The Player

by Joe Cosentino

  It was an immensely good winter break for me, meeting you and your family. The three weeks we spent together this holiday period were a true holiday indeed, the best in my life thus far. Now that I am back at university, I cannot seem to remove your image from my memory: your long raven hair, velvety skin, pink cheeks, and full ruby lips. I regret to admit I am unable to concentrate on my studies, since thoughts of you and only you permeate my consciousness. Have no fear, I was never very interested in rhetoric, Latin, and mathematics. Music has always captivated me far more, especially now that I know we share the same passion for it. I pray time moves quickly, and I very much look forward to visiting your family’s home at term’s end. Until then, respectfully yours, Niles Birtwistle.

  I glanced at Freddy. “Your father’s name was Leighton. Niles was your uncle.”

  Freddy gestured for me to keep reading.

  Opening the next letter, I continued.

  The year of 1904, the fifth day of August. My dearest Amelia, my mind is still reeling from our dances together at your family’s wonderful soiree last evening. I fear your shoes must be worn thin. Our final dance to “In the Good Old Summertime” was perfectly appropriate, since this has been the best summer of my life, spending time with you and your family. I fear my brother was frustrated trying to steal a dance with you. Thank you for including him on your dance card. Leighton is a fine chap and my very best friend. We were inseparable as boys, and we seem to be equally attached as men. Leighton is much more intelligent than me. If it weren’t for my older brother, I would have never gotten through university. I will admit he is not the athletic type. I taught him how to play rugby, swim, and boat, even saving him when our sailboat was caught in a storm. He was very much worth saving. You won’t find a more honest, upstanding brother than mine. I can say that since you don’t have a brother, though your sisters appear to be quite lovely young ladies. Be that as it may, no girl could ever hold a candle to your beauty, Amelia. When your mother asked me to play “Sweet Adeline” at your piano, I was profoundly honored, knowing Adeline is your middle name and you are so sweet. Adeline suits you so well, since it means noble. You appeared to be honored as well by my playing and by my attentiveness.

  Please believe my interest in you is nothing but sincere and upright. You have stirred the embers of love in my heart. Though I have never been in love before, I am certain what I feel is real, wonderful, and pure. I pray I am not speaking improperly or embarrassing you. I pray even more that you return my feelings. Your recent letters to me in response cause me to believe you do. If I am correct, I request that you meet me in your family’s boathouse tomorrow evening at nine. I assure you my intentions are entirely honorable. My wish is to share my fondness for you and to hopefully plan our future together should your father approve of me. Until then, I stand in anxious and jubilant anticipation. With deep respect, admiration, and dare I say love, yours if you’ll have me, Niles.

  I dropped the letter on the desk. “Freddy, I don’t understand. Your mother married your father.”

  His voice was thin and quivering. “Read on.”

  The year of 1904, the seventh day of August. My dearest Amelia, I am writing as a man deeply in love. As you well know, I am a musician and not a poet, but every beat of my heart beats for you. There has never been a woman more beautiful, captivating, and spellbinding. You hold the key to my heart in your delicate palm to do with it as you see fit. No man who ever lived was happier than me when we promised our love to each other in the boathouse last night with the moonlight sealing our pledge. I pray I did not dishonor you when our passions overtook us. Please be assured my intentions were and continue to be entirely honorable. I have made an appointment for this afternoon to speak with your father and ask him for your hand in marriage. I can’t imagine why he would agree. Unlike my brother, who has begun investigating a future for himself in the railroad industry, I have no such noble ambition. I would be content to play the piano and write songs about you for eternity, provided you were happily singing by my side. Speaking of my brother, when I told him about my appointment with your father, Leighton appeared somewhat miffed. I believe he fancies you himself. I can hardly blame him for that. What man would not fall in love with such a perfect woman? It pleases me that you are so pleasant and cordial to him. Perhaps my brother will become a suitor for one of your sisters. That would be wonderful.

