“You plan on lookin’ at that monster’s sneer for as long as it takes?”
Julianna’s expression turned hopeful. “If I can’t bring him down myself, something else will. His pride, maybe, or his arrogance and greed. Someday he’ll go too far and be the source of his own destruction.”
Cassie nodded, considering Julianna’s words. “Every dog gets his day. Woe to the likes of Leyton, child—Judgment Day will surely come.”
Julianna locked Cassie’s hands in her own. “I have to see the justice.”
“Cryin’ shame you’ve got to turn over your freedom to see it happen.”
“Freedom? With Father and Leyton tracking me like bloodhounds?” Her voice cracked. “Anyway, what do I need freedom for? To love again?” She shook her head fiercely. “I don’t want to love again. Jace will always live in my heart—there’s no room for any other man.”
“I reckon it’s natural to feel that way,” Cassie mused. “And you’re right—Leyton’ll face the music of his doings—someday, someway.” She sighed, long and deep. “But, child, what’ll happen to you between now and then?” Cassie turned her eyes to heaven. “Lord help you, girl.”
Bells rang from the steeple of the white church, their tone crisp and clear as they sounded through the violet-blue dusk.
Cream roses cascaded from the altar while slender tapers flickered from the sills of oblong windows. Their stained glass was a patchwork of burgundies and blues, aglow from candlelight.
The ushers were stiff backed and formal, donning traditional black tuxedoes. They escorted well-dressed guests down the aisle, seating them in pews that were polished to a high sheen. By the time the last guest arrived, the pews were nearly spilling over.
The large crowd was expected. For months, this wedding had been anticipated as the summer’s grand event. And tonight it was poised to take place on schedule, as though nothing had threatened it.
In the parlor off the vestibule, four bridesmaids plied Julianna with anxious looks as she made no attempt to finish readying herself. Detached, she rested against the curve of a chaise lounge, unconcerned about creasing her wedding gown.
She noticed Virginia fidgeting with her cigarette case, no doubt dying, but not daring, to light a Lucky. Smoking up a church was bound to be a sin. Virginia looked up, and they locked eyes. Julianna saw how desperately her friend wanted to steal her away. Virginia had always loved her like a sister, ever since they were little girls, and she had hated Leyton practically on sight. Virginia’s dance card was long and full, and if there was one thing she could sense, it was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Julianna smiled sadly at her friend, and Virginia shook her copper curls and turned away.
The gesture reminded her of their last conversation, when she’d finally told Virginia everything that had happened to her in Ambrose Point. All the details. They had been in Virginia’s bright yellow roadster, zipping through the countryside because Virginia had insisted Julianna needed fresh air and some scenery outside of her bedroom walls. Virginia, usually so glamorous and poised, drove with her mouth wide open as Julianna gave a play-by-play of the fight on the beach. The expression only reaffirmed to Julianna just how appalling this story was.
“The deputy’s gun fell out of his holster as he tried to break things up between Jace and Leyton. I . . . I picked it up. To throw it into the ocean, to get it away from angry men,” Julianna said, looking at Virginia’s gaping profile. “The gun went off, Virginia. I don’t know why, but it did, and the bullet went right past Leyton’s face, skimming it. That’s all. I did not try to shoot him—”
“But I’ll bet the devil said you did!” Virginia interjected, her face turning nearly as red as her hair. “I swear on every Lucky I’ll ever smoke, if Leyton isn’t Satan in the flesh, then he’s at least Lucifer’s illegitimate spawn from down yonder!” Virginia’s foot was getting heavier by the minute and the car was barreling down the road, turning the fields and wildflowers into a green-and-golden blur.
“You read him like a book. That’s exactly what he convinced the deputy of,” Julianna recalled over the roar of the car’s engine. “He handcuffed me right there on the beach. It was like a bad dream, except that I was wide awake.”
“Oh, sweets! How horrid!” Virginia finally slowed the car, looking back and forth from the road to Julianna. Her face was a blend of shock and sympathy. “What happened next? What did you do?”
