by Jacob Stone
Duncan had seen the look in the leg-breaker’s eyes and he knew that the man was planning to rape her once he got her into the men’s room, and maybe worse than that. He also got his first good look at her and it startled him to see how beautiful she was, even though her face was still tense from her earlier fright. She was his age, as slender as he first thought, and with a peaches-and-cream complexion and shoulder-length curly hair that was more golden than blond. It was her almond-shaped hazel eyes and the way she looked at him that made him feel funny in the chest.
“You need to be more careful,” he said, his voice turning gruff and heavy and catching in his throat. “The Blue Rose isn’t a place for someone like you.”
She saw the effect she was having on him and any tenseness in her face was replaced by a burning curiosity. The thought that she might be curious about him left him feeling light-headed.
“And what type of person am I?” she asked, smiling impishly.
He could’ve simply said that she was someone with a bright future, at least as long as she stayed out of places like the Blue Rose, but instead he said she was someone who wasn’t from the area.
“Au contraire. I moved to the neighborhood three weeks ago.” She held out a small hand that was as delicate as the rest of her. “Julia Swan.”
The surname Swan didn’t fit. A woman with that name should be tall and graceful with a long neck. Someone like Gwyneth Paltrow. The top of Julia’s head barely reached Duncan’s chin, and while she might not have had a long, graceful neck like a swan or Gwyneth Paltrow, Duncan found her far more desirable than any woman who would’ve more closely fit the name Swan—or to be honest about it, any woman he’d ever seen. He’d had more than his share of drunken hookups and one-night stands, but he also accepted long ago that it wasn’t in the cards for him to ever have more than that. How could he, given the type of person he was? The type of person Wainwright had made him into? But when he looked at Julia, he felt a longing that he earlier wouldn’t have believed possible.
“Duncan Moss.” He took her hand and felt how perfectly it fit in his own. The look in her eyes made his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t speak right away, and when he finally did, his voice cracked as he suggested that he escort her around the neighborhood and show her more suitable establishments than the Blue Rose.
The smile on her lips had lit up her eyes. “That would be lovely,” she said.
Classy and breathtakingly gorgeous. Duncan realized that for the first time since before his parents died, he was feeling genuinely excited about what might be happening next. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he led Julia out of the Blue Rose.
It was only hours later, while he and Julia were sitting in an Italian coffeehouse in the North End neighborhood of Boston, drinking cappuccinos and sharing a tiramisu, that he remembered he had left Cafferty stranded at the Blue Rose and never bought the round of drinks he had promised. The thought of that made him smile.
“What?” Julia asked.
For the umpteenth time that night he found himself nearly breathless as he looked into her soft, hazel eyes.
“I’ll explain it someday,” he promised.
Chapter 55
Boston, Massachusetts. October 2017
Duncan’s arms were loaded with packages, and he had to do some juggling before he could free up his hands and unlock the door to the Jamaica Plain apartment he shared with Julia. He called out her name even though he knew she wasn’t home. He could tell not just by how quiet it was, but because whenever she was around he could feel her energy.
Good. If he hurried, he should have time to get everything ready.
He had made a trip to the North End to pick up linguine alle vongole for Julia (her favorite) and lasagna and meatballs for himself, and of course, an order of tiramisu from the same coffeehouse they went to the first night they’d met. After all, it was the three-year anniversary of that night! After he placed the food in the oven to keep it warm, he trimmed the stems on the dozen red roses he’d bought, arranged them in a vase, then placed it in the middle of the small oak table off to the side of the kitchen. He needed to make a decision about the gift-wrapped box holding the pair of delicate gold and freshwater pearl earrings that Julia had remarked about three weeks earlier when they were window-shopping. Should he leave the box next to the flowers or choose somewhere else? He decided to leave them on Julia’s pillow. He smiled, thinking about that. When she came home she’d think he’d only bought her the flowers and she would act as if they were enough, but later, when they went to bed, she’d find her real present.
Once all that was taken care of, he stripped off his clothes and headed to the bathroom. He had spent the day repairing an oil burner at a West Roxbury office building and he needed to scrub off the grime and sweat. He also needed to pay some additional attention to the soot under his fingernails and see if he could surprise Julia by coming to dinner with clean nails for a change.
Usually the water in their shower was lukewarm at best, but his timing that evening was perfect and he got a nice blast of hot water. As he soaped himself up, his thoughts drifted to that night three years ago when they spent hours talking in a North End coffeehouse. It was a magical night. That was the only way to explain it. Hell, it transformed him from a criminal with no future beyond his next robbery to what he was today. That night Julia had asked him what he did for a living and he told her odd jobs, and he saw the disappointment in her eyes as he confirmed her worst suspicions. She wasn’t an idiot—far from it, and she knew what he meant. But she didn’t press him. She didn’t want to know about the crimes he was committing to get by.
