Perhaps surmising she was running away from someone, something, the very proper chap turned his attention away. He smelled like spice and leather, his beard neatly trimmed, complexion dark, his face handsome. Maybe it was the curly hair, perhaps the accent, but Elisabeth reacted. Yes, he did resemble Edward.
His passport was out, the ticket tucked neatly inside. Liz could see his first name was Andrew, enough to settle Elisabeth’s roiling.
While her hands were free, Liz fished through the money belt tucked inside the waistband of her sweats for both passports and the two e-tickets. She zipped the money back in, pulled her sweatshirt down and burrowed through her purse.
Andrew watched out of the corner of his eye as she fumbled like a bum. He waved three fingers at Eddie who, resigned to his fate, had given up trying to get out of the harness. The baby waved back.
The line moved slowly, and there was still the security checkpoint to go through. Liz tapped her foot, shuffled, her stomach protested. The more time that passed the greater the chance she’d be tracked down.
“Bye now.” Andrew stepped to the counter.
Hearing British accents agitated Elisabeth. We huddled in Liverpool overnight with almost no money. The smell of soot from the train engine, the fish and chips, Sara, Katherine, and I shared, the stench of rotting garbage, offal, and sewage . . . It was awful.
“Next, please step down!” The ticket agent was annoyed by Liz’s inattention even before she got to the counter. No pretty British accent, this woman was from Brooklyn.
Liz pushed the passports and e-tickets over. Kisha, her name tag read.
She studied the passport pictures, then peered over to appraise Eddie. “How many bags are you checkin', ma’am?”
“Two. I’d like to gate check the baby seat and carriage.”
“Put the bags up.”
She heaved them onto the platform.
“The plane is not fully booked. I can give the baby a seat. Has anything been out of your possession since they were packed?”
Could a uniformed bus driver be an issue? “No.”
“You’ve purchased a one-way ticket. How long are you planning on stayin' in London?”
Liz caught her breath. “I’m not sure. This is a research trip and I’m writing a book. As long as it takes.”
Kisha typed in some notes and sent the bags on their way. “Gate 15. You’re quite early. Check in when they post the flight to be sure the baby’s seat is still available.” She shoved back the passports and boarding passes. “Next customer, step down, please!”
Andrew was long gone, but having shed the bags was a huge relief, even with the seat pounding into her chest with each step. The queue for the metal detectors wound around three times, but moved quickly.
“Take the baby out please, ma’am. Push the carriage through by itself, then carry him.”
It beeped, of course. The agent turned it over to examine the underside. Her stuff dropped off the belt, and she hurried through the detector. Alarms sounded.
Three agents came over. “You must have metal somewhere,” one snarled.
“I’m wearing a brace on my knee.” How could she have forgotten that?
The female agent took her by the arm. “Step this way.”
The other agent was feeling every seam on the stroller.
“My things are over there unattended.” My purse, my ID, my laptop, God.
“They’ll be hand inspected. Come with me.” The woman led her to a glass booth.
The men plunked the containers down and rummaged through her things, opened the back of the cell phone, turned on the computer.
The gloved female stood like a mad scientist over Liz, holding a bottle and a fistful of gauze. “I need to see that brace.”
Eddie frowned while Liz eased the pants up over the brace. “I can take it off.”
“No! I have to examine it for explosives.” She swabbed the entire thing and put the gauze into plastic containers. Then she reached under the brace and probed Liz’s leg. “Now I have to pat you down.”
“Sure.” No use arguing, or joking.
The woman copped quite a good feel, undeterred by the rumpled sweats. Everyone in the line ogled the entertainment in the glass booth.
Normally, this would have been funny, but as the men paged through the document directory on her computer and the contact list on her phone anger, frustration, and fear coalesced. If there was a detention order placed they’d be sure to find out now.
The female disappeared, the men closed her computer and phone and piled the whole lot on the floor. “All clear, just waiting for the explosive analysis.”
“How long does that take?” Liz tried not to seem overly concerned.
“As long as necessary.”
Yes, this was New York, all right.
Liz shut up and spent the time putting shoes back on and re-organizing the manhandled bags.
“Sir, you can’t pass back this way.” An agent stopped Andrew walking toward her.
“Blimey, stop torturing the poor woman.” Concern etched deep lines on his face.
“Sir, please don’t cross that line.”
“And why not? The lot of you have already crossed it.”
He flashed some sort of ID, and the agents backed off. Could he be a detective, a police officer?
Andrew put her computer back into the case and tossed it over his spare shoulder. “Unbelievable. I fancied they’d have you put the tyke on the conveyor.”
