“What about the coughing?”
“Too early to say,” Peter said. “We’ll know more soon. I’ll be back.”
Payton had been sitting on a chair by the stove. Danol released Erith and went to the man. “I’d like to have a word with you outside.” The man, small in stature, was dwarfed by Danol. Danol could see fear in his eyes as he slowly rose from the chair.
“A word? That’s all?”
“We’ll see,” said Danol.
Danol walked out near the shed and sat on the sawhorse. He picked up the bucksaw that he’d left hanging on the post and sized up the blade. Payton watched him from several feet away.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Payton?” Danol said.
“You heard me in there.”
“I did, but that doesn’t answer my question. We both know that Rosie Ryan is too young to be the daughter of Kathleen Ryan.”
“I don’t know that,” Mr. Payton replied. He shifted from foot to foot and stared at his hands.
“Well, you do now,” Danol said.
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“You got it just the same.”
“Look, Mr. Cooper, I had a few dalliances with Miss Ryan a few years ago. She showed up a few weeks ago and told me that she’d tell my wife if I didn’t go along with her scheme.”
“What scheme is that?” Danol asked.
“She wants money, that’s it. She’s not interested in the family. She just knows there’s money here, and she wants it.”
“But she’s not related to the family,” Danol said. “She’s too young to be the daughter of Kathleen Ryan.”
“Thing is, she believes she is,” Payton returned. “I don’t think she’s making that up.”
“It’s impossible,” Danol said. “You understand that, right?”
“I do. But she doesn’t. Regardless, it’s too complicated for me. I’m going back on the next boat.”
Danol brought him to the Walshes and told Mrs. Walsh the man would need a room for the night. Danol paid for it, despite his disdain for what the man was trying to do.
Erith ran to him when he went back to the house. “I was worried about you,” she said. “You didn’t hurt him, did you, Danol?” He almost laughed until he saw she was serious.
“I brought him to Walsh’s. What did you think I was going to do with him?”
“I don’t know,” Erith said rather sheepishly. “But I worried, anyway.”
“Has Mary or Peter been out?”
“Not yet,” she replied.
Danol fixed the table and chairs back while they waited. Maggie got the bread ready for the pans, grumbling away to herself about all the work she had to do. Danol smiled at her, and she muttered something back at him that he didn’t want to ask her to repeat. He understood Maggie. A threat to Erith was a threat to her. He didn’t take that lightly, nor did he take it for granted. Danol was glad he’d asked her to come today. He was sure that Maggie was, too. She was tormented about the children and about Erith.
On impulse, he went over and hugged her. Maggie clung to him for a moment. “Everything is going to be just fine, Maggie. Don’t worry,” Danol whispered. She pushed him away and then threatened him with the baking pan. He laughed, and she joined in.
Mary came out, followed by Peter. “She’s got pneumonia and is undernourished,” Mary said. “She could possibly have been in contact with tuberculosis, or TB, as it is commonly known. That’s not something to fool around with. She is terribly ill.”
“What do we do?” Erith asked.
“First, keep the children out of the house, and then wash down the room after she’s gone. You can’t be too careful with TB.”
“I’d like to help her, Mary.”
“We gave her some medicine and will keep watch on her for a few days. She needs some soup to get her strength, and we’ll know more after that.”
“We can do that,” Erith said. “Can’t we, Danol?”
“We can’t throw her out, which is what she deserves,” Danol said. “She’s definitely not who you think she is.”
“Who is she, then?” Erith asked.
“Oh, she’s Rosie Ryan, all right,” he said. “But according to Mrs. Patsy, she would be ten years too young to be Kathleen’s daughter.”
“How do you know how old she is? I couldn’t tell.”
“John knew her. He knows her age.”
Erith stared at Danol but didn’t ask anything else. She knew he’d tell her when they were alone. “We can throw some peas on with the ham, but that will take some time to cook. Until then, what can we give her?”
“How about some sugary tea with a slice of toast?” Mary suggested.
“I have blueberry jam,” Erith said.
That commenced the nursing of Rosie Ryan. Danol advised Erith to hide any cash she had in the house. John had told him it would be wise. He told her what John knew about Rosie and what Mr. Payton had said. He believed there was something more to the story than they realized, and he would find out.
41
John waited at the store until there was news of Rosie. He thought back to all the times they had crossed paths. They’d robbed together and eaten together more times than he could count. There was no allegiance on the street. It was an everyone-for-themselves affair, and not everyone was made for that existence. People disappeared and were not heard from again—almost always the few girls who came along and, less often, young boys. Everyone who lived on the street knew that and accepted it as a possible fate. Rosie knew that, too, but somehow she had managed to last. In some ways John admired her for that.
Now, she wanted to talk to Teddy. The doctor said she was pretty weak but insisted on seeing him.
“Teddy, I knew it was you the moment I laid eyes on you,” Rosie said. Her voice was hushed and ragged.
“I knew it was you, too, Rosie.”
