by Caroline Lee
Mrs. Potsdam.
Micah’s hands began to shake in time with his pounding heart. Mrs. Potsdam? He knew that name. He knew that woman. Her name dredged up a picture of a round woman, gray hair pulled into a bun and a cheery smile on her face. She’d always been singing, and this was the first time he’d ever thought of her without the pain from his head sending him to his knees.
He’d known Mrs. Potsdam! And he’d shown up at the orphanage—he scrabbled through the papers to find the first bundle—two days after the accident. He’d been scared and confused and so hungry, and then Pea had taken charge of him. Had there been an explosion? Had he hit his head?
In twenty years, he’d given up on ever knowing the truth of why he’d been deposited at that orphanage. Instead, he’d concentrated on making a future for himself, building it here in Everland. He had a family he loved, a job he was good at, and until a few hours ago, a home. He’d have a home again, once Skipper and Rupert worked their magic.
Yeah, he’d gotten used to the idea of not having a past, and focused instead on the future. But what if…what if this was his past?
His hands were shaking so much, he could barely hold the paper, and placed it carefully with the others on the bed. Had he been the little boy in those articles? The little boy who’d been lost in the horrible accident which had killed his nanny?
The little boy who’d been wanted? The boy someone had been looking for over all these years?
There was something else in the satchel, something even lumpier. Micah willed his hands steady as he pulled out a rectangular-shaped object wrapped in cloth. Peeling away the edges, he saw it was a frame. A frame with an old daguerreotype photograph in it.
A man, standing with his hand on a boy’s shoulder. The boy was young, and dressed in a fancy suit, and looked…happy.
Micah stared at the child, his breaths coming faster and faster. He knew that boy! He’d known that boy since he was seven, when Abuela bought a mirror for his older sister to use, and he’d really seen himself for the first time. That was the same face which had stared back at him for years, until El Lobo’s bullet had destroyed it.
That’s me.
And the man, standing behind the boy, looking so proud and strong? Something began to climb up Micah’s throat, but he wasn’t sure if it was his heart or bile. Either way, he suddenly couldn’t breathe, because for the very first time in twenty years, he remembered. He recognized this man.
Father.
CHAPTER EIGHT
This is it.
Penelope sucked in a deep breath and held it while she straightened her shoulders. She’d arrived in Denver yesterday and discovered where Mr. Prince was staying. She’d arranged a room for herself in the same hotel, but asked he not be alerted to her presence yet. It might’ve been cowardly, but she hadn’t been ready to face him at that time; she’d needed time to prepare herself for what she knew she had to do.
She might’ve had to crush her girlhood dreams…but maybe she’d be able to gain a new one.
It wasn’t until she was unpacking her valise that she realized she didn’t have her satchel. All of those carefully cultivated newspapers and detectives’ reports and—oh no!—Mr. Prince’s photograph were missing.
Penelope had sunk to the bed then, her eyes wide with horror. That stupid woman, the one claiming to be a Godmother! She’d handed Penelope her packed valise, and Penelope had been so distraught, she hadn’t thought to check it for all of her belongings.
All of that information was still under her mattress at the Van Winkle Inn! It was an old habit she’d learned as a child in the orphanage to store her valuables under her mattress, the only place she felt she had complete control over. But now, that habit could turn out to be problematic.
Maybe Rip wouldn’t rent that room out to anyone, and the information would still be there when she got back to Everland.
Because she was going back. She missed the children, missed Antonia, missed Micah, too much not to go back. Sometimes her arms positively ached from missing the baby, and she hadn’t smiled since before Draven had shown up in Everland.
And she dreamed of Micah. She might not have his regard anymore, but lying in bed last night, she’d realized she had to explain things to him or she’d never forgive herself.
But first, there was something she had to do.
This morning she’d taken care in her appearance; the fancy dress she’d worn upon her arrival to Everland had been packed away for two weeks. It hadn’t been appropriate for scrubbing breakfast dishes, or diapering Antonia, or sweeping the dust off the orphanage’s front porch…but here in the big city, it was appropriate again.
And today, it was so very important Penelope make the best impression she could on Mr. Prince. Today, she was going to change her life forever.
Deciding she was as ready as she’d ever be, she lifted her fist and knocked on his hotel room door.
“Enter.”
The curt voice on the other side of the door was familiar. How many times had she stood outside Mr. Prince’s office with the latest sales numbers or invoices from the factory, waiting to be invited in, so she could sit at his desk with him and pore over the ledgers together?
Today would be different. Today, she would deliver the news he’d been waiting two decades to hear…and do her best to convince him to ignore it.
She pushed open the door, her rifle case clenched tightly in her left hand. Upon entering, she left it by the door, then stepped towards the window and the portion of the room which had been set up as a parlor. Mr. Prince sat in one of the wingback chairs, his elbows resting on the arms and his fingers steepled in front of his chin.
