He paused, brows knit tight. “Meg? Are you all right . . . ?”
No. “W-will . . . you come . . . for Th-thanksgiving?” she whispered, the words halting and heavy with heartache, unable to imagine a holiday without him.
He hesitated, and she knew from the ridges that furrowed his brow just what his answer would be. “My parents will be expecting me to have Thanksgiving with them . . . at the Darlingtons’.”
“But you’ve always eaten with them at three and come here at seven—”
“Not this year,” he said quietly, voice strained.
Her eyelids flickered, lips parting to emit shallow breaths like a fish out of water, goggle-eyed by unfamiliar surroundings. She pressed a hand to her temple as if that might dispel the dizzy whirl in her brain, but to no avail. Her body began to tremble as utter agony clawed in her chest, and desperate for composure, she valiantly fought it back, the worry in Bram’s face swimming into a blur. It wasn’t until a guttural sob broke from her throat that she knew she’d failed, and with a siege of painful heaves, she crumpled onto the sofa.
“Aw, Bug,” he whispered, gathering her in his arms and stroking her hair, “I will always love you, and someday—soon—our friendship will be restored.”
“N-no,” she whispered, head lagging side to side, “you’ve always been there, Bram, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”
He swept a stray curl back before skimming the line of her jaw with the pad of his thumb. “You won’t have to—I’ll always be there, in my love and in my prayers, and soon,” he ducked to offer a smile, caressing every inch of her face with his eyes, “this torment between us will fade into a timeless friendship that will bring us—and our families—much joy.” Pressing a lingering kiss to her hair, he kneaded her shoulder as he slowly rose to his feet, pausing to tuck a gentle finger to her chin. “I want you to know, Megan Maureen McClare, that I love you and I will storm heaven night and day for God to give you the desire of your heart.” A sheen of moisture glimmered in his eyes. “And His.”
“Even if it’s you?” she whispered, peering up with eyes rimmed raw.
He stared, all the tragedy of their love stark and naked in his eyes. A muscle convulsed in his throat. “Especially if it’s me.”
32
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Oh, Bonnie, I just love this time of year, don’t you?” Flinging her red plaid woolen scarf around her neck, Meg buttoned her taupe moleskin coat with one hand while burying her nose in a bouquet of mums with the other. She closed her eyes to better enjoy the crisp, woodsy scent of fall from the gold, scarlet, and burnt-orange blooms Devin delivered just moments ago. Back in school again, he often dropped by the office after college classes to “chat with the working stiffs,” he said. Including Meg, who’d accepted Andrew’s extension of her internship until January, when her Cooper Medical internship began. Husky male laughter laced with Linda Marie’s sultry giggle drifted into the conference room from Andrew’s office where the group was celebrating the onset of a four-day Thanksgiving holiday.
Bonnie’s rose-tinted lips quirked off center, her gaze warm with affection. “I do, although I can see how attending your mother’s magical wedding over Thanksgiving weekend—with a handsome man you’re courting, no less—just might make it a wee bit better.” Sobriety tempered her smile. “And nobody deserves it more than you, my friend.” She dipped her head, compassion soft in her eyes. “That beautiful smile has been far too scarce the last three months.”
At Bonnie’s words, the so-called beautiful smile faltered a tad before Meg thrust her chin high in an uncharacteristic show of bravado. “Yes, it has,” she said, giving the flowers a rather decisive sniff. “But my period of mourning over Mr. Bram Hughes is over, you will be happy to know, and I’ve resolved to turn over a new ‘leaf,’ as appropriate for the season.” Bouquet in hand, she slung the silver chain of her hinged leather reticule over her shoulder. “It’s time I stop mooning around and start enjoying all the blessings I have.”
Bonnie pinned her velvet broad-brimmed hat in place with a gleam in her eyes. “Not the least of which are the handsome boss and beau clowning around with the others down the hall.” With a dreamy sigh, she buttoned her own black woolen coat, dark brows sloped in longing. “Goodness, talk about fairy-tale romance! Mr. Turner has done nothing but glow since your mother set the wedding date for this Saturday, and Devin Caldwell has been sporting a lovesick look in his eyes ever since you agreed to court three months ago.” She peeked down the hall, obviously making sure George wasn’t around. “I just wish someone else would follow their lead.”