“Remember what I told you the last time I saw you?”
“Can’t say as I do, Rosie. It’s been a long time now.”
“I told you that you’d regret the day you crossed Rosie Ryan.”
“You were probably angry about something or other,” John replied.
“You’ve got a nice place for yourself here.”
“I don’t live here,” he said. Stirrings of anger and fear ignited in him.
“You have money, Teddy. I can see by the way you’re dressed. All fancy, you are.”
“I have no money. Somebody else dressed me,” John argued.
“Well, you’d better get me some money from these folks, or I’ll get you undressed pretty quick,” Rosie snarled. She coughed, and her body trembled.
“Don’t get yourself worked up,” he countered. “You’re a sick woman.” John took the cloth from the pan at the side table and wrung it out. He mopped her brow with it, though she weakly tried to brush him away.
“I’ll tell these people who you are, Teddy. I’ll ruin your life.”
Danol spoke behind him. “These people already know about his life on the streets. He’s welcome here.”
John saw her eyes flick from anger to something akin to defeat. “What do you want, Rosie?” he asked again.
She turned her head to the side to signal she was finished talking.
Danol spoke again. “Rosie Ryan, you are not the daughter of Kathleen Ryan. Her child would be ten years older than you.”
Rose turned back to look at John, then at Danol. Her look of disbelief was real.
“That’s right, Rosie. Kathleen Ryan died two years ago. She was fifty-seven. She had one child when she was fifteen. That child would be forty-five or forty-six now. It can’t be you.”
“But Elias told me,” she said.
“Who’s Elias?”
“He’
s my brother.”
“Elias was wrong,” John said.
Rosie put her hands over her face and rubbed her temples. She coughed again, and John lifted her head and gave her a drink of water.
“Why are you being nice to me?” she demanded, her breath coming quickly at the exertion.
“I always liked you, Rosie. I admired how you stayed alive when so many others failed. You were strong. You still are.”
“I would have told on you.”
“I would have, too, if I were in your place.”
Rosie nodded at his sincerity.
“Who’s Elias?”
“I told you, he’s my brother. Well, he was my brother.”
“Tell us about him.”
“Elias was adopted from the orphanage. The missus said she couldn’t have children. He was about eleven when they adopted me. My father thought it would help his wife if she had a little girl around. But what he really wanted was a replacement for her, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, Rosie, I’m sorry,” John said sadly.
“It was okay. Elias helped me until I got big enough to help myself. He always told me I wasn’t a Baker—I was a Ryan like him. He brought me back to the orphanage when he left. I was signed in as Rosie Ryan. My father saw me one time, down on Water Street, after I ran away from one home or another. He tried to pull me in the carriage. You helped me that day, Teddy.”
“I remember it. I knocked over a cart. Got in a heap of trouble over it.”
Rosie laughed and coughed again. He tried to sit her up, but she pushed him away and settled back down. Danol tapped him on the shoulder and beckoned him to come outside.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” John said.
“John,” said Danol, “it’s not looking good for Rosie. Mary says she’s deathly ill.”
“She’s strong.”
“She’s had a poor life, John. She’s not that strong. We need to find out as much as we can from her.”
“How do I do that?”
“Make her an offer. If she recovers, I’ll uphold it.” Danol explained what he was thinking.
“What about Erith? Will she agree?”
“She has a good heart. She’ll want to do right by Rosie.”
John shook Danol’s hand. “It’s you who has the good heart.”
John sat by Rosie again. “How would you like to go to Boston when you’re well enough to travel?” he asked her.
“Boston?” Rosie asked. “How will I get to Boston, and what would I do there?”
“The doctor, Mary Ro, she knows a place there where you can get better. She thinks you might have TB, Rosie. You won’t get better if you don’t look after yourself.”
“Boston is a big, fancy, expensive city,” she argued. “I can’t go to Boston.”
“The Coopers will look after your travel and your stay. They’re good people. Mary has family there who can help you.”
“I can’t imagine me in Boston,” she said. “Too big for me.”
“Nothing’s too big for Rosie Ryan.”
“I’m glad I got to see you again, Teddy,” she wheezed. Her breathing was shallow, and she barely got the words out.
“You’ll see me again. I’ll come back tomorrow. Tell me about Elias,” John continued. “He sounds like he was a good brother.”
“He was,” Rosie said. She drifted in and out as she told him what she knew.
“Elias was good to you.”
“He was. Stay with me, Teddy. I’d like to have a friendly face—” She coughed again. This time she couldn’t catch her breath. She wheezed and rattled and grasped his hand. Mary rushed in and laid a stethoscope on Rosie’s chest that was connected to a tube that led to Mary’s ears. She tilted her head and pulled the thing off and strung it around her neck. As Mary sat on the edge of the bed near Rosie’s knees, she held the patient’s other hand, bowed her head, and waited. Rosie took two more shallow breaths, and then she was gone.
John laid her hand by her side and got up. Mary touched his arm. “Make sure you wash your hands in the pan by the door.”