“It’s what Jace did—he turned himself in, giving up his freedom in exchange for mine,” Julianna said, then fell quiet for a minute. She was always overwhelmed when she thought about the enormity of it. After all, from Ambrose Point’s local sheriff to J. Edgar Hoover’s G-Men, the authorities didn’t know that Jace was the man behind the bank robberies. Perhaps he could have kept that secret forever had she never veered into his path, bringing Leyton right behind her. Seeing that Virginia was gaping again with an unsteady hand over her heart, Julianna knew her friend was taken aback by it, too, as well as deeply touched.
“He knew the deputy, knew he was just a kid eager for his fifteen minutes of fame,” Julianna continued. “So he offered him a bigger story, which was himself, but only if the deputy told the truth about me.”
“Oh, Julianna, what a gift to have a man who loves you that much!”
“I know,” Julianna said, voice suddenly husky under the weight of tears that rose up so quickly these days. “It cost him everything, though.”
Virginia slowed the car down even more and pulled into the gravel driveway of an abandoned farmhouse before stopping and cutting off the engine. “I’m so sorry, sweets. I wish I could make this right.”
“Nobody can,” Julianna had said, shaking her head sadly. “We were so close to making it right. Jace was only going to serve five years for the robberies, and the FBI was going to relocate me near whatever prison they put him in.”
“How in this crazy world did he manage to work out a deal like that?”
“One, by his own confession, but Jace also had some inside information. You know the Tommy Lightfoot Lipton who’s been all over the news? Besides all his Prohibition crimes, he was wanted for racketeering and kidnapping. Jace found out that he was planning to board a train to Canada, so he gave the FBI that information, too.”
“And they captured him! I heard it on the radio.”
“Yes, but then . . .” Her voice trailed as she headed into the worst part of the story. The next words were so hard to say, but she took a deep breath and pressed her back stiffly against the seat, as though bracing herself for a blow. “The sheriff of Ambrose Point told me that Jace had been shot and killed by one of Tommy’s hit men.”
“Oh, Julianna . . .”
Then the tears had broken through, rising from Julianna’s throat and into her eyes where they spilled over and rolled like rivers down her face. “It happened while the FBI was transporting him to prison. Leyton said it was all my fault, that Jace would be alive if I’d never come into his life. Deep down, I think he’s right.”
“No, no, no!” Virginia insisted, pounding her fist on the dashboard with every word. “None of this would have happened if Satan hadn’t left his brimstone basement and followed you to Ambrose Point!”
“I tell myself that, but if Jace and I had never met, he probably would still be here.”
“But you did meet, and for whatever reason, it was meant to be. That kind of love and sacrifice has to be predestined. What I can’t accept is that it’s meant for you and Leyton to be together.” Virginia’s face looked as though it was about to crack behind her perfectly applied makeup, and Julianna could tell she was fighting back tears. “Sweets, how do you go from a man who loved you like Jace did to one as wretched as Leyton?”
“You just have to trust me, Virginia.”
“I’m trying,” Virginia said as she reached across the car’s console to pat Julianna’s wrist. “I’m really trying, but I just wish I could save you.”
Virginia then shook her head and looked away, resig
ned to leave her friend to a fate she hated.
Julianna knew Virginia was wishing again for a way to make a rescue. But even if Julianna did want to be whisked away, there was no escape. Leyton had his penguin-suited ushers posted everywhere, with orders to keep their eyes peeled for anything suspicious. He was taking no chances.
In the next moment, Virginia was standing over her. “It’s time.” Her whisper was solemn as she nudged Julianna to her feet.
Standing, Julianna was no more of a participant than she had been while seated. Her bridesmaids took over, lifting her feet one at a time and slipping them into satin heels. They draped a strand of pearls around her neck, nestled Calla lilies into the crook of one arm, and adjusted the netting of her veil. And then their gentle, well-manicured hands led her to the door that opened to the vestibule, just steps away from the aisle that would take her to the rose-covered altar.
