by Renee Ryan
“I didn’t buy your services, Laney.” His voice turned pleading. “I paid off your loan because you’re my friend. And friends help each other in times of need. I would have done the same for Trey.”
She wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, but Pearl had done her damage. She’d put an ugly spin on Marc’s act of kindness, tainting it forever in Laney’s mind.
She had to get away, before she broke down in front of him, in front of Pearl.
As if sensing her desperation to escape, Marc reached out to her, but Laney shoved past him. “Goodbye, Marc.”
She strode purposely through the lobby, not once looking back, not even after she’d pushed through the revolving doors and turned on the sidewalk in the direction of Charity House.
This wasn’t how she’d wanted matters to end between them. Nevertheless, she was better off without Marc Dupree in her life. Right, Lord?
Right?
* * *
With Pearl’s voice screeching in his ears, Marc set out after Laney. Hank stopped him at the threshold of his office. “Haven’t you hurt her enough already? Can’t you leave her with some dignity?”
The scorn in Hank’s voice stopped Marc cold. The other man was correct, of course. Marc had to let Laney go. That didn’t mean he had to ignore her safety. “Will you see she gets home without incident?”
“Sure, boss. I’ll watch over her.” Hank’s gaze filled with a mixture with accusation, sympathy, and pity. “I always do.”
“Holier-than-thou Marc Dupree.” Pearl snorted her disgust from behind him. “Always trying to protect his woman of the moment.”
Marc gathered his temper with two hard swallows then turned to face Pearl. For the first time since she’d plowed into his office he looked directly into her gaze. Her eyes swam in their sockets, her skin ashen and bloodless. Pearl had gotten ahold of another bottle of laudanum since Shane had left the hotel.
“Where’d you hide the bottle?”
“Does it matter?” She swayed but caught her balance by clawing at his arm. “Now, about your precious little Laney.”
“Not another word out of you, Pearl. I mean it.”
Her balance wavering, she clutched his arm harder. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”
“I’m warning you, now is not the time to push me. I’ll take care of you, provide food, clothing and shelter, but I won’t stand here and listen to you speak ill of Laney.”
A bitter, sinister snarl slipped out of Pearl. The look on her face wasn’t human. “Is that threat supposed to scare me? You may be a lot of things, but like I said once before, you don’t have it in you to hurt a woman.”
Yet he had hurt a woman. He’d hurt Laney.
“Perhaps I’ve changed,” he said, his voice low, menace riding under the surface, toying with the last shreds of his control.
“You haven’t changed one bit since I first met you.” She reached up to pat his cheek, her clammy fingers leaving traces of sweat on his skin. “Such a good man. You might have tried to save my wretched soul, but you never even came close. That makes me your greatest failure.”
She buckled over, a violent cough racking her frail body.
Pity running deep, Marc held on to her while she struggled to gain back her control. When she raised her face to his again, the look of utter despair beneath her bravado splintered his anger and gave him hope that he could perhaps save her yet.
“Enough, Pearl. Time for you to get back in bed.” He grasped her by the shoulders and with very little effort herded her to the elevators.
She wheezed through another cough. “You’re coming with me?”
“I’ll get you settled, yes.”
They took the first step out of his office side by side. He supported her full weight by the second. On the third, her knees gave out. He scooped her into his arms. “Get Dr. Bartlett,” he yelled to Rose.
“It’s too late,” Pearl whispered.
Marc remembered the countless ugly thoughts he’d had about this woman since she’d run off with his money, all the times he’d rejoiced over her absence from his life.
Yet now that she was back, he didn’t want her to die like this. He wanted her to live, to fight for another day. And then another. “Don’t give up on me now, Pearl.”
Gulping for air, a spasm contorted her face. “I’m sorry, Marc.”
A lump formed in his throat. “I’m sorry, too.”
“You were too good for the likes of me, Marc Dupree, always too good.”
“We’ve both made our share of mistakes.”
Her eyes fell shut, right before she uttered the two words that set him free at last. “Forgive me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Three mornings later, Laney dragged herself reluctantly awake. Gray, depressing light filtered through the curtains, declaring the start of a new day. As it had every morning since rushing out of the Hotel Dupree, dawn showed up far too soon.
A memory tugged at her tired brain, but Laney brutally shoved it back into a dark corner of her mind and slammed her eyes firmly shut. Her sanity demanded she remain inside her blissfully muddled state a little while longer.
A pounding drummed in her head—rap, rap, rap—growing louder and more forceful with each bang. Still groggy, Laney cracked open her eyes and peered around the room. She tried to focus on anything solid in the shadows, but only watery images danced in front of her.
At least, she slowly realized, the banging had finally stopped.
“Praise the Lord.”
She buried her head back into the pillow’s softness and tried to relax a few more moments before her day began in earnest. Unfortunately, the sound of the door creaking on its hinges intruded into the silence.
“Laney?” Katherine slipped inside the room. “Are you awake?”
“No,” she mumbled into her pillow.
A low chuckle met her response. “Yes, you are.”
