Patrick pointed to a rickety looking chest of drawers. “Meanwhile, in that drawer over there, you’ll find a blonde wig. You’ll need to put it on when we leave here.”
Maggie lifted a surprised eyebrow. “Really? Blonde. I don’t look particularly attractive as a blonde.”
“All the better. And there are also some rather ugly-looking glasses in there, too. They should help change your looks.”
“May I ask now where you plan to take me?”
“I’m waiting for a call.”
“Waiting for a call? Well, now, that doesn’t sound promising. So you just burst into my suite and snatched me away from Big Jim’s clutches like some daft hero in a farce, without knowing where you’re going to take me?”
Patrick removed his hat and ran a hand through his thick hair. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be safe.”
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you risking your life for me? Do you know how vicious and brutal Big Jim can be?”
Patrick held her stare. “Yes, I know all about Big Jim.”
“Then why are you doing this? Big Jim knows everybody who is anybody in this town, people you can’t even imagine are in his fat greenback pocket, and if you make even one little mistake, he will kill you, and then he will kill me. Forgive me for my blunt talk, but I suspect you and Eve are two well-meaning sods from Ohio, who think they can come to the big City and rescue poor, helpless, damsel in distress, Maggie Gantly, and become hometown heroes. Well, let me tell you, Patrick, I’m not ready to die just yet, so if you will just let me go, I will run back to Big Jim and tell him that some lunatic from the Willard Asylum for the Chronically Insane was a fan, and kidnapped me, but I managed to escape and run back to you, good and loving gent, Big Jim Clancy.”
“No, don’t go back to him. Don’t ever go back to him,” Patrick said forcefully. “You deserve better. You deserve the best, and if your father had been there for you like he should have been when you were a kid, you’d never be with Big Jim.”
Maggie’s starched features melted a little. “Did you know my father? His name was Patrick, you know.”
Patrick ignored the question. “To answer your other question, I’m doing it because I owe you. I’m doing it because I want you to have a good life.”
Maggie stood blinking at him, trying to grasp the words, trying to decipher their obviously veiled meaning, because she knew there was more to this business than she was being told.
Patrick shoved his hands into his pockets, softening his voice. “Can I get you anything? Do you want some tea or coffee? Are you hungry?”
“Do you have Champagne?”
“No.”
“Nothing then.”
“Brandy?”
“Why not?”
As Maggie slowly removed her coat and laid it across the back of the couch, she kept her wary eyes on him. Studying him more meticulously, she seemed to see him for the first time. There was a familiarity about him; his manner, the shape of his face, the expression in his eyes; the way he lowered his chin at times when he talked.
She had never met him before. Or had she? Perhaps he had worked in a theatre at some point during her career. Maybe he had been one of her many admirers. Maybe he had waited for her at the stage door after a show. Had he brought her flowers, like many men had done, wanting favors?
Perhaps she’d given him her autograph. He was certainly handsome enough. In fact, the longer she gazed at him, the more she realized that he was quite pleasant to look at. Yes, he was strikingly handsome, with that muscled body, good shoulders, masculine face and sharp blue eyes that seemed to take in everything, to see everything, and yet be hard and tender at the same time. What an absolute flipsy and intoxicating thing that was for a woman. Yes, he was like a new and very delectable cocktail. Something akin to a fine, tawny scotch.
Maggie was puzzled, unable to place him in her life. She would have remembered this man if she had previously seen him. She would have flirted with this gentleman because he was wonderfully attractive. He had that something that stirred the hidden passion—that inexplicable thing that some men have that lures women.
Maggie had seen enough leading men and famous men and rich men to know that Patrick was a magnetic marvel. In show business, you either had it or you didn’t. Patrick had it, and Maggie began to relax and swell with an inexplicable attraction to him. She liked what she saw, and because she liked him, she began to feel as though she could trust him with all her girlish, pulsing passion, and trust him with her life.
Maggie fingered her hair in shape, smoothed out the dress along her willowy hips and focused a bright, flirtatious eye on Patrick.
“Did you know Eve’s husband, Patrick?”
