To Dream Again

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  "Jimmy took me new cap," Billy said. "It didn't even fit 'im, but 'e wanted it, so he took it." He slammed one small fist against the steel step, "'e called me names and 'it me. I tried to stop 'im, but I couldn't."

  Nathaniel listened as Billy poured out the story in stilted sentences. He heard the frustration and the shame in Billy's voice, recognized it as the same voice of another boy a long time ago. The boy he had been.

  "I broke me word," Billy went on in a choked voice. "I promised Mrs. Elliot I'd take care o'me new clothes an' I didn't."

  "I think she'll understand. I'll bet she wouldn't even mind mending them for you."

  "What good would that do? Jimmy'll just beat me up again."

  "Probably."

  "It ain't fair."

  Silence fell between them, and Nathaniel thought about all the times at Harrow before he'd learned how to fight, when he'd faced the headmaster with his uniform torn and bloody, all the times he'd been punished for fighting when he'd never even had the chance to throw a punch. Life was seldom fair.

  "Nathaniel?"

  Billy's voice pulled him out of the past. "What is it, Scrapper?"

  Billy was gazing up at him, his freckled face thoughtful. "Remember that story ye told me about when ye was a boy?"

  "Of course."

  The boy's face hardened with determination. "I want ye to teach me to fight like Mr. Donovan taught ye so's I can defend meself. Will ye teach me?"

  Nathaniel leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He should have known this would happen. He briefly considered all the ramifications. Mara wouldn't like it. She didn't approve of fighting.

  He knew the boy's father was also a factor. He suspected that Calvin Styles's reaction would be less than favorable if he discovered Nathaniel had befriended the boy, and he was much more likely to find out if they spent even more time together than they already did.

  "Billy, I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

  "Why not?"

  He hesitated, hoping he could make the boy understand. "Your father wouldn't like it if I taught you how to fight."

  Billy snorted, "'e would, too. 'e's always tellin' me I ought to fight back when they beat up on me. 'e says I'm a coward."

  Nathaniel could have cheerfully killed Calvin Styles at that moment. "No, you're not a coward," he told the boy. "Those boys know how to fight and you don't, that's all." He shook his head. "Billy, it's not the fighting your father would disapprove of. It's me."

  "You mean 'cause you punched 'im?"

  Nathaniel stared at the boy in surprise. "You know about that?"

  Billy shrugged his thin shoulders. "Of course. Everybody knows."

  "Do you know why I did it?"

  "Some people are sayin' it's cause he pushed Mrs. Elliot." Billy paused, then added, "'e used to push me mum around, too."

  Nathaniel sighed. God, sometimes, it was an ugly world. "You know that's wrong, don't you? Pushing women around?"

  "Yea." Billy nodded. "Me mum told me. But me dad says you punched him 'cause yer a bloody bastard."

  Nathaniel didn't know whether to laugh or admonish the boy for swearing. But when he saw Billy grinning up at him, he couldn't help chuckling. "I can see how your father might think that," he admitted. "And that's why he won't like it if I'm the one who teaches you how to fight."

  "I won't tell 'im we're friends or about you teachin' me," Billy promised. "I won't tell nobody. Please."

  "If he finds out, you could be in trouble."

  Billy thought about that for a minute. "I don't care," he finally said, looking back at Nathaniel. "I still wants ye to teach me."

  Nathaniel knew he shouldn't become deeply involved in the boy's life, but when he looked down into Billy's bruised, determined face, he knew it was already too late.

  Damn it all, the boy needed his father, not a substitute. But Nathaniel doubted Styles would ever be any kind of a father to Billy, and the boy was in desperate need of someone to fill that role. He remembered his own childhood, and the pain of having a father who had not been there for him.

  "All right," he agreed before he could stop himself. "We'll deal with your father when the time comes. But Mrs. Elliot shan’t like it either, so don't say anything about this to her. I'll tell her myself."

