“You can do what? Pay me to stay away? The way Pierre’s family pays him not to go home? No, thank you, I already owe you far too much, I’d not—”
“Dammit, Katy, you don’t owe me anything!” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “What do you know about Pierre? I wasn’t aware that the two of you were particularly close.”
“Tara said—”
“Ahhh. Tara said.” Arms crossed over his chest, he rocked back on his boot heels. “And what else did Tara say? Has she told you yet about the explosion that’s going to rock the waterfront in a couple of days?”
“An explosion? Merciful saints, did she say that?”
“That and a lot of other bilge.”
“It’s not bilge. Not always. She was right about the sickness.”
“She called it cholera.”
“To be sure, she might have mistook what she saw and said it wrong, but she saw it right. The moaning and misery and sickness and all.”
“To be sure,” he acknowledged.
Katy examined his words for mockery and found none. “But there’s no mistaking an explosion,” she stated flatly. “Was it aboard one of the boats? Have you told the authorities?”
He shook his head slowly. “Katy, Katy. Do you know what day this is?”
She looked perplexed. “Thursday?”
“Right. Thursday the second of July. And every Fourth of July, we have a big fireworks exhibit. Rockets flying, exploding powder, shooting sparks. In other words, an explosion. A regular explosion of explosions.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m sure she meant well, but she didn’t realize how we celebrate our independence every year, with fireworks. It’s only natural—”
“That she did! We know all about your Independence Day. It’s all there in the encyclopedia, even the exploding fireworks. She forgot, that’s all, but you can’t say she was wrong.”
His features relaxed. As the fine lines around his eyes eased, the creases in either cheek deepened. “No, I suppose I can’t, but, Katy, back to the point—are you sure you want to work for Bellfort? You don’t have to put yourself before the public and—and—”
“Make a fool of myself?” Hurt the size of a fist clogged her throat. She told herself it was anger.
“That’s not what I said. Katy, I don’t want you to feel as if you have to do something you’re not comfortable doing just because you feel responsible for your sister.”
“I am responsible for Tara. I never asked you to—”
“That’s right, you never asked me for anything, did you?” Without giving her a chance to argue, he went on to say, “You show up out of the blue and I’m supposed to dump you out at the nearest boardinghouse and forget about you, is that it? Katy, give me credit for—”
“If it’s credit you’re wanting, sir, then it’s yours, but I’m the one with the duty.” She was mortified, but determined not to show it. Head held high, she faced him bravely, challenge in every inch of her body.
Arms crossed over his chest, he glowered down at her. Sparks flew. A dangerously short fuse sparkled between them. Galen ground his teeth, while Katy fought back tears. Tears of anger, not of disappointment. Why did he have to go and remind her of all she owed him now? Now, when she desperately needed his support? The least he could have done, she told herself, was to wish her luck.
But it wasn’t wishes she wanted from this maddening, meddling man. Her heart knew the truth, even if her mind refused to accept it.
He looked her over, from the tip of her black kid slippers, to the crown of her newly styled hair, taking in everything in between, from the simple stylishness of her new yellow sprigged gown to the ragged patches of color that suddenly bloomed in her cheeks.
Slowly, he shook his head. “I can’t talk to you anymore. You used to be fairly reasonable, but in a matter of days you’ve turned into a stranger. I don’t even know you.” And then he turned and left her.
She was tempted to hurl something at him, to grab that streak of white hair with both fists and yank it out by the roots. To shake him until his teeth rattled, and bury herself in his arms.
Reasonable? She had never felt so unreasonable in her entire life!
But the anger faded almost as swiftly as it had arisen, leaving only a hollow sort of bitterness in its place. A sense of loss. She told herself it was only seeing him here so unexpectedly. Why couldn’t he have wished her luck? Why couldn’t he have said, Katy, I like your songs. Katy, you’re looking pretty in your new dress. Katy, I’m sorry you left, but I’m that glad you’re doing well.
“Aye, and, Katy, your wits have gone wandering,” she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and marched off in search of Tara. Evidently the child had gone visiting again. She spent entirely too much time aboard the Queen. It would have to stop, only Katy didn’t know how to forbid it without explaining, or how to explain what she didn’t understand herself.
The Katy who had come to America so full of hopes and dreams and fears had been a different woman. Or perhaps only the hopes and dreams had changed.
They sailed the next morning with a full load of passengers. Scores of children of all ages crowded the railing to watch the town slip away as they left the protected harbor. Little girls waved or cried, depending on their ages and temperaments. Little boys poked each other in the shoulders. Nursemaids threatened naps, promised treats, and warned against flying sparks and falling overboard, with Tara in the thick of it all, making friends with the older children.
Most of the women were inside, either getting settled in one of the passenger compartments or lolling about the ladies’ lounge, looking over the latest selection of books or exchanging gossip with friends. As for the men, they were already getting down to the serious business of gambling.