He didn’t see her the next night—he had that job to do and he wasn’t about to go back on his word to Cafferty. He never wanted to see Julia disappointed in him again, so he planned on it being his final job, which meant he was going to need that twenty-five grand to ease him into the straight life. The job went smoothly enough—he was able to get the cop out of bed and down to the basement where the safe was kept without waking anyone else, and Duncan only had to slash the guy in the face a few times with the gun barrel before the dirty cop gave him the combination. As Cafferty had promised, Duncan found fifty grand waiting for him, and no blowback happened from the robbery.
After that, he started seeing Julia religiously every evening. Some nights they’d go out to dinner and talk for hours, other nights they’d spend quietly listening to music. Those nights were as magical as their first night together, but Duncan could sense that something was troubling her and after two weeks he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He knew what it was. His odd jobs. He promised her that those days were over.
“I never had a reason to leave that life before,” he said. “I do now.”
She had her doubts about what he had just told her. He could see that from how tired she looked all of a sudden.
“Duncan, the only thing I ask is that you never lie to me,” she said.
“I won’t and I’m not lying now.”
She still wasn’t fully convinced. “What are your plans?” she asked.
“Over the last two weeks I’ve been thinking about that and making calls. I found a vocational training program in Dedham that will train me in six months to install and repair heating and air-conditioning systems. After that I’ll get a job and work eight-to-five, or whatever hours HVAC technicians work. Not the most glamorous work, I know, but at least it will be honest work.”
Her eyes moistened with tears and she once again took his breath away. She was just so heartbreakingly beautiful.
“You’re serious about this?” she said.
“I told you, I’m never lying to you and I’m never bullshitting you either.”
That evening they were at a Chinatown restaurant, sharing an appetizer platter and a highly-potent drink called a lover’s bowl that tasted as innocent as fruit punch. She took hold of his hand with
both of hers.
“I only want you changing your life if it’s what you want, and not just for me.”
“Julia, trust me, I badly want to do this.” His expression turned pained as he broached a different subject. “We need to consider moving out of East Boston. That knuckle-dragger who bothered you at the Blue Rose is named Duane Gerkan, and he works for a lowlife by the name of Jimmy Jordan. Jordan’s a low-level guy, but still dangerous, at least in that neighborhood. I heard whispers over the last two days that he wasn’t happy about what I did to Gerkan and he wants payback. Before I met you I wouldn’t have cared about a threat from someone like him, but as you know, my situation is different now. The thing is, I can’t leave while you’re still living in that neighborhood. I don’t think that meathead Gerkan would do anything if he ran into you in the street, but I can’t take that chance.”
Julia looked alarmed by this. “Where could we go?”
“I’m thinking Jamaica Plain. The rent’s cheaper there and it would be a quicker commute for you than where you’re living now. And as far as East Boston lowlifes like Jimmy Jordan are concerned, Jamaica Plain could just as well be a different country. I’ll find a place to rent and you can crash with me until you find your own place.”
Julia let go of his hands and shifted her gaze from him. She looked so small as she sat pensively, her hands clasped in front of her. The silence soon became unbearable to Duncan. He was afraid he had lost her—that his criminal past (even though he had refused to give her any details) had become too real for her. A panic gripped him and an unbearable pain welled up in his chest, because he knew right then that he’d sooner die than not have her in his life. When she looked into his eyes again, he realized that nothing had changed between them. He hadn’t cried since he was nine and his parents died, but he had to fight then to keep his emotions from bursting loose. It surprised him in a way that crying from joy was a real thing.
“What?” she asked, her face scrunched into a puzzled look.
He wiped away a tear that was threatening to leak from his eye. “Allergies,” he said. “What were you going to say?”
“I was about to suggest that we look for an apartment together.”
He broke out laughing. He couldn’t help it. He had undergone a complete whirlwind of emotions in a matter of seconds.
She gave him a cross look. “Did I say something funny?” she asked.
“No, nothing. I’m just happy, that’s all. But us moving in together after only two weeks of dating? Is that even allowed?”
She showed him her best poker face. “I’m not aware of any laws prohibiting it.”
“You know what I mean. Dating etiquette. As you know, I haven’t had much experience in that regard.”
Her poker face broke as she showed a trace of a smile. “And yet you’ve displayed quite a mastery in bed.”
“That’s a different matter, as you well know.”
“True,” she acknowledged. “But to answer your question: Have you had any interest in us moving in together?”
“Only since the first night I met you.”
“Same here, bub. So I guess the question’s been answered.”
The rest, as they say, was history.
* * * *
Duncan turned off the water, grabbed his towel, and dried himself off. He wrapped the towel around his middle and stepped out of the shower. His nails were mostly presentable, but he used a brush on them until he heard Julia entering the apartment. Or maybe he felt her energy before he heard the door opening. He wasn’t sure which. He left the bathroom and met her by the table where he had left the roses. She moved into his arms for a passionate kiss, her eyes dazzling.
“The flowers are beautiful and the food smells wonderful,” she said once they separated. “From Carmine’s?”
