Once We Were

by Aundrea M Lopez

  “It was my duty,” he answered.

  “Not just your duty,” she said. “I won't forget any of it.”

  She let go of him and turned to leave. “If you walk away, I'll have nothing after this tragedy,” he told her.

  “This isn't where I belong,” she replied. “I have to go home.”

  “I've no power to make you stay, but by God, I will try, even if I have to follow you on my knees to that buggy.”

  “Please don't do that,” Cora said, knowing he most certainly would. “Don't complicate things. I'm going away. You'll be alright, won't you?”

  Ioan glanced out the window. Emmett glanced at his pocket watch impatiently. “Of course,” he said. “I understand now. Well, you don't want to keep him waiting.”

  “Ioan-”

  He kissed her hair. “It's like you said. I'll be alright. I wish you the best of luck, Miss Harlow.”

  “You too, Mr. Saier,” she answered. “Good luck.”

  “Where do I go from here? Even now as I tell myself this is better for you, I fail to let you go. I nearly died out there, and I'm a man who is determined to live with no regrets. There was one regret I couldn't die with. I abandoned you. I had enough courage to jump ship, but nothing to stand up to that man I called a father. I let you go. I'll always question why. You who meant everything to me, who I'd be damned to see on another man's arm. I would trade anything for your forgiveness. I've given you my last breath, and I am willing to give much more if you asked me to. I thought you should know.”

  “Thank you. It's worth knowing, but marriage is a symbol of a woman's success. He's a lawyer, you know. For me, that's more than I could do for myself,” Cora replied.

  “It's more than a sailor could give you, you mean,” Ioan remarked.

  “Time's run out. You are set in your ways and I am set in mine. We have to put away childish fantasies and accept our friendship with our departure. Maybe in another life, fate will prove kinder to us. Now will you step aside?”

  “You little liar,” he declared. “Can you think of anything that twisted, perverted, brute has given you that will amount to one thing I have? I see it clearly in your eyes, yet you stand there and lie to me just to make it easier on yourself. I'm everything to you. It's me, Cora. I'm the better man. He won't come close. I'm the reason you will stay and we will both stop this nonsense and you will marry me and we will have children and a place we call home and we will be happy and you will not leave this room until I have thoroughly convinced you.”

  When he kissed her, it was magic, like those nights on the Titanic. She was his again. She could never escape. Ioan's lips slowly parted from hers and Cora shakily drew in a breath. “And if you leave, and one day he kisses you like that, and you still feel the same as you do now, then I will admit I was wrong,” he told to her. “I never admit I'm wrong. You'll never feel like this again.”

  “It's not required for a successful marriage,” Cora managed to say. “I couldn't appreciate your honesty more, but it's highly irrelevant. The arrangements are set. I wouldn't risk my father's integrity after he's given his approval to Emmett. He is too good of a man. Like all women, I will accept what I have and learn to be content. I will never forget the man who saved my life. Never for the worth of my days.” She wanted to say more. He was right in all aspects but it would only make it harder for him. She must act as humane as possible. Ioan felt her warmth slip away from him. It was the coldest he'd ever felt.

  Chapter 4

  Mr. Harlow questioned his decision. Cora avoided conversation with everyone. She wouldn't talk about her stay in New York or the mysterious friend she left behind. The further they drove from the Saier house, the more the color faded from her cheeks. She was ghastly pale. It caused her father great concern. “Are you ill, dear?” he asked. “You look like you caught something.”

  “I'm going home. I've never felt better,” she answered. She smiled reassuringly at him, the first attempt he'd seen all morning. It was sorrowfully unsuccessful. “It's the sinking. It's torturing you. I should have never let you get on that boat,” he regretted.

  “Father, don't.”

  “It wasn't my only mistake,” he said. “How could I have thought that sending you away to an English school was the best decision? I regret the day I watched you sail away eleven years ago. My little Coralie. You didn't need that school. You were already perfect. I should have never done it. You wouldn't have to go through this. You must loath me for it.”

  “You thought it would make me better. How can I think anything but kindly of you? I'm a wiser woman for it. There's nothing I intend to regret. I could only love you more for wanting what's best for me,” Cora told him.

