To Dream Again

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  knew Mr. Donovan was the best boxer around. He could beat anybody. He was tough. Do you know how tough he was?"

  Again Billy shook his head.

  "He was so tough..." Nathaniel pressed the iodine-stained rag to Billy's elbow and the boy was so entranced by his story, he hardly reacted to the sting. "He was so tough," Nathaniel went on, "that five years later, when he died, the shoemaker used his hide to make boots."

  Billy burst out laughing, and Mara smiled. She reached for the roll of bandages and cut off a length to wrap around his elbow, listening as Billy asked, "How come yer grandfather took you to see 'im?"

  "So Mr. Donovan could teach me how to fight," Nathaniel replied and began to apply iodine to the cut on Billy's forehead. "When I went back to school that autumn, one of the other boys tried to beat me up, but I won the fight. I was never beaten again."

  "Really?"

  "Really."

  "I wish I knew 'ow t'fight."

  The boy's wistful words impelled Mara to speak. "Fighting isn't always the answer," she said, giving Nathaniel a frown. "Usually it's best just to walk away."

  "What if ye can't?"

  Mara wrapped the bandage around the boy's elbow and did not reply. She opened her mouth to ask for Nathaniel's help, but he was already cutting several narrow strips of linen from the roll. He leaned closer to assist her. She held the bandage in place, and he began securing it with the linen strips.

  They were silent, but it was a companionable silence, and Mara realized it was one of those rare moments when they were not arguing about something. They were working together, their own interests set aside for those of a small boy, and there was an incredible feeling of rightness about it.

  But the moment was brief. Mara felt the pang of regret when Nathaniel tied the last strip to secure the bandage in place and stepped back.

  She rolled down Billy's sleeve and buttoned the cuff. "You'd better have your mother wash that shirt tonight," she told the boy, "so the blood will come out."

  "Don't 'ave a mum," Billy said. "Just me dad."

  She looked into Billy's face for a moment, then she glanced at Nathaniel. She could see her own concern for the boy reflected in his eyes, but both of them knew there was nothing they could do.

  Nathaniel put his hands on the boy's waist. "C'mon," he said, "we'd better take you home. It's growing dark."

  Billy's face fell. "I don't want t'go 'ome."

  Nathaniel hesitated for a second, then he swung the child down from the table and took his hand. "It's late. Your father will be worried about you."

  Billy's blue eyes turned suddenly cynical and much older than his eight years, "'e's in the pub by now. Probably won't be 'ome until midnight."

  Mara saw the muscle tighten in Nathaniel's jaw and the flash of anger in his eyes. But he said nothing about Billy's father. Instead, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

  He led the boy out of the flat and Mara followed. A few moments later, they were downstairs in Mrs. O'Brien's kitchen.

  "Mr. Chase," the landlady greeted, beaming at him. "A pleasure to see ye." She bobbed her head perfunctorily in Mara's direction. "Mrs. Elliot."

  Her coolness where Mara was concerned did not escape Nathaniel. He shot her a teasing grin. Mara knew perfectly well that it was her refusal to pay the landlady's exorbitant prices for tea and sandwiches that caused the cool greeting, and she was not amused.

  Nathaniel turned back to Mrs. O'Brien. Gesturing to the boy, he said, "Billy here needs a bite of dinner, and we were hoping you might be willing to make one of your delicious meals for us."

  The landlady's smile widened. "Why, certainly." She glanced at the child, who stepped back, his cheek pressed to Nathaniel's hip, hiding his birthmark. "Why ye be the Styles boy," she said in surprise.

  The boy's nervousness was plain, and Nathaniel spoke again. "What about some of your shepherd's pie?"

  Thirty minutes later, Billy was seated in Mrs. O'Brien's tiny dining room, devouring his third helping of shepherd's pie. Hunger had overcome his wariness after only a few bites. Mara watched him with an aching heart, knowing from her own childhood what it was like to go hungry.

  Billy Finally pushed back his plate with a sigh of contentment.

  "All finished?" Nathaniel asked. The boy nodded and slid down from the chair. "Thank ye, ma'am," he said to Mrs. O'Brien as she took his plate away.

