Danny closed his eyes. He had been wondering how long it would take before Antoine came to this. When he opened them again, he let them sparkle with a hint of laughter.
“She decided she would rather live in a hut with me than spend another moment with you.”
“And now she’ll have the bastard—”
“Whom you didn’t want. And who will become my child,” Danny answered readily. “What’s mine is hers, what’s hers is mine, after all. That’s part of a wedding contract, I believe. Although I’d heard your own understanding of marriage was somewhat different from that. I always wondered: did your wife turn a blind eye to all those sweet little honey pots so’s you’d leave her alone?”
“Why, I should have you arrested—”
“You could, couldn’t you? Make my life miserable, I mean. You have so many people in your pockets. It’s impressive, actually.”
Antoine glared at him, then settled his features into a grim smile. “Oh, I could indeed, Mr. Baker. I could make your life very unhappy. In fact, I wouldn’t start feeling too comfortable if I were you.”
“Thank you for the warning.” A creak from the top of the stairs alerted them both, and they turned toward the stairwell. Danny’s blood sang with victory. “Ah. Here she is. My lovely bride.”
Audrey padded down the plush runner covering the wood stairs, following a maid who carried one of her bags. The other bag, which he could see contained her art supplies, Audrey carried herself. Danny took the bag from the maid, and she gave him a nervous smile before disappearing into another room.
“Got everything?” Danny asked Audrey. She nodded, then turned to Antoine, looking as if she might cry.
“Pierre, thank you for all you did for me. I hope you understand this is best for all of us.”
“I fail to see how this benefits you, Audrey,” he said roughly.
“I told you about Danny.”
“Yes, in fact, you talked about him constantly. To the point of annoyance. I know all about his drinking, and how he hit you.”
“You also know I missed him every minute.”
“Not every minute,” Antoine reminded her, staring pointedly at her belly.
She swallowed hard, looking sickened. “Yes, Pierre. Every minute.”
FORTY-ONE
Mick was scarce that night, and Danny knew it was because he wanted to give his friend room to get reacquainted with Audrey. They walked into the quiet kitchen and Danny felt as if he had to dust off the chairs before offering one to her. She looked so sophisticated, with her hair all curled, her lips still carrying a light tinge of red lipstick. She wasn’t quite meeting his eyes yet.
He set the kettle to boil because he knew she’d want tea. When it was boiled, he set Mick’s best china cup in front of her, and she sipped daintily through the steam. He sat across from her, blowing on his own cup before drinking the entire thing down and scalding his tongue in the process. He did it on purpose, needing something to shock him out of his daze. Her eyes were down, her fingers tracing lines on the table. So many questions. In a way, he knew exactly how she felt.
She looked up, and he saw his own pain. “What happened that morning, Danny?” Her voice was soft, afraid. “What happened to you? Our house is gone. Where were you?”
“At the docks.” He cleared his throat. “After you left, I . . . lost my mind. Johnny came home, and he and I went to the tavern. We slept in the warehouse. Never made it home.”
Her mouth twisted slightly to the side, and he noticed her chewing on her lip. She hated remembering that morning—and the night before—as much as he did. “So Johnny was with you?”
“He was. But he’s not anymore. The explosion, it—”
“Oh no.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, and her whole face squeezed tight with grief. “Oh, Danny.”
“He was right there with me, you know?” Danny didn’t need to work hard to summon Johnny’s face. His hangover had left the skin dark under his eyes, but life had still shone in them. “One minute I could have reached out and grabbed him, the next he was gone.”
She closed her eyes, then covered her face with her hands, and he fought back his own sobs as she gave in to hers. “Oh, poor Johnny,” she breathed. As the worst of it eased, she took her hands away and wiped away what she could of the tears. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.”
He couldn’t speak for a moment, just held her eyes, and he knew she could see the living, breathing pain in his expression. “I miss him,” he finally said.
She’d reached across and grabbed his hands before he could cry, and the hot tears streaming down her cheeks could just as easily have been his. But he’d already cried so much. He needed to move on. Audrey was back. He had to move forward.
“What about you?” he asked. “You’re okay now?”
She told him how she’d gone to Antoine’s house that night after their fight, devastated and lost. He’d welcomed her in, and she’d fallen instantly asleep in the quiet room on the main floor.
“In the morning . . .” She shook her head. “I forgot where I was. It was like the war had come to find me, and my face was bleeding but it was too dark to see. Antoine had gone away for a business meeting, taken a train early that morning, so I was alone with his family.” She faltered. “And they—”
“I know,” he said. “I came to look for you later and I saw them, covered them up. Oh, if only I’d found you there!”
“I left right away. I needed to know what was going on, and I was so afraid after I found them there . . .”
He nodded. “I didn’t get there until nighttime. I waited, stayed the night there, but you—”
“I was in the hospital. Someone found me and brought me in.”
The months of separation, of questions, of hopelessness, hung between them, bringing back the pain all over again. He knew she felt it just as he did, and for just a moment he was tempted to give in to the frustration, to rant and yell and get everything out. But the look in her eyes said she needed him to be strong, because she needed help.