“Go away, Katherine.” Laney tugged the blanket over her head. “It’s too early to talk.”
“Perhaps with me, but surely you’ll speak to Mr. Dupree. He’s downstairs, waiting for you on the front porch.”
At the mention of Marc’s name, all the dreadful memories of three nights ago came crashing through her mind. The scene in his office, the accusations in Pearl’s words, the reminder of who Laney’s mother was, the apology in Marc’s eyes. No. She couldn’t face him again.
“Tell him to come back later.”
Katherine walked to the window and threw open the curtains. A thin thread of light spilled across Laney’s bed. “Laney O’Connor, this cowardice isn’t like you. You should listen to what Mr. Dupree has come to say to you.”
“I can’t speak with him. Not now.”
Not ever. She was too ashamed, too humiliated over how close she’d come to forging a real friendship with him, one that could have grown into something solid and lasting. For all she knew, she might have become dangerously reliant on him, perhaps even turning to him for help and advice on a regular basis.
What had she been thinking? Even through his proxy, Hank, Laney couldn’t continue a relationship with Marc. He was married. Married, married, married. It was imperative she keep reminding herself of that important detail.
Katherine moved to her bedside and sat next to her. “He looks devastated, like he needs a friend.”
Unable to bear knowing that he was hurting, Laney nearly relented. “I still can’t face him.” But, oh, how she wanted to go to him, to ease his pain, to offer him the compassion he must surely need. “It would be wrong.”
“You’ve done nothing but fall in love with a man who obviously loves you very deeply in return.”
Laney covered her eyes inside the crook of her arm. “He’s married.”
Katherine tapped on her raised elbow. “I’m not saying run away with him, I’m saying go talk to him.”
Lowering her arm, Laney lashed out at her friend. “Are you defending him, me? Us?”
“Do you need
defending?”
No. Not yet. But she loved Marc, knowing he was married to another woman. What did that say about her, about her character? “Why did I have to fall in love with him at all?”
“We don’t get to choose who we love.” Katherine nudged her shoulder. “Go on, Laney. Go talk to him. Maybe it’s time you found out what you’re made of.”
“What if I’m made of the same stuff as my mother?”
Regarding her with blank, patient eyes, Katherine held her gaze. “Loving a man doesn’t make you a woman of questionable virtue. Even loving the wrong man doesn’t make you one.”
“Stop being so wise, it’s irritating.”
“Good. That means I’m getting through to you. Now, get out of that bed.” Katherine tugged her to her feet. “And be the woman of faith and honor I know you are.”
Laney sighed, wondering if she really was the woman Katherine thought she was, one who could walk away from the man she loved because it was the right thing to do.
Or was she a woman willing to do anything, no matter how wrong or inappropriate, for the love of her man? The only way to find out was to face Marc again. “Tell him I’ll be down shortly.”
Katherine pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m proud of you.”
“You might want to hold off on that opinion until after I talk to him.”
“I know what I know. I’ll go keep him company while you change.”
After her friend left the room Laney didn’t waste time waffling over what to wear. A simple dress and hairstyle would have to do. After dressing as quickly as possible, she hurried down the stairs. At the bottom, she stopped and drew in a shaky breath. This was her moment of truth.
She could hear voices coming from the front porch. Katherine was speaking softly with Marc. Laney couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but she thought she heard the word school and house and maybe...books? Was Katherine discussing what they’d come up with so far for the children’s education?
Would Marc have some ideas? Would he guide them? Would he—
Enough stalling. This eavesdropping was beneath her.
Stepping onto the porch, Laney’s gaze sought and found the only man she would ever love. As he stared back, unmoving, she took in his disheveled clothing, the fatigue and pain etching across his features. Katherine had been right. The man was indeed distraught.
And his eyes held the yearning that lived in her own soul.
Even after Katherine returned inside the house, Laney still hesitated, trapped in her moment of indecision. She wanted nothing more than to rush to Marc, to soothe away his sorrow, to give whatever he needed from her.
But he was a married man. And although she’d made many mistakes in her life, becoming Marc’s mistress would not be one of them. “I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head. “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
Spinning around, she dashed back into the house.
“Laney. Wait.” He caught her by the arm before she could climb the staircase to her room. “Stop for a moment and listen to me. I need to tell you—”
“No. I won’t sneak around meeting you behind your wife’s back, rationalizing my actions because I love you.”
His gaze gentled and, for a moment, a portion of his pain seemed to lesson. “I love you, too.”
Her stomach dipped. “You’re not playing fair.”
“I suppose I’m not.” He moved closer, touched her arm. “Laney, Pearl is—”
“Your wife,” she finished for him.
Before he could say another word she rushed to the back of the house. Afraid he might follow her, perhaps wear her down with one of his compelling arguments, she looked frantically around her. The washroom would have to do. She hurried inside, shut the door behind her and pressed her forehead to the hard wood.
Oh, Lord, why? Why are You putting us through this temptation, this trial?
When the expected knock came a few seconds later, she sighed. “Go away, Marc.”
“Let me in, Laney.”
“Go...a...way.”
