“I didn’t turn it into a boardinghouse, and the ribs sound fine, as well.” Carrying on a conversation with two completely separate subjects seemed to be delighting him. His smile grew every time she answered. Why did he have to be so charming? So perfect?
“That’s right, you hired new employees, which, my dear, is managing the household.” Without a pause, he asked, “How about dessert? There’s apple pie, plum pudding, ice cream, fruit.”
“I didn’t hire anyone. You did. And you like apple pie.”
“I didn’t hire them. I agreed to pay them so you didn’t have to pay them out of your own wage. And I do like apple pie, but I like rum cake better. Yours. It was delicious. I wish you’d make that again.”
Theoretically, everything he’d said was true, but so was everything she’d said. “Not John and James. You hired them. And I left the recipe with Mary.”
“I tend to differ. I did not hire them. I spoke with them after they were already working with Sean, and questioned him about them, to make sure you weren’t boarding unsavory men. Mary will never be able to make rum cake as well as you do.”
“They weren’t unsavory, and yes, she can. It’s a simple recipe.”
“I didn’t say they were unsavory. I said I spoke with them and Sean, to make sure they weren’t.” He laid the menu down. “And there is nothing simple about you. Not even a rum cake recipe.”
She held her silence as the waiter returned with water and coffee. “May I take your order?” he asked.
Karl looked at her, brow lifted.
Knowing he’d order half the menu for her if she didn’t speak up, Bridget said, “I’ll have the hunter’s soup.”
“And for your main course?” the waiter asked.
“Just the soup, please,” she replied.
“Very well, and you, sir?”
“I’ll have the salmon, and apple pie for dessert,” Karl replied.
“Excellent choices,” the waiter said. “Thank you.”
Karl took a drink of his coffee, and as he set the cup back on the saucer, said, “I haven’t been to Chicago in over a year.”
“Why were you in Chicago?” she asked, picking up her cup.
“We have a bank there.” He leaned back and stretched an arm along the top of the seat behind her. “Before my father died, I did a substantial amount of traveling all around the nation. Overseeing the acquisition of banks, branches and investment companies.”
“You have more than one bank?”
“Yes. I hear they have an amazing opera in Chicago.”
She pinched her lips together at his grin. “I still feel bad about that.”
“I don’t.”
“You hated it.”
“I enjoyed being there with you.” He rubbed her shoulder. “They also have a playhouse in Chicago. We should attend a play while we are there.”
“Karl—”
“Your soup is here,” he said, nodding at the waiter.
She thanked the waiter as he set the bowl in front of her.
“Have you ever been to a play?” he asked as she filled her spoon.
“No. Have you?”
“Many.”
He told her about plays, and other such performances that he’d attended as they shared the bowl of soup, and asked about places and things she’d done in Ireland. The conversation continued as his plate of salmon arrived, which he slid over so they both could eat off it, too.
They also shared the apple pie. She’d never done anything like that before, and enjoyed it far more than was proper, of that she was certain. But their conversation reminded her of just how different they were. The different worlds they had grown up in. Not just countries, but livelihoods, stations in life.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already known that, or that she’d forgotten it, but she had looked past it while living at his home. Mrs. Conrad’s return had made several things clear. The other woman hadn’t said anything directly, but her frowns and the way she’d clicked her tongue upon hearing things Bridget had allowed and encouraged Elsie to experience—like making mud pies, getting her hands and knees dirty, being called Poppet instead of Miss Elsie—had shown grave disapproval.
That had angered her at first, until she’d realized she was the one in the wrong. The outsider who knew nothing about the things Elsie would need to know in order to grow into a young lady of means. Her past was too different. She was too different.
She believed everyone had been created equally, and that it took all walks of life to make the world work, but she now understood something else. People were born into stations—classes—and though they might dream, even acquire ways to move up in the world, they needed to look at how that would affect others. Especially those they loved.
That’s what hurt the most. She loved Karl, and therefore had to do what was best for him, even though it hurt.
Chapter Sixteen
“Did you have a dream, when you were little, of what or who you wanted to be?” Karl asked later, when they were once again seated in the passenger car.
Most everyone who’d known her as a young girl knew about her far-fetched dream, and the memory made her smile, at how her parents had kept that dream alive.
“You’re smiling,” he said. “What is it?”
She’d learned long ago that it could never come true, but it had been fun. Lifting a shoulder, she said, “A leprechaun.”
He tilted his head, looked at her with a broad smile, yet a doubtful shine in his eyes. “A leprechaun?”
“Yes.” Memories made a giggle tickle her throat. “Da pointed out they were boys, but I said I would be the first girl one. My mother used to let me set old shoes out by my bed and I’d fight to stay awake at night to catch one. Once, when I was upset about falling asleep, Da tied a bell on a string and ran it from a shoe to my bedpost.”