Katy stood apart, waiting for the first sign of seasickness. Through the thin soles of her shoes she could feel the vibrations, sense the urgency as the boiler worked up a full head of steam. To think that not too long ago, the only form of travel she’d ever known was a pony cart and the occasional day trip in one of the village fishing boats to one of the tiny islands that dotted the bay. Since then she’d journeyed on ships and trains, and even an automobile. She wished her mother could see her now.
Nervous about her first public performance, she clung to the thought that Captain Bellfort must have known what he was doing when he’d hired her, even if she didn’t. And it wasn’t as if she’d be entertaining the entire group. Her audience would consist of women and a few of the older children.
She told herself it was all wildly exciting. That she was the luckiest woman in the world, to be paid good wages for doing no more than singing a few songs. She told herself that from now on she’d be far too busy to think about Galen. That he was a part of her past, not her future.
And she wondered why she didn’t feel more elated.
At least her belly felt just fine. As the Belle moved out onto the river proper, there was no sign of queasiness. As for stage fright, her father used to say, “Katy, me girl, the higher ye roost, the easier ye are to knock off yer perch.”
She wasn’t about to set her heart on a singing career. All the same, eight dollars a night for as long as it lasted would move her a good bit closer to her dream.
*
Tara was happy as a grig. “It’s nothing at all like home,” she exclaimed over and over. Warm, sandy beaches sloping gently down to the water. Children romping about in swimming suits while their nursemaids tried to keep up with them.
During the morning, Katy ran over her music with Casey one last time. The closer she came to her debut—that was what Captain Jack called it—the more her belly tightened up. By the time she walked through the room that evening, a brittle smile fixed on her face, and took her place beside the piano, she had to remind herself to breathe.
The lights had been lowered so that only the first row of chairs could be easily seen. It helped. Tara had a front row seat, not because she was eager to sit
through songs she’d heard all her life, but because Katy had insisted. “Just this one time, and I’ll not ask it of you again. I’m nervous, Tara. Shaking in me slippers, truth be told.”
“Ha , I can always tell when you’re scared. You talk like Da.”
“You’ll do it, then?”
“Can I eat cookies in bed?”
They had a running argument about eating in bed. “Just for tonight—”
“And tomorrow night.”
“All right, but you’ll have to sweep away every last crumb.”
“Heather’ll eat all the crumbs. She likes cookies.”
Katy rolled her eyes. Jack BeIlfort couldn’t possibly have known what he was taking on when he’d hired Katy and her dependents. She only hoped he never learned that Tara had already made friends with his kitchen staff, and bribed one of the waiters to supply her with milk and scraps for Heather and whatever was left over in the way of sweets at the end of the day.
Just then, Casey struck the opening chords of “The Lark in the Morning.” Katy closed her eyes, lifted her head, and pictured herself back home at her own hearth, with Tara just outside the door and Da whistling his way up the path for supper.
*
Galen stayed until the very last notes faded away. The handful of men who’d been coerced into accompanying their wives had slipped out along about the third or fourth song. Even at that, he had an idea they’d stayed longer than they’d planned on staying.
Easy to see why. She was spellbinding. Not that he hadn’t heard better voices—trained voices, with a far more sophisticated style—but never had he heard sheer magic woven around a few simple themes.
The accompanist knew better than to even try to follow her, much less to lead. He wondered if Katy had even noticed when he’d left off playing altogether.
“ ‘Tis a sad song, but then, the best ones are always sad,” she’d told her audience after a lament for a lost sailor. He wondered if she was thinking about her father.
Galen found himself wondering quite a lot of things as Katy shyly thanked her audience for their patience and stepped down off the low platform. One of the things he wondered most of all was what the devil he was doing here, with a dozen different things back in town clamoring for his attention.
He knew the instant she saw him. Her jaw fell and her eyes widened. Every vestige of color drained from her face, reminding him of the way she’d looked the first time he’d seen her. He could have kicked himself for so thoughtlessly spoiling her triumph.
Someone had turned up the lights once the performance was ended, and now women were stirring about, moving over to the bookshelves, or to the table where coffee, tea, and assorted cakes were being served.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
He could have told her he was here because he couldn’t stay away. He could have told her he just happened to be in the neighborhood. He could have said any of a dozen things, but he said nothing at all.
The truth was, he didn’t know why he was here. He only knew that when he’d watched Bellfort’s boat churn its way past the point, he’d felt something akin to panic. Earlier that morning he’d seen the sloop that distributed freight, mail, and a few passengers along the Outer Banks. Galen had met the ferryman when he’d first come south looking for Brand. At least once or twice a year since then he hitched a ride on the rugged skipjack to visit his old friends, the Merriweathers, at a place called Merriweather’s Landing on Pea Island. Nags Head was one of the stops along the way.
He’d watched Katy sail away, seen Pam’s skipjack tied up at the Globe Fish Market dock, and acted on impulse.
“You’re good,” he said quietly.
“Thank you.”
He’d seen more give in a piece of tungsten steel. When had things changed between them? He’d thought they were friends. “By that I mean, you’re well worth whatever Bellfort’s paying you. If l said anything yesterday to make you think—”
“It doesn’t matter. Is Aster here with you?”
A bark of laughter erupted from his throat. “God, no! What makes you think I’d bring her along?”
