1929 Book 3 - 1930 Aryl's Divide
Page 15
“Where's my Maura?”
The entire kitchen turned toward the harsh Irish accent standing in the doorway. The familial connection was undeniable. This was Maura's mother. With wide eyes and open mouths, the crowd of women in the kitchen stood beside themselves. It was only moments ago, amidst feverish water bath canning of an endless stream of green beans, that they made plans for the bake sale—and perhaps a rummage sale to bring Katie Mallory overseas. And now here she stood, with Jonathan behind her holding a sheepish grin.
She seemed larger than life and the spitting image of all of Maura's tales. Ava stepped forward.
“You must be Maura's mother, Katie.”
“I am. And you must be Ava.”
She grinned at Jonathan over her shoulder. “How on earth did you know?”
“Maura's writings. That woman writes letters that take days to read. And she's a fair descriptor of her friends. You fit the image I had in my head exactly, dear.”
“How on earth did you know to come?”
“How did you get here?”
“Have you been waiting long?”
“Jonathan, what's going on here?”
“Does Maura know you're here?”
Questions came from all directions in the kitchen. Katie shook her head and held up her hand. A gray lock fell from its place and she swiped it back in order.
She looked at Kathleen. “I knew to come because Jonathan sent me a telegram a few weeks ago.”
She looked at Arianna. “I came by ship, as most do when traveling from other countries.” Arianna stiffened at the elementary tone Katie used.
She looked at Claire. “And I've not been waiting at all. In fact, Jonathan had to wait fifteen minutes for the train. It was a bit late.”
Finally, she looked at Shannon. “And I'm glad to see it was kept secret...my coming, that is. You see,” she paused and looked all around. “Do they not have tea in America? And I'm starving for a bite to eat.”
She sat down gracefully as the kitchen burst into a flurry of activity.
∞∞∞
“Now.” Everyone gathered around the table to listen, forgetting altogether about the canning. She smiled as she stirred her tea. “As I was saying, when I got the telegram from Jonathan, I immediately sent a telegram back, saying that I would be on a boat by the end of the week. I have a sixth sense about these things you know, and I had been setting a bit of money aside for just such an occasion. I told him to keep it a secret and he did.” She gave him an approving glance and took a sip of tea. “Now, I've answered all of your questions. Would you please answer mine and tell me where my Maura is?”
“She's out in the back garden with Patrick,” Ava said. “I'll take you to her.”
∞∞∞
Maura stood, braced her hands on her back and stretched.
“Ye don't have to do this, Maura. If ye want to go back and join the women in the kitchen, I won't think any less of ye,” Patrick said.
“No, Patrick. It feels good to move. Seems I've been sittin' and doin' nothin' forever.” She wiped sweat from her forehead, closed her eyes and blew out a long breath.
“You alright, Maura?” Patrick stood and took her arm.
“Just dizzy from the heat. I'm fine.” She opened her eyes toward the direction of the house and squinted. She closed her eyes and opened them again, readjusting to the bright light.
“Jaysus sufferin' Christ!”
“What, Maura?”
“I'm seein' things, Patrick. I'm having an apparition of sorts!”
“What do ye see?” Patrick sidled up to her and followed her eyes.
“I swear I see me Mother. Just there by the house. See!”
Patrick squinted. “I don't know what yer mother looks like, Maura.”
“Oh, for the love of...either I'm dyin' or she is, Patrick! People only see their loved ones when they're dyin'! And she's coming towards me! She's comin' to say goodbye!”
“Now, hold on, Maura. I see two people as well. Don't get yourself worked up. Let's just go on down there and see who it is, alright?”
Her hand was shaking as Patrick took it, leading her out of the bountiful garden.
“I can't bear to walk toward me Mother's ghost!”
She stopped and covered her face with her hands.
“Tis not yer mother’s ghost, Maura. Likely one of Kathleen's friends come to help.”
Maura shook her head fiercely from behind her hands.
After a moment, she heard the sharp maternal voice, the harsh Irish brogue, calling her name. “Maura!” and she yelped.
“Take yer hands from yer face, child. It's me.”
Slowly Maura lowered her hands, hardly believing her eyes.
“Mam?” She studied her carefully deciding that she was, in fact, alive.
“Aye. Come here.” She held her arms open and Maura walked into them, still disbelieving. She was taller than her mother, only for Katie's aged back.
“How did you get here?”
Katie rolled her eyes. “Same way you did, ye simpleton. A big boat.”
“But why?” She pulled back and stared at her. “Why did ye come?”
“Because ye need me.”
∞∞∞
The house was alive with noise as a long day of canning came to a close. Maura had hardly said two words since returning to the house as Katie got on with the business of getting to know everyone. Patrick smiled over the crowd and decided now was as good a time as any to surprise Shannon. He tugged on her sleeve.
“Can I have a word with ye, Shan?”
“Of course, what's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong. Just wanted to take a walk is all.”