“I’m not leaving until you hear what I’ve come to say.”
She flattened her palm against the door and thought she felt his warmth, as though he were pressing his hand to the other side in the same spot.
“You’re going to have to trust me long enough to listen to what I’ve come to tell you. But I won’t do it through a locked door.”
“Don’t you understand?” she asked. “I can’t keep drawing close to you, knowing how wrong it is.”
In a low, firm voice he made one simple appeal. “Trust me.”
Trust him. They were back to that, coming full circle, with Laney no closer to surrendering than she had been weeks ago. If only she believed all would turn out well, that the Lord had everything worked out for their good. “I don’t know how to trust you, Marc.”
“No, I guess you don’t.”
She’d failed him. She heard the truth of it in his voice. Yet she couldn’t make herself take the final leap of faith, couldn’t let go of her own self-reliance long enough to give Marc a chance to have his say.
Lord, how do I give Marc what he needs without crossing a line? How do I show him support without losing my honor in the process?
After a long, excruciating moment of silence, Laney dared to whisper his name. “Marc?”
No answer.
Her heart stopped then started again, beating too fast, too erratic. “Marc? Are you still out there?”
Silence.
Hands trembling, she slowly opened the door and peered into the hallway. The empty hallway.
Marc had given up on her.
* * *
Three days passed without Laney hearing from Marc again. With the children fed and getting ready for bedtime, she lay on her bed, alone, staring up at the ceiling for a moment of respite before saying evening prayers with each of them. If she was honest with herself she’d admit that Marc’s silence hurt.
Of course, she hadn’t sought him out, either, hadn’t once tried to find out how Pearl’s health was holding up. She should have at least done that. First thing in the morning Laney would seek out Hank—not Marc, Hank—and ask him about Pearl. Perhaps there was something she could do to ease the woman’s suffering, especially after living through a similar scenario with her own mother.
Flipping onto her stomach, Laney cradled her chin on her hands and sighed. She hated seeing Pearl suffer, hated watching Marc suffer with her.
Several days of hard thinking had brought her to a few conclusions about herself, none of them pleasant. Laney had not tried very hard to make Marc’s life easier. She certainly hadn’t been gracious when he’d offered her gifts.
Instead of acknowledging his generosity she’d pushed him away at every turn. She’d been afraid to rely on him, even in small matters. Now he was nursing a sick wife while Laney had thought only of herself, and how Marc’s situation affected her. She’d always been willing to take chances for others, but never for herself.
The Laney O’Connor that had walked into the Hotel Dupree a month ago hadn’t needed help from anyone. She’d been determined to fix her own problems. She hadn’t even tried to rely on God, through prayer and patience.
Now she had to ask herself why?
Had she craved the heady satisfaction of facing and beating the odds on her own? Wasn’t that the definition of pride?
And wasn’t pride the root of most sin?
Laney knew what she had to do.
Her foray into the land of self-pity and misery was at an end. She had to return to work and do whatever she could to help the man she loved, even if all she could offer was a smooth-running front desk.
Taking action was what Laney O’Connor did best. Now was the time to gather her courage and face Marc again, proving to him—and to herself—that their friendship mattered to her, more than her prideful need to rely only on herself.
Decision made, she jumped off her bed and went in search of Kather
ine. Once she knew what Laney had planned, her friend was only too happy to take over and settle the children in bed for the night.
Upon entering the Hotel Dupree less than an hour later, Laney wasn’t prepared for the shock that stole the air right out of her lungs. Her first impression was that she’d somehow walked into the wrong hotel. But after checking the sign over the entryway two more times, she knew she had the right place.
Taking in the changes, she circled her gaze around the lobby. She was snarling by the time she finished her inspection. Confusion and astonishment made her faint with worry. And anger.
It wasn’t just the rancid smoke filling the air, or the layer of grime that had already begun to form on the once shiny fixtures. It was the feel of the place. The Hotel Dupree felt more like a saloon than an upscale hotel.
What was Marc thinking?
The clientele mingling in the lobby was not up to his standards. Armed with a temper, Laney headed toward the back of the lobby, stopping short as she came eye to eye with Thurston P. Prescott III.
A sense of foreboding rooted deep inside her soul. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering her question, his gaze traveled past her face, stopping several inches lower. Under different circumstances Laney would have given into the urge to slap that look off his face. But she needed answers, and from the self-satisfied look on the banker’s face, she knew he was the man to ask.
“The question, Miss O’Connor, is what are you doing here?”
She didn’t like the hint of triumph in his tone. “I’ve come to work my shift at the front desk.”
“I have all the clerks I need at the moment.”
Her stomach rolled. “I don’t understand. Where’s Mar— Mr. Dupree?”
With an amused, predatory smile, Prescott poked a lit cigar to his lips and grinned around the tattered end. “He’s no longer a part of this establishment.”
“What does that mean?”
Prescott’s smile never wavered. “He sold the hotel to me.”
Sold the hotel? The sickening churn in her stomach kicked harder, making it difficult to speak clearly. “But Marc would never sell the Hotel Dupree.”