“So…she knows?”
Jeremiah didn’t bother to ask his sister what she meant by that question. “Yes. I needed to be truthful with her. I owe her that much. I would not allow her to get any closer to me until she understood the risk she was taking.”
“I assume it did not deter her.”
“No. And she accepted the rest of it with far more equanimity than one might have expected. It is unfortunate….” He stopped himself there. What point was there in repining over something he could never change? Yes, even though she possessed no magical powers of her own, Lorena Simms would have made a worthy addition to the Wilcox clan. Witch-kind did marry nonmagical folk from time to time, to ensure that new blood was added to their families…not that she would be able to do such a thing, due to the injuries she had suffered when she lost her child. He was glad that she had not asked if Emma would be able to heal her. Perhaps if his sister had been present when Lorena first suffered the loss of her child, Emma’s healing gifts might have been enough to prevent the barrenness that those injuries caused. Now, though, with so many years gone by, such a thing was impossible. Once that kind of scar tissue had formed, it could never be removed.
And if the world had not been so cruel, and he had met Lorena years earlier, before she had married, before he had forced himself to be a dutiful son and take the woman his father had wished to be his wife…his first wife, the one who had passed away during their trip here to Arizona Territory….
No, he would not indulge himself on that front. No witch or warlock had ever been able to change the past, no matter what other powers they might possess. He had met Lorena here and now, and that wretched curse had barred him forever from any further marriages. The venture he had embarked on now with Lorena was unexplored territory. He could only enjoy these few moments they were able to share and hope for the best.
Emma gave a sympathetic nod, detecting the words he had left unspoken. “And so…what now?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Whatever is allowed me.”
Jeremiah sent a note that he would not be able to have tea with her after all — some sort of unexpected business that had come up at the lumber office. As bitterly disappointed as she was, Lorena knew she could not allow that disappointment to show on her face. No, she had to go serenely about her day, informing Josie that she was not quite sure when they would depart for San Francisco, as the autumn color had not yet peaked, and since they were here now, then they might as well wait to see its splendor before continuing west.
If her maid found anything strange about this pronouncement, she did not show it. Perhaps Josie was glad of the chance to linger here in Flagstaff, so she might continue her flirtation with the bartender. At least the weather remained strangely mild, as if granting Lorena its own form of reprieve. She walked in the park, went to the mercantile for a new packet of hairpins, since some of hers had been lost at Jeremiah’s house, did what she could to convince those who saw her that she was a simple tourist here to take in the town’s natural beauties, and would leave when those beauties began to fade.
But Jeremiah did send for her the next night, and they were able to lose themselves in one another’s arms again. At the end of the evening, however, just as she was about to fall asleep, snuggled up against him, he murmured, “And you are quite well? You have not noticed anything amiss with your health?”
His concern pierced her languor, and she found herself far more awake than she wished to be. “Of course, Jeremiah. I feel perfectly well. Why, I walked for nearly an hour in the park today, and then another half hour as I went about the town. Indeed, I believe I must be adjusting to the altitude, for I was not even fatigued.”
“Good.” He pressed his lips to her hair, a gesture of pure tenderness, with very little passion in it. “You must tell me if anything goes wrong.”
She wanted to rebuke him for his concern, but of course she could not do that, not when he had perfectly valid reasons for being worried. “Of course, Jeremiah. Did we not promise to be completely honest with one another?”
“Yes,” he replied, and then kissed her again, an entirely different kind of kiss, this one firmly pressed against her lips, his tongue slipping in to meet hers so any thoughts of sleep fled, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, drawing him into her again.
For a little time, she forgot about his worry.
Unfortunately, it returned the next day. Lorena knew that since they had seen one another the evening before, she would be spending this evening alone. Because she had dined in the restaurant previously, and knew that an extended absence might raise questions, she determined to go downstairs and take her supper at a quiet corner table, one she had arranged earlier that afternoon.
As she was descending the stairs, her heel somehow caught in the dust ruffle buttoned to the inside of her skirt. Before she even realized precisely what was happening, she had lost her balance, stumbling over one stair, then tripping again as the heel of her other shoe inexplicably broke beneath her. She would have pitched straight down the staircase — and quite possibly broken her neck on the slick, polished oak steps — if the bellhop had not been ascending the stairs at the same time. He dropped the valise he was carrying and reached out to catch her as she plummeted into his arms. At that point, he lost his footing as well, but because he was young and strong, he was able to hold himself steady as he righted her, breathless and shaking all over.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Simms?” he asked as she put a hand to her side and tried to gulp in the air that had been forced out of her lungs. In that moment, she cursed her stays, cursed her inability to take in a deep enough breath, one that would help to slow the crazed beating of her heart.
“I’m fine, Ralph,” she replied, once she’d determined she could speak without her voice shaking too terribly. “So clumsy of me. My heel broke, I fear.”
“Then I wouldn’t call that clumsy, ma’am, but only an accident,” he said as he bent to pick up the traitorous heel from where it sat on the step above the one where they currently stood. “Would you like me to help you back to your room?”