Eve had told Patrick about her conversation with Maggie. He knew Eve had told Maggie that her father had died recently, and in his sixties.
Patrick considered his response. As his eyes sharpened on her, he noticed that her entire demeanor had changed. It was as if she’d just stepped out from behind a velvet curtain into dazzling light, making a grand and majestic stage entrance. She was shining the bright light of her sexy appeal on him, like a spotlight. It was a bit unnerving.
Maggie moistened her lips, lowered her smoldering eyes on him and adjusted her manner to that of a beguiling coquette. She flashed him a warm, magnetic smile, showing off perfect white teeth.
“Are you and Eve friends, Patrick?”
Patrick’s eyes flitted down and away, hoping to deflect her gaze. “Yes, we are friends.”
“Are you more than just friends? I know that her husband, a much older man than she, passed away. Are you just good friends, Patrick, or is there something more going on?”
Patrick raised his eyes. “Maggie…Excuse me, Miss Gantly…”
She cut him off with a flick of her elegant, feminine hand. “Oh, call me Maggie, Patrick. If we’re going to possibly die together, we might as well be on a first-name basis, don’t you think? So, now… Are you and Eve more than just friends?”
Patrick decided to close the door on this escalating flirtation before it went any further.
“Yes, Maggie. Eve and I are to be married.”
Maggie’s smile didn’t fade. Her glowing countenance wasn’t diminished in the least. In fact, her seduction swelled. To Patrick’s surprise, she laughed.
“Oh, well, I think that is just the sweetest thing, Patrick. Eve is a very pretty girl, you know. She could be in the theatre. And she has moxie, I’ll give her that.”
“Well… thank you, but to be in the theatre, I think she would have to be able to act, and Eve, at least from what I know of her, is much too practical, forthright and scientific to be a very good actress.”
“She might surprise you, Patrick. You should have seen the performance she gave when she first came to see me. I was impressed. Speaking of Eve, will we be meeting her soon?”
The worry returned to Patrick’s face. “Yes… Well, yes, that’s the plan.”
The telephone rang, and Patrick moved and snatched it up. It was the front desk.
“Mr. O’Hearn, this is Oscar at the front desk. I have a call for you from Chicago.”
Patrick breathed in relief. “Yes, put it through.”
The voice on the other end said that Dr. Ann Long was not at the hospital and wouldn’t be for some days. She had taken time off for personal reasons.
Patrick hung up and lowered himself in the chair, placing his face in his hands, his mind churning, emotions throbbing. He shut his eyes, hoping for some inspiration. He did not want to stay in the City, but what else could he do?
When he felt Maggie’s soft hands begin to massage his neck, he tensed up, dropping his hands from his face.
“Relax, Patrick, I’m not going to bite you. At least not right away. Did anyone ever tell you that you are a very attractive man?”
CHAPTER 33
Eve stepped off the train
onto the Coldwater, Ontario platform on Tuesday, December 15th at 2:10pm. A cold, white sun slid in and out of gray moving clouds, as snow flurries caught the wind. Her sleepy, sticky eyes searched for John Logan Tyler, who was supposed to meet her. The air was frigid, and her breath smoked as she looked to her right toward an open meadowland with snow-heavy trees and blowing snow.
Eve lingered briefly on the platform, observing others met by loved ones, and then she finally decided to slip into the train station for warmth and search for a telephone or telegraph office. She had to get in touch with Patrick. Early that morning, she’d tried to call him at the Toronto station, but the telephone lines were long. She’d dashed off a note at the telegraph office, but she was afraid to say too much, not knowing what was going on in New York and if Patrick had had to move again. Her telegram said,
ITEM IN COLDWATER ONTARIO
Inside the train station, Eve hurried to the ticket agent and asked where the nearest telephone was. Without speaking or looking up, the agent pointed left.
“The assistant engineer is at the control panel, but he may be busy,” the agent said.
As she started over, she noticed a man of Logan’s description looking around. He wore a heavy overcoat and gripped a Canadian Fur Trapper Hat. He fit Ann’s description: not tall, but sturdy of build, with shortly cropped blonde hair and a strong face. His mouth was thin, complexion powder white, brown eyes clear and watchful, just like his mother’s, and his lantern jaw distinct. Eve’s first impression was of a practical man with a serious mind, solemn nature and shy manner.
