France.
Could she even dream of such a thing? There was a time she thought she’d never leave the bayou. Now here she was in one of the best restaurants in San Francisco, music from the piano filling the air, wearing a dress Ulrich had allowed her to buy from one of the expensive shops on Post Street earlier in the day while he was being fitted for a dinner jacket.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Ulrich said from the opposite side of the table.
Onyx set her wine glass down. “I was thinking how lucky I am, Ulrich.”
Ulrich nodded and then stood and walked off. Onyx was confused. Had she said the wrong thing? Moments later she heard the notes of her favorite song—“Moonlight Bay”—coming from the piano.
All alone, unknown they find me,
Memories like these remind me
Of the girl I left behind me,
Down on Moonlight Bay.
Ulrich returned and held out his hand. “Might I have this dance?”
Onyx took Ulrich’s hand, and he escorted her to a small dance floor in the center of the restaurant and wrapped his arm around her waist.
“How did you know I liked this song?” Onyx asked.
“I heard you sing one night at the Apache,” Ulrich said. “It was that last night before we left Las Vegas.”
“I didn’t see you there,” Onyx said.
“I know. I was sitting in the car, parked on the other side of Freemont,” Ulrich said with a smile, giving Onyx a twirl as the music continued.
Candle lights gleaming on the silent shore,
Lonely nights, dreaming till we meet once more.
Far apart, her heart, is yearning,
With a sigh for my returning,
With the light of love still burning
As in of days of yore.
“Why didn’t you come in?” Onyx said. “You know how much I wanted you to come watch me sing.”
“I was enjoying watching you through the window, without you knowing I was there,” Ulrich said, leaving out the part about having the gloves and rope he’d planned to strangle her with on the seat next to him.
We were sailing along, on Moonlight Bay,
We could hear the voices ringing, they seemed to say,
You have stolen her heart, now don’t go away!
As we sang love’s old sweet song, on Moonlight Bay.
It wasn’t until the music ended that Onyx realized they were the only two people on the dance floor with every eye in the room on the two of them.
That night in San Francisco would be the best night Onyx and Ulrich would ever spend together.
Chapter Forty
Orlando, Florida
July 4, 2010
Dane and Robyn were coming back from the Fourth of July festivities at Lake Eola in the heart of downtown Orlando, headed to the Orlando Grand Hotel for a late-night drink.
DJ’s Chophouse was closed for the holiday. Even if it wasn’t, Robyn would have suggested they go someplace else. She was not a fan of sitting at the bar where she worked. Few bartenders are.
Dane had forgotten just how much he enjoyed fireworks. And he was coming to understand just how much he liked Robyn.
Which wasn’t really the truth.
The truth was he loved her.
Years of superficial, one-night stands—the majority of them with girls who’d wanted to sleep with Koda but were forced to settle for him—had taught Dane what love wasn’t. Now he was getting a glimpse of what love was—the type of love his mother and father had.
True love.
He’d almost said the words earlier in the evening in Robyn’s kitchen as she was teaching him the basics of bartending, but he couldn’t get them out. He was afraid. Not because he didn’t want to commit—in his own mind he was already committed. He didn’t want to say the words too soon, and screw things up by moving too fast.
He would tell her soon.
They slid into a corner sofa in the hotel’s dimly lit lounge. “Have you ever seen a Blasius & Sons piano?” Robyn asked.
“Actually, I’ve seen two,” Dane said. “There’s one in the lounge at the Forsyth Park Hotel in Savannah, and Koda’s dad has one in his living room—though I’m pretty sure it’s just for show. I’ve never seen anyone play it.”
“I’ve been to the Forsyth Park Hotel, but I don’t remember seeing a Blasius & Sons piano,” Robyn said.
“It’s in the lounge upstairs,” Dane said. “Koda and I were in Savannah for a charity event Mika Flagler was putting on.”
“When Koda saw the girl in the mirror,” Robyn said.