  I can hardly wait to play the new song I wrote for you. After I speak with your father, let us meet in your family’s music room so I can play it for you and hopefully share the good news of your father’s agreement. Until then, love of my life, with deepest gratitude and adoration, your Niles.

  Shocked at what I had read, I turned to Freddy.

  “The remaining letters contain plans for the wedding, which never occurred. Skip to the last letter.”

  With my hands shaking, I did as Freddy asked and carefully slid out the last letter.

  The year of 1904, the third day of November. My dearest Amelia, Thank you for the letters and visits. Please thank your mother and sisters for the soup and blankets. I cannot say I understand all of Dr. Warren’s explanations about congenital heart disease. It seems to be progressing even faster than he predicted, with first getting out of bed and now breathing becoming more and more difficult. My brother has sat at my bedside ever since I first fainted and Dr. Warren was summoned. Leighton told me he feels guilty for not being the brother who inherited this disease. That is so much like Leighton to be only concerned about me.

  I was relieved after the three of us agreed about your future. The last thing I would want is to bring scandal to your family. Dr. Warren promised to keep our secret, and when the time comes, he will tell everyone the birth was premature. You will fare much better indeed with my brother as a husband now that he has begun to make a name for himself in the railroads. I believe him when he declares his love for you. Who wouldn’t love you? I also believe your gratitude and admiration for him will soon turn to love and affection. Leighton is a very easy person to love. What a relief it is for me to know you and our child will have my last name. I know you and my brother will provide him with a home filled with love. I realize I called our child a him. I am secretly hoping for a boy. If God graces us as so, I hope you and Leighton will name him after my father, Frederick. I also secretly desire that the child will love music, like his mother and father. It is my request that he grows up believing Leighton is his father, but please tell him about me. Hopefully he will feel my love for him through your stories of the man who loved music, loved his brother, and loved his brother’s wife. Since I fear I will not wake up again after I lay my head on the pillow tonight, I will end this letter. In deep devotion and everlasting love, yours and our child’s forever until we meet again in the Sweet By and By, Niles Birtwistle.

  With my heart pounding in my chest, I ran over to Freddy. He rose and accepted my embrace. “Freddy, I had no idea.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Are you all right?” I sat him down on the bed next to me.

  Nodding, he said, “I’ve been thinking this through. My parents always spoke so highly of my father’s deceased brother. Now I understand why.”

  “Because Niles was your birth father.” I placed my arm around him. “Are you angry with your parents for not telling you the truth?”

  He seemed surprised by his own answer. “I thought I was upset, but Andre, I’m relieved.”

  “Why?”

  He tented his fingers. “My parents loved me dearly, but it always concerned me how different I was from my father—the staunch businessman. As it turns out, I was very much like my father, Niles. My mother honored his memory by not telling me the truth.”

  “Yet she left Niles’s letters in her desk.”

  He nodded again. “No doubt assuming I would find them after my parents were in the sweet by-and-by with Niles.”

  I kissed his cheek. “This must be quite an adjustment for you, finding out your uncle was your father an
d vice versa.”

  “I don’t see it that way. Three people created me and adored me. Sadly, I never got to know one of them, but as Niles had requested in his letters, my parents’ stories about him brought Niles to life for me, especially since he and I were so much alike.”

  “Did your mother ever show you a picture of Niles?”

  “No.” Freddy stood and reached into the desk drawer. “But I found this.” He showed me a yellowed, frayed photograph.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Freddy, he looks just like you!”

  “Pretty airtight, isn’t he?”

  I giggled, rising to my feet. “Are you sure you’re okay with all this?”

  “Surprisingly, my answer is a resounding yes. My parents did the right thing all those years ago. Now I need to do the right thing as well.”

  I took his hand. “What is that?”

  “Honor my family: Leighton, Amelia, Charlotte, and Niles.”

  “I know they would all be proud of you too.”

  “Proud of a dewdropper?”

  “Yes, a dewdropper who cares about others, solved a murder mystery back in Hoboken, and most importantly, is my dewdropper.”