“Yes, if you would. And if you could let the dining room know that I will be a little late?”
“Of course, ma’am. I’ll do that right after I get this valise to Mr. Brady in 204.”
“Thank you, Ralph,” Lorena said, relieved beyond measure that she actually sounded almost calm. Inside, though, her heart kept hammering away, telling her that this had been no accident. She had been walking in heavy skirts and heels her entire adult life and had never tripped in such a way, not even when she was tired, or ill.
No, this was different. This was the curse.
What in the world would she tell Jeremiah?
The truth. To do anything else would betray the trust he had placed in her.
10
“You must go,” Jeremiah said…even though he could feel pieces of his heart breaking away as soon as he uttered the words.
Lorena sat next to him, her face pale but composed. “Do you really think that’s necessary? After all, I have thought it over, and I do believe it was only an accident. I will have to speak to my shoemaker when I return to New York.”
While he could not fault her for thinking that way, for trying to make it seem like an innocent incident, he knew he could not allow her to follow that line of argument. “It was not an accident. It was only the beginning. Believe me, the curse does not give up. Your only hope is to get far away from me.”
“All the way to San Francisco, I assume.”
“Yes, I believe that will be safe enough.” He took her hands in his and held them tightly. “It has been a week since you came here, Lorena. I don’t know why the curse has begun to act on you after such a short time, but Charlotte was with me for far less time than Letty, to whom I was married for more than a year. So perhaps it has begun to accelerate somehow, or perhaps this was merely a warning shot. I cannot say for sure. All I can say is that it is a good thing the train leave
s a few hours from now. Then you can be safely on your way.”
“So soon?” she asked, her expression stricken. For some reason, she had thought she might be able to share one last night with him before she must go. No, she couldn’t bear to go now. She needed to be with him again, to feel him bury himself in her, to warm herself with his touch. If she had known it was to be the last time, she would have done so much more — would have made sure they made love all night, that they would not have lost a single precious second in sleep.
“Yes, so soon.” He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them, first the right, and then the left, where she still wore the gold band Walter had placed there seven years earlier.
How many times could a woman’s heart be broken in a single lifetime? Tears burned in Lorena’s eyes, even as she understood the reasoning behind Jeremiah’s urgency. Her lips parted, and she said softly, “Jeremiah, I lo — ”
At once he let go of her hands and held a finger to her mouth. “Do not say it. Do not even think it. You mustn’t. There are still several hours before you can take the train, hours in which anything might happen.”
Somehow she managed to choke down the tears that clogged her throat, and somehow she made herself blink so the moisture in her eyes would not keep blurring the room, including the face of the man who sat so near. She wanted to memorize every detail of his features, from the long, straight nose and thin but sensitive mouth to the way his raven-dark hair waved back from his high brow.
“I will come back,” she whispered fiercely.
“Lorena — ”
“No, I will.” She paused then, making herself sort through the frenzied thoughts tumbling through her mind. “We had this one week together. I will go away, because I can see that it is best. But perhaps after I am gone for a while — after I am a thousand miles away from you — perhaps the curse will forget me. Perhaps I can come again, and spend another week, and then leave. Please tell me that we might try that. I think — I think I can manage if I know that I will be able to see you again, if only for a short time here and there. Please.”
He did not reply. He was so close that it would have been easy to lean forward and kiss him again. But Lorena knew she must not do that. She must not do anything to attract the attention of the curse. Jeremiah’s brows were drawn together, his features taut and still. In fact, his expression was so impassive that she rather thought a casual observer might think he was not feeling anything at all.
She knew better, however.
At last he said, his voice heavy with doubt, “Perhaps. I can make no promises. But if you go to San Francisco — and if you have an untroubled time there this winter, with no unexplained mishaps or illnesses — perhaps we can make such an arrangement.”
That was enough. It must be. A moment earlier, she had had no hope at all…and now at least she had the slightest glimmer, if nothing more than that. “Thank you, Jeremiah.”
His dark eyes flicked away from hers, and she could tell he did not think there was much chance of them ever seeing one another again. His shoulders lifted. “I think it best that you go now.”
She would not beg. She would go with dignity, and allow their temporary separation to trick the curse into thinking she was gone forever. How silly that sounded, as if the curse was some sort of malevolent entity with a mind of its own. But perhaps it was. As she had thought to herself not so very long ago, she had very little idea of how magic actually worked.
“Goodbye, Jeremiah,” she said softly, and rose from the divan, then made her way to the front door. Had he cast the illusion spell so she would once more look like his sister Emma, or had he decided that it did not matter, since they were now parting?
Lorena did not glance in the mirror in the entryway to find out.
The train chugged away, black smoke trailing back over its length as it headed west. Although Jeremiah had known it was impossible to go to the platform to say his final goodbyes to her, he could not keep himself from loitering in the downtown area, just so he could catch one last glimpse of the train as it left Flagstaff, heading toward California.
California. It might as well be the moon.