“Explosive check is clear. You’re free to go.”
“Why not announce it overhead?” Liz put Eddie down and reloaded the stroller like a shopping cart.
“Let’s get you to the gate.” Andrew snatched the seat off the floor.
“Thank you so much.” Liz raced to keep up. “What flight are you on?”
“To San Francisco, then Hong Kong. I do hope someone is meeting you in London.”
No use lying. “No, but the taxi driver will help.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I’ll have to check my itinerary.” Enough information.
“Well, here we are. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Liz sank into a seat. “Thank you again, and have a good flight.”
“You remind me of my wife, and I hope someone would help her out if she was in the same situation. Here’s a card for a taxi service. Ask for Iman. Tell him Andrew Richardson recommended you call. Might I know your name?”
She hesitated, but they were already calling his flight for boarding. “Elizabeth Keeny, and this is Edward.”
“Farewell, Miss Elizabeth, Master Edward.” He bowed his head, tipped his hand, and was off to Asia. The juxtaposition of names, the British accent . . . her heart pounded.
Edward sailed there, the ghost reminded Liz.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
She jumped. “Yes?”
The young woman proffered a paper tray loaded with a cup of tea, two muffins, and a container of milk. “A gentleman by the name of Andrew asked me to deliver this to you. Said you had far too much to carry.”
Either the man was an angel or a ghost. How did he know she was hungry, that she loved corn muffins and tea, light and sweet? “Thanks.”
Elisabeth recalled Edward’s brother hurrying away, leaving her on the train platform, and the unrelenting anxiety until she finally saw Edward three weeks later. Would she have to wait as long to find him again?
Eleven a.m. Still four hours to go. Time to let Eddie move around, eat, find a bathroom. She wanted a nap. She wanted a massage. She wanted this to be over.
Chapter 30
Mike rummaged through his drawers. The passport had to be here. They’d gathered everything last June when plan
ning a honeymoon. The trip had never been taken, and now instead of a romantic jaunt through Italy or lazing on a Caribbean beach, he’d be trekking through London in the middle of winter. If he could find his passport. Would he find Liz? Would their marriage even last until their first anniversary?
He dumped the contents onto the bed. Unsolved Mysteries: The Ghosts of Brewster, Massachusetts, by Sandra Kensington, condoms, and a few pictures. Did she hide the passport so I couldn’t come after her? No, she couldn’t be that calculating. Everything lately has been impulsive, irrational.
Just like Elisabeth. Jared commandeered him again. That might come in useful when they got to London, but what if it went to the next step? He might find himself in the same position as Liz, under remote control by an angry ghost.
Passport, back to the passport. Where did she keep that box with all the important papers? Maybe in the closet.
His heart was as vacant as Eddie’s crib. Off in the corner, right next to the rack with all Elisabeth’s dresses, a hatbox lay open on a small table. The infamous green dress hung next to it, emanating an aura, right through the dry cleaning plastic, which raised prickles on the back of Mike’s neck. The arms, neckline and skirt, stuffed with paper, looked like a headless body, the bustle at full attention.
He rummaged through the hatbox, a shrine, next to the dresses. He found the small picture of Edward Liz once had on her nightstand. A yellowed, fragile news clipping tumbled out and fluttered to the floor, landing face up. A sensation like someone raked their fingernails over a blackboard ran down his back.
Elisabeth, demure, prim, in that very dress, a hat fashionably atop her head, sat in a carriage being drawn by two bay horses. Edward, in full dress uniform stood beside, beaming. Mike picked up the scrap.
Captain Edward Barrett, who commands The Sea Mist for the Somersell Shipping Company, welcomed his wife, the former Lady Elisabeth Baxter, daughter of the Earl of Camberley, England. Mrs. Barrett arrived in Massachusetts 7 July 1876.
Jared clapped Mike’s hands over his face. He’d met the comely Mrs. Barrett that very day, and fallen in love with her while visiting during Edward’s long absences, thinking he could never have her. The lost opportunity had been re-gifted, and he’d lost it again.
Maybe Elisabeth’s ghost would come tonight. She’d provided the clues, perhaps she’d divulge what Mike needed to find her, rather what Jared needed to find her.
He carefully tucked everything back into the box, and when he picked up the cover, his passport was sitting there. Had Liz left it there on purpose, or had she just forgotten to hide it while rushing? He tucked it into his pocket and went to collect some toiletries.
The phone rang. Mike contemplated not answering. No conversation with Jay Levine was ever pleasant, and he wasn’t in the diplomatic mood right now. But ignoring him might result in a visit just as they were about to leave for the airport tomorrow. “Hello.”