Their eyes met at the same time. Eve offered a little wave and a quick smile, and Logan a quick nod. As they closed the distance, Eve offered a hand to shake.
“Logan?”
He nodded and shook her hand limply. “Yes… Mrs. Gantly?”
“Yes.”
Eve was a bit taken aback by his withholding, cool manner.
“Do you have bags?” Logan asked flatly.
“Over there.” Eve turned, pointing to a wooden bench where the porter had deposited them. “But I need to call my husband in New York. Are you in a hurry?”
His eyebrows raised in query. “He’s still in New York?”
“Yes… I need to tell him to meet me here. He doesn’t know where I am.”
Logan nodded thoughtfully, and Eve had no idea what the man was thinking.
“Yes, I’ll wait then.”
At the station booth, Eve was handed a heavy rotary phone and the operator dialed the number. It was another five minutes before the call went through. Eve waited anxiously while the Hoffman House operator put the call through to Patrick’s room. Eve prayed Patrick would pick up.
“Hello…” Patrick answered, his voice guarded.
Eve sighed audibly into the phone. “Thank God, Patrick, finally.”
“How are you, Eve?” Patrick asked. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Tired, but fine. Are you okay?”
“Good. Yes.”
“Sorry I couldn’t reach you before now.”
“It has been an agony of a wait, my love. Listen, I have Maggie with me here.”
Static scratched Patrick’s voice. Eve switched the phone to her other ear, sure she’d heard wrong. “Maggie? Did you say Maggie is with you?”
“Yes, she is.”
“How? What happened?”
His words were garbled, lost in another spray of static, and Eve felt a chaos of images and emotion. She couldn’t even imagine what had happened.
“Patrick, how did you find Maggie? Where is Big Jim?”
“I’ll tell you later, Eve. Now tell me where we should meet you. We must leave New York as soon as possible. We should have left yesterday. Big Jim surely has men everywhere looking for us. Your last telegram said the lantern is in Coldwater, Ontario. Is that right?”
“Yes. I just arrived. I haven’t actually seen it yet.”
“Are you sure it’s there, Eve?”
“As sure as I can be. I’ll know as soon as I get to Logan Tyler’s house. I’ll explain all of that when I see you, or when we can talk next. How is Maggie, Patrick?”
“Nervous and worried. We must leave for Coldwater before we’re tracked here.”
“Okay, yes, get out of there, now, and be careful.”
“By the way, your old friend Duncan Beaumont is here as well, and he wants to come with us, and bring Irene.”
More static crackled and Eve cursed. “Did you say Duncan and Irene are coming with you?”
“There is much to say, Eve, and no time to say it. Much has happened.”
“Okay, okay…just be careful. How do you plan to travel?”
“First by car to Poughkeepsie. Big Jim will have men at the train station here and at the boat docks. From Poughkeepsie, we’ll catch the train to Toronto, and then travel to Coldwater. But if things aren’t complicated enough, I’ve heard a large snowstorm is coming. We might be delayed. Do you have a phone number where I can reach you there?”
Eve caught Logan’s eye and waved him over. He arrived, his forehead pinched in a frown. She asked him if he had a phone. He nodded, gave her his number, and returned to Eve’s bags. Eve watched Logan pace in front of the wooden bench holding her bags. There was something about him that was disturbing.
Eve read Patrick the number.
“Okay, Eve, I have it. It’s almost three o’clock. We’ll leave as soon as it gets dark.”
“Please be careful, Patrick.”
“Yes, my love.”
“Patrick, did I do the right thing in coming here and not returning to New York?”
“You are spot on, as usual, Eve. We need that lantern to get you, me and Maggie back home. You’re a smart lady.”
“About Maggie… Does she want to go with us back home?”
He hesitated.
“Have you told her everything?”
“No. I’ll tell her on the train journey. I must go now, my love. You take care of yourself as well. I love you, Eve. God’s good love and protection go with you.”