A second man, standing in front of her employer, turned to face her, and she wasn’t surprised to see Draven looking at ease with his hands resting on his gunbelt. She frowned, but his expression was impassive, as always. The bitterness she felt towards him rose up her throat once more, and she tried her hardest to tamp it down, to not say something she’d regret. It was almost impossible, mostly because she’d spent the last two days thinking if he hadn’t shown up in Everland—hadn’t confronted her and Micah—she wouldn’t have to be standing here.
“Penelope, it’s good to finally see you.”
Mr. Prince had never called her “Penelope” before. She frowned slightly in response, wondering what had changed.
“I can see by your eyebrows you’re confused.”
He’d also never referenced her admittedly unfortunate eyebrows before either.
“Did you know that, my dear? You would have a perfect poker face, as they say, except for the fact your every thought is telegraphed via your brows. I’ve always found that trait of yours to be charming, although of course, I’ve never mentioned it. As your employer, it wouldn’t be appropriate.”
Penelope swallowed. “What’s changed, sir?” She dreaded his answer as much as she dreaded answering his questions.
The older man stared at her as if debating how to respond. His dark eyes were so much like Micah’s, she shifted uncomfortably, remembering the last time she’d seen him three nights ago.
That fire had been the most terrifying experience of her life, up until the moment Micah disappeared upstairs. She’d stood outside with the children, alternating between praying and trying to calm the twins, and had nearly wept in relief when he’d come barreling out of the door with Jack.
But then, any small amount of regard he might’ve had for her crumbled in an instant.
Finally, Mr. Prince shifted. “I think a great deal is about to change, Penelope. Why don’t you explain why it’s taken you two weeks to report back to me that you’d found my son? Not even a telegram.” His voice grew hard and his eyes narrowed, the only signs he was angry. “ ‘Dear employer and mentor, who has taken me under his wing and cared for me like a daughter all these years, I found the person you’ve spent twenty years searching for, and you can at long last rest easy.’ “
The news he’d cared for her was
like a slap in the face. Penelope actually swayed slightly, suddenly empty and terrified. She’d spent years looking up to this man, and had assumed he’d seen her as only one of a group of employees. To know she’d had—and lost—his regard, so soon after losing his son’s as well…was heartbreaking.
Still, she forced herself to speak. “I’m sorry,” she croaked out. She swallowed, and then tried again, “I’m sorry, Mr. Prince. It wasn’t my intention to cause you further pain.”
His hands slammed down on the arms of the chair as he sat forward, and she jumped at his sudden movement. “It wasn’t?” There was genuine anger in his voice now. “If it hadn’t been for my old friend, here”—he nodded to Draven, who still stood impassively, just watching—“I would have been completely unaware my son is alive. I have carried the guilt for two decades—why did I put that black powder in the same carriage as my son? I’ve spent years and thousands of dollars looking for some iota of hope that he’d survived! And now!” His hands pounded the chair’s arms once more. “Now I’ve discovered the truth! Michael is alive, Penelope! I have a son…and you didn’t deem it necessary to tell me.”
The older man took a few deep breaths and sat back in his chair once more, but he looked far from relaxed. “I’ve been betrayed by my best pupil, the woman I admired and cared for. And you say you didn’t intend to cause me pain? Bah!”
There was nothing else she could say, besides apologize again, and he didn’t seem to want to hear that. So she just lifted her chin and stared at a point in the wallpaper behind his chair.
“Well, girl? Don’t you have any excuses to offer? Anything you want to say?”
“No, sir.” She swallowed again. “I’m sorry, but…I’d do it again.”
“You’d once again take your sweet time in reporting this momentous news to the man who paid you to complete your mission?”
“No, sir,” she repeated. Then she took a deep breath, and prepared to lose everything. “I never intended to tell you at all.”
Silence. Stillness. Mr. Prince stared at her, then slowly turned his incredulous gaze on Draven. The bounty hunter was staring at Penelope but, as if he could feel his friend’s unspoken question, he shrugged.
Draven’s tone was as scary as his visage when he said, “All I know is what I’ve told you, Andrew. She was awfully cozy with the boy.”
“He’s not a boy!” Her defense of Micah slipped out before she had time to think it through. But rather than apologize and allow some of her dignity to come out of this unscathed, her tongue tripped over itself as she tried to explain to them the man she’d come to love.
“Micah has built himself a life to be proud of in Everland, Mr. Prince. He’s a man. He’s a strong, kind, caring, gentle, good man.” She stepped towards her mentor, the passion in her description carrying her forward. “He has taken care of those orphans as well as any father could, and he loves them.” She swallowed, knowing what still needed to be said. “He belongs in Everland.”
“He belongs in New York, by his own father’s side!”
His outburst managed to surprise her, even though it shouldn’t have. Penelope took a deep breath, wondering how she could convince him. “Sir, I… I took your commission because I care about your happiness. Until I stumbled across that file, I had no idea your loneliness was caused by something so…so horrible.”
This was the truth. She’d always known her employer, while brilliant, was a harsh man. But last month, in the midst of some re-filing, she’d opened his special cabinet and discovered all the newspaper clippings he’d saved, and realized the reason for his demeanor. Andrew Prince was still very much grieving for his son.