  We shared a lengthy kiss. After we parted, Freddy’s eyes seemed to double in size. “That’s it!”

  “What’s it?”

  “The key to our current mystery. Turn on the magic box!”

  I sat at the desk behind my laptop with Freddy hovering over me. “What would you like me to look up?” After following Freddy’s orders, I moved the screen in his direction.

  Next, he told me to use my cell phone. At the conclusion of the call, Freddy snapped his fingers. “My pal Aggie Christie was right! The most obvious answer is generally the correct one.” He brought me to my feet. “I have a plan.” After Freddy explained his theory on who committed the murder in his country home and why, he instructed me to visit Zian’s room.

  “Are you sure you want me to leave?”

  He nodded. “I need a bit more time alone to digest my true parentage. So please do as I ask and confront the murderer. And be careful!”

  “I will, Freddy.” I offered him a big hug and left the room.

  Chapter Nine

  ZIAN CRACKED his door open. “Hi, Andre. What’s up?”

  “Can I come in for a minute?”

  “I’m… kind of in the middle of something. What do you need?”

  “When you spoke to Cynthia about having worked for her, you said she mentioned something to you about her past.”

  He nodded. “Cynthia said the Lord had forgiven all the sins of her past.”

  “Thanks, Zian.” I winked at him. “Enjoy your time with Kelly.” After smiling at the shocked expression on his face, I ran back down the hall and knocked on the door of room five.

  Gabriel answered, looking disheveled. “Hi, Andre. Is there any news about Cynthia’s murder?”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  He opened the door and we sat on the armchairs. “What’s going on?”

  “I just came from Zian’s room.”

  He sighed. “Zian’s a nice guy, but like I said, I’m not interested in a relationship now.”

  “Zian knows that. He also confirmed something else for me… about Cynthia Butler Russell.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I thought I remembered overhearing Cynthia mention to Nelson how she had made some mistakes as a young woman living in Cold Spring. She told Zian the Lord had forgiven all of her past sins.”

  “Okay?”

  “Sherry Butler mentioned her mother had pushed her sister to stay with their aunt Elspeth in her private home in Stowe, Vermont, during the summer of Cynthia’s senior year in high school. My computer search found an Elspeth Butler still living in Stowe, Vermont. Evidently, Jim and Nelson had neglected to notify her of Cynthia’s death. When I phoned, as an acquaintance of Cynthia’s, to offer her aunt my condolences, she was quite upset but also very appreciative. So grateful in fact, she took my bait and reminisced about Cynthia’s life—including the summer Cynthia had her baby in Vermont and then put it up for adoption. I think one of the ‘mistakes’ Cynthia referred to was getting pregnant in high school by her quarterback boyfriend.”

  He asked, “What does that have to do with me?”

  “A great deal. Cynthia was forty-five. You came here from Vermont in summer—the day after your twenty-seventh birthday. When I asked if you had searched for your biological parents, you told me you’d found nothing ‘worthwhile.’ I assumed you’d meant your investigation led nowhere, but now I realize you meant your birth mother wasn’t worthwhile.”

  His eyes were wild and questioning. “Andre, what are you talking about?”

  “Gabriel, when you were a child, your adoptive parents let their son abuse you. As an adult, after reaching a point in your therapy when you were ready to find your birth parents, you hired the agency to find them. I assume your father is either no longer alive or wouldn’t see you. However, you discovered your mother owned a bed-and-breakfast. So you gave yourself a birthday present—confronting her. Yesterday, I overheard Cynthia say to you, ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.’ You replied, ‘I understand.’ At the time, I thought you had asked Cynthia for directions somewhere or perhaps the historical background of a local landmark. But neither of those scenarios were true.”

  Fear filled his sweet face. “You don’t understand!”

  “I think I do. When you told Cynthia she was your birth mother, Cynthia said the same thing to you she had told Zian about her mistreatment of him as her past employee. The past is the past. It’s over. And she doesn’t want to remember it.”

  Gabriel’s face drained of color.