  Emmett stepped inside the train car. “Apparently, there's some kind of delay. I could've figured that out myself,” he said irritably. “The attendant assured me we'll be on our way shortly.” He smiled at Cora, glad to see she'd finally drew her eyes from the window. “How are you feeling, my sweet?”

  “Not too well, I'm afraid,” Mr. Harlow said regretfully.

  “Well she's been poorly nourished the past few days,” Emmett commented. “That man, Saier, isn't it? You'd think with all his worth he'd have taken better care of you.”

  “Charles Saier?” Mr. Harlow asked astonished. He looked at Cora. “Is that the friend you were staying with?”

  Cora glared at Emmett. He continued delightfully. “No, sir, Charles Saier passed away two weeks ago. The house we found your daughter at now belongs to his son, Ioan Saier. You do remember him?”

  “Why didn't you say anything about it?” Mr. Harlow asked Cora. “You stayed in New York for him? Have you forgotten what his father did to us? I made it unmistakably clear you would have nothing to do with that boy or any of those covetous goblins. What's gotten into you?”

  “Don't be too hard on her, Mr. Harlow. The rich can be tricky folk. It's all a game to those sort of men. They shoot to tally high scores when it comes to women. It's a good game when the rich lose everything and we triumph on their losses. It's more admirable nonetheless when a man earns his wealth rather than have it handed to him. He appreciates it more.” He proudly looked over his new trophy wife. “Oh well. You're in good hands now. Would you like a drink, Miss Harlow?”

  “I don't think my stomach will tolerate it,” she answered darkly. “But thank you.”

  She turned back to the window. Emmett scowled at her bare hand. “Did you forget your engagement band, my sweet?”

  “It's in my pocket,” she answered quietly.

  “Your pocket?” Emmett chuckled. “And not on your pretty little hand? Is my sweet so unsatisfied with the diamond that she must hide it?”

  “It's very beautiful,” Cora answered. “I just don't think it proper to wear it until the engagement is officially announced.”

  “Then I shall have to hurry,” Emmett grinned. “I wouldn't want anyone getting smart ideas. I dare say, Mrs. Cora Emmett O'Riley does have a ring to it.”

  He left the car chanting, “Mrs. Emmett O'Riley. Mrs. Emmett O'Riley.”

  Mr. Harlow sipped his tea quietly. “You love him?” he asked finally.

  “No, absolutely not,” Cora said. “But I will learn to tolerate him.”

  “I wasn't talking about Mr. O'Riley,” he replied. “I'm just trying to understand something. You know what Mr. Saier's kind is like. Why would you go looking for him? Haven't you endured enough?”

  “I wasn't looking for him,” Cora said. “He just showed up at the right time. He saved my life. I'd still be trapped in the depths of Titanic. I couldn't leave him to die in that hospital.”

  “Then I should make a note to thank him.”

  “Don't insist on it,” Cora warned him. “He would only tell you it was his duty.”

  “It doesn't change what I think of his father or my opinion of his class. I wish you hadn't got yourself into this,” her father told her.

  “Yes, I've already heard it from him.”

  “Non
etheless, he is the man who saved my daughter from a sinking ship, put her on a lifeboat, and sent her home. There must be something he's willing to accept for my gratitude.”

  “Nothing pleases Mr. Saier. He'd tell you he was happy and that his life is the sea. He would never trade that satisfaction for the world.”

  “I beg to differ,” Mr. Harlow replied. “I suspect that somewhere in his heart, he cherishes something dearer than the sea. I've kept something from you, Cora. I am quite ashamed of myself. He never left you, as his father had said. He came back for you. He pounded on my door, soaked to the bone, and demanded to speak to you at once.”

  “I thought he was bluffing.”

  “I thought it best you didn't know about it. You'd already suffered enough. It seems I've done more damage than good.”

  “Don't go saying that.”

  “It's not up for debate,” Mr. Harlow interrupted. “Just friendly conversation.” He took another sip of tea. “When I waved goodbye to you eleven years ago, I knew you wouldn't be my little Cora anymore. I would have given anything to keep you that way, but I must let you have your wings. I would shield you from anymore heartache, and as such, I am also the last person who wishes to stand in the way of your happiness. I trust your decision. I want you to understand that I will support your choice whatever the outcome may be.”