John nodded and did as she asked. He shook his head at Danol as he left the house. Mary came out. Her voice faded into the distance as she told the others that Rosie was dead. He was sad for her, for her need that was born of desperation. He’d felt that hopelessness before. Lavinia had helped him get off the streets, and Alice had helped him come back to life.
Danol caught up to him before he reached the crossing place. “I’m sorry about your friend,” he said.
“I appreciate that,” John said.
“Can the children stay with you and Alice at the house tonight?”
“I wouldn’t think about sending them back.”
“We’ll bring food later for everyone.”
They walked in silence for a few moments before John ventured, “Seeing as you are captain of the Angel Endeavours, would you be so inclined as to marry me and Alice? I don’t want to wait. We’ve waited long enough.”
“I’d be happy to do that. Just tell me when.”
“Thing is, I don’t want Beatrice to know.”
“I understand.”
“I’d like to do it in the next day or two. I have to tell Alice first.”
“I think that’s important,” Danol said. He clapped his friend on the back. “I have to do something in St. John’s in a few days. If you want to go, we can do it then. We can leave the children with Maggie for a few days.”
“I’ll tell Alice.”
“I’ve got to get back. I just wanted to see how you were faring,” Danol said. John stopped and shook his hand. They both eyed each another and shook hands again before parting ways.
42
John returned to the house and told the four of them the plan for the evening. Mary and Peter came in on their way home and suggested the children go to John’s Pond with them for the afternoon. Alice and John could come with Danol and Erith for supper, and the children could return at that time.
Alone with Alice, John decided it was time to tell her everything about his life. They sat together in front of the stone fireplace at Danol’s house.
Alice held his hand while he told her what there was to know about Teddy White and John MacDonald.
“If you can stomach me after that, I want you to be my wife. If you can’t, it’s not too late to run away.”
Alice started to cry. “John, before I say anything, I want to be sure that you will want to marry me.”
“Alice, I love you. I will take you just as you are, and there is no need for you to tell me anything.”
“I have to, John. Or it will come between us.”
“After what I’ve told you, I doubt there is anything you can say that will keep me from marrying you. I don’t want to know.”
“I want to tell you. Please.”
“All right,” he said.
“You know about Ezra. But you don’t know everything,” Alice said. She sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. She let her grip relax on his hand, but he didn’t let go.
“I ran away from home. My father wanted me to marry some lout in the village. Irene had wed at sixteen, so I went to her in Labrador. I had nowhere else to go, so I married Philip—you know all of this.
“What you don’t know is Ezra was persistent, and Philip was all tied up in worrying about his mother, about making a living, and about anything else that could torment him. I was young and wanted some excitement. I wasn’t welcomed by the common folk at the Mission. I was an outsider. So, I lay with Ezra. Just one time, but one time nonetheless. I regretted it every day after that, but I couldn’t tell Philip or he’d kick me out and I’d have nowhere to go. So, I pretended that it didn’t happen and tried to avoid Ezra, but that was next to impossibl
e. Then I found out I was having a baby.”
Alice tried to pull her hand away, but John held on tight. Questions were swirling in his mind, but he waited for her to tell him. She had waited for him. She brushed her face with her other hand but didn’t open her eyes.
“Ezra thought the baby was his, but to be truthful, I didn’t know. I still don’t know. The day we left to go to Zoar was one of the best days that I could remember with Philip. He was playful like he had been when we first met. We were having such a carefree day. We left the baby, my son, James, with a lady at the Mission. I swear on that little boy’s life that I didn’t know Ezra was following us. You believe me, don’t you?”
“I believe you, Alice. I know what kind of woman you are.”
“When I saw Beatrice that day, needing somebody to love her, I thought about my boy. I clung to her to save myself. I knew she could never replace James, but in my heart, I needed something to survive. Beatrice was that something. Being a mother to Beatrice was like a redemption for leaving James.”
“She was my something, too,” John said softly. “I’d been empty of every kind of feeling for so long that she was my saviour, too.”
“When we got to Zoar, Irene came up with the plan to leave. She was afraid of what Ezra would say. My sister knew what happened between us. She didn’t want her husband, Paul, to find out because of what it could mean for their marriage. I was running from more than just Ezra. I was running for my life. She told me she’d get Paul to take the baby. As far as I know, Irene has James, but I don’t know that for sure. I don’t know where James is. He’d be all grown up now. Best he doesn’t know about his mother.”
Alice began to cry again, and John pulled her to him. She sat in his arms in the chair and cried until she could cry no more.
“You’ll be able to write Irene now. You can get in contact with her again.”
Alice told him about the teacher who sent the note for her when Beatrice was in grade one. She knew that’s what had led Ezra to them. He had nearly killed Irene, and then whom she believed to be Caddy in Holyrood.
“Thankfully they will both recover,” she said. “I won’t have that on my mind. So, if you can stomach me after that, I’ll marry you.”
The Liars Page 20