“And I love you, Detective Sergeant Gantly. Please be careful.”
After Eve hung up, she felt the rise of nerves and a mounting anxiety. Could Patrick get four people out of New York without Big Jim catching them? She turned and refocused her anxious eyes on Logan. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Why was he being so cold and strange?
When Logan saw Eve had hung up, he swung on his fur hat and dutifully hefted her bags, starting for the back exit doors.
“Follow me…” he said blandly, and she made a couple of running steps to reach the door just in time to pass through after him. Outside, she braced against the cold and the desolate, snow-blanketed world. She wondered what Ann had said to her son. Logan knew about the lantern, so that couldn’t have been a surprise. Ann didn’t say what her son’s response had been, just that he had never lighted the lantern. Or had he? Or did he still have it?
Eve was surprised when Logan crunched through the snow to a horse-drawn sleigh, the bay standing still, jets of vapor puffing from his nose. Logan heaved her bags into the rear seat of the two-seat sleigh and turned to her as she approached.
“You can sit in the back if you like. There’s a wool lap robe to cover yourself.”
He looked skyward. “Don’t think we’ll get much more snow today. The storm is heading south.”
Eve decided to be bold. “May I sit up front with you, Logan?”
Logan hesitated, looking away toward the snowy trees. “As you please, Mrs. Gantly.”
Minutes later they were gliding smoothly over the ground, the snow muffling the trot of horses’ hooves, accenting the clinking bells. With her lap covered by a very thick plush woolen blanket, she eased back in her leather seat, watching the winter wonderland world pass, presenting her face to the fresh, cold breeze.
Logan offered no conversation, so she did. “How fast does this sleigh go?”
“It can trot two forty.”
Eve nodded. She didn’t have a clue how fast that was. She persisted.
“And how fast is that?”
“On this road, the sleigh can cover a kilometer in just a little under four minutes. We’re not so far away from the house. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”
“Thank you for picking me up, Logan. Your mother and I had a delightful reunion on Sunday.”
Silence.
“I hear she’s coming to see you for Christmas.”
“She can’t come. I called her yesterday.”
Eve turned to him. “Why? She was looking forward to it.”
“There’s a war on, Mrs. Gantly. It’s time I left to do my bit.”
Eve looked away, thinking that Ann must have been devastated by her son’s news. Eve made a mental note to write to Ann as soon as she could.
“Then you’ve just recently joined?” Eve asked.
“Yes, the Army. I’ll be leaving for Valcartier, Quebec in a few days. Things are really heating up over in Europe. They need every man they can get.”
Eve stared ahead, struggling to tamp down her feeling of anguish. So many men were killed in that awful war, she thought. Would Logan be one of them? After all Ann had been through with Logan, if he was killed in Europe, would the burden be too much for her bad heart?
As the snowy road angled left and rounded a bend, Eve saw a two-story log cabin loom in the distance, framed in firs, oak and beech.
“That’s my place,” Logan said, pointing.
“It’s lovely,” Eve said, taking in the quaint-looking cabin with its wide porch and outer stone chimney, a thin trail of gray smoke curling up into the wind. A single-story log garage stood off to the right, near a cord of wood, neatly stacked and sprinkled with snow.
“I built it myself,” Logan said, proudly.
He drew the sleigh up to the front stairs. “The door is open. Go on inside. I’ll bring the bags.”
Eve climbed down, mounted the cabin stairs and entered. It was a stunning rustic space, with wooden floors, throw rugs, a ceiling with heavy crossbeams and a long wooden table with artistically crafted chairs. She instinctively moved to the masonry fireplace, where red embers still glowed with heat, and sighed at the warming comfort. As she turned her back to the low, gleaming fire, she saw a heavy-looking wood stove, a comfortable couch and chair, a tall bookshelf filled with hardback books, and mahogany stairs spiraling up to the second floor. The next item that caught her was unexpected. It was a violin and bow, attached to the wall next to the bookshelf.
The Christmas Eve Daughter - A Time Travel Novel: The Sequel to The Christmas Eve Letter Page 23