“I know!”
There was wallpaper on the walls, curtains on the windows, and a rug on the floor beneath a table set with miniature cups and saucers, and chairs where Betsy and two other dolls sat.
“Here!” Elsie picked up a cup and held it out to him.
He took the cup and pretended to drink something out of it. “Delicious tea. Thank you.” Handing her back the cup, he said, “I believe Betsy wants some.”
“Oh, yes!” Elsie picked up the tiny pot and pretended to pour into the cups on the table.
Laughing, he backed out of the doorway. “Good job,” he said to Sean and the others. Then, looking at Bridget, he asked, “Does Copper’s house have wallpaper and curtains, too?”
Her laughter floated on the air. “No, but he does have a rug.”
“We didn’t expect you home tonight, Master Karl,” Willard said. “Mary will have something ready for you to eat shortly.”
Everyone departed quietly, leaving just him and Bridget outside the playhouse while Elsie and her dolls had a tea party inside.
“I believe she likes it,” he said.
“She loves it. And figured out what it was before it was done.” A serious expression formed. “How was the inquiry? Has it ended?”
“No, it’ll be going for days, yet. And I’m convinced the outcome is pretty well set.”
“Set?”
“Yes, there will be recommendations for lifeboats, radio coverage, design changes, but other than that, it will just become an accident, history.”
“Those things could prevent it from happening again, and that is what you wanted to happen,” she said.
“They could.”
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
He looked at her, at how she had her head tilted to one side as if to really listen, her brows drawn downward, thoughtfully. How beautiful she was. Truly beautiful. “I’m happy with the outcome of other things.”
“Your trust fund,” she said.
He nodded but stepped closer, took ahold of her hand, threaded his fingers through hers. “And other things. I’m happy with the playhouse. I’m happy with Copper. With how well Elsie has come through the ordeal, and it’s all because of you. Accident or not, none of that would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”
“I didn’t do any of those things. You did.”
He could feel the pulse in her wrist. Quick, but solid, steady. Like her. “Yes, you did, and I want those things to continue.” Feeling a bit unsteady, he planted his feet firmer in the ground. “I want you to continue to be Elsie’s nanny. Even when Mrs. Conrad returns. It’s time for her to receive a pension. She will continue to live here upon her return, help when needed, but be able to relax.”
She pinched her lips together and looked away. Her hand began to tremble.
“Bridget?”
“I can’t stay here, Karl,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
Chapter Fourteen
The amount of the check surprised Karl and pushed his anger to another level. Was his mother now trying to buy herself into his life? The exact same way she’d sold her way out of it. That shouldn’t surprise him. No more than Bridget saying she couldn’t stay. She’d told him that from the beginning. How she was going to Chicago to open a boardinghouse.
He sat back in his chair, ran a hand through his hair. Soon. That’s what she’d said. She’d be leaving soon. He had to let her go, but damn it, he didn’t want to.
His jaw set as someone knocked on the door. It opened before he had a chance to unlock his back teeth to say he was busy.
“I need to talk to you,” Bridget said, entering the room.
He remained in his chair, watched her walk to the davenport. Talking to her right now was not on his agenda. He’d told himself he couldn’t be mad at her, and he really wasn’t, but he was disappointed. More than he wanted to admit.
“Willard said he told you about your mother’s visit,” she said.
Karl turned his chair to face her. “Yes, he told me about it.”
“Did he mention that she left a check for your trust fund?”
He reached over, picked up the check, waved it and dropped it back down. “I’ll be sending it back to her.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want her to have anything to do with Elsie.”
“She is Elsie’s grandmother. You and your mother are the only two people she has now.”
She could have you. He bit the tip of his tongue to keep that thought to himself. “I will have to be enough.”
“People can change, Karl,” she said softly. “You said you’ve changed.”
“She’ll never change.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know her.”
She stood and walked closer, until she stood near the corner of his desk. “You know, Karl, there are two sides to every story, and both sides are the truth. The truth as they each saw it. Like the accident. How people saw things differently than others. Like the boat I thought I saw.”
“You did see it,” he said. “It came up at the inquiry. It was a fishing boat. A sealer from Norway, but they were seal fishing in illegal waters. The ship’s owner says they were nowhere near, but men on the ship reported seeing the flares and lights of the Titanic.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Two sides to every story, even from men on the same ship.”
He knew what she was implying and it took all he had to not stand up, to not slap the desk. “What did my mother say to you? Not that it matters. It was all lies.”
She avoided his gaze. “Even if it was lies, would it hurt for Elsie to know her? Did it hurt you to know her?”
He couldn’t stay seated. Storming toward the fireplace, he said, “Hell yes.” He slapped the mantel. “And therefore, no, Elsie doesn’t need to know her.”
“I don’t want to upset you. I already did that today.”
It was his turn to keep his eyes averted. She had upset him. Disappointed him. Hurt him. In a way he’d never been upset, disappointed or hurt before. Not even by his mother. “Then end this conversation,” he said.
