Chapter Thirty-One
Danny
DANNY’S FINGER HESITATED on the doorbell. The McGuires had invited him over for Thanksgiving. He’d run out of excuses to decline. Though it was already a year-and-a-half since he’d lost Cathy and the baby, he still didn’t feel right about being around her family.
The door swung open.
“How are you, Danny?” Ted asked, reaching out his hand.
“Okay, I guess.”
What other response could he give? Should he say what he really felt? I’m miserable. I can’t sleep. I still miss Cathy and Sean.
Ted took his son-in-law’s coat just as Nancy appeared. When she looked at Danny, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked rapidly. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said, kissing him on the check, then turning her head. “I’ll go and check the turkey.”
With a muffled sob, she fled. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. His presence was too much of a reminder.
Ted stood there with the coat in his hands. “I’ll just put this away,” he said awkwardly. “Danny, why don’t you join Dora in the family room?”
Things were not off to a good start. This holiday would be difficult. Everyone still suffered. No one had forgotten.
Well, what did he expect? In a way, it was comforting to know he wasn’t alone. Perhaps by banding together they’d gain strength. He wondered if Dora fared any better than the others.
He bit his lip at the thought of seeing her again. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and it was his fault. He had much atoning to do. Bracing himself for a confrontation, he stepped into the family room. She sat quietly on the leather couch and staring somberly into the fireplace.
“How are you, Dora?” he asked, slipping down beside her.
The crackle of the logs was the only sound in the room. The silence lengthened.
Finally, she said, “I’m getting by.”
He couldn’t fault Dora for the terse answer. He was lucky she even spoke to him after the way he’d treated her. Sneaking a glance at her hooded features, he watched the firelight flicker across her face, making its planes look more mysterious, her amber eyes more golden. She shone like a goddess, though her lips were tightly drawn.
He remembered another time when those lips had opened wide with passion. Thinking of that night was dangerous. He dare not tell Dora he cared. By making that sacrifice, he’d provide the ultimate proof of his love.
Love? Yes, it was true. He’d always loved her. Not as a substitute for Cathy, but as a special, unique being unto herself.
Deep inside her was a core of strength, barely concealed beneath her obvious femininity. That force drew Danny to her, though it would scare off many men. At the moment, his entire body felt attuned to her. He luxuriated in her alluring scent. It filled his waiting nostrils, unnerving his resolve. His ears strained for the tones of her soft, assured voice. His arms braced to hold her.
Dinner was called.
They sat beside each other. Each time she passed him a dish, her tapered fingers lingered on his a bit longer than necessary. With each contact, voltage singed his arm. Those fingers had touched him before, had soothed and done more. They’d made him feel things he shouldn’t. Remembering made his face grow hot.
Apparently her parents didn’t notice, which was just as well. They’d never understand. How could they, when he didn’t understand it himself?
Ted sat at the head of the table, putting on a brave front, steering the conversation to a safe and happy course. “I’m proud of our Dora. She had quite a number of offers, yet she set up her shingle with her old Dad. She’s doing quite well for herself I might add.” His eyes lit with pride.
Danny also felt proud, but for another reason. Dora was kind, a trait that made her all the more lovable. She’d held the power to strike out on her own, yet she’d not wielded it.
She was a confident woman, capable of making her own decisions. Her only failing might be her feelings for Danny. That is, if she still cared.
Without thinking, Danny threw her a tender look. He immediately regretted it. He shouldn’t offer her hope.
Her brows knit in puzzlement. Uncertainty clouded her features. Understandably, his mixed signals threw her off.
With heart hammering, he turned from the hopeful face. He wanted her, God help him, yet he must be strong and resist.
Nancy broke into his thoughts. “Danny, I read that, in a few weeks, you’ll be donating your services at Marshall Field’s for Children’s Memorial.”
“Well, I like to do my part, Nancy. Those children need all the help they can get.”
He tried not to think of one particular child whom he missed terribly. Sean was gone, though Danny still found it hard to accept. His child’s life had been cut too short. They’d never even gotten to know each other. At least by helping other children, he could prolong their lives, assuring their parents wouldn’t miss the experience of seeing them grow up.
Nancy McGuire’s face assumed a wistful expression. “I remember the first time we took Cathy and Dora to the Walnut Room. They looked up at the big tree with such shiny, bright eyes. And then, you should have seen their expressions when the waitress set down those cute, little ice cream snowmen with the coconut on top.” Her voice shook. “It seems like only yesterday.”
“We did have some wonderful times, Mom,” Dora said, reaching across the table and pressing her mother’s hand into hers. “We need to remember the good. That’s how Cathy would’ve wanted it.”