  “So late at night with Jim and Nelson upstairs, you knocked on the door of the Russells’ private office and confronted Cynthia again. Your mother rejected you a second time. Recalling how you were beaten by your adoptive brother, you must have blamed Cynthia for giving you up, become mad with rage when she again showed no remorse, and killed her in an act of revenge.”

  Gabriel rested his head in his hands and rocked back and forth. “As a kid, when my adoptive parents didn’t love me, I always wondered about my birth parents. Who were they? Why did they give me up? Did they love me and miss me? Would they come get me one day? And when my brother beat me, all I could think about was how it would have been different if my parents had kept me.” He looked up at me with tears streaming down his face. “Andre, after all my years of therapy, I had finally come to terms with my childhood. And I was ready to meet my birth parents. The agency I hired found them after only three months. My father had passed away from drug and alcohol abuse. But my mom was alive—and running a bed-and-breakfast in upstate New York. I couldn’t wait to meet her, cry in her arms, and work toward recovery and forgiveness—together.”

  “But your mother wanted nothing to do with you.”

  His thin body tightened. “She said I was a foolish mistake from her past that God has erased, and Nelson was her son—her only son. I was nothing more than a guest at her inn.” He grimaced. “I woke from a nightmare last night. I decided to confront her, tell my mother how much her rejection hurt me and how I had suffered at the hands of my adoptive family. When she let me into her private office, she asked me not to tell her husband, son, or sister. She said her family meant everything to her, and she didn’t want any of them to get hurt.” He sobbed. “Her family! That’s who she cared about. Not her first-born son!”

  “What did you do?”

  “I heard myself scream at her, call her names. She told me to leave her office, her inn, and her life. I saw the letter opener on the desk, and the next thing I knew, I was standing over her bloody body. I was terrified. Shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I thought about how my mother was able to forget her past and live only for the future, so I decided to do the same thing. Like mother, like son. When you found me, I said I was sleepwalking and I knew nothing about who killed
Cynthia. You believed me. I thought others would too. And I was right. Even my therapist bought it! But as time went on, it became harder for me to keep my secret. Every minute seemed like an hour, and every hour went by as if it were a year. As Kelly questioned me, I started feeling guilty, hating myself as much as I hated my mother. It was tearing me apart. I just want it to stop!”

  “And it can.” Taking his hand, I said, “Gabriel, you’ve been so upset since you got here. Your past and present have been incredibly painful, but your future can eventually get better.”

  He cocked his head at me, and a tear dropped onto my hand. “How?”

  “Come with me to Zian’s room. Detective Kelly is there. You can tell him what you told me. Kelly will get you the help you need.”

  He shook his head, and thin blond wisps of hair sliced the air around us. “I don’t want to face this alone, Andre.”

  “You won’t. I’ll be with you. Right at your side. Every step of the way.”

  “Promise you won’t leave me?”

  “I promise.”

  “Andre, I’m scared. I don’t want to go to prison.”

  I put my arm around him. “Kelly’s an honest, fair man. He’ll do what’s best. Zian will support you too.” I lifted him from his seat. “Come on, let’s go talk to them.”

  Gabriel collapsed into my chest, and I walked him to the door.

  He paused at the doorway. “Andre, thank you for being my friend.”

  I squeezed his shoulder and led him down the hall. As I knocked on Zian’s door, I silently thanked Freddy for being right about Gabriel, and for being the man of my dreams.

  Epilogue

  THREE MONTHS later, Freddy and I sat cuddling on the chaise in our Hoboken, New Jersey, apartment. As we gazed out the balcony window at the apricot and cardinal colored leaves falling from the trees, I rested my head on his strong shoulder. Gold and lilac flames danced in the fireplace as the sun cast a streak of lava over the distant river and mountains. Freddy looked amazing in his usual Roaring Twenties suit, but I was dressed more comfortably in my long white T-shirt and briefs. He squeezed me in closer to him. “Did Nelson communicate with you on the magic box today?”