  He stood before she could argue.

  “This tea is poison,” he said disgusted. “Maybe Mr. O'Riley has a better recommendation. Excuse me.”

  He made no attempt to join Mr. O'Riley. He sat at a newspaper in another car. He briefly glanced over the heading, “Businessman Luckett Offers Reward For Missing Daughter and Heiress”.

  At interval, he glanced at his watch. He had only gone ten minutes before he felt the train jolt forward. He sighed relieved as the horn sounded and the train station slipped away. He folded the newspaper and made his way back to his car. “I'm glad they finally made up their minds,” he said as he stepped in the car. He froze upon turning.

  The car was empty. Cora was gone. Her handkerchief kept her place. The diamond engagement ring rested neatly on the lace, silent and resolved as the air. Mr. Harlow smiled, though bitter sweetly. He folded the ring in the handkerchief and slipped it into his coat pocket. He sat quietly and poured another cup of tea. The sun rays beamed against the window, illuminating sparkling raindrops. For moments, he was lost in thought admiring the trees roll by. He waited for her, but Cora never returned.

  Chapter 5

  A man's character is only a fraction of his worth. The rest of the equation is calculated by what he owns. That is reality. No man knew it better than Emmett O'Riley.

  He maintained a respectable but empty house. No maid bustled in the kitchen downstairs. No wife massaged his shoulders behind his study doors. The shot of brandy twirling in his hand gave no fellowship. He leaned back from his desk pursing his lips pensively. His sole company was another man down on his luck.

  “Goodbye my blue bell. Farewell to you. One last fond look into your eyes of blue,” the man wailed through the gramophone. “I will be dreaming of my own blue bell.”

  Emmett chuckled as he sipped his brandy. The man was a loser. What gentleman swallows defeat, writes a song about a dame he lost, and calls himself a gentleman after. At second thought, what man sits here listening to him sing about defeat. The man can't be blamed for being driven this low. Women are wicked creatures.

  “How could you let her do this?” Emmett demanded of Mr. Harlow. “You are her father!”

  “Of course. I can't make decisions on her behalf without considering her happiness.”

  “You fool! Can't you exercise any sense of control? If you trained her with any amount of discipline, she wouldn't walk all over you. This is unacceptable. You gave her to me. All the generosity and kindness I've given you and you spit at my shoes. It is an unforgivable insult. I won't have any of it.”

  “I am sorry to hear it. However, you do understand this is how the game works,” Mr. Harlow reminded him.

  “The highest bidder takes home the prize. You can want all you'd like, but there are rules in competition. He was the highest bidder.”

  Mr. Harlow slid the engagement ring across the table. Emmett looked away as if it were a rotting corpse.

  “Don't be so hard on yourself, Mr. O'Riley. You've done well. You're a desirable young man. Any lady would be lucky to have you,” Mr. Harlow said standing. “Excuse me.”

  “It's no slight to me,” Emmett remarked. “You did me a service. Marrying her sort would have been the worst mistake of my life.” He snatched the ring up and strode from the train car. The idea that she deserved anything that fine on her plain little finger was intolerable.

  It happens to the best of men, he told himself. He was a rising phoenix. He dragged himself from the ashes of a blacksmith's oven, proved himself against the sharp wrinkled noses at Harvard, and put gold behind the name O'Riley. He was a gentleman by merit, a creature of his own making. No more kissing soles. He was the class of man he worked so hard to be. She meant nothing but the scum of a scum society he dragged himself out of. She was no fine wine. Her blood was as bland as a pitcher of water. His acquired status required exclusive breeding.

  Yet, as much of a poor fool as Mr. Harlow was, he was also a smart one. The wealthiest bidder claims the prize. Most times the prize is universally understood as something invaluably rare. Sometimes it has less to do with the supply and more to do with the demand. The supply could be garbage, but demand gives it value.