“I know, dear,” Nancy said. “Sometimes it’s awfully hard.”
Silence descended. For a brief period they’d been able to forget.
Ted voiced his emotions aloud. “I try to go on. I have the best wife I could ever deserve and the most wonderful daughter.” He glanced at Danny. “And also a great son-in-law. Even so, every time I start to feel happy, I get scared. I remember what’s happened. It grabs me by the throat. I think of Cathy and my grandson. I can’t be happy, no matter how hard I try.”
Ted collapsed, putting his head in his hands. Giant sobs racked his shoulders. Nancy pushed back her chair and rushed to his side. Their brave attempt to celebrate the holiday had failed.
This was a private moment. Danny wondered if he should leave.
“They should be alone. Why don’t we go into the other room?” Dora whispered.
They retired to the family room where they sat on the couch again and stared at the fire. Danny shuddered, picturing the flames licking his wife and child.
A small movement beside him brought him to. Thank God, Dora had survived. He remembered how happy he’d been when he’d heard the news. He still couldn’t get over the scare. He slowly turned and looked deep into her eyes. Right now he’d like to crush her against him and never let go.
She looked back at him with hope, then seemed to gather herself together. “Danny, this is taking my last ounce of courage, but I’ve got to say it. Since that first day when Cathy brought you home to dinner, I’ve loved you. Even if it had been possible, I’d never have separated the two of you, no matter how much I wanted you. I loved my sister. Even now, if somehow I could bring her back and never have you, I’d do it.”
Dora’s eyes filled. She fought to control a quaver in her voice. Danny’s heart went out to her.
“We know that could never be,” he said.
She swallowed and continued on, despite his interruption. “Losing Cathy and the baby made me realize just how precious and short life is. No matter how much we try to fool ourselves, no one is guaranteed tomorrow. At this point, with everything horrible that’s happened, I need something good in my life. You’re that something, that someone I need. Am I wrong to bring this up? Could you ever feel something for me, even a little?”
He stared at Dora proudly. It had cost her a lot to say that. He wanted her so fiercely it hurt.
With unwavering eyes, Dora bravely faced him. Those amber pools drew him in, tempting him to forget his vow. Her pull o
n him was tremendous. God help him, he was weakening. When he’d been away from her, he’d thought he could resist. Face to face was a different matter.
“Yes, Dora, I could and I do feel a great deal for you.”
To confirm his statement, he slid his hand into her long, soft hair. He drew his mouth toward her parted lips, then hungrily pressed his own lips to them. A flash-fire roared through him.
He’d had her before. He remembered everything about her—her warmth, her touch and her smell.
A strangled moan escaped her. It reminded him of pain. That awakened him. She mustn’t get hurt. He had to show reason.
Dropping his hand from her hair, he pulled away.
“I’m sorry, Dora. I still have dangerous business to attend to. It wouldn’t be fair to make you wait.”
Disappointment, swiftly followed by comprehension, flickered in her eyes. “Danny, no, you still can’t be thinking of...”
“Yes, Dora, I am. Not one of us is safe until that bastard’s destroyed.”
“Don’t go after him. You could get killed. Leave it to the police.”
Danny emitted a short laugh. “The cops can’t help. Notice how effectively they’ve apprehended him. Unless he’s finished off, there’s no reason to believe I—or anyone I love—will be safe. Weren’t Cathy and the baby enough? What if he returns for more?”
She silently gazed back. He didn’t like scaring her, but he had to.
“And what about you, Dora? If he discovered I love you, would you be gone too? Well, I don’t care to find that out.”
She took a deep breath and looked him squarely in the eyes. “If I said I wouldn’t love you for pursuing this, would you stop?”
It made him sick to think he could be throwing her love away, but he had no choice. “Dora, don’t ask that. I don’t want to refuse you. This is something I have to do. I must hunt Kevin down. I must destroy him like the animal he is. You can’t stop me. No one can.”
Dora sighed. “I knew the answer, but I had to try. Danny, I can’t help you find Kevin, but I can do something better.”
“What’s that, Dora?”
“I’ll pray for you,” she said. “My prayer will be that you’ll come back safely to me.”
DANNY COULDN’T FORGET Dora’s words. She loved him. That made him happy, yet sad. If Cathy hadn’t died, he’d never have considered Dora, no matter how attracted he was to her. It wouldn’t have been right.
It was difficult to acknowledge, but he must face it—Cathy and Sean belonged to another life. Still, he couldn’t ignore they’d existed. They must not have died in vain. He would not let Kevin go free. Once that business was dealt with, Danny could try and reconstruct what he had left of his tangled life.