It was the door to her future, months and years that seemed as heavy as the door itself. When it opened, the organ music swept in like a chilled, northern wind. Her father was waiting to walk her down the aisle.
The bridesmaids floated past her, lavender fairies unaware that this wedding almost hadn’t come to pass. Virginia, the only exception, was the last attendant to start down the aisle, pausing to implore Julianna’s soul with her blue eyes, as if to say There’s still time . . .
But there wasn’t time. The “Wedding March” had begun and the guests were looking eagerly toward the back of the church, anxious to see the bride, ready to stand in honor of her arrival.
As Julianna took her father’s arm, her hand trembled and she briefly questioned her own sanity. What if I’m wrong? What if . . .
No. She stopped the train of doubts. This was the way things had to be.
She looked down the long aisle at Leyton, ready to receive what he had so long awaited.
The way things have to be.
For now, but not forever.
As Julianna started down the aisle, all eyes were upon her. The guests—innocent and unknowing—stood and smiled, touched by the tears that flowed freely down the bride’s face.
The S.S. Sun Treasure was a floating paradise, a Havana-bound beauty that most brides only dreamed of honeymooning aboard. Julianna, though, found it impossible to absorb the ship’s finery and surveyed her stateroom with misty eyes. For all its luxury, it would never overshadow her memories of Jace and a house on the beach, of roller coasters and bowling, and of pancakes flipped so high that they hit and stuck to the ceiling.
The ship blasted its horn, announcing its departure from the port. As it set sail for the Caribbean, neither Julianna nor Leyton were among the passengers tossing colorful shreds of confetti into the summer wind. She remained in the stateroom, curled beneath the bedcovers, away from the festivities that broke and angered her heart. She knew that life went on—but it was hard to watch when her own world was shattered.
Leyton had staked his claim near a poolside bar on the Lido deck, where he adopted the persona of a pampered film star, face turned to the tropical sun as he motioned tersely to waiters when his bourbon ran low.
That night was the Captain’s Welcome Dinner.
“I can’t believe you aren’t going,” Leyton said as he buttoned his dinner jacket. “How is that going to look?”
Julianna burrowed deeper beneath the covers. “Tell them I’m seasick,” she said. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll have more fun without me.” When he didn’t answer, she knew he was thinking it over. He’d be free to chase all the blondes on board.
The seasick story was half true. Her head was splitting. Groaning, she rolled out of bed and stumbled to the vanity where she rummaged through her toiletries bag for aspirin.
Leyton strode up behind her and studied his reflection in the mirror. “My injury is barely noticeable anymore,” he said, running a finger across his cheek. “One wouldn’t know that you tried to shoot me.”
She breathed deeply, willing herself to remain composed. How much longer was Leyton going to keep reciting that lie?
He glowered at her, challenging her to react.
Controlling her voice, she sounded only mildly annoyed when she said, “Windburn would have been worse.”
“If that’s what you’ve convinced yourself of, dear wife, then I’ll not dally with your delusions.” He paused to adjust his bowtie. “I wonder if your boyfriend really believed you were innocent.”
She swallowed two aspirin with a drink of water and smiled for a second, remembering the afternoon she and Jace had interrupted a justice of the peace as he listened to a baseball game on the radio. He hadn’t been happy about missing an inning to perform a quick wedding, but they had been happy enough to cover the world that day. “You seem to forget, Leyton. Jace was my husband.”
In the next moment, Leyton’s hands were around her neck. Cool and heavy, they didn’t need to apply pressure to make his sense of authority known. Leyton’s low voice chilled her, “McAllister is dead. I’m your husband now, and you’ll answer to me.”
Julianna winced and fought to pry Leyton’s hands from her, just as she had tried to break away when he pushed her head beneath the waves in Ambrose Point, just as she had when he once held her against the garden wall at Dreamland. But he held firm. She whimpered, which brought a smile to his face. He freed her and gave her a little push, sending her stumbling backward onto the bed. Her eyes widened in horror as he followed and straddled her, pinning her arms above her head and pressing his knees sharply into her thighs.