“Mike, it’s Jay.”
“Yeah, I know. Caller ID. What’s up?”
“Any word from my mother? We’re all getting pretty worried.”
“Oh, we are? Just who are we?”
“Mike, look, I don’t blame you for being pissed off, but I am really trying to fix this.”
“Haven’t you fixed things enough?”
“I screwed up bad, but if my mom won’t even talk to me how can I make amends?”
“I’m not even supposed to be talking to you. Unless it’s under oath. That was your doing, my friend.”
“Forget that for now, Mike. Marti says she has no idea where my mother was going. She sounded scared, and believe me, that woman doesn’t scare easily. I spoke to Marianne Hartley, too. She didn’t sound very happy either. Please don’t give me the same,’ I’ll call you as soon as I know anything’ line. I’m coming up to the Cape tomorrow.”
Crap! “Well you’ll be mucking out stalls with Kevin. Mae and I are headed to London to meet your mother. She’s doing research for her book, and we’re going to have a quick getaway.”
The pause was long enough for Mike to imagine Jay staring at the phone, incredulous, given the state of their finances.
“Oh, so you’ve heard from her.”
“She went ahead so she can get the work out of the way before we arrive.” He still hadn’t said anything untrue.
“Is Eddie going?” Good thing this wasn’t a video conference.
“Liz would never leave your brother behind. Of course, he’s with her.”
“Okay, then will you tell her I called and am serious about resolving things once and for all?”
Mike couldn’t resist. “I’ll tell her, but I suggest you call off your lawyer or she isn’t going to speak to you without a subpoena.”
“Fair enough, Mike. When will you be back?”
“Not sure, it depends on how much work she gets done.” Now he was clambering onto the slippery slope. Time to get off the phone and call Marianne with the same cock and bull story. Now he had to tell her.
“Mike?” Jay was yelling into the phone.
He cut him off and dialed the lawyer. She answered on the first ring. “Mike, any word?”
“Yes, she’s on the way to London via JFK in New York to do some research for her book. Mae and I are leaving tomorrow to join her for a little getaway. We could all use a break right now.”
“London? You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.”
“She has a desk appearance in Boston on Monday morning to answer the charges Bill has pressed against her. He alleges that she sneaked into his apartment building and threatened him. She has to be there.”
“Well, she won’t be.” It wasn’t funny, but yet it was.
“When does her flight leave?
He hesitated. Could Marianne turn back an international flight and have her dragged off for ridiculous allegations by a crook with a criminal indictment against him? Perhaps Liz wasn’t being as capricious as they thought. She’d had enough and wanted to get away from them all. He’d had enough and wanted to get away from them all, too.
“Mike?”
Lying to your attorney couldn’t be good. It was almost three anyway. “I’m looking. Here it is. British Airways flight 750 from New York-Kennedy to Heathrow. Scheduled to depart at 3 p.m. I’ll have her contact you when we meet up sometime Saturday.” I hope.
“If I can’t stop the flight then I can ask the judge to delay the appearance since I was not able to inform her before she left the U.S. Mike, this is getting serious. It makes it look like there is really something to these charges.”
“Getting serious? This has been serious for months. My poor wife is shredded, emotionally and physically. When is Jeffers going to start feeling some pain? And her son who, by the way, just called to assure me he’s trying to “fix” things?”
“Oh, Lord. What did you tell Jay?”
“That he shouldn’t come here because we were going on vacation, and he wasn’t welcome anyway.”
Marianne blew out her frustration. “Let me see if I can do anything about holding the flight. When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.” No more details or she might try and hold him and Mae up, too.
“I’ll be in touch.” She disconnected.
He put the receiver in the cradle. “The hell you will. No one is going to stop me from finding my wife.”
Eddie cruised up and down the aisle, between the chairs, watching passengers arrive and depart, planes taxi in and out.
“Pane!” He’d learned a new word.
In her old world, this would be a journal entry. But she’d never forget this day.
“Yes, sweetie, and we’re going on a plane. Soon.” Liz checked her watch. 2:10 p.m. “Passenger Elizabeth Keeny, please come to the desk.”
“Oh, no.” She f
umbled to get her things together, grab Eddie, left her laptop and ran back to retrieve it.
“Yes?”
“Ah, Ms. Keeny. Just to verify we’ve got a spot for the baby. Have you an approved seat?”
“Right there.” She exhaled.
“Very good. We’ll be boarding shortly.”
The Widow's Walk Page 24