Dora had said she’d wait, but for how long? What if he spent the rest of his days hunting down Kevin Green? He’d had little success so far. He’d hired a private investigator, who’d secured an illegal wire tap on Derek Green’s line, but the son never called. His quarry didn’t use credit cards or frequent old hangouts. The only lead was that Kevin had once turned up on Madison Street, posing as a bum, but then had disappeared. With every false lead, Danny felt torn.
Finally, after a month’s work, the private eye admitted defeat.
Now it was up to Danny to find Kevin, but he didn’t know where to start. The man could be anywhere—down the block or out of the country.
He missed Cathy, yet more often than not, he found his thoughts straying to Dora’s golden knowing eyes and lush body. She was very much alive. The temptation was great. He need only abandon his search, go to her and build a new life. Then he could be with her, inside her. At the thought, he broke into a sweat.
He knew such bliss would be short-lived and carry a heavy price. He dare not play with Dora’s life. A wife and child in a thousand pieces were more than enough. Kevin must never find out about Dora.
So he continued his search alone. It hurt deeply, but he often revisited the explosion scene, hoping Kevin would someday show up. You’d think he’d be drawn there sooner or later. If so, Danny would be waiting, the cold steel of the automatic bulging in his pocket.
But, he didn’t live in a vacuum. All around him, normal life had resumed. Danny pretended he was part of the real world. Doing charity work helped lighten his load.
A few weeks before Christmas, he stood, unrecognized and alone, blending in with the excited crowd staring at the window displays at Marshall Field’s. As usual, the store had outdone itself. Figures from a Fairytale Land skated on make-believe ice under man-made snowflakes. Music rippled onto the sidewalk.
Next to him, a father hoisted his son atop his shoulders. The child pointed and laughed. Danny’s eyes filled. That could have been him and Sean. He pressed his lids together tightly before opening them again and staring ahead. He had to quit thinking of himself. He had to focus elsewhere. Tonight, his goal was to make special youngsters happy—those who couldn’t fend for themselves.
He glanced toward the corner. The green, weathered clock pointed at seven-thirty. It was time. He wended his way through the happy crowd and slipped over to the Washington Street entrance. At the door, he was greeted by an affable looking bald man, who held out his hand in greeting.
“I’m Morris Bentley. You must be Daniel Callaway. I must commend you, sir. This is a wonderful thing you’re doing. The response is overwhelming. From the moment the publicity began, we’ve been bombarded with requests. Each and every reservation has been filled. The tickets could easily have run higher.”
“Well, let’s hope our efforts aren’t wasted. If just one child recovers, it’ll be worth it.”
“You’re very right, sir.”
They stepped inside.
“By the way, what do you think of our humble quarters?” Bentley’s arms encircled the broad expanse. His voice understandably invited praise.
While Danny assessed the high ceilinged store, memories rushed over him.
The man stood still, waiting for his reply.
Danny came to. “I’ve always held a great affection for Marshall Field and Company®. It symbolizes what’s best of Chicago,” Danny assured him.
Mr. Bentley beamed. “We’re honored you feel that way, sir.”
They trekked across the magnificent marble floor, their footsteps muffled by the red carpeting running down its center. As they passed through a golden archway, Bentley gestured toward giant green vases adorned with red gleaming balls and dancing statues twirling along the side of the aisles.
“May I draw your attention, sir, to the fabulous Christmas decorations that our able craftsmen began designing over a year ago?”
Danny nodded in appreciation.
“Now, let’s go a little out of our way,” Bentley said. “We must visit the fountain.” Passing the service desk, they proceeded into the atrium, the home of the Burnham fountain.
Danny gazed upwards in awe at the Romanesque columns ending in gilded edges. Two balconies with gold railings stood in front of huge lighted windows. The place resembled a palace.
Danny threw a coin into the water for good luck. Heavens knows, he could use some.
His mind drifted. When he was young, his family couldn’t afford to shop here. Still, they’d excitedly made annual trips around Christmas just to soak in the grandeur. Mom and Dad had always splurged on a box of Frango® mints. He and his sister never waited until they got home, but devoured them as they sat across from each other on the subway.
“This is so good,” he heard his sister say, as, with bright shining eyes, she savored each piece.
He sighed. That was long ago. Those days would never return.
“Well, it’s time to get down to business,” Bentley announced.
They made a U-turn to the elevator and proceeded up to the seventh floor. At the Walnut Room, Bentley introduced Danny to the photographer, Robert Langley, who was readying the lighting and equipment. The man fumbled, almost dropping his tripod.
Danny t
ried to put him at ease. “You know more about this than I do. I’ll stand or sit or do whatever you want.”