It had always been her in the past, saving him. She had brought him light and sweetness and hope when he had tried to push it all away. Now it was almost as if their lives were reversed. She was the one in need. He tightened his fingers around hers.
“It’s okay now. We found each other.”
She nodded carefully, and though the grief didn’t go away, he saw relief there as well. Hope, even.
“Can we . . . can we go to bed now, Danny? I just want to lie down, hold on to you in the dark.”
After she’d finished her tea, he led her through the paper-strewn front room and upstairs to his bedroom. Unlike Mick’s half of the apartment, his was neat as a pin. He had no real possessions to litter the place, and having a clear floor helped him move around more easily. He had purchased a four-drawer dresser to keep things tidy, and he quickly emptied two of the drawers for Audrey. A couple of jackets hung on a rack by the door, and his crutch hid behind them, for use on those days when his leg ached too badly. He hooked her light summer coat over one of the spare hangers, and she placed her hat on their dresser, where it seemed so cheerful it was almost out of place.
“Can I help you with your buttons?” he asked. They were small, in a line down the centre of her back.
She nodded, saying only, “Yes, please.”
He was almost as nervous as he had been the night of their wedding. She seemed like someone new. As if he were cheating on his wife by being with her. And she looked equally shy. He took his time, ignoring the adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream, trying to disregard the trembling in his fingers. When he’d finished, she turned shyly toward the closet, where she hung her dress. He took the opportunity to admire her back, veiled by a rich-looking new shift.
“Are you staring?” she asked, still facing away.
&
nbsp; “I am,” he admitted. “Can’t help it.”
She turned toward him. “Everything is different, Danny. How do we start again?”
“Like we started the first time, I guess. Come here.”
She wasn’t obviously pregnant, but he thought her curves looked a little rounder, her breasts a little tight against the shift. He was suddenly and painfully hard. She grinned.
“You did miss me, didn’t you?”
It was his turn to redden, but he couldn’t deny what was so obvious. “Every day.”
“Forgive me?” she whispered, pressing her hands over her belly.
Danny had promised himself that no matter what she did, he wasn’t ever going to let her go again. But every time he thought about the new life growing in her womb, he felt a stabbing in his own gut. It should have been him that got her pregnant, not some pompous, overblown snob with short, stubby hands. Not some black-haired Frenchman with too much money and not enough integrity. Forgive her? Yes. Of course. But could he ever forgive Antoine? No. And could he ever forgive himself? He doubted that very much.
Which was too bad, he thought. Because that was exactly what she wanted him to do.
“I forgive you,” he whispered back, pulling her close and burying his nose in the perfumed coils of her hair.
“I never meant to—”
“Hush, Audrey. Kiss me, would you? Kiss me like you used to.”
He thought it’d be uncomfortable, kissing her now that he knew another man had tasted these lips, touched this body. But the moment she was back in his arms, with her breath caressing his cheek, her eyes begging for forgiveness then clouding over with desire, it felt like home. Like he’d never left. God, how he’d missed her.
When they lay in the dark afterward, the awkwardness returned, and he hated it. The only sound in the room was their breathing, and he wished he could be more quiet about it. Who was she now? What was she thinking? Was it as difficult for her as it was for him? Did her heart ache like his did?
He rolled toward her, folding one arm under his head. “How do you feel? I mean being pregnant and all? Are you sick?”
“No,” she said quietly. “I guess I’m lucky. Some ladies talk about how sick they got. I feel fine.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
The image of another baby came to mind, clear as the last time he’d seen him. Danny hesitated, nervous all over again, but he had to go on. There was something they had to discuss, and it wouldn’t help to put it off. He cleared his throat to buy a little time. “You said you always wanted to be a mother, right?”
“I did.”
“Well, I might have a little surprise for you,” he said, dipping a toe into dangerous territory. “Three of them, actually.”
She frowned and rolled toward him. He pulled his eyes from the view, then told her about the two little boys and their baby brother.
“It was that very first day. Maybe an hour or so after the blast. I heard these little voices coming outta nowhere. At first I couldn’t figure where they were coming from, because there was nothing left of their house. But they never quit yelling. So I dug in the house and found them in their basement. When I think about that day, about how surprised I was to see those little boys—” He swallowed. “If no one had heard them, they’d have died that night. They’d have been trapped with their dead mother, and they’d have frozen to death. But I was there at the right time, I guess. And after that, well, I went to see them every day. They waited for me, and when I thought I couldn’t stand another day without you, I’d go to them and forget for a while. I saved them, sure, but they saved me too.” He locked his eyes on hers. “I’ve applied to adopt the three of them,” he finished.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What?”
“Yeah. Well, I’m sorry to spring this on you. It’s just, well, it’s real important to me and the boys. And I was hoping you might approve.”
A wide smile spread across her face. “I do, Danny! I do! Tell me more.”
No one had ever been able to make him feel as good about himself as she did. She watched him with adoration in her wide eyes, listening to everything, nodding and frowning whenever it was required. She’d always loved his stories. Couldn’t get enough.