“Why?”
She studied him for a minute. “Do you know what a leprechaun is?”
“Yes. Little green men who play tricks on people and have pots of gold at the ends of rainbows.”
Exaggerating a sigh, she said, “They are much more than that.” Until this moment, she’d forgotten how much she’d enjoyed her leprechaun years. That’s what Da had called them. “They sneak into homes at night and repair shoes, and if you catch one, they will grant you three wishes. That’s why Da tied the bell on the string, so I’d wake up when it rang.”
He nodded. “So you wanted to catch one, not be one.”
“I wanted to catch one, so when they granted me a wish, I could wish to become one.” A warmth filled her. “Then I would be able to repair all the shoes of the people I knew, and when they caught me, I could make their wishes come true. Da’s wish was to be taller, so he could reach the top shelves behind the bar without the stool that was always getting in his way. Mother’s wish was to have blue eyes like mine. Which always confused me because her eyes were the most beautiful shade of green. Bright green.”
Another memory made her laugh.
“Tell me more,” Karl said.
“One day, we were walking home from church and there was a rainbow that looked like it was ending right on top of the pub. I was sure there would be a leprechaun in my bedroom. I searched and searched, and was about to be very disappointed that a leprechaun hadn’t been there when my Da shouted for me to hurry downstairs. There, in the kitchen, flour had been spilt across the counter, and there were tiny footprints in the flour. I was so excited and Da helped me make a little net with a handle, so when it came back, I could catch him.”
“Did you catch one?” he asked, eyes gleaming.
“Not yet,” she said.
He laughed. “Still looking to catch one, are you?”
She leaned back, looking at him. He was so handsome in his white shirt and green silk vest. Pulling her gaze off him, she shook her head
. “No.”
“When did you stop?” he asked quietly.
Something lodged between her ribs. The old forgotten knife of pain. It wasn’t as sharp as it had once been, but like so many other things, it was there. Had become a part of her. “Not long after that rainbow day, my mother became sick. Died. My Da brought home Shadow.”
“Your dog.”
“Yes. Da said Shadow had been bred for the purpose of sniffing out leprechauns, and we looked for them, all three of us some days, but before long the dream of finding a leprechaun faded away.” She sighed. “So did the years.”
His arm was on the back of the bench, and he lowered it onto her shoulders, pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, Bridget,” he whispered. “Sorry about your parents, and that you never found a leprechaun.”
The touch of his lips, the feel of his arm around her, his shoulder beneath her cheek, caused a yearning so strong it became painful to breathe. She closed her eyes, swallowed.
His other hand tucked her hair behind her ear, rubbed her cheek.
It was impossible. Him. Her. As impossible as catching a leprechaun. She opened her eyes. It was hard to let go of dreams, to face the cold harshness of the truth. Someday, he would find a woman who could be exactly what he needed. “Going to Chicago isn’t about dreams, Karl. It’s not even about promises. It’s about me. About who I was born to be. About who I will always be.”
He cupped her cheek. “You can be who you are anywhere.”
“Yes, I can,” she admitted, knowing that was possible. What wasn’t possible, was having him near. “But this isn’t about just me. Life isn’t about any one person.” She moved, separated herself from him, needing the clarity. “We are from two very different worlds.”
“They aren’t so different,” he said.
“Did you ever believe in leprechauns?”
“No, but—”
“Karl?” a man said, stopping in the aisle. “Are you traveling to Chicago? Is something wrong?”
Karl didn’t look happy about the interruption, but introduced her, “Bridget, this is Theodore Klein, he heads our acquisition division in Chicago.”
She said hello in return to the man’s greeting and then, taking advantage of the opportunity, she excused herself. Once Karl stood, she left her seat and found the restroom near the front of the car.
Afterward, she wished for an excuse to not return to her seat. Being near Karl was making the inevitable so much more difficult. He was still talking with Theodore as a young woman with a baby on one hip and holding the hand of a child not much older walked toward her.
Bridget held open the door of the restroom for the trio.
The woman was thin, with fine brown hair and a blue gingham dress. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Would you like me to hold the baby for you?” Bridget asked. “There’s not much room in there.”
A look of relief filled the woman’s face. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all.” Bridget held her arms out. “We’ll be right here.”
The woman handed over the baby and entered the facility with the other child in tow.
Bridget tickled the towheaded baby beneath the chin and was rewarded with a toothless grin. She talked to him softly and bumped his nose with the tip of her finger, hoping to keep his attention away from realizing she was a stranger and not his mommy.
“Thank you very much,” the woman said, upon exiting. Glancing over her shoulder, she added, “You’re right, there’s not much room in there.”
Bridget handed the baby back to his mother. “Are you traveling to Chicago?”
“No.” Her eyes were sad as she glanced at her sons. “Oregon.”