“He will,” Meg soothed. Turning out the light, she followed Bonnie down the hall, grateful for the four-day weekend Andrew had graciously given them all. “You’re making great strides. Why, I think he spends more time at your desk than you, doesn’t he? And he did ask you to assist him in purchasing his sister’s birthday gift on Friday, did he not?”
Bonnie glanced over her shoulder, a silly grin on her face. “Yes and yes!” A tiny giggle slipped out. “Thanks for the reminder. I guess I do have a few blessings of my own, don’t I?” They paused at Andrew’s open door, both grinning outright at a combative game of darts in progress.
“Who’s winning?” Meg asked, scanning the faces with a smile.
“Why, the man you adore, of course,” Devin said with a grand bow, jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled. He quickly abandoned the game to hook an arm to Meg’s waist, sliding her a wink. “So, what’s my prize, Miss McClare?”
“The back of your hand if you’re smart, Meggie girl,” Conor called, squinting at the dartboard before he sailed the point dead center.
“Care to join us, ladies?” Andrew sat comfortably perched on the edge of his desk, a coffee cup hoisted in invitation. “Linda Marie could use some moral support against these ruffians.”
“And I can walk you home after,” Devin insisted.
“I wish I could,” Meg said, the jovial camaraderie of her coworkers a powerful temptation. “But I promised to meet someone on my way home.”
“Uh-oh, Dev . . . a tryst with another beau, perhaps?” Linda Marie arched a brow, tucked between George and Teddy on the large leather couch Andrew utilized for catnaps during late nights at work.
“Hardly, Miss Finn,” Devin said. He lifted Meg’s hand to his lips, the tease in his tone tempered by a smoldering look he usually kept at bay. “I can vouch from personal experience that Miss McClare is moral to a fault.”
Cheeks hot, Meg whirled around, eyeing her best friend. “But Bonnie can stay, can’t you?”
Bonnie’s eyes circled wide, generally too shy to join after-hour gab fests. “Uh . . . uh . . .”
“Come on, Bonnie.” Conor elbowed George while giving Teddy a wink. “George’ll walk you home, won’t you, Boss?”
George’s narrow face flushed scarlet, which made Teddy’s normally pink complexion pale by comparison. “Uh . . . uh . . .”
Andrew chuckled, eyes twinkling over the rim of his coffee as he took a sip. “In case you’re not fluent, Miss Roof, that’s assistant district attorney talk for ‘yes,’ so I hope you’ll join us.” He glanced at his watch. “Trust me, one more game, and I’ll be sending everyone packing since I need to stay a little late anyway to make up for a honeymoon.” He gave Megan a wink. “That is if I can keep my mind on work rather than succumbing to the urge to visit my fiancée.” His gaze flicked to Bonnie. “So, what do you say, Bonnie?”
Bonnie peeked at Meg out of the corner of her eye. “Should I?” she whispered, as if she didn’t think anybody else could hear.
“Oh, take your coat off, Bonnie.” Linda Marie’s smile was coy. “These boys won’t bite—much.”
Meg grinned. “Have fun,” she whispered to her friend, giving a wave to everyone else. “Happy Thanksgiving, all—see you at the wedding.” She slipped Devin and Andrew a smile. “And I’ll see you two gentlemen tomorrow night for the best turkey and dressing you will ever taste.�
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“Count on it,” Devin said.
Andrew glanced over his shoulder into Portsmouth Square, where a pale sun hovered over a horizon of mostly bare trees, indicating about an hour and a half till sunset. He turned, eyes narrowed in concern. “You’ll be home before dark, right?” he asked, his paternal instincts making her smile.
“Yes, sir, I promise.”
Devin began unrolling his sleeves. “Nope, that’s it—I’m walking you home.” He buttoned his cuffs and reached for his coat.
“No!” Palm raised, Meg offered her sweetest smile. “You’re having way too much fun, Dev, and I promised Mother and Rosie I’d help with Thanksgiving preparations tonight, including my famous peach cobbler, so I’ll be home long before dark, truly.”
He paused, clearly torn, coat dangling in hand.
Andrew rose and slapped him on the back. “Come on, Dev, give the woman a night off. You can’t monopolize all her time.” He grinned, a sparkle in blue eyes aimed right at Megan. “Something I learned the hard way with her mother.”
