by Jodi Thomas
A movement came from the settee. “What do you two think you are doing?”
It took Stitch a moment to react, and when he did, it was in pure anger. “None of your business.” He wasn’t sure what to do with his hand, so he patted Hallie’s breasts lightly and moved it away.
“I believe, as your better, anything done in my presence is my business. Who are you, sir, and what are you doing here?”
Before anyone could move, Rose stepped into the room. August Myers’s voice rose as if an audience had just arrived. “On your behalf, miss, I’m calling the guards and having both these undesirables removed. A lady like yourself shouldn’t even look at such a hideous man, and your maid is obviously nothing but a tramp for keeping company with this fellow who smells like he belongs more in a barn than a hotel.”
Rose walked to the center of the room and looked first at Stitch, then at August Myers. “They have both been invited, Mr. Myers. You, on the other hand, have not. If the hotel doesn’t have your room ready by now, I suggest you wait in the saloon across the street.”
Myers turned his wrath toward her. “You’re obviously not the lady Victoria thinks you are, Miss McMurray. When I find my bride, I’ll inform her you simply will not do to stand beside us when we marry. No wonder her father never allowed her to visit you more than once. After meeting you and your staff”—he frowned pointedly at Hallie and Stitch—“I’m surprised the major even allowed her to write to you. I’m a man in deep sorrow over the disappearance of my intended and you are putting me out.”
“Now might be a good time to toss the settee, Stitch.” Hallie nudged him with her shoulder.
Myers stood and straightened his coat. “I’m not leaving until my room is ready. I’ve spent enough time of late among people far below my station. The two of you can leave and go about your duties, and I suggest, Miss Rose, you return to your room until you’ve decided to behave like a lady.”
Rose walked calmly to the door and opened it. “Good-bye, Mr. Myers. I think you are right, I will not be attending your wedding and I strongly suspect neither will the bride. Now, do you walk out or would you like some help to leave?”
“Don’t you dare threaten me!” Myers’s tone turned deadly.
“I’m not. I’m simply asking a question.”
Myers folded his arms. At over two hundred pounds, he looked like he was daring the little lady to make the first move.
“Good day, Mr. Myers,” Rose said politely.
“If that freak of a man touches me, I’ll have him arrested.” August glared at Stitch.
Rose pulled the small handgun from her skirt pocket. “If he touches you, it will only be to carry out the body. As you pointed out, I’m only a silly woman with my shaking finger on the hair trigger of this gun. I suggest you leave as quickly as possible.”
Myers opened his mouth to argue but reconsidered. He stomped out of the room and was on the first step of the long staircase when Hallie tossed his coat to him so hard he stumbled for several steps before gaining his balance.
Rose closed the door and they all broke into laughter as they took turns imitating the ever-changing expressions on Mr. Myers’s face. Hallie stepped out to order tea and Rose sat by the fire with Stitch.
“What now, miss?” he asked after a comfortable silence.
“If I knew Tori was safe, I’d go back home. I don’t think there will be a wedding, and even if there were, I wouldn’t be invited. It bothers me why my friend would agree to marry such a man as August Myers in the first place. He isn’t all that bad-looking and the major claims he’s one of the best newspapermen in the country, but after only listening to him a few minutes I hate him.”
Stitch leaned close to the fire letting his clothes dry as she continued. He figured women must need to talk out their thinking sometimes.
Rose stood and looked out the window. “How has Tori stood it the past two months? I have to find her and make sure she wasn’t blackmailed or tricked into this marriage. That man seems capable of anything. Maybe he threatened to kill someone or maybe her father owes him a fortune. The major talks about how rich he is, but no one quite knows how he makes his money.”
“You’re just guessing at why she left.” Stitch stopped her.
“I know, but until I find out the truth, I can’t just abandon her. I have to know she’s safe.”
“What if I could tell you that she wasn’t kidnapped or forced to disappear? What if you knew she left of her own free will?”
“I’d still need to find her and offer to help. If she did run away, the major won’t be a forgiving father. He wants this marriage.” Rose looked over at him. “Stitch, do you know something you haven’t told me?”
“I think I do, but you’ll have to trust me to make sure. It might have been another woman in a yellow dress and not your friend. Tonight I’ll go find out. If it was Miss Chamberlain I saw, and she’s safe, I’ll take you there.”
“And if she’s somewhere that isn’t safe?”
Stitch smiled. “Then I’ll bring her back here to you.”
“Fair enough.”
Chapter 17
Second Avenue
Abe locked the front door and moved through the shadowy aisles of his store. He’d been so busy he’d hardly had time to watch Miss Norman across the street. His friend Killian O’Toole had brought a woman to the small room above the bakery next door. She had to be in trouble, running from something, maybe even the law, but Abe knew Killian was doing what was right. He also knew that it wouldn’t be safe for Sara to come to the store with others so close. Before, when they were alone in his study, there were always locked doors between them and the world, but there was no locked door between the apartment and his back room except the one at the top of the stairs. Killian and his lady could lock them out, but Abe couldn’t lock them out of the back room.