  "All right, Nathaniel," the boy agreed, looking up at him with such a worshipful expression, Nathaniel nearly groaned. Being a father, even a substitute one, was a huge responsibility. He hoped he could live up to it.

  ***

  "Are you out of your mind?" Mara's teacup hit the saucer with a clatter as she stared at Nathaniel across the table.

  He'd been right. She didn't like the idea at all. He

  grinned, savoring the battle to come. He was coming to enjoy their mornings of tea and debate. Slathering cream on his scone, he said, "Mara, you saw for yourself what that boy did to him yesterday. It happens to him all the time."

  "Why does he have to learn to fight? Why can't he just walk away?"

  "That's not always possible. His pride is involved here, and he has to be able to stand up to those other boys. He's learning how to be a man."

  She sniffed, unimpressed. "It's a little early for that, don't you think? He's only eight years old. Besides, learning to fight doesn't make you a man."

  "Not by itself, no. But the fact remains that he is beaten by other boys who won’t stop tormenting him just because he walks away. If he knew how to fight, he could defend himself. He needs to learn."

  "What Billy needs to learn is how to read." Her crystal gray eyes sparkled with determination as she looked at him over the teapot. "He should be in school, not fighting with hooligans in back alleys."

  "I agree. But he doesn't want to go, and neither would you if all the other children teased you. He needs to develop some confidence."

  "And fighting is the way to gain it?" She shook her head. "No."

  "I don't recall any objections like this when I came to your defense," he pointed out. "That was fighting, too."

  She flushed and lowered her gaze to her gloved hands. "That was different."

  He studied her for a moment, just for the sheer pleasure of watching her blush. "How is it different?"

  "You weren't setting an example for an impressionable young boy." She lifted her troubled gaze to his. "He might learn the wrong sort of lesson."

  "I didn't learn the wrong lesson when I was a boy. I've promised Billy I would teach him, and I will," he said firmly. "Would you have me break my promise?"

  She bit her lip and looked away. "I suppose not," she murmured finally.

  "I'll make sure he knows fighting is a last resort, only to be used for defending himself or someone else."

  With a sigh, she set down the pieces of the scone she had torn apart. She wiped her fingertips together to brush away the crumbs. "I don't think—"

  "Nathaniel?" A voice broke in and had both of them turning toward the door as Michael entered the room. "We have a problem."

  "What is it?" Nathaniel asked.

  "Our tin's not here yet. It was supposed to arrive this morning, but deliveries are usually made by nine. It's half past, and I'm concerned."

  Nathaniel looked at Mara. "Didn't Halston's promise our tin by this morning?"

  "Yes, they did." She rose to her feet. "I'll go to Halston's and see what's happening."

  He nodded. "Remind them that if they can't have our orders here on time, there are other tin suppliers who would be happy to have our business."

  "Don't worry, I will. It's probably just a minor delay."

  But the delay proved to be more than minor, as Nathaniel discovered when Mara returned from Halston's London office an hour later.

  "Monday?" Nathaniel stopped making adjustments to the conveyor belt he and Michael were working on. "That's five days from now."

  "It seems they are having some labor troubles at the tin mines in Cornwall," she explained. "They apologized profusely, but it will still be five days."

  M
ichael shook his head. "We won't be able to obtain tin from any other supplier sooner than that."

  Nathaniel let out a frustrated sigh. "Without tin, we can't do anything. This shall put us behind schedule."

  "We'll catch up," Michael promised. "I'm sure we'll be able to make up the time somehow."

  Nathaniel was not so sure. He remembered how delays and disasters had crippled him once before, and a tiny shimmer of disquiet ran through him. He shook it off with his usual optimism. Coincidence, he told himself firmly. It was just a coincidence.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nathaniel kept his promise to Billy and began teaching the boy to fight. During the week that followed, he showed the boy many of the fighting techniques Donovan had taught him. Billy learned how to ward off a blow coming at him from any direction, and he learned where and how to hit. But on a Sunday afternoon in late October, with the sun shining and a crisp autumn breeze blowing, Nathaniel decided that Billy needed lessons of a different sort.

