“Sophia, ye all right?”
“No,” I said automatically and pushed away the bothersome thoughts.
“Gah. It’s the restaurant. It’s too fancy, isn’t it? I said so, but ye know Móraí.”
“What? I love this place.” The room buzzed with mixed conversation. “I just didn’t hear what you said.” Poor Cullen. I had been drifting off into the memories of my past life a lot lately.
“Where the tongue slips, it speaks the truth. I asked if ye were all right and ye said no.”
“I’m fine. I’m just soaking in the atmosphere. It’s so romantic in here.”
That was partially the truth. The place was intimate. A combination of comfortable leather and floral high-backed chairs surrounded the long table and almost all of them were now full with Cullen’s family.
“It is getting loud in here. Will this place hold your entire family?”
Cullen pretended to boot his cousin in the rear. “Like that’d matter. Loud-mouthed arses. Let’s skedaddle and we can celebrate alone.”
His eyes met mine, and it was just like that first day in the hospital after I’d awoken from the fall. He pulled me into an alcove around the corner that led to the washrooms. “I like your frock.”
“I just bet you do. It is very low cut, Mr. O’Kelley—very Elvira Hancockesq.
“Elvira who?”
“You know, Michelle Pfeiffer’s character in Scarface.”
“Never seen it.”
“You’ve never seen Scarface? We have some serious old movie watching to do.”
“I bet she doesn’t look as good in it as you do.”
“That’s flattering, but Elvira is sexy—.”
He leaned into me, pushing my back against the wall, his kisses cutting off my words before moving down the side of my neck. There was no denying the attraction and it wasn’t just pheromones. It was more like a deep-seated connection between us, like my soul recognized his, which was exactly why I needed to be honest about what I’d been through.
As his kisses got deeper and more fervent, one hand outlined the curve of my ear, lingering on my lobe before inching down my neck.
Finally, it joined his other hand, which was slowly working the zipper of my dress down my spine.
“Cullen, do that zipper back up, right now!” I said, squirming.
From the look in his eye, I could tell he was tantalized by the decision before him: be a civil host or sneak me into the men’s bathroom like a teenage hooligan.
“Cullen?” His mother’s voice rang out from around the corner and I chuckled. Guess she made the decision for him.
THREE
May, 1920
Z afira Breathour pressed the cold cloth to her throbbing forehead. It was nine in the morning, but it felt like six, thanks to the pounding in her skull. Opa was talking, but Zafira was lost in her own thoughts. Her chin balanced on one fist, she stared, unseeing, at her coffee, which she was mindlessly stirring.
For the past twenty minutes, her family had been laying into her about last night’s episode at the Brunswick House. Her drinking had been brought to their attention once before, thanks to an unfortunate raid on a speakeasy, but last night’s trouble had caught her even more hell.
“Opa and I do not approve. Have you not heard of the Temperance Act? You should be focused on your education in the feminine arts. When I was your age, I was budgeting the housekeeping money and buying fresh produce.”
Zafira couldn’t stop herself. She rolled her eyes.
“Zafira Breathour! Do not disrespect your grandmother!” her mother snapped. “Your grandparents are German. Do you know what it was like for them to live here for the last six years with all of the anti-German sentiment. They have built a good name, our family name. The Bejeweled Case is finally a success.”
“Do you ever stop to think about how your actions reflect on our business?” Opa added.
Zafira slid her weary eyeballs in her mother’s direction. Her mother sat stiff-backed and thin-lipped, her long hair coiled at the nape of her neck. Zafira had finally convinced her mother to cut it off. Her appointment was set for today. It was the first step in Zafira being allowed to do it. Of course, her mother was a total stiff and would probably use this situation to back out. Zafira let a smile slip, thinking of what an aneurism her grandfather would have if her mother went through with it and bobbed her hair like one of those new age jazz girls.
“What are you grinning about?” Opa thundered. “Do you have something to say?”
“No, Sorry,” Zafira muttered.