“Exactly,” Dane said.
A waiter then arrived to take their drink orders, and Robyn suddenly grabbed Dane’s arm as he left. “God, Dane, I think I just saw…”
“Saw what?” Dane said.
“I’m not sure, but do you see that guy in the tan jacket at the far end of the bar?” Robyn asked.
“With the blonde in the red dress?”
“Yeah,” Robyn said. “I think I saw him put something in her drink.”
“Seriously? What do we do?”
With date rape on the rise, part of Robyn’s training included being on the lookout for anyone attempting to slip an incapacitating agent—rohypnol, ketmine, and the like—into a drink.
“We don’t need to do anything for right now,” Robyn said. “We just wait and see what happens next.”
Minutes later, the guy—who Robyn recognized as a sleazy lawyer from one of the major downtown firms—helped the girl from her barstool, wrapped his arm around her waist, and started toward the door.
The girl could barely stand, making it clear to both Robyn and Dane the girl had indeed been drugged.
“Come on,” Robyn said, sliding from the booth.
“I need to pay the check,” Dane said.
Robyn pulled two twenty-dollar bills from her purse and tossed them on the table. “There’s no time, come on!”
Dane followed Robyn out of the lounge into the main lobby of the hotel and looked around. The sleazy lawyer and the girl were nowhere to be seen.
“The elevator,” Dane said, watching as the doors slid closed.
“Watch to see which floor it stops on,” Robyn said. “I’m going to check the street.”
“But—”
Robyn raced off, and Dane stayed there, watching the numbers on the elevator light up, one after the other: 2… 3… 4.
The elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor, but what was Dane supposed to do now? Go up to the fourth floor and start pounding on doors?
And where was Robyn?
Frustrated, Dane crossed the lobby and pushed through the same door Robyn had exited that lead to South Street.
Dane looked down South Street and saw no one. Then he turned and looked up Orange Avenue. There she was, almost two blocks up the street, heading away from him toward Church Street.
“Robyn!” Dane shouted, but she was too far away to hear him. He began sprinting and watched as she made a left on Church and disappeared out of sight.
Even in good shape, running as fast as he could, it took a full minute for Dane to get to Church Street. When he turned the corner, he discovered he’d made up ground, but Robyn was still a full block ahead of him. Not far ahead of her, Dane could see the man, his arm wrapped tightly around the drugged girl’s waist, standing at the railroad crossing, just past the 55 West building.
The lawyer and the girl had stopped at the crossing just as the lights started flashing and bells began ringing. Robyn was going to catch them for sure, and Dane found himself hoping she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Confronting the guy by herself would be a mistake.
Dane sprinted up the street toward them—past DJ’s Chophouse and the 55 West building—but before he could get there, Robyn reached out and grabbed the man by the arm, spinning him around.
Damn it, Robyn, Dane thought.
“I saw what you did,” Robyn said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking ab
out,” the sleazy lawyer said, his arm still firmly around the drugged girl’s waist, holding her up.
“Hey, asshole,” Dane said as he approached, breathing hard.
“Oh, I see, big man to the rescue,” the lawyer said, releasing the girl and turning his attention to Dane.
Dane had been in a few fights in his day, most of them during college as part of the Lacrosse team, and he knew the key to not getting your ass kicked was unexpected action. “Listen, we don’t want any trouble…” Dane said casually, holding up his hands as if surrendering—then, taking a quick, decisive step forward—Dane threw a left hook that the lawyer never saw coming.
The man went down like he’d been hit by Mike Tyson.
“That wasn’t so hard,” Dane said.
“Oh, God!” Robyn shrieked.
Dane followed her eyes and realized why she was panicked. They’d been so preoccupied with the lawyer, neither of them noticed the girl had stumbled away from the group.
And up the tracks.
Robyn took off first, running toward the girl who was completely oblivious to the train baring down on her.
