Paradise Falls

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  * * *

  Fiona was in her room preparing some challenges for her students. During these long, isolated days, without a brief respite outdoors, they tended to grow restless. She’d found that by challenging their minds, the hours flew by faster.

  She looked up at the tap on her door and was surprised to hear Broderick’s voice calling her to supper. When she hurried to the kitchen she found Rose serving the table, and Broderick seated as his usual place.

  She glanced around. “Aren’t we waiting for Gray?”

  Rose, who had been sulking for days after a particularly bitter dispute with her husband, set a platter of wurst and sauerkraut in the middle of the table. “He knows what time we eat.”

  Broderick helped himself to the food before passing the platter to Fiona. “He was taking a load of logs to town.”

  “That’s no reason to be late for supper.” Rose snapped the kettle down on the stove. “Why can’t he think about the rest of us?”

  Broderick sighed. “He can’t make the farmers who are buying the logs work faster, just because his mother wants him home for supper.”

  Rose took her place at the table. “Then he ought to get an earlier start in the morning.”

  “If he started any earlier it would be the middle of the night.”

  Rose slapped the table. “Why must you always defend him?”

  Broderick set down his fork. “Why must you always criticize him?”

  The object of their discussion stomped up the steps and threw open the door, bringing with him a blast of frigid air. He had to lean against the door to secure it.

  When the latch was fastened he turned. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “And well you should be.” Rose glared at him “Your boots are leaking all over my clean floor.”

  He removed them and set them on a rug by the backdoor before hanging his coat and scarf. While he rolled his sleeves and washed his hands in a basin he said, “I stopped by the station to see if Gerhardt had any mail.”

  Rose touched a hand to her heart and Fiona could see that the poor woman was desperately awaiting the rest of his news.

  Gray turned. Seeing them both watching him he shrugged. “I’m sorry. There was nothing.”

  As he took his place at the table and reached for the platter Rose’s pent-up emotions exploded. She shoved away from the table and got to her feet, staring at her son as though he were a complete stranger. “I can’t bear this any longer.”

  Gray and his father merely stared at her.

  She paced to the stove, then back to her chair, while the others watched in silence.

  “I can’t bear not knowing what has happened to Fleming.”

  Broderick sat back in his chair. “What do you intend to do about it?”

  Rose paced to the stove, turned, and walked back to the table. “Grayson must go to Chicago and find Fleming.”

  “And where do you think I should look, Ma?” Gray filled his plate.

  “Someplace where there is music and laughter.” She began pacing again, talking to herself. “Fleming is an accomplished pianist. By this time he will have secured himself a place to work and a place to live. If there is a symphony, perhaps he is working there. I’m sure his fellow musicians would help him find a clean, respectable place to live.” She nodded, pleased with the image that presented. “Yes, something fashionable. I’m sure of it.”

  Gray began to eat, but before he’d managed two bites, his mother snatched the plate away. “How can you sit here and calmly eat when your brother may be going hungry?”

  “You just said you believe he has a job and a place to live.”

  “I pray it’s so.” She stalked to the stove and set aside Gray’s plate absently. “I need to know. I’ll die if I don’t know what’s happened to my son.”

  “And what do you want me to do when I find him?”

  She turned. Her eyes burned like twin flames, making her pallor even more pronounced. “You must convince him to come home.”

  “You want him to leave his job with the symphony and his... fashionable quarters, and just come home?” He made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sneer. “And if he won’t?”

  She clenched her fists. “You’ve always been bigger and stronger. You can force him to come home with you.”

  “Force him. You want me to toss him over my shoulder like a sack of grain and carry him home.” Gray turned to his father. “Is this what you want?”

  Broderick gave a long, deep sigh. “I don’t know. If your mother is right, and he’s found his dream, I don’t believe he will return, even by force. But I want you to try. God knows, there’ll be no peace in this house until your mother is assured in her mind that Fleming is safe.”