She shrugged, and he noticed the way light from the gimballed brass lamp shone down on her shoulders, making her skin gleam like pearl.
“Katy, could we go somewhere and talk?” The women in the room were beginning to send them curious looks.
“I’d better see where Tara went, she rushed out before I’d even finished.”
“Probably just getting ahead of the stampede.” Horrified at what he’d implied, he stammered a retraction. “I didn’t mean—that is, I only meant—”
“There now, I understand what you meant. Sure, and I lost half my audience before I even got to the song about crowing women and cackling men, and it was the best one of the lot.” She smiled the kind of smile that should have made him feel better, but didn’t. She was being tolerant. Dammit, he didn’t want her tolerance, he wanted her—
He wanted her.
“Come along, we’ll go out on deck. I could do with a bit of air.”
Galen tugged at his collar. He could do with a bit of air himself, only he had a feeling it wouldn’t help what ailed him. Somewhere along the way, without realizing when it had started, he’d got so all he had to do was see her, to catch a drift of her subtle wildflower fragrance, to become instantly aroused.
Compared to the more fashionable cutaway morning jacket, a frock coat had its uses.
He led her outside, up a set of stairs that led to the third deck balcony. At this hour of the evening, it was all but deserted.
“Are you staying aboard the Belle? Why haven’t I seen you?”
“I’m staying over tonight at the hotel. Tomorrow I’ll catch a ride back with the ferryman who dropped me off here.”
“Mmm.”
He noticed she’d forgotten about Tara. He’d like to believe it was because she had her mind focused on him, but with a woman like Katy, a man couldn’t afford to take anything for granted. The more he came to know her, the more he realized that her mind didn’t work the way most women’s minds worked, and he fancied himself something of an expert on the workings of a woman’s mind.
“So . . . have you given up on the notion of having your own shop?”
“Not a bit of it. Once I earn enough to repay you for our passage, I’ll be setting aside every penny I can spare. I’ve thought of a name, but I’m not sure it’s quite right.”
Galen hunched his shoulders, gazing out at the glow of torches along the shore. “Katy, I told you, you don’t owe me anything. I wanted to pay your passage. It made me feel—but you know all that. We’ve been over it before.”
“That we have. I’ll not take charity when I can earn my own way. You did what you thought best. Are you begrudging me the same right?”
Exasperated, he started to explain, thought better of it, and set off on a new tack. “I don’t know how it is in Ireland, I wasn’t there long enough to learn much about your ways, but, Katy, women here don’t set themselves up in business. It’s just not done.”
“Mrs. Baggot did it.”
“That’s different. Inez is a widow.” Besides, while it wasn’t common knowledge, she had a backer with whom she shared more than a business relationship.
“Aster did it. She’s not a widow.”
“You’re not Aster.”
“No, I’m not. Aster doesn’t have a younger sister depending on her. What would you have us do, line up on the wharf and wait along with the others for one of Willy’s baskets?”
He opened his mouth, discovered he didn’t have a ready retort, at least not one he cared to offer, and then muttered something under his breath when a couple strolled past, holding hands and murmuring softly.
Katy waited until they were out of earshot, and then she said, “There now, you’ve said your say, and I’ve listened. Galen, it’s not that I want to be troublesome, but I’ll not let you marry me off to a stranger just to ease your conscience. You might as
well go back, for I’ll not change my mind on it, m that stubborn.”
He felt like shaking her. Never in his entire life had any woman been able to rattle him so easily. Didn’t the little fool even realize how unreasonable she was being? “Fine, then if you won’t marry a stranger, you can marry me!”
He didn’t know which one of them was more stunned. If he could’ve bitten back the words, he would have swallowed them whole, but it was too late.
Her head came up another few notches. There was a dangerous glitter in her eyes. “I thank you for asking me. To be sure, it’s a great honor you’re offering, but you’re no more wanting a wife than I’m wanting a husband.”
And if that didn’t put him in his place, Galen didn’t know what it would take. Feeling lower than a snake, he waited for relief to overtake him. When it didn’t, he resorted to anger.
“Then go ahead and ruin your life. Make yourself the talk of the town. Take away Tara’s chance of growing up in a respectable home with a decent family, just don’t expect me to keep on coming to your rescue.”
“I never expected that of you,” she said quietly.
“Fine!” He’d never felt so impotent in all his life. To think he’d actually asked a woman to marry him. Katy O’Sullivan, of all people.
To think she’d refused him!
Wheeling away, he stalked off toward the main stairway. Halfway there, he turned and strode back to where Katy stood rooted to the deck, eyes glittering like wet jade. Words churned in his head and his heart, fighting for expression.
“Fine! Tell Tara I said good-bye.” Dammit, that wasn’t what he wanted to say.
“I will.”
He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again. How the devil could she look so calm and composed with tears streaking down her cheeks? What the hell did she have to cry about, anyway? He was the one who’d just been rejected.
“And—and tell her to stay off the Queen. She’s been over there every day this week.”
“I’ll tell her she’s no longer welcome there.”
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