  He asked Mrs. O'Brien to pack a picnic lunch, then he went to Cheapside and made several purchases, including a large cardboard box. He returned to his flat and set to work. When his project was completed, he put the items he'd made into the box and took them to the factory, picking up the picnic lunch from the landlady on his way. He sat on the bottom step of the fire escape and waited for Billy. When the boy arrived, Nathaniel

  announced that they were taking Mrs. Elliot on a picnic and showed the boy what he had made.

  Despite his continual urging not to, Mara still spent most of her Sunday afternoons working in her office, and he knew they would find her there. Nathaniel let Billy carry the box and he followed with the picnic basket, arriving just in time to see Billy place the box on Mara's desk.

  "Look what Nathaniel done!" Billy pronounced as Mara stood up.

  "What Nathaniel did," she corrected, looking in the box. "What's this?"

  Nathaniel watched from the doorway as she lifted one of his creations out of the box and stared at the item of wood and newspaper doubtfully.

  "It's a kite," Billy told her. "Nathaniel made 'em. They've got string and everything. See?"

  He lifted a roll of string out of the box and held it up for Mara's inspection. "We're goin' to fly kites today. Won't that be smashin'?"

  She lifted her gaze to Nathaniel standing in the doorway, and a smile tugged at her lips. "A picnic, too, I see. Well, I'm sure you'll have fun."

  "You're coming with us," he said firmly, crossing the room. "It's a perfect day for kite flying." When she opened her mouth to protest he added, "If you don't come with us, some of Mrs. O'Brien's culinary delights will go to waste. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

  Her smile widened at the snare he'd laid for her. "That would be a shame," she admitted and set the kite back in the box. "Let's go."

  They took a cab to the West End. Thirty minutes later they stood by the water of the Serpentine in the center of Hyde Park, where Nathaniel removed his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and took one of the kites out of the box. He then set the picnic basket in the box to keep the wind from carrying it away and proceeded to give Billy his first lesson in kite flying.

  Mara shaded her eyes with one hand and watched him race across the grass with joyous abandon. The sun glinted off the water behind him as he ran, holding the kite aloft until the wind caught the paper sail and lifted it out of his hands. The kite soared upward, and Nathaniel spun around swiftly, running backward and letting out string as he watched it climb toward the white clouds scattered across the blue sky.

  "Look at that, miss!" Billy cried, pointing skyward. "It's flyin'!"

  Mara wasn't looking at the kite. She was watching Nathaniel, who now stood a dozen feet away, staring at the kite above with a smile on his face.

  He took the greatest pleasure in the most basic things, she thought. Scones with cream, trains and kites, and Sundays in the park. Once, she'd thought him to be like James, but now she knew he wasn't like James at all.

  Unlike her late husband, Nathaniel was a man of strong determination, willing not only to dream, but willing to work hard to make those dreams come true. Yet, he was able to set his work aside and take a boy kite flying. She suspected he did it for his own enjoyment as much as for Billy's. To Nathaniel, there was a time for work, but there was also a time for play.

  He brought the kite back down, then helped Billy make it fly again. Mara sat down on the grass and watched them launch it, the man's long strides shortened to keep pace with the those of the boy as they ran across the clearing between groves of elm trees.

  "Let it go, let it go!" Nathaniel shouted, and Billy did so. The kite swooped up and caught the breeze, climbing into the sky as Billy gave a shout of delight and Nathaniel's triumphant laughter rang out.

  "Let out more string. We want it to go higher." Nathaniel moved to stand behind the boy, showing him how to keep the kite in the air.

  Mara wrapped her wool cloak more tightly around her shoulders to ward off the crisp breeze and watched, enjoying the sight, knowing how much Billy needed days like this, how much he needed a man in his life who would be a good influence on him. Nathaniel was good with children, and she wondered if perhaps that was because he still had a bit of the child within himself.