  Mara led him toward the door as Nathaniel paid the landlady and followed. The three of them left the lodging house. It was dark, but by the light of the street lamp, she could see the downcast expression on the boy's face. She sighed, feeling helpless and frustrated, wishing there was something more they could do for him. "Where do you live?"

  Billy pressed his lips together, refusing to answer. He looked so miserable, her heart ached with pity. The thought of this boy having to go home to a father like Calvin Styles made her sick. She knelt beside him and pointed to the top floor of Elliot's. "See that? That's where we work."

  "Me dad used t'work there."

  Mara glanced at Nathaniel again, then back down at the boy. "It's a toy factory. Come by tomorrow and we'll show you some of the toys, all right?"

  He nodded and sniffed. "All right."

  "But," she went on, "if you're to come visit, you have to have some sleep first. Where do you live?"

  Billy lowered his chin to his chest. "Old Castle Street," he mumbled.

  She rose and met Nathaniel's eyes over the boy's head. He was smiling at her. "I had to say something," she murmured as the three of them began walking the two blocks to Old Castle Street.

  His smile widened. "Of course."

  "We have a fire escape now," she added, knowing she was rationalizing the breaking of her own rule. "It's much safer."

  "Yes, it is."

  "Tomorrow, I want you to examine all the equipment."

  "I already did, two weeks ago. But, it wouldn't hurt to do it again."

  Satisfied, she took Billy's hand, and she was grateful that Nathaniel didn't comment on her change of heart.

  "You're certain your father won't be home?" she asked Billy as they turned down Old Castle Street.

  "Not until the pubs close. Sometimes, 'e don't come 'ome at all."

  Shocked, Mara looked at Nathaniel. She saw his lips tighten slightly, but he said nothing.

  The tenement where Billy lived was filthy. By the moonlight shining through a window by the door, Mara saw the shadowy form of a rat scurry along the wall. Her grip on the boy's hand tightened as she pressed her other hand to her nose, but the smell of dried grease, urine, and filth was impossible to escape.

  "This way," Billy said and started up the dark stairs, pulling her with him. Nathaniel followed them up the stairs to the third level, where Billy entered a room at the end of a dark corridor.

  They followed him inside. She heard the flare of a match, and glanced over at Nathaniel as he held the lighted match high. Seeing a candle on the table, she handed it to him and soon the tiny room was lit by the feeble flame. The room contained only a table and two cots and was as filthy as the rest of the lodging house. Mara's stomach wrenched with nausea and dismay.

  She pulled back the blanket from the cot and noted sadly that there were no sheets beneath. Billy crawled into the cot, and she pulled the blanket up to his chin. "There," she said, "tucked in all safe and sound."

  It was a lie, and in the dim candlelight, Billy's eyes told her so.

  "You come and see us tomorrow," she whispered, her voice clogged with compassion. "Promise?"

  "Yes, ma'am." He swallowed and a tear slipped from his eye.

  He hastily brushed it away, but not before Mara saw it. She pressed her lips to the mark on his cheek. "Good night, Billy."

  "'Night, ma'am. 'Night, Nathaniel."

  "Sleep tight," Nathaniel said, giving the boy's shoulder a squeeze before turning away.

  She and Nathaniel left the building and started home. Neither of them spoke. The rank smell of the tannery pervaded the neighborhood
, but both of them breathed deeply of the night air just the same, trying to escape the stench of the lodging house on Old Castle Street.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mara and Nathaniel met with Michael the next morning after tea. Quotas were assigned. Michael agreed to place their first order for parts, hire the additional staff, and arrange for a company insignia and sign. Nathaniel would continue receiving orders for trains, while it would be Mara's job to oversee finances.

  Nathaniel and Mara promised Michael a final decision on which train accessories to put in production. Percy said he'd have Nathaniel's things moved out of the warehouse and put in storage immediately. Then the meeting was adjourned.

  Billy Styles came to visit that afternoon. Nathaniel took him around the factory and showed him all the equipment, stressing what was safe and what was not. At the same time, he kept his promise to Mara, and checked all the machinery again, but everything was in perfect working order.