“You know, love, I have rights as a husband.”
“Rights?” She glanced at his knees forcing her legs to the bed. “Not like this!”
He burrowed his face in her neck. “How sad that you didn’t save yourself for me.” He lifted his head, eyes dancing with dark mischief. “Tell me, love, all those nights in McAllister’s bed—did he teach you how to satisfy a man?”
Fury overtook her like a flash flood. She hated him for trying to cheapen something that had been beautiful. She freed one hand and swung it through the air.
He grabbed it before it struck his face. Laughing, he released her and sat on the edge of the bed where he began putting on his shoes. As if nothing had happened, he said calmly, “We need to discuss our relationship as husband and wife.”
She scooted to the other side of the bed, away from him.
“I might be interested in consummating this marriage.” He gave her a long, scrutinizing look. “Then again—maybe I won’t be.”
She responded with a short, stunned laugh. His tone was haughty, as though he thought she would suffer extreme deprivation if he didn’t take her to his bed.
Leyton returned to the mirror and smoothed back his close-cropped hair. “You’ve never really been my type, but do you think there might be other qualities that attract me?”
“That question is rather difficult, Leyton, but let me try. Would it be my trust fund, my father’s money, or his collection of banks?”
“Ah yes,” he said as he snapped his fingers and headed for the door of their stateroom. “The Sheffield wealth.”
He flung open the door, nodded politely at an older couple passing by, and disappeared down the hall.
It was hours before he returned. She assumed he was lingering in the bar after the dinner, savoring its smoky haze and easy swing music until after midnight. That’s where Leyton was most at home, among drink and luxury. She imagined him staying until the barkeep locked up the liquor and the orchestra fell silent, then stumbling back to their stateroom, his clothes reeking of cigar smoke and someone’s perfume, his breath sweet and heavy from countless rounds of bourbon. The thought made Julianna sick.
She made sure to be asleep before he came in, but his stumbling woke her. She lay still, barely breathing, fearing he would find a reason to pick a fight—or worse, decide he wanted to consummate the marriage. When he passed out, she whispered a prayer of thanks.
It was the first time they had shared a room, and she felt
his presence to be as unnerving as someone grinding their teeth and snoring in unison. She slipped from the bed and took a blanket from the closet. Quietly, she opened the door that led onto the stateroom balcony, which overlooked black ocean swells that reflected the lights of the ship.
She wrapped the blanket around herself and settled into a lounge chair. From there, she watched the water, just as Jace said his mother, Meredith, had after her husband was lost in a shipwreck while serving in the navy. Jace had told her that Meredith had looked upon it as though wishing the ocean that took her love might also be the hero to send him back with its waves. Julianna understood the deep wishing now. She knew she’d jump overboard if there was a current to carry her back to the shores of Ambrose Point, to a different time when Jace would be waiting for her.
The balcony was where she spent most of the honeymoon, leaving the ship only once when it stopped in Havana, the Cuban city beckoning her with harbors and bottleneck bays, its coastline a sculpture of terraced bluffs and steep hills.
The warm wind rustled her dress as she made her way to La Fuerza Fortress. A mighty creation of stone, it had stood on the waterfront for centuries, its gray bell tower rising high above the surf, filling the eyes with a wide view of the sea.
There was a statue in the tower, facing seaward as though watching the water. It had been sculpted and placed there to honor the country’s first woman governor, Isabel de Bobadilla, who had shared the fortress with her husband during the sixteenth century. He had been the explorer Hernando de Soto, who left Havana on an expedition to the lands of La Florida. It was to be his final journey, but for five years Isabel had awaited his return, sending out fleets of ships in search of news. One legend said she stood in the tower and watched the water, scanning the waves for sight of his homecoming. Word of his death eventually found her, and she died shortly after receiving it. Died of a broken heart, or so the story went.
Did she know? Julianna wondered as she stared at the stone likeness of Isabel. As she watched the water, did her heart of hearts know that he would never come back?
Seeking the Shore Page 2