“Where else?”
“Let me guess. There’s also a piece of tiramisu from Piccolo Café?”
“I’m getting too predictable,” Duncan complained.
“Well, it is our three-year anniversary.”
Duncan leaned in for another kiss, this one lasting longer than the first one. Afterward he showed her a guilty smile. “I wish I could’ve taken you out tonight instead, but that boiler emergency last week at that condo complex screwed up my plans for taking the GED exams, and I really need to knuckle down and study the next three nights if I’m going to pass them.”
“Tonight will be perfect,” she said. “We’ll have a nice, romantic dinner, and then I’ll help you study. I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.”
The amazing thing was, he knew she meant it. “I picked up a bottle of chianti,” he said. “I’ve got it decanting in a carafe and it should be good to go. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass while I get dressed?”
Julia must’ve been a ninja in a previous life, because she could move as quietly as a cat when she wanted to, and Duncan didn’t realize she had followed him into the bedroom until she asked about the small, gift-wrapped box on her pillow.
“I have no idea what that is,” Duncan said with mock surprise. “Someone must’ve broken into the apartment while I was taking a shower.”
“I see.”
Julia pulled the towel away from his midsection, and then put both of her small hands on his chest and pushed. Duncan complied and fell backwards onto the bed. He watched as Julia stripped off her clothes.
“I’ve got my gift to give you,” she said, her eyes half-lidded.
“But I’ve got to study for my GEDs,” Duncan said, putting up only a token resistance as Julia climbed on top of him.
“You’ll have time for both,” she breathed into his ear. “I promise.”
As usual, she was right.
Chapter 56
Boston, one year ago
Julia lounged on the couch, a pillow wedged between her back and the armrest, her knees pulled up so the bottom of her feet rested against Duncan. She became consciously aware that it had been a while since she heard the click-clacking sound of him typing. She looked up from her book to see him scowling at the laptop.
“I’m too old to be applying to college,” he grumbled.
Julia knew him well enough that when he got into one of these moods she shouldn’t argue or placate him. That if she gave him a little time, he’d tell her what was really bothering him. Sure enough, after a minute of more intense scowling and biting his thumbnail, he told her the problem was the essay question.
“How am I supposed to write an essay about why I want to go to college when the answer can be summed up in four words: To make you proud.”
“That would certainly be a succinct answer,” she said.
“Damn straight.”
“How many words do they want?”
Duncan made a face like he’d been punched in the gut. “Six hundred,” he groaned.
“That’s not so bad.”
“It’s a lot more than four. And that’s all I have.”
“Hmm. Can I make a suggestion?”
“Go ahead.” He heaved out a sigh with an exaggerated sense of despair. “But the damn thing is hopeless.”
“Maybe not. I would start with your original thought, since a short and concise answer seems like the right mindset for someone wanting to study mechanical engineering.”
Duncan groaned. “If I spell out your first and last name, that will give five words. But I’ll still be five-hundred-and-ninety-five words short.”
“Very true.” Julia stroked her delicate chin, which was a habit she had whenever she was deep in thought. She soon stopped and looked quite pleased with herself. “You could write about how your life changed so suddenly when you were nine and your parents died and an abusive grandfather took guardianship of you. How he kept you out of school and that for you to survive you had to do things you weren’t proud of, but through strength of cha
racter you turned your life around. Duncan, darling, it’s impressive what you’ve done and it should impress any college-admissions board. You could further write that you’re engaged to be married, and that you want the best possible life for yourself and your future family.”
Before Duncan proposed to Julia six months ago, he decided she deserved to know the whole unvarnished truth, and so he told her all of it. He knew in his heart they were soul mates, but even so, he was worried sick that once she knew about Wainwright and his robberies and other crimes that she would look at him differently. That didn’t happen. If anything, the fact that he trusted her with these sordid details only brought them closer together.
“Damn, you’re brilliant,” he said.
She tried her best to look humble right then, but she couldn’t stop smiling that pleased-with-herself smile. “I wouldn’t say that. I had plenty of experience writing college essays back in the day. And the grant letters I write now for the nonprofit aren’t all that much different.”
“You’re still the smartest person I know. The cutest too. But I am going to make one change to your brilliant suggestion and write about how the love of a good woman is what’s been motivating my better impulses.”
“Only a good woman?”
“If I told them how amazing you really are I’d make them too jealous to want to accept me.”
The look Julia gave him right then made him blush. “Put your laptop down,” she said.
He did as she ordered, and she scooted over on the couch so that she fell into his arms as she sat on his lap, her hands locked around the back of his neck and their lips pressed together. Duncan didn’t want the moment to ever end, but of course it had to. When she pulled away, she breathed into his ear that that was only a coming attraction for later. “I should let you get back to working on your essay,” she said, her voice soft, but with an unmistakable huskiness.
“I could work on it tomorrow instead. The application’s not due until next week.”