Dane took off after Robyn and the girl, legs churning beneath him, his arms outstretched in front of him as the train blew its horn one last time.
Robyn and the girl were knocked off their feet and thrown from the tracks as Dane hit them, pushing them each in the back from behind.
The girl hit the ground and stayed there as the train roared past—delirious from the drug and the fall—Robyn on the ground next to her.
“We need an ambulance,” a woman standing nearby said into her phone. “Church Street by the 55 West building.”
Robyn sat up, wincing in pain, holding her shoulder.
“Alive? I don’t think so… No, he’s not moving…”
“He?” Robyn heard herself say.
“I don’t know. He’s at least a hundred feet up the tracks,” the woman on the cell phone said. “No, I can’t tell… Jesus, he was hit by the train!”
Hit by the train? Robyn thought as people gathered near the tracks—murmuring, whispering to each other about how terrible it was—asking if anyone knew how it happened.
Robyn pulled herself to her feet and looked around for Dane.
Where was Dane?
Robyn looked up the tracks and finally saw what everyone was looking at and talking about.
“No, no, no…” Robyn said as she took the first few steps up the tracks toward the body. A man stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Robyn, stopping her.
Robyn saw the lights of the ambulance coming toward them as more and more people gathered, attracted by the chaos.
“Dane!” Robyn screamed, pulling away from the man as the full weight of what had happened sank in. Robyn took off, racing up the tracks toward the flashing lights of the ambulance, but a paramedic stepped forward and stopped her before she could get to the body.
“It’s going to be okay,” the paramedic said.
No, it’s not, Robyn thought.
How could things ever be okay after this?
It took Dane a few seconds to fully understand what had happened as his spirit hovered over his mangled body lying motionless on the railroad tracks.
They were at the bar, he and Robyn, and then…
The train.
It happened so fast that he hadn’t even felt it.
Then the light appeared—slowly, gradually at first—then all at once in a radiant burst.
Dane had never doubted his parent’s ability as psychics—he’d seen too many strange things during his time growing up in Lily Dale to question their ability to speak with the dead. What he never truly bought into, however, was their description of the light.
“It’s more beautiful than anything you can imagine,” his father said once. “Like being washed in waves of love,” his mother had added.
He realized now their description wasn’t even close to capturing the majesty of the moment.
Dane looked up the tracks to where Robyn was standing, sobbing uncontrollably, a man with his arms wrapped around her, holding her, keeping her from getting to what remained of his physical body on the tracks.
Good, he thought. There was no reason for Robyn to see him now, not like this.
And moments later—as Dane Luckner moved toward the light and allowed it to envelop him—his final thoughts were about how much he loved her and how much he wished he had not put off telling her.
Chapter Forty-One
Chicago, Illinois
August 5, 1940
The owners of Riverview Park had done everything they could to attract customers during the winter when temperatures sometimes dropped to below zero, and the wind coming off Lake Michigan made it feel colder still. The additions included an indoor ballroom, roller rink, and a giant, seventy-horse carousel.
Nothing worked.
No matter what they tried, the majority of the park’s revenue came in over the summer, when kids were out of school. As such, only a few employees were kept on year-round, something Declan and Tommy learned the hard way after they first arrived in Chicago three years earlier and were laid off in mid-November.
With no jobs and no way to pay the rent, Declan and Tommy found themselves back to square one. Going back to the abandoned warehouse was out of the question. Fortunately, the old woman offered to give them a dollar break if they agreed to do some repair work around the house. Then, to get through that first winter, Declan took to selling papers on street corners, while Tommy washed dishes at a club called The Purple Pig.
The Purple Pig was supposedly a mob joint, but Tommy had no idea whether mobsters frequented the place or not. Other than waiters and bartenders, no other employees were allowed in the main dining area of the restaurant at any time.
It was the first time in their relationship that Declan was jealous of Tommy, working indoors while he was forced to be outside in the cold and sleet. When Declan and Tommy returned to their jobs at Riverview in the spring, they vowed to have a better plan the following winter.