He could think of only one thing to do. As he saw Sara close the schoolhouse door for the night, he pulled on his coat and stepped out on the porch.
When she walked by, he called, “Miss Norman, may I speak with you a moment?”
“Of course, Mr. Henderson,” she answered just as formally.
She moved to the steps and waited. Close enough to be out of the mist now falling but not close enough for him to touch her.
“I . . .” Abe tried to remember what to say. “I’d like to offer you an umbrella.”
“Thank you,” she said and stepped closer.
He forced words out. “I would offer to walk you home, but, you see, I need a crutch when I’m not in the store and I couldn’t manage it and the umbrella. So I’m afraid I’d be no use to you, but my umbrella will hold back the rain.” He didn’t want their short time to end. “I often watch from the corner of my store to make sure you get back to your place safely.”
There, he’d told her why he couldn’t walk her home and hopefully she’d understand that it was not because he didn’t want to. He’d also told her he cared about her, though that should be obvious to her by now. “I have a friend staying with me for a few days. Judge O’Toole. You may know him. He’ll be making use of the quarters above the bakery so if you need any stored things from there, don’t be frightened if you hear noises above.”
She nodded slightly at what he hadn’t said. “I think I’ve seen him talking with you, Mr. Henderson. He’s a tall man who always wears black.”
Abe felt relieved. “Yes, we often have coffee early in the morning.” No one was walking near, so he added, “I’ll miss you while he’s here.”
She looked down at the umbrella in her hand. “Most of my walk home is covered boardwalk in front of the post office and the dress shops. I really don’t need your umbrella.”
He didn’t want to take it back and people were walking too close for him to say what he wanted to say to her.
“When you walk outside the store, Mr. Henderson, do you need the crutch for support or balance?” she asked boldly in her teacher’s voice.
Abe didn’t wan
t to talk about his leg. Now she’d see him as a cripple, not a lover. “Balance,” he finally answered.
She raised her chin. “Then, if you’d like to walk me home, use my arm as your balance and I’ll hold the umbrella. I’m not a small woman, Mr. Henderson, and my father used to look at my feet and say I had a great understanding.” She laughed at her own twist of words. “I’ll not topple over if you need balance.”
She offered her arm and he laced his around hers until their hands touched. Anyone looking wouldn’t have been able to tell if she held to him or he held to her. She lifted the umbrella and they began to walk.
They were almost to the boardinghouse when he broke the silence. “You’re not to come to the study while O’Toole is staying with me. I’ll not have your honor questioned.”
She slowed, letting him take his time at a step.
He turned, his face level with hers before she stepped down. “But make no mistake, Miss Norman, I want you back and waiting for me as soon as possible after he’s gone.”
She lowered the umbrella, curtaining them away from the world as she leaned into him and brushed her cold mouth over his.
He fought to keep from touching her. Even with the night and the rain, this was far too public a place. “I’ll be walking you home tomorrow night,” he said, straightening away from her. “But there will be no more of that.”
“Yes, dear,” she whispered as if she’d had no say in the matter.
A few minutes later she handed him the umbrella and climbed the stairs to the boardinghouse. He walked across the street, guessing how long it would take her to get to her room, and then he turned and saw her light blink on. He now knew which room was hers and somehow after years of guessing that seemed a very private thing to know.
The walk home wasn’t as frightening as he thought it might be. There were poles and railing along part of the boardwalk, and when he had nothing to hang on to, he used the umbrella as a cane.
When he got back to the store, Killian was waiting for him on the porch.
“I thought you never left this place,” he said as Abe joined him on the bench.
“I decided to walk Miss Norman home.”
“Who?”
Abe grinned. “The schoolteacher. I offered her my umbrella and she insisted on taking my arm.”
Killian laughed. “Maybe you should offer her something bigger than an umbrella and she might take all of you.”
“I’ll consider it,” Abe answered. “How is our guest upstairs?”
“I just left her. She was fighting back tears. We got everything moved in and cleaned, but I don’t think it’s what she’s used to. She’s pretty worried about being found. I have to leave her tonight and go back to my room at the hotel or they’ll think that I had something to do with her disappearance. I hated leaving her alone.”
“How much trouble is she in?”
“Nothing with the law, but she swears her father is making her marry a man she doesn’t love or even like. He claims to know what’s best for her, but she’s no child.”
“Do you know the groom-to-be?” Abe leaned closer so he could see Killian’s face.
“Yeah, and I don’t like him either. Right now I’ve got to go over and find the guy and probably drink half the night away, pretending I feel sorry for him. He doesn’t love her. Hell, he doesn’t even know her. The interest in marrying her is centered on her father’s money.”
Abe suddenly realized Killian was stone-cold sober. “Have you told her about your dead brother, Shawn?”
Killian laughed. “Of course, we’ve talked about him since the day we met in a cemetery. She asked me before I came downstairs if I’d have him watch over her tonight and I said sure.”
Abe grinned. “You know you might have found that one in a million you’ve been looking for.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got to stay alive long enough to make sure. I have a feeling if this gets out, both her fiancé and her father will take turns killing me. According to Victoria, both Myers and her father were great heroes in battle, and me, I seemed to be missing most of the time. My only battle plan was to try and be wherever bullets weren’t flying. I never wanted to lead or follow anyone.”