Zafira’s mother responded with a weary sigh.
“You, young people seem to treat everything like a joke, don’t you?” Opa was off and running—responsibility, women’s suffrage, civic duty. She knew his rants well. What Zafira needed was a little hair of the dog, but her mother had confiscated her hip flask.
“Zafira, honey?” Her father’s face was grim. “Are you sorry?”
She managed a smile. “Of course, Papa.” Leave it to Papa to intervene and attempt to save her.
“Tell me, mäuschen, why did you make up that horrible lie about Deborah and Elwood? Florence is your best friend—she’s very hurt.”
For the first time, Zafira frowned. Papa always knew what to say to make her regret her decisions. Calling her little mouse was his favourite way to guilt her. “I wasn’t lying, Papa. Elwood is a cheater and a scoundrel.”
“You accused the poor boy of… of…” Oma’s face colored as she stammered.
“Of putting Deborah in the puddin’ club?”
“Zafira!” Her mother gasped.
“What?”
“Of taking advantage of her and leaving her in the family way,” Her mother clarified.
“I think you should know that unless you offer a public apology, Elwood’s family has threatened to stop shopping in our store.”
“What? I will not apologize!” She stood so quickly that her head doubled its pounding and she had to sit again. “I did nothing wrong. I told the truth.”
“Elwood bought Florence’s ring from our store. You’ve ruined their engagement.”
“Elwood did that, himself. He shouldn’t have been so eager to whoop it up. He is a louse and Flo deserved to know the truth.”
Zafira’s parents stared in stunned silence.
“Can you prove your accusations?” her mother pressed.
She couldn’t. Not without telling them about her dream, and she couldn’t risk that. “I will not apologize.”
Zafira’s mother cleared her throat. “There is another option.”
Zafira glanced from her mother to her father and back.
“How would you like to go to London for a bit, with your Aunt Maggie?” Her mother asked.
“I… ah… as in, England?”
Zafira had stayed in London with Aunt Maggie last year around the same time. She’d had fun shopping and she’d especially liked the bookstore down the lane. She’d become friends with the shopkeeper, an older man she’s privately dubbed, the pirate because he wore an eye patch. She’d even bought her father’s favorite book from the place. H.G Wells’s Time Machine.
“I spoke to my sister this morning. As you know she’s moving to London permanently in a couple of weeks to be with her fiancé. I was planning to go with her just for the bridal fitting and to help her get settled. Your father and I talked and we think perhaps you should come with me and then you can stay on after I leave and help her with her duties at the Manor.”
“Just for the summer,” Papa continued. “Until this whole situation has sorted itself out.” Papa lowered his voice to a whisper and gave Zafira a hug. “If what you say is true, then Deborah won’t be able to hide it and the heat will be off you in no time.”
The summer in London. Zafira thought to herself, she loved Aunt Maggie but the place smelled horrid and had the dreariest weather. Besides, she couldn’t leave Collin, or poor Flo. Of course she’d probably never speak to her again after this
. She hadn’t deserved to find out what a louse her fiancé was in a room full of people—she should have told her privately.
Zafira bit her lip. She needed to apologize now. What was the quickest way to end this discussion?
She was tempted to argue, but she knew her mother and father well. She’d wait a few days and claim that she’d “learned her lesson well,” and they’d forgive her and let her stay home hopefully sans the apology to Elwood. London was fun for a week or two but she couldn’t leave for the whole summer —not when Elwood and Deb’s betrayal was about to blow up in their pretty little faces.
She sighed and worked up just the right amount of tears. “I suppose that would be sensible. I do look forward to visiting Aunt Maggie, of course, it wouldn’t be fair at all to her—having me underfoot for the whole summer while trying to plan a wedding and I’d hate to cause her trouble, but London is such a big city and who knows what I might get into? I just have so much trouble controlling myself, but whatever you think is best.”