“A walk? But I've got to get the babies down.”
He nodded to Jonathan and he took Roan from Shannon's arms.
“He'll tend him while we’re gone.”
Confused, she took Patrick's hand.
“What on earth's goin' on, Pat? It'll be dark soon!”
“There's enough light for what I need to show ye.”
They walked out into the warm night and started up the hill to the back of the property.
“I wish you'd tell me what this is all about.”
“You'll see, soon enough.”
They came to a clearing where a small, neat cabin sat bathed in the last of the sunlight.
“What's this?”
“I've been working on it in my free time. It was a dilapidated mess at first, but it cleaned up well. I worked out a deal with Caleb. This cabin and the acre that surrounds it. Got it for a fair price on contract. I gave him a little down and we can make payments on the rest. We can't move in for a week yet, there's a few things left to do, but—” He took a deep breath. “It's ours, Shan.”
She stared, dumbfounded.
“Do you like it?” He took her hand and led her closer. “I strung up some laundry lines on the side here and already marked off a spot for yer garden. I can work on a spot for chickens and a small barn, maybe.” He watched her, waiting.
“Say somethin’, Shan,” he whispered.
“Ours, Patrick?”
“Ours.”
She smiled as a tear slipped down her cheek. “This is what's been keeping you out till dark every night?”
He nodded and she scrunched up her face.
“And just the other night I yelled at ye fer being gone so much and not spending time with us. I'm so sorry, Pat.”
“You didn't know.”
“I should have known better.” She wiped her eyes. “That if you were out and away it was fer a good reason.”
“Don't worry none about that. C'mon. Let me show ye the inside.”
October 5th 1930
The pounding on the door jerked Bomani out of a light sleep. His eyes opened and he lay stock still, listening.
Another round of intent knocking had him up on his feet, loaded gun at his side. He stood off to the side and asked who it was.
“It's Victor.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I sent for you twice and you never came.”
“I'm working for someone else now.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
Victor stepped toward the door, placing a hand on it. Bomani cocked the gun. Victor’s smile was strained and impatient.
“Going to kill me, Bomani?”
“Only if you're here to try to kill me.”
He laughed. “Here to kill you? Bomani, if I wanted you dead I'd have hired someone and it would have been done last week.” He laughed again harder. “You think I'd knock on your door if I came here to kill you? A murderer with manners!”
“Why did you knock on my door then?” He eyed him and the dimly lit hallway beyond.
Victor quit laughing suddenly. “I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“I don't feel comfortable talking about it through the door, Bomani.”
“And I don't feel comfortable with you coming to my home.”
“Then let me in so no one sees me,” Victor said slowly.
Bomani sighed and opened the door. Before he knew what was happening, Victor was pinned with his face against the wall, his arm twisted behind his back, as Bomani checked his pockets. He stepped away and kept the gun in his hand.
“Not how I'm used to being received,” Victor complained as he straightened his jacket.
“Get to the point and go.” Bomani sat on the sofa with the gun dangling between his knees.
Victor sat down on the worn armchair and crossed his legs. “You aren't going to offer me a drink?”
“No, now get on with it.”
He pointed at Bomani. “You, Sir, are not a murderer with manners.” He grinned.
Bomani wanted to deny that he was a murderer. But he couldn't. “I have manners with those who deserve it.”
“Fine. I'll get to the point. I've just learned that my arch nemesis, the man I most despise on this earth, the man I tried to kill, is apparently still alive.”
“I told you to let me do it.”
“It wasn't my failing, Bomani. He just happened to not be on the boat that day. His worthless friend died in his place.”
“And that brings you here why?”
“I need you to take care of it.”
Bomani shook his head. “No way.”
“I'm prepared to pay. Handsomely.”
“No. I'm done. Not doing that kind of work anymore.”
Victor looked amused. “Retiring, eh?”
“From that line of work, yes. I'm going honest.”
“Well, that's unfortunate for me, now isn't it?”
“Plenty of men out there to help you, Victor.”
“I see. Maybe you could recommend one?” He laughed.
“Any big guy in line for day work. Lots in the breadline, too. Even the best man will turn bad if he has a family to feed.”
Victor narrowed his eyes. “But what would cause a bad man to go good? The same thing, perhaps?” His grin widened. “Do you have a family?” He stood and glanced around. Bomani rose quickly. “It's time to leave.”
“Listen, Bo, you will do this job for me.”
“No, I won't.”
“You will. You see, it would be nothing for me to draw up the papers to show that you leased an apartment from me a few months ago. I know a guy who's good with signatures. Nor would it be any effort to call the police and tell them you abandoned the apartment and left behind a strangled prostitute.”
Bomani had the urge to kill him right then, right there. Only the fact that Victor was standing in front of the coat closet where his woman hid, stopped him from shooting.
“When?”
“I knew you'd see things my way. I'll be in touch with the details.” He smiled and let himself out.