Abe didn’t say a word. This was the first time Killian had ever talked about what he did in the war. He might not have been a great fighter, but he stayed and that was more than some did.
“Do you think you love her?” Abe asked.
“Sure. From the first moment I met her. Only problem is I doubt I’m what she needs in a man. She dreams of things and has ideas about life that have never crossed my mind.” Killian frowned. “Do you ever get the feeling that women are born knowing stuff we’ll never even know we don’t know?”
Abe laughed. “O’Toole, you make more sense drunk than sober.”
O’Toole stood and buttoned his coat. “I’m going to be drinking tea tonight. I figure I’ll need all my brains to pull this kidnapping off and not get killed.” He stepped away from the porch. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Killian,” Abe said as he stood and went inside. When he passed the hallway leading to the bakery, he added, “Good night, Shawn.” Just in case the ghost of Killian’s brother was hanging around.
In the creaking windows and wind whispering through the shadows of the night, he almost swore he heard a ghost say, “Good night.”
Chapter 18
Stitch moved through the clutter of the bakery toward the stairs. He’d seen Killian O’Toole and Abe Henderson talking on the porch and had no trouble slipping around back and sliding in the chute where coal had once been delivered for the ovens.
He’d grown up going to the school across the street years before the war and remembered the bakery well. His mother had worked there before she’d gotten pregnant with his little brother, and Stitch had the run of the place while his mother baked.
There were stairs along the far wall that had once been an outside entrance to the apartment before another store was built on sharing the wall, but originally a small winding staircase off the kitchen had been the inside way up to the apartment. Once the outside stairs were walled in, the other steps appeared to have been used for storage.
Stitch moved around the boxes and old pots to the top of the stairs. Through the cracks in a boarded-up door, he could see the little kitchen and the small area beyond. The only light offered to the living space was one from a streetlamp out front. The place didn’t looked lived in and for a minute he decided he’d been wrong about where Killian had brought the woman, but then he noticed the bucket of coal by the little potbelly stove.
No one hauls up a bucket of coal to an empty apartment.
He waited maybe a half hour before Victoria Chamberlain walked into the kitchen. She still wore the yellow dress, but the midnight coat with the fur hood was missing. She was beautiful and so was the gown, Stitch would give her that. Not the kind of pretty he liked, but he could see why men might fight over her.
She sat staring out the window as she folded, then unfolded, what looked like a handkerchief. In the stillness he could hear her softly crying, not the heartbreak kind of crying but sad little sobs as if she’d suffered a loss and had to let the tears fall before her heart would heal.
For the first time in years Stitch wished he were another man and could go to her and comfort her. She might be a woman, but there was something childlike in the way she kept her weeping in, barely letting it out in tiny gulps. She was as beautiful as he was ugly, but he understood her kind of never-ending sorrow.
Stitch couldn’t help but wonder at the wisdom of what Killian had done. Was he really helping the lady? Stitch couldn’t see her marrying Myers, but putting her in this dark, tiny room seemed to be more torture than saving.
He almost jumped out of his skin when she whispered, “Are you there, Shawn? Please be there. I don’t know if I can stand to be so alone.” She cried into her hands as if fighting to keep a bit of control, then she said again in a voice so
low he barely heard, “Please be there, ghost, or I fear I’ll die a solitary death.”
“I’m here,” Stitch said without thought.
Even before the words were out he realized what he’d done. Holding his breath he looked through the darkness trying to figure out if he’d just scared the poor woman into the hereafter.
She leaned slowly back in the chair. “I knew you would be, Shawn. My Killian wouldn’t lie to me.”
Stitch thought about telling her that her Killian was an idiot for acting like his big brother’s ghost was following him, but there seemed an overload of idiots around. Here he was standing in an abandoned bakery he’d broken into talking to a woman crazy enough to believe a ghost was watching over her.
Hell, he might as well go with it. He’d probably be shot for trespassing before dawn and then he could come back and really haunt the place.
“I was so afraid I’d be by myself tonight. In all my life I’ve never been alone. Even last night when I hid in Killian’s room he was just beyond the door sleeping.” She laughed softly. “I could hear him snoring.”
Stitch frowned. Killian was not only an idiot, he was dumb as wet coal. What kind of man sleeps in another room when a lady comes to him for the night?
Stitch couldn’t answer his own question. His experience with women was so limited he’d had no idea what Hallie wanted him to do earlier when she’d put his hand on her chest. What chance would he have with a woman who wanted a ghost for company?
His thoughts drifted back to Hallie. Did she want him to feel those large breasts of hers, or was she just making a point? Maybe he could ask her to do it again and see what she said.
The beautiful lady had been talking to Shawn the ghost while Stitch had been reasoning. He had no idea what the first of the sentence was, but the last thing he heard was, “. . . I’ve never been brave. Three days away from my wedding and I’m not sure I could have ended it if Killian hadn’t come to me and asked me to think about what I want.”