“Hmmm, I didn’t think about that,” her mother said, her mouth set in a grim line. She looked over at her husband. “Maybe I should speak to Maggie again and just make sure she knows what she’s taking on. London is kind of a wild place and she is right downtown. Perhaps it’s not the right setting for Zafira.”
Zafira suppressed a grin. Like shooting fish in a barrel, she thought.
Her father checked his watch. “I have to get back to the store. You can come so I can keep an eye on you.”
Zafira and her father rode to the store in silence. Normally, riding in her father’s Model T Ford was a point of pride. But today she hadn’t wanted to be seen. She wished she were as invisible as the spirits in her dreams.
Her dreams were hard to take. She’d tried to keep quiet about the premonitions—only sharing them with her little sister, Veronika—but alcohol had loosened her tongue. She should have known better than to go out with Florence and everyone after she’d had a dream about them. It had happened before with other friends who were no longer friendly. She’d tried to intervene to save someone from a horrible decision—and suddenly she was branded the Breathour Witch. Her boyfriend, Collin was the only one still talking to her.
“Zafira,” her father said in his soft voice. “You’ve been so quiet all week. What really happened at the party, pet?”
The party. It had been swell at first. She and Florence and Deborah in their new dresses—hers was an apricot chiffon bugle-bead dress, adorned with a long string of pearls wrapped twice around her neck. With painted red lips and dark-rimmed eyes, they were all jazzed up. Flo lent Zafira her spiffy head band that rested across her forehead and Collin was paying her plenty of attention which was just how she liked it.
“To the best of friends and times,” Florence said and touched her glass to theirs with a satisfying chime. Everyone was drunk and happy. And then Elwood sauntered toward them and Deborah scooted over to make room, flirting right in front of Florence. It ticked Zafira off.
Elwood was handsome and charming and engaged to her best friend Florence. Gag. If Elwood liked a girl, that girl got noticed. Zafira hated Elwood, especially when she was drinking. It wasn’t that she was jealous. She loved Collin. It’s just Elwood wasn’t in love with Florence—Zafira knew that but up until her dream she hadn’t suspected he was cheating. Sadly, her dreams were never wrong.
“Did I tell you that I have a gift?” Zafira taunted after her third drink.
Elwood let out a loud, dramatic laugh, then shrugged. “The gift for gab.”
“I am quite serious,” she slurred, too tipsy not to take his dare. “I can tell you things about your future.” There were polite chuckles around the table. Zafira fixed them with a defiant stare, her blue eyes glittering under heavily kohled lashes. “I am serious.”
“You’re lit, is what you are, Zafira Breathour,” Collin shouted. “Let’s go dance.”
Zafira looked in the direction of the dance floor where a crowd of pie-eyed girls were lost to the booze and the beat. Zafira wanted to be in the thick of it. To let herself have fun but she also wanted to teach Elwood a lesson.
“I’ll prove it. I know someone in this room will be married to Elwood by the end of the year.”
“It doesn’t exactly take a psychic to know that. We’re engaged.” Florence laughed.
Zafira narrowed her eyes. “Yes, but it’s not you, Florence dear. I had a dream last night about it.”
“Well, it doesn’t surprise me that you dream about Flo’s fiancé but maybe you shouldn’t embarrass yourself by announcing it, Zafira,” Deborah said, showing her teeth. Everyone laughed, and Zafira’s cheeks went hot.
Zafira brushed her hair away from her face, but it sprang back into her eyes.
“Fine,” Elwood said before things could get really heated. “Tell me, Madame Breathour, who am I to wed?”
“Why, Deborah, of course!” Zafira commanded with a dramatic flair to her voice.
Frowning, Elwood straightened and reached past Deb for Zafira’s arm. “All right. You’ve had your fun. Time for a little sobering up.”
She wrenched it away.
Everyone pressed closer, interested.
Collin laughed uncomfortably. “Time to go, Zafira.”
Florence moved closer. “What’s this about, Elwood?”
Elwood’s mouth was tight. “I’m sure I don’t know what she’s talking about. Zafira, Show’s over.”