  Without a word Gray shoved away from the table and walked out of the room. Minutes later they could hear his footsteps as he climbed the stairs. Several hours later, when Fiona went to her bed, he was still in his room. Whether brooding or packing, no one knew.

  * * *

  As she did every morning, Fiona carried her lantern to the kitchen to fetch her lunch before leaving for the schoolhouse. Gray stood at the stove, filling a cup with strong hot tea. It gave her a jolt to see him, clean-shaven, his dark hair carefully combed, dressed in his Sunday best.

  A frayed carpetbag stood by the door.

  “It’s true then? You’re going to Chicago?”

  He didn’t bother to turn around. “Was I given a choice?”

  Fiona stood a moment, watching him lift the cup to his mouth and drink, all the while keeping his back to her.

  From her pocket she withdrew the envelope she’d intended to leave on the kitchen table. “I’ve written my aunt’s name and address. I was hoping you might be willing to visit, just long enough to see why my Mum hasn’t written.”

  He turned then and gave her a long, steady look. “How long has it been since you heard from her?”

  “Christmas.” She carefully schooled her features and fought to keep her voice from trembling. “If she is ill, I need to be assured that she’s being cared for.”

  “Of course.” He accepted the envelope just as Rose and Broderick stepped into the kitchen.

  It was plain that they’d been arguing. Rose’s face was flushed, her mouth a thin, tight line of anger.

  Like Gray, his father was dressed for traveling. “If you’ll fetch the wagon, Grayson, I’ll drive you to the station.”

  “There’s no need, Papa. It’s dark, and you’ll have to return alone.”

  The older man straightened his shoulders. “Old Strawberry and I know the way. We could make it there and back in our sleep.” He turned to Fiona. “We can drop you at the schoolhouse on our way.”

  “That will take you too far out of your way, Mr. Haydn.”

  “We have time.” He glanced at his son. “Go on now.”

  Gray relented, knowing there was no way of changing his father’s mind. A short time later, when they heard the approach of the horse and wagon, Fiona and Broderick stepped outside and joined Gray on the high, hard seat.

  Rose remained on the porch. Her voice was as brittle as the frozen branches of the trees in the yard. “Don’t come home without your brother.”

  When Gray made no reply she shouted, “Do you hear me? Don’t come home without Fleming.”

  Fiona shot a sideways glance at Gray, but was unable to read anything in his stony countenance. She thought of the tears and the almost loverlike embraces Rose had lavished on her younger son, yet for this son there wasn’t so much as a kind word as he embarked on the same journey.

  Gray flicked the reins and the horse started forward. When Fiona turned, she could see that Rose had already fled the cold and had returned to the warmth of her kitchen.

  “It’s just her way,” Broderick said softly.

  Gray didn’t bother to respond.

  They rode the rest of the way to the schoolhouse in silence. When Gray brought the horse to a halt, he climbed down and held out a hand to assist Fi
ona.

  She stared up at him, wishing for something, anything, to ease the tension between them. In the end all she could manage was, “I wish you a safe journey, Gray.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do my best to find your mother.”

  “I can’t ask any more than that. I’m grateful to you, Gray. I hope and pray you find her in good health.”

  Hearing the way her voice trembled, he touched a hand to her arm and seemed about to say something. Seeing the hopeful way she was staring into his eyes, he took a step back and climbed up beside his father.

  She stood watching as the wagon was swallowed up by the darkness. Soon the only thing she could see was the swaying of the lantern, until even that disappeared from sight.

  EIGHTEEN

  “Did I hear the wagon?” Rose nearly dropped the loaf of bread she was lifting from the oven. She set the pan down and hurried to throw open the backdoor, smoothing her hair and stripping aside her apron.

  Fiona walked out onto the porch to stand beside her.