“I can’t. Elsie means too much to me. You mean too much to me.”
“But not enough to stay.” That was out before he could stop it.
“I would if I could, but I can’t. My cousin Martha sent me a train ticket. She’s expecting me to arrive as soon as possible.”
That was like a punch to the gut. He’d said he’d pay for her ticket, and would. Just like he’d promised. Damn it!
“When your mother left yesterday, she said she’d be back,” she said quietly.
He heard her words like a shout. “She always comes back.”
“I told her if I was in her shoes, I’d be back, too. In fact, if what had happened to her, happened to me, if someone denied me the opportunity to watch my children grow, denied me the opportunity to be with the people I love...”
He turned, looked at her. She was shaking her head, with three fingers pressed to her mouth.
“Forgive me,” she said. “But it wasn’t right. What your father did wasn’t right. Not to her and not to you. And it’s not right for you to do it to Elsie.” Her hair flipped as she spun around and walked out of the room.
He didn’t attempt to follow, because once again he was disappointed. He wished she’d have gotten mad. Cursed him. Instead, she’d looked sad, heartbroken.
He knew the feeling.
Damn it.
He crossed the room, opened the drawer and pulled out the calling card his mother had left. Enough was enough. He was putting an end to this. Hurting him was one thing, but he wouldn’t let her or anyone else hurt Bridget, or Elsie.
* * *
The slam of his office door reverberated up her spine. Bridget held on to the railing tighter as she c
ontinued walking up the stairs, until she heard the front door slam, as well. Her feet stalled and she squeezed her eyes shut. What had she been thinking? He’d already been upset when she’d said she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t stay, but she could hope that he would look at both sides as to what happened years ago.
She didn’t know his father’s side of the story, but she had believed his mother.
Upsetting him, hurting him, made her throat swell and her eyes burn. She loved him. That was for sure.
She walked up the final few steps of the stairway, and then down the hall to check on Elsie. Both girl and puppy were sound asleep, and after several long moments of watching them, Bridget went across the hall into her room.
The letter from Martha was on her desk. Bridget sat, pulled out a piece of paper and picked up a pen. She tried to imagine what it would be like to have the freedom to say she wasn’t traveling to Chicago, that she was staying in New York.
She’d never thought of it that way. Not having the freedom, but that’s what it felt like right now. Flustered, she dropped the pen and stood. Paced the floor. She didn’t have the freedom to love Karl, either. Moments ago, in his office, she’d wanted to hug him, but couldn’t. It was all so confusing. She’d cared about people her entire life, and yet now that she’d found the man who made her heart skip rope, a man she wanted to love forever, she couldn’t because she had to fulfill her promises.
Huffing out a breath, she sat at the desk again and picked up the pen. A thank-you for the ticket and money needed to come first, so that was where she started.
Several times.
So many times there was a pile of scrunched up papers in the small basket near her feet when she heard an odd thudding sound.
She hurried out of the room, peeked in Elsie’s room, even though the sound was on the staircase, and then quickly walked down the hallway.
An elderly woman with snow-white hair and a cane was slowly making her way up the steps, with Willard carrying two suitcases behind her.
“Bridget,” he said, “This is Sarah Conrad. She just arrived at the pier and caught a taxi home.”
Bridget’s heart sank at the same time it filled with empathy. She hurried down the steps, stopping next to the woman whose foot was in a thick plaster cast. “Hello, Mrs. Conrad. May I help you?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” the woman answered, breathing hard. “Just got to get upstairs. To Elsie. Poor thing must be missing me terribly.”
A wave of guilt washed over Bridget because Elsie hadn’t asked about Mrs. Conrad lately. “May I carry your purse for you?”
Mrs. Conrad stopped. “Oh, yes, yes.” She huffed out a breath. “That would help.”
Bridget took the purse, which weighed more than Copper, and walked beside the woman up the stairs, close enough to grasp Mrs. Conrad’s arm if needed. Both Annette, on the ship, and Karl, today, had said Mrs. Conrad was getting older, but Bridget had still expected someone slightly younger.
They paused at the top of the stairs for Mrs. Conrad to catch her breath, then proceeded down the hall.
Copper woke up as they entered the bedroom and let out a growl.
“What on earth!” Mrs. Conrad hissed.
“That’s Copper,” Bridget whispered, checking to make sure that Elsie hadn’t been awoken.
“Master Karl bought him for the little miss,” Willard whispered.
Mrs. Conrad let out a “humph,” but didn’t say more as they got her settled in her room.
“I told her that Mary and I had a room in our apartment for her, but she insisted upon coming up here,” Willard said a short time later, in the hallway.
“She was worried about Elsie,” Bridget said. “Maybe once she sees all is fine, she’ll be more willing to not climb those steps again.” Her heart did go out to Mrs. Conrad. She obviously cared a great deal about Elsie, about the entire Wingard family. Bridget did, too. “Has Karl returned?”
“No, I’m not sure where he went.”