  Nathaniel showed Billy their office, and Mara watched, glad that he explained the fire escape to the child. He then showed Billy the train, and Mara went back to work. But she paused often, lifting her head to watch as Billy asked Nathaniel question after question.

  "Bloody smashin'!" the boy pronounced as the train came to a stop. Nathaniel then took Billy into the other room to show him the laboratory, and Mara watched them go, feeling both gratified and relieved.

  Although she didn't approve of the language he used, his positive endorsement of the toy reassured her. If Billy's opinion was any indication, the trains were sure to do very well indeed.

  "What's that?" Billy's voice floated to her over the top of the partition as he asked his favorite question, and Mara smiled, again lifting her head from her work to listen.

  "These are the parts of a steam engine just like the ones downstairs, only smaller," Nathaniel's voice answered. "You see? Here's the cylinder and the piston."

  "What are ye goin' to do with 'em?"

  "Put them together."

  "Can I 'elp?"

  "You can be my assistant. See this little wheel here? That's called a gear. If you'll hold it in place, I can fasten the screw."

  "Like that?"

  "Just like that."

  Mara couldn't resist taking a peek. She crossed the room and stepped around the partition to watch. Nathaniel had placed a stool in front of his worktable and Billy was standing on it. Their backs to her, man and boy worked side by side, and she was able to enjoy the sight unobserved.

  She listened as Nathaniel continued to give instructions. His "assistant" complied with eagerness, and Mara knew a situation of clear and obvious hero worship was developing right before her eyes.

  But it wasn't just Billy who responded to Nathaniel that way. Everyone at Elliot's felt the same. Perhaps it was because people could sense that Nathaniel truly believed in their abilities, or perhaps it was the compliments that seemed to come from his lips so easily. And yet, it was more than that. There was some indefinable quality of leadership about him that inspired people, gave them hope and confidence, made them work harder than they had ever worked before, just to receive a smile from him and a word of praise.

  Mara studied Nathaniel's back, her gaze following the Y-shape of his braces along the contours of his body, from his wide shoulders to his narrow waist, and she thought again of the night he had taught her to dance, when he'd led her blindfolded through the steps of the waltz, when he had forced her to rely on him for guidance, made her relinquish control and put her trust in him. She closed her eyes and savored again the feel of his hands at her neck, the warmth of his mouth on hers. The shock and wonder of a kiss that left her breathless. The magical intimacy of a smile that filled her with the ache of longing. He had left her wanting to risk all she had for one more kiss, one more smile.

  "Now what?"

  Billy's voice intruded on her reverie. Mara opened her eyes and came to her senses, realizing she'd been standing here daydreaming like a schoolgirl. Intent on their task, neither Nathaniel nor his pint-sized assistant had noticed her presence, and for that, Mara was grateful.

  "Now we have to put the engine inside a train," Nathaniel explained. "When we light the wick, it makes the water boil and the steam from the water makes the train go."

  "Show me, please," Billy pleaded. "I 'elped make it. I want to see it go."

  Mara stepped forward, pushing aside memories of a waltz and a kiss. They turned their heads at the sound of her footsteps. "Not tonight, Billy," she said. "It's late."

  "But I want to see the train go around."

  Nathaniel put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Mrs. Elliot's right. It'll be dark soon. We'd best take you home."

  Billy's face showed his disappointment, but he didn't argue. He jumped down from the stool. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

  Nathaniel shot Mara an inquiring glance, clearly asking her to make the decision.

  She thought it over. She knew Nathaniel had checked all the equipment and had assured her that Billy understood what was safe. She still had misgivings, but she looked down into Billy's hopeful eyes, and she couldn't say no. "All right," she agreed, but added firmly, "after school."

  "Can't I come in the mornin'? I don't go to school."

  Mara frowned with concern, meeting Nathaniel's eyes over the boy's head. "Why not? Haven't you ever gone to school?" she asked Billy.

  "I used to go, when me mum was around. She made me. But I don't go no more, since she died. So I can come in the mornin', can't I?"

  "Billy, you should be in school," she said gently. "You can come here afterward."