“The original orphanage was destroyed. It was horrible. I helped with the cleanup of the place, and it darn near broke my heart—if it hadn’t already been broke, that is,” he said, giving her a shy smile. “Then after the blast there were so many more orphans than before. We had to build it bigger, with more rooms, more beds. And the kids, they weren’t accustomed to it, you know? I know a lot of orphans start out as babies, left by their parents, and they don’t know any better. But some of these kids lost their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, the family dog even, and all in one moment. They were old enough to remember what they’d had. Now they’re all alone. And when I stopped in, it seemed like they needed me. Feeling that, well, it helped me get over you a little. Because I figured you were gone, you know.”
“But you checked the lists. Every day,” she said dutifully, repeating what he’d told her so many times.
“I did. But nobody checked on these kids. I mean, there were nurses and volunteers, but no one came for the kids. Like their families were all gone. So I figured Mick might be able to help, and soon we had ads in newspapers across the country, looking for relatives. It was fantastic. About a dozen of the kids ended up with families. But my boys never did. And right from the start, it was like they were with me. So I’ve been waiting for paperwork to go through. It’s been a while because, well, because I was a man without a wife. And a crippled man at that.”
“But you’re not on your own anymore,” she said softly. “Will it help that I’m here?”
“Everything’s gonna be better now that you’re here.” He grabbed one of her hands. “You’re sure it’s okay? I mean, I know it’s asking a lot, bringing home a pair of four-year-olds and a third little fella almost ready to walk.”
“Oh, Danny. And we can bring them to Jeddore? Can we have a real home again?”
“I’d sure like that. I’ve put some money away so we can at least put a start on building a house out there, if you want.”
Tears of happiness, of regret, of hope glittered in her eyes. “I’ve been saving too. Oh, Danny. You have no idea how much I want that. Living in Antoine’s house, well, I cried every night.” She sniffed and blinked sadly at him. “What happened to us?”
Danny touched her cheek with one callused thumb, wiping away a tear. “It was me, and we both know that. But I’ve changed. You’ll see.”
She turned and kissed his thumb. “I already do.”
Danny guessed dawn was just a few hours away. He’d have to work soon. He was exhausted, and Audrey’s eyelids looked heavy.
“Audrey, I want to fall asleep beside you. Hold you until the sun comes up. Like we used to.”
She smiled dreamily at him. “I would like that very much.”
“And tomorrow you can come with me, and we can sign the papers for the boys.”
“I would like that too.”
Sleep carried them away, and in the morning they awoke and made love again, then dressed and headed toward the Social Services building. Danny led her to the desk where he’d come before, and they stopped in front of a frumpy, middle-aged woman, dressed all in black. She sat slightly hunched, pen in hand.
“Good morning, Mrs. Munroe,” Danny said, doffing his cap. “You’re looking lovely today.”
He was rewarded by a bland smile. “Good morning, Mr. Baker. How can I be of service?”
“I’m here about the boys, ma’am.”
“I assumed that. Has something changed in your application? Because at the moment it is still under consideration, which we have already discussed.”
“Of course,” he said, grinning. “But yes, my situa
tion has changed considerably. Mrs. Munroe, I’d like to present my wife, Mrs. Audrey Baker.” Mrs. Munroe slid her spectacles up her nose and peered at Audrey. She managed a small smile. “I see. Well, this does change things. You are his wife?”
“I am,” Audrey replied. “I thought he was dead.”
“Congratulations to both of you.” Mrs. Munroe’s face twisted abruptly into a painful grimace. She reached to the side and pulled a well-seasoned handkerchief from her bag, then blew her nose loudly. “Please excuse me, will you? I—”
Danny nodded, frowning sympathetically. “Mrs. Munroe lost her husband,” he murmured into Audrey’s ear. The couple waited patiently until the woman had herself under control. She sniffed, tucked the cloth into her sleeve, then looked back up at them.
“Now,” she said, after taking a cleansing breath. “Let’s take a look at your file. Let’s see.” She thumbed through a box of envelopes, finally coming across one labelled Baker. She slipped the pages out and laid them on the table in front of her, then skimmed over the words with a finger just beginning to bulge with arthritis. “Ah, yes. Right. Eugene Josiah White, Harry Donald White, and Norman Jefferson White. All three, was it? You wanted to adopt all three?”
Danny nodded. “I wouldn’t split them up.”
Mrs. Munroe squinted critically at the couple. “You’re awfully young to manage three young boys, but if you think you can handle it . . .” She nodded, then signed something at the bottom of the page and looked up, giving Danny a warmer smile. “I will expedite these forms so you will hear by the end of the week. I’m doing it as a thank you, Mr. Baker. You have done wonderful things for those children. For all of them.”
“No more than they deserved,” he said. “Thank you very much for looking after that. So we’ll be back here next Friday? To meet with you?”
“Yes. Bring your marriage certificate when you come. That’s how it’s done,” she said.
Tides of Honour Page 31