asking around about that? “Daisy, I’m not sure I’m cut out for the work.”
    Daisy interrupted. “It’s just that Daddy is convinced you don’t make the most of your time . . . well, he called you a sap.”
    He looked at her with raised brows. She sniffed and laughed. “I declare, your scent doesn’t help, Michael.”
    They’d caught up with Lizbet by then. “Don’t you think Michael smells of a fire, Lizbet?”
    Her friend giggled and blushed. Mick deduced that Daisy had been very daring to mention such a thing. Girls in this city could be so prudish. He sometimes longed for the simpler and less refined manners of his village.
    Daisy went on, “Daddy said something to me as we left. He wondered if you’re working as a fireman as well as a policeman.”
    “Oh, that.” Mick sighed. “Yes, there was a bit of a blaze.”
    “That woman with all the children again?”
    Mick wished once more he had not introduced Daisy to Jenny when they chanced to meet in the park. He certainly wished he hadn’t mentioned the way Tucker occasionally set his bedclothes on fire.
    “ ’Twas early this morning,” Mick said. “I tried to clean up, but I’ve told you my apartment is not luxurious. I-I save my pennies for the future. Always a good plan, eh, Miss Lizbet?”
    That was the right tactic. Daisy loved to talk about her ideal future. Lizbet occasionally joined in with her own hopes and dreams. Usually Mick enjoyed hearing the girls describe life in a small house with a rose garden and with real paintings on the walls.
    “Long Island,” Lizbet said. “Lovely to be in the country.” She giggled for a full minute.
    Daisy countered with a description of a good city neighborhood.
    Today their words failed to penetrate the fog of Mick’s mind. He was still tired and distracted by the thought of Miss Calverson.
    He hoped she be gone when he returned. Why had she insisted on staying with him that morning? She had said she did not feel well, but he’d bet his last penny she felt fine.
    He should have sternly informed her he would give her money, and help her find her way back to her father at once. And no more.
    God above, what had possessed him to play the damned music for her? Mick never played for an audience. The vision of her stretched out on his bed as he washed up had affected him strongly. Something about her reminded him of the best places back home, the silent ancient woods, perhaps, or the cliffs near the sea. The smell of her, maybe. She seemed gloriously natural and unaffected, lighting up his room with her presence, making him homesick for love and . . .
    He broke off his musing, shocked at his sentimental rubbish. A woman like that, with her experienced body and sly smile—she wasn’t a bit like the girls at home.
    No doubt about it, he should have taken care of the matter of Miss Calverson before coming out to meet Daisy and Lizbet. Especially after that morning. Saints. That morning he’d been on the edge of losing control of himself in a way he hadn’t since he was a lad.
    Miss Calverson seemed to want something from him and he didn’t know what it could be. Other thn what he’d wanted from her, of course, the thought of which caused an alarming spasm of desire and answering twinge of shame as he walked with Daisy and Lizbet.
    He wondered if should he mention the existence of the woman to Daisy, who was still talking in her sweet, high voice. Now Daisy was mentioning how much she enjoyed their time together.
    “But the thing is, dear Michael, Daddy says I