  They had received word from Gerhardt Shultz that the train from Chicago would be arriving this day. Broderick had already driven the horse and wagon to town, leaving his wife to take out her nerves in the kitchen. She had been cooking since early morning, preparing all of Flems favorite foods. The air was perfumed with the fragrance of chicken and wurst, breads dark and light, and sauerkraut. Both a bundt and a strudel were cooling on the windowsill.

  Rose shielded the thin winter sun from her eyes. “Do you see anything?”

  Fiona nodded. “I do. Yes.”

  Rose gave a nervous little laugh. “You see? I wasn’t imagining things.”

  When the horse and wagon finally pulled up the lane and turned into their yard, the two women could see that there were only two figures aboard.

  Before it had even come to a halt Rose launched herself off the porch and raced toward her older son, who climbed wearily from the wagon seat. “Where is Fleming? I told you not to come home without your brother.”

  “Come inside, Ma.” He helped his father down.

  The moment Broderick was out of the wagon he caught his wife’s hand and led her toward the house. Though she protested, she moved along at his side.

  Gray reached into the back of the wagon for his carpetbag, before turning. When he did he caught sight of Fiona standing alone on the porch, twisting her hands together nervously.

  He climbed the steps and avoided her eyes as he held the door, leaving her no choice but to walk ahead of him. Once inside he seemed to take forever setting down his bag and stripping off his heavy coat before carefully hanging it on a peg by the door.

  When he turned, he took a deep breath before saying, “I think you should all sit down.”

  Rose was suddenly wary. “What is it, Grayson? What terrible things do you have to tell?”

  “Ma.” He glanced at his father, who eased Rose into a chair.

  Fiona followed suit, her eyes never leaving Gray’s. Gray got down on his knees in front of her.

  His voice lowered. “I went to the home of your aunt.”

  Fiona’s eyes went wide. “You saw my mother?”

  “I’d hoped to. I was...” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was too late.”

  “Too late? I don’t under—”

  He spoke quickly, hoping to spare her any more pain.

  “You were right in surmising that your mother had become ill. Your aunt said it started with a fever, and quickly moved to her lungs. The doctor said it was pneumonia.” He reached into his pocket and removed an envelope. “Your mother had begun a letter to you when she took ill. Your aunt thought you might want to read her last words.”

  Fiona stared at the envelope in his hands without reaching toward it. “Her last...?”

  “Your mother is dead, Fiona. She was buried two days before I arrived.” Gray thrust the envelope into her hands and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Your aunt sent along a box of her belongings. I’ll bring them to your room later.”

  Fiona clapped a hand too her mouth, her voice little more than a whisper. “This is my fault. I should have been there with her.”

  Gray reached for her, closing his big hands over hers. “It was nobody’s fault. Your aunt said your mother seemed very frail when she arrived in Chicago. It was her belief that your mother lost her will to live after losing your father.”

  She shook her head in denial. “But I could have given her some of my strength, if only I’d been there with her. Don’t you see? I was all she had left. And I deserted her.”

  “You didn’t desert your mother. You did what you had to do.” Gray could see her eyes glazing over with shock and grief. At a loss for words he stood and filled a cup with water before handing it to her. “Drink this.”

  She did as she was told, emptying the cup in one long swallow without even being aware of what she was doing.

  In the silence that followed Broderick turned to his wife. “Grayson found where Fleming was living.”

  “Oh, praise heaven.” Rose lifted a hand to her quivering lips. “Tell me it was worthy of him. How did he look? Is he happy? What sort of job did he find?”

  Gray exchanged a look with his father, and it was plain that they had already spoken at length about how much to tell Rose. Even though they would sugarcoat the truth, her heart was bound to be broken.

  Broderick spoke for both of them. “Fleming has changed, Rose.”

  Her head came up. “What do you mean, changed?”

  “Grayson found him playing a piano in a club.”

  “A gentleman’s club?”

  “Of sorts. He’s staying in a room above it, with a group of pretty unsavory people.”

  Rose sniffed. “How many people?”

  “Maybe a dozen or so.”

  Her eyes narrowed on her son. “In one room?”