And they did.
After asking around, Declan discovered that most carnies would hop trains to other parts of the country once October rolled around—usually somewhere warm, like Florida or California. Having been to neither place before, Declan and Tommy flipped a coin that second winter.
It came up Florida.
Once they arrived in early November 1939, they discovered the majority of Florida’s amusement parks were centered on the display of exotic animals, a field in which neither Declan nor Tommy had any experience. Taking care of wild monkeys and wrangling alligators were not things you could fake.
Declan had read about a place in Jacksonville called The Pavilion, which advertised a ninety-three-foot-high roller coaster. Declan was brought on as a member of the roller coaster maintenance crew, tightening bolts and doing other needed repairs—a step up from taking tickets.
Two weeks later, Tommy landed work as a pinsetter at a local bowling alley, manually resetting fallen pins to their correct positions between frames. What looked like fun at the outset turned out to be exhausting, backbreaking work. But Tommy was hell-bent on not having Declan pay his way, so he stuck with it.
Before that first winter in Jacksonville neither boy had ever seen the ocean. By the time April rolled around, they weren’t sure they wanted to return to Chicago. What if they could live here—in the sunshine—forever?
“Someday you and I will come back here with pockets full of cash, and live in big houses on the sand,” Declan said.
“They say Key West is nice,” Tommy said.
Declan and Tommy knew they were dreaming, but when dreams were all you had, you learned to cling to them with both hands.
The decision to leave Jacksonville and return to Chicago at the beginning of June was made when a drunken Indian, who went by the name Mohawk Joe, offered Declan and Tommy a ride.
Mohawk Joe’s real name was Joseph Brandt, supposedly named after a famous le
ader in the Mohawk nation from New York who fought in the revolutionary war. The only likeable thing about him was that he had a car and offered to let Declan and Tommy ride back with him to Chicago, providing they’d pay half the gas and do all the driving. Luckily for the two of them, Mohawk Joe was so intoxicated he didn’t notice them swerving all over the road—neither Declan nor Tommy had ever driven before.
Declan recalled Mohawk Joe from their time at Riverview, having seen the man doing repairs on The Bobs roller coaster, swinging from a rope a hundred and fifty feet off the ground, usually drunk.
But in the end, the boys determined that four days in a car with Mohawk Joe—even if the man was obnoxiously loud and smelled like he’d been marinated in a large vat of gin—was better than four days in a rat-infested, smelly railcar.
The only problem was, once they were back home, Mohawk Joe thought the three of them were best friends and wouldn’t leave them alone. To make matters worse, none of them got their regular jobs back.
The only thing available was working on construction of the new House of Mirrors, the place where Tommy saw the ghost boy, and the man he believed to be Father Fanning. But what choice did they have? It was either that or back to sleeping on the floor of the abandoned warehouse.
Over the next few months, Mohawk Joe’s drinking went from annoyance to a significant problem, with the Indian so drunk on most days he was virtually unable to work. Declan and Tommy did their best to cover for him, but eventually they agreed he wasn’t their problem.
On the final day of construction, with the House of Mirrors scheduled to reopen the following day, disaster struck.
Quitting time had come and gone, and Declan and Tommy were sitting on the front steps of the attraction, cooling down in the afternoon breeze. Suddenly, without warning, Mohawk Joe came bursting through the doors of the building, screaming at the top of his lungs:
“Ahhhhhhhh! I saw him, the devil! Ahhhhhhhhh!”
“Shut that damn Indian up,” the construction foreman yelled at Declan, but Mohawk Joe was uncontrollable.
“The devil! I saw the devil in the mirror!” Mohawk Joe screamed again. Mohawk Joe looked around like a wild animal and spotted the sledgehammer on the step next to Declan, grabbed it, and raced back into the House of Mirrors.
Onyx Webb: Book Two Page 15