But it wasn’t until he’d found her snooping, and had told her the whole story, that she’d understood. Looking at the photograph of him and his young son, she’d been struck by a wave of memory which almost dropped her to her knees.
Micah. She’d never forgotten him, even in the twenty years which had passed. So she’d sat down abruptly, cleared her throat once—or maybe a dozen times—and whispered to Mr. Prince she thought she knew why no one had been able to find young Michael Prince.
After all, she was the one who’d changed his name to “Micah,” and had told the matron at the orphanage his name was Micah instead of Michael. No one else had known the truth.
Mr. Prince had offered her his vast resources and a substantial reward to find his son, which she had. She’d found him with a noose around his neck, and over the last two weeks, he’d wrapped himself around her heart.
Remembering that, she did her best to make Micah’s father understand, despite his angry expression.
“Mr. Prince, you know I tracked Micah—Michael—to Denver, where he was adopted by a Señor Zapato. The Zapatos and their group of orphans made their home in Everland, Wyoming, which is an unusual little town.” Very unusual, she mentally added, when an image of those crazy women claiming to be godmothers flashed into her head.
“But when I arrived in Everland, I learned so much more.” She’d interviewed Micah’s brother-in-law, who was the Sheriff, as well as a number of other citizens. “I learned how devoted he is to those children, and how he works long hours every single day to provide for them. I learned how proud he is of his leather work, and how much the town relies upon his skills. I learned how he was scarred horribly in a shoot-out two years ago, and how he’s become more private since then.”
She took a deep breath. “And when I tracked him down, I learned how much he loves his life.”
Mr. Prince stared at her, the anger in his expression mellowing to something which might’ve been curiosity, or might’ve been irritation. Penelope closed her eyes, willed her knees to support her, and finished what she needed to say.
“I knew I couldn’t be the one to take that from him.”
“Sit down, Penelope.”
His command told her he wasn’t going to be ignored. So she sat. In order to reach the open chair, she had to pass by Draven, who stepped out of her way. The little nod he gave her might’ve been respectful, but she glared at him anyway.
If it hadn’t been for Draven showing up in Everland and reminding her of her debt to Mr. Prince, she might’ve gone on happily pretending nothing was wrong. She might’ve continued to live in Everland and work beside Micah, praying nothing changed.
But Draven’s threat to tell her employer meant she was honor-bound to return and explain it herself. Of course, first she had to burn down an orphanage, hurt her oldest friend, and crush her mentor’s dreams of starting a family dynasty.
Once she was sitting—although not settled, the opposite of settled, in fact—Mr. Prince steepled his hands once more and stared at her over his fingertips. Fortunately, she’d worked for him for years, and knew what this meant. This was just him thinking, formulating his words.
Finally, he spoke. “Penelope, let me get this straight… You think this man—my son—would be happier living a life of drudgery and hardship, rather than one of ease and wealth I could offer him?”
“Yes, sir. I do.” She laced her fingers together on her lap and forced herself to meet the older man’s eyes. “He has found love there. He considers the other orphans his brothers and sisters. His family.”
“I am his family, Penelope.” Mr. Prince’s dark eyes turned steely.
“No, sir. You’re his father.” She fumbled for an explanation. “What I went to Everland to tell him? He had a father who had been searching for years, who wanted him? That was every orphan’s dream. Believe me, I know.”
She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but when Mr. Prince’s expression softened, she knew it hadn’t worked.
“Any orphan in the world would be thrilled to call you ‘Father,’ Mr. Prince.” She closed her eyes and hid her wince, knowing she was about to hurt him. “But a father one hasn’t seen, or even known about, for twenty years isn’t a family. What he has now—a life he’s worked hard to build for himself and the love of so many—is worth more than any a
mount of wealth and status in New York. He…” She took a deep breath and shared what had taken her two weeks to realize. “He doesn’t need a father to save him, to take him from that life.”
No one said anything for such a long amount of time, Penelope grew uncomfortable and opened her eyes once more. Mr. Prince’s hands had dropped back onto the arms of the chair, and the poor man was staring down at the floor. She hoped—prayed—he was thinking about her words and would believe she spoke the truth.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Prince,” she offered. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I saw him and the life he has now, and I knew he would miss all of that if I told him the truth.”
He didn’t look up. “So you didn’t even tell him he has a father who loves him?”
She’d never heard her mentor sound so…so defeated.
Still, she owed him the truth. “No, sir. I didn’t want to give him that burden of making him have to choose.” She swallowed. “Maybe it was arrogant of me, to make the decision for him…” But that was her burden. As soon as she returned to Everland, she’d find a way to explain everything to Micah.
The older man’s fingers tightened on the arms of the chair, but he didn’t look up. “Would you have even told me you’d found him? Would you have left me waiting indefinitely for the return of my portrait?”
I can’t even return it to you now!
Her tongue flicked out over her lips as she thought of the best way to answer. “I…I’m sorry. I spent two weeks in Everland, and I was so happy. Happy with him and with his life.” She leaned forward, entreatingly. “Sir, his life is so different from what I thought I wanted, but seeing him, seeing how happy he is and how happy he made me…it opened my eyes to the truth.”