Devin paused, finally tossing his coat over the chair. “All right, Meg, but at least I can walk you to the elevator.”
“Dev, that isn’t necessary, really—”
“I want to,” he said quietly, tugging her through the waiting room and out into the dim hallway. He gave her hand a light squeeze before pressing the button for the elevator. Hooking her waist, he slowly reeled her in, the desire in his eyes quickening her pulse. “I’m crazy about you, Megan McClare, you know that?”
“I . . . care for you too, Dev,” she whispered, the groan and grind of elevator gears and pulleys unable to drown out the throb of blood in her ears.
His thumb grazed the edge of her jaw, gliding to fondle the cleft of her chin before skimming the curve of her lips, his eyes following the motion. She could hear his shallow breathing when his gaze met hers. “No other girl makes me feel the way you do, Meg—crazy, delirious, jealous.” His Adam’s apple ducked as his gaze skipped to her lips. “Heaven help me, Meg, I’m in love with you,” he whispered, bending to slowly brush his mouth against hers while he drew her in, his passion climbing as the seconds ticked by.
The elevator doors squealed open and Devin jerked away with a low groan, chest pumping as he slashed a hand through his hair. “Holy thunder, woman, do you have any idea just how hard it is not to kiss the daylights out of you?”
She stared, her breathing as ragged as his. “I think so,” she whispered, throat dry at how Devin had just made her feel. In all the time they’d spent together, he’d honored his pledge to keep his distance, with only a kiss on the cheek at the door. But this? Meg’s eyes flickered closed. This might just work, she suddenly realized—Devin and her, the key to erasing thoughts of Bram from her soul.
“You’re not mad, are you?”
She opened her eyes and smiled. “No.”
He expelled a heavy sigh. “Let me walk you home—please?”
“No,” she said with a palm to his face. “Go. Have fun with our friends, and I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”
His chest rose and fell. “Okay.” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, then pulled her close. “As sure as I breathe, Megan McClare, some day you will be my wife.”
She grinned. “A distinct possibility, Mr. Caldwell.” Standing on tiptoe, she deposited a kiss to his cheek, then stepped into the elevator with a smile. “Now go take Conor down a peg or two.” She scrunched her nose before the doors rattled closed. “He’s a little too cocky to suit.”
Pulse surging, Meg literally leapt from the cable car before it screeched to a stop, bounding toward Ruby Pearl, who waited on a rickety bench outside the Barbary Volunteer Legal Services. “Ruby, I’ve missed you!” she squealed, crushing the frail young woman in a tight hug before pulling back with a grin, hands clutched to the sleeves of Ruby’s paper-thin jacket. Her heart suddenly cramped when she realized Ruby wore neither hat nor gloves, her delicate ears as cherry red as her nose.
“Oh, Ruby, why didn’t you wait inside?” Meg jerked off her woolen scarf and wrapped it around Ruby’s neck, heartsick she hadn’t suggested a meeting spot closer to where the young woman lived. “Thank you for coming, my friend, and I hope to make it worth your while.” Meg quickly ushered her into the office, the warmth of a blazing potbelly stove a welcome sight.
Rising from her battered desk, Jamie’s sister Jess hurried around to give Meg a sound hug. “Goodness, Meg, what are you doing out on a raw day like this?”
“Ruby and I decided to meet here because I have a present for her.” Hooking Ruby’s arm, Meg drew her forward. “You remember Ruby, don’t you, Jess? I introduced you two about five months ago after we asked Jamie to put Ruby on the boardinghouse list.”
“Yes, of course.” Jess embraced Ruby and stepped back with the flash of a perfect smile, one ebony curl dangling by her ear. “We were able to provide medical care for your little Charlie when he broke his arm. How is he doing?”
A rare joy softened the haggard look of Ruby’s face. “Oh, he’s fine, Miss Jess, and his arm appears good as new.”
Jess chuckled and gave Ruby’s back a pat. “That’s wonderful.” She paused, hazel eyes glimmering like gold. “And guess what else is wonderful?” She wiggled perfectly shaped brows, then clapped her hands together. “We’re all ready for you and Charlie to move in tomorrow!”