It still surprised him that he was a celebrity. He didn’t feel like one. He was no better than anyone else. In many ways, he was worse. He doubted if the nervous Mr. Langley held a hidden agenda in his heart. Also, only a select few could say they’d been responsible for the deaths of others—only people like Danny. He wouldn’t think of that now. He was here to assist in a worthwhile cause and he’d make the most of it. Sick children counted on him.
He listened patiently as Bentley outlined the procedure. To be on the safe side, two guards would flank Danny and provide protection at all times. Since the store was officially closed, ticket bearers would be greeted at the designated door, then escorted up the solitary operating elevator. On the seventh floor, they’d receive further instructions.
Individual pictures cost fifty dollars. Families were allowed one group picture, but this privilege would carry the cost of fifty dollars per person.
The session would soon begin. From his position next to the big tree, Danny heard the sound of hushed, excited voices. He smiled as the enthusiasm of the fans rubbed off on him. The first in line advanced, nervously assessing their hero. He greeted everyone cordially and tried to put them at ease.
As he smilingly balanced children on his knee, a feeling of warmth stole over him. He found himself laughing. It was exhilarating to know he was making others happy, especially in such a festive location, beneath the famed forty-five foot tall Marshall Field’s Christmas tree.
Tony and Tracy approached with little Angela, all decked out in a pink fluffy dress. Matching ribbons tied back her dark, curly locks.
“Danny boy, you fit in real well. Have you considered working for Field’s?” Tony asked.
Danny laughed, taking the ribbing in stride. “You never know. I may need to. I’m keeping all options open.”
Next came Ritchie’s family. The blond-haired twin boys ran around in circles and almost darted off before Ritchie could catch up with them.
Mr. Langley’s lips pursed. Danny felt sorry for him. He obviously found it difficult to deal with children. In his line of business, that wasn’t good.
“Remember Uncle Danny? Okay, boys, just sit here for a few minutes until the picture’s taken,” Marilyn pleaded.
Langley ran his fingers through his frazzled hair several times before he finally managed to get off his shot. “Mrs. Corcoran, your picture will be ready before Christmas.”
With an innocent smile, Ritchie turned toward his friend. “Now I’ll have proof I knew the famous Danny Callaway. My future grandchildren will be mighty impressed.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve got millions of pictures of me,” Danny reminded him with a mock shove.
“Seriously though, the hospital is grateful for your donation.”
Ritchie face sobered. “I thank God I’ve got two healthy children.”
On cue, one twin tugged at his father’s sleeve, while the other one whined. Which was Donald? Which Joseph? Danny still had trouble telling the boys apart. He’d have to spend more time with them.
“I better go. See you around,” Ritchie said, hauling off his mischief-makers.
Countless others followed. The remaining hours flew by, as did the next three evenings.
On Friday night, Robert Langley sighed with relief as he disassembled his tripod.
“Well, that’s a wrap,” he said, wiping his brow with his handkerchief and gathering up the rest of his equipment.
Poor man, Danny thought. If he isn’t careful, he’ll have a nervous breakdown. Before Danny could blink, the photographer had disappeared.
For one last time, Danny glanced around the Walnut Room, taking in the myriad spotlights shining over the majestic, sparkling pine tree with its twelve thousand ornaments and fifteen thousand lights. The walnut paneling gleamed like new, while the carpeting beneath him was decorated with elegant fleur-de-lis.
The room was magnificent. He’d had a great time here, forgetting himself in the satisfaction of doing good for others. For a short while, he’d succeeded in his goal and taken his mind off his problems.
Now came the letdown. Soon he’d trudge back to his lonely, undecorated hotel suite. He was alone and had nothing to celebrate. His eyelids grew heavy, maybe from his turn of thought. He’d make an early night of it. First, he had some goodbyes to say. He thanked the security guards for their help, then looked around for Bentley. Where had the man gone?
On cue, Mr. Bentley rounded the corner by the escalator and approached Danny. “Oh, Mr. Callaway...” Before Bentley could finish the sentence, the lights on the tree flickered. “We can’t have this. What’s going on?” Bentley asked, turning to the guards.
“I’m not sure, sir,” one of them said.
They all conferred, engrossed in solving the mystery.
“I think I’ll be on my way now,” Danny said.
Mr. Bentley smiled absently. “Yes, all right Mr. Callaway. I want to thank you for your services. We appreciate everything you’ve done. Oh, and by the way, please stop at the lower level candy shop on the way out. Whatever you choose is on the house. Our man, Godfrey Gordon, will assist you.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that,” Danny said, smiling.
He stepped onto the empty elevator. He had to hand it to Bentley. The man thought of everything. The candy was a nice gesture.
Anticipation of the treat made him hungry.
Two Wrongs Page 33