  Billy's chin jutted out stubbornly. "I don't like school, an' me dad says I don't need it anyway."

  "But—" Mara started to protest, but she caught sight of Nathaniel shaking his head at her, silently asking her not to argue with the boy, and she complied.

  Nathaniel hunkered down to Billy's eye level and smoothed back the tousled red hair that fell over his eyes. "Mrs. Elliot and I have to work in the morning. If we don't accomplish our work, we won't be able to make any trains. So, you have to come in the afternoon."

  "I want to 'elp. Can't I make trains, too?"

  "Of course you can, but there's all sorts of other stuff we have to do that you can't help with until we show you how. So you come in the afternoon, and I'll show you some of the things you can do to help, all right?"

  "All right."

  He ruffled the boy's hair. "C'mon, Scrapper. Let's take you home."

  He grabbed the boy around the waist and slung him over one shoulder. Billy laughed and wrapped his fingers around the back strap of Nathaniel's braces to hang on. He looked up, grinning at Mara as Nathaniel carried him out of the laboratory.

  She followed, smiling as she watched them head for the door.

  "'Night, ma'am," Billy called, releasing his grip on Nathaniel's braces with one hand to wave at her as he was carried out of the room. "See you tomorrow."

  "Good night, Billy."

  She watched them go. Billy's wariness the day of their first meeting was gone, and Mara marveled at the change one afternoon with Nathaniel had made in the boy's life. It was a miraculous thing indeed.

  But then, Nathaniel had a way about him, a way of making miracles happen. She thought again of the night they had waltzed, the kiss they had shared. Oh, yes. He had a very special way about him.

  ***

  Adrian knew Joslyn Brothers had granted Nathaniel his loan the previous afternoon. Owen Rutherford had given him the news only a few hours before. He settled back in his seat, the music of the opera below scarcely penetrating his thoughts.

  He could have prevented the loan, of course, but he had chosen to wait, preferring to allow his little brother to fall deeply into debt, knowing that would be the most effective way to destroy him in the end. He knew that if he had prevented the loan, Nathaniel would simply have gone to another bank.

  Nothing Nathaniel had done thus far surprised him. He did find it interesting, however, that Nathanie
l had borrowed seven thousand pounds when the proposal he'd seen on the young woman's desk had requested three.

  He stared down at the stage below with unseeing eyes. He found Mara Elliot much more interesting than Carmen at the moment.

  Their conversation had been brief, but he had learned a great deal about her nonetheless. The proposal on her desk told him she was conservative, which meant she wasn't necessarily willing to go along with Nathaniel's reckless schemes. She was shrewd, an appalling quality in a woman, but then, Adrian wasn't interested in bedding her. Her shrewdness might be a problem.

  She wasn't beautiful, but there was a haunting quality about her that probably appealed to Nathaniel's misplaced sense of the romantic. She blushed at compliments, which meant she wasn't used to receiving them and indicated that she wasn't as cold as she liked to appear. If Nathaniel cared about the woman at all, she might be useful.

  Carmen's lover was dying. Adrian glanced down at the scene below, then to the woman beside him. Honoria was totally engrossed in the opera, unaware that he was not. He observed the tear that glistened on one of her pudgy cheeks, and he rolled his eyes. Americans were so ridiculously sentimental, Honoria especially so. He returned his attention to more important matters.

  His first suspicion had been correct. Nathaniel was planning to build toy trains again. It had been bad enough when Nathaniel had dared to declare himself a rival from thousands of miles away, and he had easily taken care of that. But now Nathaniel had the gall to try it here in England, right under his nose. His brother had even hired back that Jewish engineer to help him. Adrian intended to destroy those plans before they reached fruition.

  He began to consider possibilities. This time, there was another factor that might provide him with an additional advantage. Mara Elliot. She just might prove to be Nathaniel's most vulnerable point.

  There was also the loan. He nodded to himself, satisfied. There were many ways to smash Nathaniel's ambitions, and by the time he was done, his little brother wouldn't have a brass farthing. He'd go running off once again with his tail between his legs. Defeating him would be so easy.