Tears pooled in Ruby’s eyes, causing an ache in Meg’s chest. Lips trembling, Ruby flung herself into Meg’s arms. “Oh, M-Miss Meg, y-you told me there’s a God, and now I know it’s true!” She pulled away, a beautiful glow in her face that seemed to transform her before Meg’s very eyes. With a catch of her breath, Meg suddenly realized why.
Hope.
Ruby pushed the tears from her cheek and grinned, pumping Meg’s hand like she was drawing water from a well. “Because if there’s angels like you and Miss Jess on this here earth, then there’s sure in heaven gotta be a God who sent you.”
Meg grinned, her eyes as soggy as Jess’s. Rifling through her purse, she held up a shiny brass key and envelope. “This, my friend, is the brand-new key to your very own room at the equally brand-new MacKenna Boardinghouse. And this,” she said, waving the envelope, “is a stipend for a new wardrobe for Charlie and you when he goes to school and you go to work.”
The hope in Ruby’s eyes dimmed. “But I ain’t never had a respectable job, Miss Meg, so I’m not real sure—”
Meg gripped her hand, halting her midsentence. “Well, I am, because not only will you receive all your meals and necessities from Miss Jean until you can pay your own rent, but you’ll also receive training for a job of your choice.”
Ruby blinked, the motion scattering more tears down her cheeks. “Oh, God bless you, all,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to repay your kindness . . .”
Moisture pricked as Meg gave her a hug. “Seeing you and Charlie happy is payment enough, my friend.” The rickety clock on the wall chimed the hour and Meg glanced up with a start. “Uh-oh, I promised Mother I’d help with preparations, so I need to scoot.”
“Wait!” Ruby stopped her, and for the first time, Meg noticed a small gunny sack looped over her friend’s arm, out of which she drew a package wrapped in newspaper and string. She pushed it into Meg’s hand.
“What’s this, a gift?” Meg took the offering, a pucker between her brows. “Oh, Ruby, I hope you didn’t spend any money on me.”
Ruby ducked her head. “No, ma’am, it’s something I made myself, and it’s not much, Miss Meg—just a little something for all you’ve done for Charlie and me.”
Meg weighed it in her hand. “Mmm . . . not too heavy, so hopefully you didn’t spend too much time, my sweet friend.” She started to untie the knot, and Ruby stopped her. “No, open it at home, Miss Meg. The cable car just stopped, so you need to hurry if your mama’s waiting.”
Meg glanced out the window. “Oh dear, I do need to go.” With a quick hug for both girls, she rushed to the door, wa
gging a finger at Ruby. “But I’m coming to the boardinghouse next week to check on you, Miss Pearl, do you hear? And I plan to take you shopping and treat you to lunch, no argument. Happy Thanksgiving to you both.”
Closing the door, Meg dashed to the cable car, head bent against the cold, but heart warm over the joy on Ruby’s face. She handed her money to the driver and found an inside seat where she snuggled in to study the package in her lap. Curiosity got the best of her, and she tugged at the string. Peeling the newspaper away, she found a handwritten booklet bound together with more twine and a letter on top:
Dear Miss Meg,
Nobody has ever treated me with respect and kindness like you, so I prayed to God just like you told me, begging Him for some way to say thank you. And then one night when I was saying good night prayers with my boy, I remembered you said something about your mama being on the Vigilance Committee and wanting to shut down the brothels in the Coast. That’s when the Lord gave me an idea. It’s taken five months, but I copied the client log for the Municipal Crib a little bit each day while the owner was out for lunch. Then last month, I discovered a hidden ledger of payments, most to names I don’t recognize except for two. I pray these names will help you and your mama do God’s work. Please keep this list safe and never mention my name.
Sincerely,
Your grateful friend
Meg’s breathing was shallow and fast by the time she finished Ruby’s note, and with quivering fingers, she slowly turned the page, eyes skimming the log of dates, times, services, and names. Page after page of vile transactions that caused Meg’s lunch to roil in her stomach. Until she came to the section labeled “Payments to Investors.” Body trembling, she scanned top to bottom, entry after entry, last names and initials only. Her body went numb.
E. Schmitz
A. Ruef
Chest in a vice, Meg tried to breathe, but air wouldn’t come. Her eyelids flickered in spasm before they sealed tight, trying to shut out the awful truth burning in her mind.
Surprised by Love Page 33