If Zafira had only been sober, she would have known enough to stop. But the gin made her foolishly brave. She tsk-tsked him with her fingers. “You were barney-muggin’ Deborah, that’s why I had that premonition of the shot gun wedding, you bad boy.”
“Deborah, is that true?” Florence looked hurt.
Deborah’s face was red. “That’s enough, Zafira! This isn’t funny any longer.”
“Elwood?” Florence questioned.
“She’s lying, sweetheart,” Elwood said reassuringly.
Florence walked away.
Zafira stood to follow her. “I guess we’ll see in five months, huh.”
Elwood stubbed out his cigarette. “Just a moment.” He grabbed Zafira by the wrist and dragged her into the ladies lounge, closing the door behind him and holding it shut. “How did you find out?” he growled.
“I t-told you. I have a gift—”
His hand tightened around her arm. “Stop fooling around and tell me how you know! Did Deborah tell you? That little witch. She told me she got rid of it. I demand a public apology to clear my name.”
“G-go chase yourself, Elwood.”
Collin pounded on the door from the other side. “Zafira? Elwood! I saw you take her in there. Open up!”
Elwood let go of her arm. Zafira could feel a bruise starting. “This isn’t over, Zafira. Your father owes his business to my father. You might want to reconsider your little story.”
“Zafira?” Her father prompted now, bringing her back to the moment. The car had stopped and she’d followed him into the store. “Come over here.”
She stepped forward, rubbing her aching head as she watched him unlock the jewelry case back up and pull out a large blue velvet box.
In the quiet of the store, he brushed a finger across the sapphire featured in the amulet that was nestled into the dark velvet. There was also a ring that featured a chip from the same bluish purple gemstone
“What’s that?”
“A gift for your mother for our eighteenth wedding anniversary. Could you take it home for me? Hide it on the bookshelf, behind that H.G Wells book you bought for my birthday last year.”
She smiled as she turned to take it into the back, imagining her mother’s face as she opened the box.
“Zafira?” He called. “You know I believe you about Elwood, right? That boy is trouble.”
“I know, Papa. I shouldn’t have handled it like that. I’m sorry you caught hell for it.”
He didn’t take her to task for saying hell. Eugene Breathour was a good father
.
So why did she keep dreaming that he was going to kill her.
FOUR
C ullen bent his head toward me as we strolled casually out of the alcove, his lips brushing mine one last time. There was a large table that took up most of the room and it was filling with Cullen’s family.
“It looks like your grandmother has arrived with your parents.”
They were all staring at us. Busted.
I smiled through gritted teeth. “She’s probably staring at this low-cut dress.”
“Well now, she’ll have to be after findin’ her own frock, won’t she? Cause ye look bloody deadly in that one.”
His mother, Lucille, rushed across the polished wooden floor, playfully elbowing him out of the way in order to hug me. She was a fine-boned woman with beautiful brown eyes and curly auburn hair and when they stood side by side, it was easy to see he took after her. Lucky for him, because she had great genes. His father—or Da, as they called him—wasn’t too bad, himself. He had a charisma that both his sons carried.
“Ye best be behavin’ yourself, boy. Now go see your Auntie on the other side there, she keeps askin’ after ye.”
“Sophia.”
My name was said in a strange, low whisper, and for a moment I froze as hands fell on my shoulders. It had been one year but I still worried at times that Nick would find me.
“Look at you, lass.”
I smiled and turned to see Cullen’s brother. “Liam, I’m so glad to see you.” I hugged him back. He lived close by, and was over for dinner at least twice a week.
“Ye’re a beauty! For the life of me, I can’t be figurin’ why ye’re still with me brother.”
“Did you hear that, Cullen?” One of the cousins, Ewan, called out. “Liam’s after ye're wan.”
“Go ‘way from her, ye bloody jealous maggot—always after me scooter growin’ up, too,” Cullen called back.
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 26