  He cringed. Why should she be so lucky? What was she that two respectable men battled for the rights to her? Emmett had just entered the game. He was the nouveau riche. His say would always be judged uncouth and lacking. Ioan was old money. He was backed by a legitimate pedigree and his opinions were worth as much as a monarch's. Whatever he demanded and desired was always favored, and his greatest desire was her. As long as he had her, there was no contest. To have her was to have something old money couldn't buy. That is the reason Emmett gave her his ring. He craved to be envied. Though he despised it, Ioan Saier was a man of privilege. Emmett still had to prove himself to him. He'd have to take what old money desires most. He had to have her. Of course he couldn't return to New York with her father snooping around. He needed an alibi. He placed his brandy next to a newspaper Mr. Harlow left on the train. “Businessman Luckett Offers Reward For Missing Daughter and Heiress”.

  * * *

  “Get out!” the man bellowed. “I'll have your skin for my lamps if you show your face here again!”

  Mr. Hughes startled half to death. His tea splashed over his apron as he leaped from the kitchen. “Mr. Luckett, sir?” He bolted for the stairs, stumbling over the hall rug. He scrambled to his feet and darted two steps at a time.

  “Please, sir, I have nowhere to go!” the young visitor cried, backing into the hall. “I only want a small sum! Just a morsel! Please, sir! I was a passenger too! I'm desperate! I have not a penny to my name! You have everything, sir!”

  “As if I wouldn't recognize my own daughter! You won't make muggins out of me! I said get out! And tell the lot of your poor gutter trash that I will shoot the next person who sets foot on my property!”

  The study door nearly slammed off its hinges. “Please, sir! I only want some food! I have nothing left!” she sobbed at the door.

  “Come now, miss. Off the floor,” Mr. Hughes suggested as he helped her to her feet.

  “I've done nothing wrong!” she cried at Mr. Hughes. “I'm a Luckett too! Who's to say I'm not the heiress, Miss Bianca Luckett!”

  “Of course, dear,” Mr. Hughes coaxed her. “Right this way, please.” He turned her to the door before she bolted back upstairs. “Here's a roll for your trouble. Don't come back. Expect him to keep his word about the shotgun,” Mr. Hughes warned. He handed her a sweet roll from the dinning table.

  “But I have nowhere to go,” she wailed as he shoved her outside.

  “May God be with you,” M
r. Hughes said. He closed the door. The bell chimed again.

  “Mr. Hughes!”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Burn that bell! I will see no more visitors!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Hughes opened the door to a young gentleman on the porch. He flipped open his lighter and set the bell on fire. The gentleman removed his hat and waved the smoke away. He beamed, “Have you run out of wood?”

  “Can I help you?” Mr. Hughes asked.

  “It is raining,” the gentleman replied.

  “I noticed, sir.”

  “Aren't you going to invite me in?”

  “This isn't a boarding house, sir.”

  “I am here to speak to your master, Mr. Luckett. Is he in?”

  “Mr. Luckett is done with visitors.”

  “I'm here regarding the article about the missing heiress.”

  “You don't look like a young heiress.”

  “That's because I'm not. However, I am your master's salvation.”

  “As I said before,” Mr. Hughes repeated firmly. “Mr. Luckett is done with visitors.”

  “Well, in case he changes his mind, I will be down at the Shiya pub when he is ready to discuss Miss Beatrice Luckett.”

  “Who did you say you were?”

  “Emmett. Emmett O'Riley. I am working on the Luckett case.”

  “You're a detective?”

  “You could say that,” Emmett grinned.

  “Well you can tell your chaps down at the station they're doing a piss poor job resolving this! First, Mr. Luckett's daughter. Then cheating low lives roaming the property to trick him out of his money! Absolutely outrageous lack of professional policing on your part! Goodnight, sir!” The door slammed in Emmett's face.

  “Good evening,” Emmett remarked. His eyes scanned the upper levels of the house. Firelight flickered against a shadowy figure in a corner. It had to be Mr. Luckett's study. He slipped off the porch and kept to the shadows. He passed Mr. Hughes in the kitchen, who sat down to his paper and tea again. Emmett snuck under the ledge of the window to a pipeline leading up the roof. Just a short climb, and he'd reach the second level.