  Gray thought of the rat-infested tenement, the stairs littered with filth and broken bottles and sleeping drunks, and merely nodded.

  She got to her feet, her eyes blazing. “Why are you spreading such lies about your own brother? Fleming has no need to live in a crowded room. He has plenty of money.”

  “Rose.” Broderick put a hand over hers. “His money is all gone.”

  “Gone?”

  Broderick said softly, “Tell your mother.”

  Gray glanced at his father before saying, “Flem might have been good enough to beat the farmers in Little Bavaria out of a few dollars at poker, but he was no match for the gamblers he met in Chicago.”

  She pulled away from her husband and fisted her hands at her waist. “They cheated him of his money? And you did nothing to stop them?”

  “By the time I got there, the money was gone. Not that Flem seemed to care.”

  “How can you say such a thing? Why wouldn’t he care?”

  “Like Papa said, he’s changed.”

  Her chin lifted. “How has Fleming changed?”

  Gray shrugged. “Whiskey can dull a man’s mind.”

  “Whiskey?” Rose stiffened as though she’d been struck. Slowly her shock turned to righteous anger. “How could you return without the brother who needs you, now more than ever?”

  “I did what I could, Ma. I told him I’d been sent to Chicago to bring him home. We had a pretty nasty time of it.” Gray paused, and decided not to go into details about the vicious, knock-down, drag-out fight that had ensued. At one point he’d found himself facing half a dozen pair of fists. The only salvation for Gray had been that most of Flem’s friends had been too drunk to do too much damage, but at one point he’d found himself facing the tip of a razor-sharp knife in the hands of a hulking gambler who’d threatened to carve him into pieces.

  “When I left that day, I told Flem I’d be returning in the morning to take him with me to the train.” Gray turned to Fiona, who had listened to the entire narrative without expression. “That’s when I went to locate your aunt’s house.”

  He saw her fingers tighten around the envelope.

&nb
sp; With a sigh he returned his attention to his mother. “The next morning, when I went back to Flem’s room, he was gone. One of his roommates told me that Flem said he’d rather live in the meanest of Chicago’s gutters than return to Paradise Falls.”

  Rose’s anger was so palpable, she was trembling. She pointed a finger at Gray. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you even found your brother.” She nodded her head for emphasis as she turned to her husband. “That’s it. That’s what this is about. He couldn’t find Fleming, and he decided to cover it up with this horrible lie.” Her voice lowered for emphasis. “He’s always been jealous of Fleming. Even when they were just children, he knew.”

  “What did I know, Ma?”

  She turned to Fiona, completely ignoring her son. “Did you know that when Fleming was born, people used to stop me just to admire my beautiful baby? By the time he was two he had long golden curls and the face of an angel.” She paused for a moment, remembering. “He was seven when Broderick took him to the barn and cut off all his beautiful curls.” She rounded on her husband. “I thought I would never be able to forgive you for such a cruel act.”

  “Cruel? Rose, the boy was being taunted by the other boys in town.”

  She nodded. “Because they were jealous.” She turned back to Fiona. “I knew that he was special. I always told him so. He’d been blessed with so much more than other children, and as he grew to manhood it became obvious to everyone. No man in Paradise Falls was more handsome, or charming, or talented. Women, no matter what their age, couldn’t help falling under his spell. If the men were cool to him it was only because they were jealous of all that he had. You know what I’m saying is true. I saw the way you looked at him.”

  Fiona was too shocked to do more than shake her head in denial, but Rose had already turned away to flick a dismissive glance at Gray. “I should have never sent you to fetch your brother, knowing that your jealousy would only cause you to spread vicious lies about him.”

  Broderick closed a hand over her upper arm. “Rose, listen to me.”

  “No.” She pulled away, her eyes glittering with fury. “You listen to me. I refuse to believe anything Grayson has said about his brother. Fleming will return home one day, rich and successful. And when he does, he will prove the lies that have been spread about him.”