Bomani locked the door and pressed his head against it. He hated being trapped like a rat in a cage. He would do this job for Victor, but it wouldn't be his last, he decided. Victor would be his last. He visualized killing him over and over...all the ways he could kill him. Bloody or clean...fast or slow...knife or gun...quietly or loudly...this life had damaged him to enjoy the possibilities as much as he did.
A muffled cry tore him from his fantasy. He opened the coat closet and pulled her to her feet. She was shaking.
“It's alright. He's gone.”
He thought long and hard before speaking.
“I’m not going to do this for him, don’t worry.”
She nodded against his shoulder. “But he’ll kill you if you don’t. He’ll kill both of us.”
“No, he won’t. We’ll be gone. I’ll make like I’m going to do the job for him. I’ll go to Rockport and I’ll take you with me. We’ll warn them. We’ll tell them everything. And then we’ll leave. We’ll head west. Maybe California. I don’t know where yet. We’ll find a place and start a new life, okay?”
“And we’ll be safe?”
He pulled back and steadied her face to look in her eyes. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, Ruth.”
October 7th 1930
“Tis an interesting bunch of friends ye have, Maura.”
Katie smiled and sat across from Maura with a cup of tea. “But then, you’ve always run with the interestin’ sort.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just statin’ a fact.”
“Don’t pick a fight, Mam. You’ve only been here three days and I’d like to be happy to see ye awhile longer.”
“I’m not pickin’, Maura. Ye know, I came here to help ye, but I see I’m needed all over this barnacle covered town.”
“Mam, I’m happy ye came. I am. But I don’t need ye here. I’m sorry Jonathan went and gave ye the impression that I was lame and helpless. I’m not. I’m getting along just fine and so is everyone else, all things considered.”
Katie pinched up her face and scoffed. “Sad, sorry lot of ye! Little bit of hard times come and everyone falls to pieces.”
“That’s not true. Mr. Jonathan is—”
“Jonathan is a fixer, not a healer. Aye, he’s strong and I can see the weight he’s carryin’. It’s as if he’s responsible for half the town’s welfare. He runs around putting out small fires as he sees the need. But he’s powerless to help those near him that need it the most.”
“If yer talking about Mr. Caleb, he’ll come around in his own time.”
“He’s one, but not the only. Take his wife, for instance.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Miss Ava.”
“There isn’t?”
“No. She’s come to love Jean and is happy to be havin’ a babe of her own. She’s probably been the most steady of all of us though this nightmare.”
Katie ran her finger around the rim of her teacup. “Has she now?”
“Aye, she has. Just what are you getting at?”
“You know her that well?”
Maura’s patience was wearing thin. “Aye. I do.”
“Seems to me there’s something else there. You say you know her, but it seems she doesn’t even know herself. She’s too quiet. Too reserved.”
“That’s just her nature.”
“Hmm.” Katie stared into her coffee cup. “And Caleb will come around but it’ll take a team of horses to pull him out of the hole he’s dug himself into. And that Arianna.” She laughed and took a sip of tea.
“Now, Miss Arianna has come a long way. You didn’t know her back when she had money. Why, she’s hardly the same person now.”
“Perhaps not. But she wants to be.”
“I’m beginning to think you made the long journey here to lose what’s left of your mind, and torture me in the process.” She picked up a piece of mail and began to fan herself against the mugginess.
“I overheard you t
alking to Claire this morning.”
“You were listening, you mean.”
Katie shrugged, unembarrassed. “I don’t think you’re steering her in the right direction, my dear.”
“What other direction does she have? Mr. Gordon is a nice man. It’s a good match. It’s not dizzy romance and blinding love but it could work, if they let it.”
“I think her heart should guide her to the one she should be with. It’s not a match that will work.”
Maura huffed her breath and looked away.
“You should get some rest, Maura.”
“I’m fine.”
“After what you’ve been through, you should be in bed two months at least.”
It was the first mention of the miscarriage and the real reason Katie Mallory had seen fit to cross the ocean.
Maura’s eyes dropped down to her folded hands. “I’m fine, Mam. Really.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Now off to bed with ye. Scoot!”
October 10th 1930
Jonathan walked into the garage, catching a rare moment when his father was home. “Can I talk to you, Dad?”
“Sure, what's up?”
“You okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
“It's just that you and Mom haven't been around a lot lately. Ava's worried that it’s too much having us here.”
“That's nonsense.”
“Where do you go when you guys leave?”
Jonathan Sr. grunted from under the car and stuck his hand out. “Can you hand me that screwdriver?”
“Sure.”
“You know, Jean misses you, too. Where do you guys go everyday?”
“Just out.”
“Just out, where?”
Tossing the screwdriver out from under the hood he said, “Just out, Jonathan. Why does it matter?”
“It matters because we feel like we've driven you out of your own home. You guys get up early and leave and don't come back till almost bedtime. If us being here is a problem, you need to talk to me. I can make arrangements.”