“She’s gone?” came Jacob’s voice at his elbow, and Jeremiah started, then turned to see his son staring up at him with quizzical black eyes, tip-tilted and long-lashed…so like his mother’s.
“What on earth are you doing here?” Jeremiah demanded, nerves too worn for him to worry about moderating his tone.
“It’s after three. School is out. I saw you as I was leaving and came over. So she’s gone, isn’t she? Mrs. Simms?”
“How do you know about that?”
Jacob’s thin shoulders lifted. “I know a lot of things. Anyway, regular people don’t notice your illusions, but I can see through them. I saw her when she was hurrying back to her hotel yesterday, because it was at the same time I was walking to school with Louis and Marcus and Susan.”
This revelation startled Jeremiah more than he cared to admit. Jacob was barely eight, far too young to have begun manifesting his powers. A witch or warlock’s talents began to show at ten or eleven, sometimes even later than that. For the boy to already be able to pierce a supposedly impenetrable illusion…well, that was cause for some concern.
But he is also Nizhoni’s child, Jeremiah thought then. Why should I be surprised that he should be so powerful?
“Ah,” he said in reply to his son’s comment. “Well, yes, Mrs. Simms was on that train. She is going to San Francisco.”
“Does she live there?”
“Yes, and in New York.”
“She has two houses?”
“Yes.”
“So she’s rich? Is she richer than we are?”
What a question. Jeremiah hadn’t bothered to stop and consider the matter, because he did not find it to be of much concern to him. But he nodded and said, “Perhaps. I believe she is from quite a prominent family.”
“Is she coming back?”
It was Jeremiah’s turn to shrug. He turned so he could look toward the tracks, but of course the train was long gone. “I don’t know, Jacob.”
Despite its mildness, the winter felt excruciatingly long to Lorena. She busied herself with going to the theater and the opera and the ballet, to reacquainting herself with the long list of people her mother had said were necessary to properly insinuate herself into San Francisco society after her long absence, but behind all of that was an aching need that she knew would only be satisfied by being back in Jeremiah’s arms.
There were even men who wished to flirt with her, who did not find her widowhood — nor her thirty years — to be a huge impediment. But of course neither of those qualities would be terribly off-putting to someone far more entranced by the size of her fortune. Because she was an expert at that game, she flirted in return, laughed and traded compliments, and then went home to her empty house. At first, she wondered if she would feel an invisible hand pushing her down the great curved staircase in the foyer, or perhaps suffer another carriage accident, or a mysterious wasting illness. But she experienced none of those things, did not even succumb to the strain of influenza that swept through the city in late January.
And so, after Easter had come and gone, she began to make plans to close the house for the summer season and return to New York. Of course the great mansion on Nob Hill would never be completely empty, for the rooms occupied by her housekeeper and cook and butler would still be in use, but they would cover the furniture in the main parts of the house, the salons and the dining room, the library and her extensive suite on the second floor.
Should she write to Jeremiah, or merely appear, catching the curse off-guard? But then she thought that she herself would not much like that sort of surprise, and so she compromised, sending a telegram nearly opaque in its vagueness, but one she hoped he would understand.
Train to Flagstaff, April 17.
When she alighted at the station, the air was bitterly cold. She had not been expecting that, l
ulled by the mild damp of a California winter. Neither had she expected to see Jeremiah, and she was not disappointed in that. There were a few faces she recognized from her stay here in the autumn, but his was not among them. She and Josie went to the Hotel San Francisco and settled themselves in.
Lorena did not have very long to wait. Within the hour, a note was delivered to her, one that simply said, Tomorrow night.
Of course. He would have to make arrangements to send his son to Emma’s house. And also, she thought he was holding back, attempting to be discreet. Yes, his illusions made it so that the citizens of Flagstaff wouldn’t be able to notice her coming and going from his home, but there was a strong likelihood that his son might make the connection if Jeremiah had Jacob go to his aunt’s as soon as the train pulled into town. As much as Lorena burned to see Jeremiah, well, she had waited six months. One more evening could hardly make that much of a difference.
And it was as if she hadn’t been gone at all, when she went to Jeremiah’s house the following night, fell into his arms and let him kiss her over and over, both of them so desperate for the other’s touch that they barely spoke, but only hurried up the stairs so they might find solace in their desperate, exquisite joining. When they were done, they spoke quietly of the events of the intervening months, catching up so they might not have such gaps in their knowledge of one another’s lives.
“I suppose you have had many offers of marriage,” he teased her, and she laughed and replied,
“Oh, only two or three.”
“Is that all? The men of San Francisco are sadly lacking in ardor, then.”
How much did she dare to say? Even though she knew in her heart that she loved him, she had been forbidden to utter such a thing out loud. As she had flirted with her hapless suitors back in California, she knew that she would never meet anyone like Jeremiah Wilcox. The first love, the innocent love, of her life was Walter, and always would be. What she felt for Jeremiah was something entirely different, a need all the more intense because she knew it could only be satisfied for such a short time.
The Arrangement (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 10) Page 11