  Once Billy knew how to guide his kite and keep it up in the air, Nathaniel walked back over to her, tugging at his waistcoat to straighten it.

  "I think he's having fun," she commented when Nathaniel reached her. "So am I, just watching him. This was a good idea."

  He lifted another kite out of the box and waved it in front of her with a grin. "It's your turn."

  "Oh, no. I'll just watch."

  He shook his head. "No, you won't. You have to try at least once." He held out his free hand toward her, refusing to take no for an answer.

  She took off her cloak, then removed her bonnet. She tucked the hat beneath the heavy folds of her cloak to keep the breeze from carrying it away, then grasped his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

  They walked over to the starting point by the huge elm tree. She took the kite from his hand and held it aloft just as she had seen him and Billy do. Then she grasped the string in her other hand and looked at him for guidance.

  "Just start running. When you feel the wind pull the kite, let go."

  She took a deep breath and started to run. But, although Billy had managed to launch his kite on his very first try, Mara was not so successful, and when she released the kite, it somersaulted in the air and crashed to the ground several feet behind her.

  Mara came to a halt and turned around. Nathaniel stopped beside her and they watched the breeze carry her kite across the grass until it was stopped by the string in her hand. "What did I do wrong?"

  He walked over to the kite and picked it up. "If you're to get it up in the air, you have to run faster."

  Mara sighed and looked down. "That's easy for you to say," she said, holding one hand to her corseted ribs. "You're not the one wearing a skirt."

  His gaze moved down the black folds that whipped toward him in the breeze and back up to her face. "I see your point. I'll send it up for you."

  "No," she said with determination and grabbed the kite. "No. I want to try again."

  He followed her back to where they had started, watching as she grasped the front of her skirt just below her waist and tucked the fold of fabric into the waistband, hitching up the hem to expose the tops of her high-button shoes. Nathaniel studied her leather-clad ankles appreciatively for a moment, then let his gaze travel upward, imagining a pair of slender, shapely legs beneath that skirt.

  She looked up and caught him watching her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

  His smile widened. "Never mind," he said with a shake of his head. "Remember, when you let the kite go, start letting out string immediately. I'll tell you when to stop. Ready?"

  She nodded, took a deep breath, and tried again.

  Nathaniel ran alongside, wa
tching her. The wind whipped past her, and the coiled chignon of her hair came tumbling down to fly loose behind her.

  The kite left her hand, caught the breeze, and soared skyward.

  "Keep letting out the string," he reminded her. He watched thick cotton thread slide through her gloved fingers, allowing the kite to climb as they slowed and finally came to a stop.

  He picked up the spool at her feet and handed it to her. "You did it," he said, enjoying the sight of something lovely and rare—a wide, full smile that curved her lips as she lifted her face toward the sky.

  "I did, didn't I?" she gasped, out of breath and laughing as she took the spool from his hand. "That was wonderful! Can we do it again?"

  The wind caught her hair, sending long tendrils whipping across her face, and she brushed them back with her free hand. "I lost my hair comb," she said between panting breaths and glanced down at the ground.

  "I'll find it," he told her. "Watch your kite," he advised, "or it will tangle up in those trees."

  He went in search of her comb, and Mara tried to follow his advice. But despite her best efforts, the wind carried her kite over the tall elms nearby, causing the string to snag on the branches, and the kite came crashing down.

  She sighed and began walking in that direction. Kite flying was more complicated than she'd thought it would be. Pausing a few feet away, she brushed wisps of hair out of her eyes and gazed ruefully up at the bit of newspaper and wood caught on a branch of the elm in front of her.

  Nathaniel joined her there several minutes later. He glanced up at the kite tangled in the leaves about thirty feet above them, then gave her a teasing look of censure. "That didn't take long."

  She smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I've never done this before."

  "Really? I never would have guessed."

  Mara made a face at him. "You didn't find it?"

  "No." It was a lie. Her comb was in his pocket. But he looked at her with the wind tangling her long hair, and he wanted it to stay like that, loose and tumbled.