Bridget had an idea, but wasn’t completely sure. “You were here when his mother left, weren’t you?”
“Yes, yesterday, when she left.”
“No, I mean when he was a child.”
His shoulders squared and he bowed his head. “Yes, Miss, I was. Good night, now.”
She grasped his arm and shook her head. “Don’t turn into a butler on me now.” She wouldn’t be able to leave until things had been repaired. “Karl’s father is gone, but his mother is still alive. For his sake and Elsie’s, I think everyone should know the truth.”
“That was a long time ago,” Willard said.
“Old wounds can still heal, if given the opportunity.” She wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to. “You don’t have to tell me anything. But Karl deserves your loyalty now, not his father. And so does Elsie.”
He stood still for some time and then nodded. “You are correct.” Grinning, he added, “Bridget.”
She squeezed his arm. “Sunshine always follows rain,” she whispered, and then softly kissed his cheek. “Good night, Willard.”
* * *
With so many thoughts turning and twisting in her mind, sleep took a long time coming that night. Worse, though, was the following morning, when upon seeing Mrs. Conrad, Elsie wanted to know why her mommy and daddy couldn’t come home like her nanny had.
Things didn’t get any better when Mrs. Conrad insisted upon Elsie eating in the kitchen. Bridget didn’t feel as if she had the authority to say otherwise, and had to hold herself back from saying too much, but was able to get Elsie calmed down.
Which didn’t help because her compromise had been to bake cookies. She was quickly informed that young ladies of Elsie’s caliber did not bake cookies.
Then, Karl entered the kitchen and requested Bridget to join him in his office.
He appeared pleasant enough, but there was no shine in his eyes, which suggested things may not have gone well with his mother, if that was where he’d gone last night.
She told Elsie she’d be back, and walked out the door ahead of him, aware of his movements behind her. How he closed the door, how he followed her all the way down the hallway into his office, how he closed that door.
Forcing her feet to continue, she walked to the davenport. Stood beside it, leaned a hand on the back. She tried, but couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I thought you’d like to know that I talked to my mother last night and have agreed to let her meet Elsie.”
“You are a very good uncle.”
He lifted a brow. “I said meet her. One time.”
She saw through that, but would play along. “And then?”
“We’ll see.”
He still needed some control. She could understand that.
He crossed his arms, leaned a hip against his desk. “You said if you were in her shoes, you’d be back, too. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. Didn’t say a word. Just nodded and stared at her.
Her fingers dug into the heavy material of the davenport as the desire to cross the room, hug him, kiss him, became stronger as the seconds ticked past. If only she could do those things, life would be wonderful, rather than torturous.
“I...um...have the trust fund set up,” he said, running both hands over his head. “I had asked you about the church, and—”
“It’s all set up,” she said. “I talked to the church. All you have to do is drop off the forms and they’ll spread the word, have people fill them out.”
“Wonderful. Thank you.”
She rubbed her hands together, realizing her palms were sweating. “I also should mention that now that the playhouse and doghouse are done, Sean, James and John will start working on the carriage house. They are going to paint it, replace some shingles on the roof and the hinges on the doors. Willard has creat
ed a list of other chores he hasn’t had time to complete over the past few years that they will move on to next.”
“All right.” He put his hands in his pockets. “That sounds good.”
“And the steps are a bit much for Mrs. Conrad right now, so she will move into an extra room in Mary and Willard’s apartment for the time being.” Worried about the changes she had made, that now appeared to have all been wrong, she added, “If you liked Elsie eating meals with you in the dining room, you’ll need to mention that to Mrs. Conrad.”
His expression softened. “I wondered about that this morning. You didn’t mention it to Mrs. Conrad?”
She shook her head. “It’s not my place.”
He was looking at her again, in that way that made her heart thud like it wanted out of her chest. Smiling, he walked across the room. “What do you want your place to be here, Bridget?”
She shook her head, shrugged. “That’s not my place to say, either.” That was true. So very true. There wasn’t a place for her here. Never really had been. She’d known that, but had let her heart speak louder than her mind. Louder than the truth that had been right before her eyes the entire time. This was a place she’d never belong. Whether she loved him or not.
“I think it is.” He touched the side of her face. “I think it’s time you decide what you want. Not what others want. You have to have a dream. Something you’ve always wanted.”
She had a dream, but it was as far-fetched as one she’d had as a child.
Her heart pounded harder as he leaned closer, and when his lips touched hers, the caress nearly paralyzed her. She wanted to love him, and have him love her in return. It just wasn’t possible.
He kissed her again, coaxing her lips into action, into kissing him back. It made her feel so alive, like everything was possible, that she wrapped her arms around him and gave in completely. Kissing him as fast, as feverishly, as he kissed her.
She could have gone on kissing him forever, but suddenly, knew she had to stop because if she didn’t, she might start to believe she could stay. That was impossible. She couldn’t be here and in Chicago at the same time.
A Family for the Titanic Survivor Page 19