“The three of you?”
“Yes. My husband bought an apple orchard there.”
“That’s sounds lovely.” Sensing a deep sadness, Bridget asked, “Is he there, waiting on your arrival?”
“No.” The woman’s hold on the baby tightened. “We were on the Titanic and...”
Bridget laid a hand on the woman’s arm, understanding the woman’s husband hadn’t survived. “So was I. My name is Bridget.”
“I’m Maria.” She glanced at the baby. “This is Thaddeus.” Nodding towards the child holding her hand, she said, “And this is Frank Jr.”
* * *
Karl had only been half listening to all Theodore Klein had been saying. The manager had been filling him on how well the territories he oversaw were doing, as if assuring him there was no need for him to visit Chicago. Karl hadn’t yet said he wasn’t visiting Chicago for that reason. He’d been too busy watching Bridget, who had exited the ladies’ room and was now sitting on a bench with a young woman and two children.
“What hotel are you staying at?” Theodore asked.
“I’ll let you know,” Karl said, catching Bridget glancing his way again. “Excuse me.”
He walked to where Bridget sat and placed a hand on the back of the bench in front of her. “Is everything all right?”
She laid a hand on his wrist. “Karl, this is Maria Aks, and her sons Thaddeus and Frank Jr.”
“Hello,” he said, noting the frown on Bridget’s face more than the woman and her children.
“Maria and her family were on the Titanic. They’ve been in New York since the accident, but are now traveling to Oregon, where her husband bought an apple orchard before he’d traveled back to Poland to get them.” She looked at him and shook her head. “The Women’s Aid Fund gave her traveling vouchers to get to Oregon and I was telling her about the trust fund you’ve set up.”
They may have come from different backgrounds, and he may not have believed in leprechauns, but he did believe in Bridget and wanted her to believe in him. “Do you have the address of where you’ll be living in Oregon, Mrs. Aks? So your payments can be mailed to you?”
“I never filled out any papers. I never knew anything about it,” the woman replied.
He smiled. “Bridget will take care of that. Just give her the information. Do you have enough money for you and the children to make it to Oregon, and for a time after you arrive there?”
Her response was delayed. “We’ll manage.”
He withdrew his wallet from his pocket and removed several bills, handing them to the woman.
“I couldn’t,” she said. “People have already been so kind.”
Knowing Bridget could handle this better than him, he handed the money to her. “I’ll be at our seats.”
It was some time before she returned to their bench, and he’d spent every moment thinking about the things she’d said.
“Thank you,” she said, upon sitting down.
He twisted in his seat, took ahold of both of her hands and glanced toward the family she’d just left. “That is who you are, Bridget McGowen. The girl who wanted to become a leprechaun, so she could grant wishes for people.”
“I didn’t grant anyone’s wishes.” She glanced toward the front of the train, where the woman and her child sat. “If anyone did, it was you.”
“No. If you weren’t here, hadn’t offered to hold that woman’s baby, she would never have known about the trust fund, about the money she and her children deserve.” He squeezed her hands. “And if not for you, I would never have set up that trust fund.”
She shook her head.
He nodded. “You said going to Chicago isn’t about dreams or promises, that it’s about you. That’s why I’m going there, too. For myself.”
Frowning, she asked, “For your company? To visit your bank?”
“No. This is completely personal. You see, I met this woman. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She opened my eyes to other things besides outer beauty, because she is just as beautiful, just as special, on the inside. I didn’t know what was happening at fir
st, how she was changing my life. She keeps on changing it, too. For the better. The idea of living without her, of never seeing her again, is one I refuse to consider.”
“Karl, stop.” Her bottom lip quivered, and she bit down on it.
“No. I won’t stop. I can’t. My father would never have let me believe in leprechauns. There would never have been flour poured on the counter and filled with miniature footprints just to make me happy. To encourage me to believe in the impossible. The only thing I was allowed to believe in was hard work, building up a fortune and then holding on to it with an iron fist.” He felt no bitterness, just sorrow that it had taken him so long to see things in a different light. “His teachings have served me well, but I want more for my children. I want them to believe in the unbelievable. I want them to eat at the dining room table. And I want their mother, my wife, to be stubborn enough to curse me in a foreign language when I step out of line.”
There was a single tear dripping out of one corner of her eye.
“I won’t force you to become my wife. I won’t beg, plead, or threaten. I will ask you, Bridget McGowen, to consider that possibility. I love you. Something I also hadn’t believed in until I met you. I will give you anything you want. Just ask, and I’ll give it to you. If you want ten boardinghouses, I’ll buy them.”
She was shaking her head again. “Karl—”
“I’m not done. I know you think we are from two different worlds, and I agree with that, but that is also why I love you. There is nothing pretentious about you. You are as genuine as the sun. As determined as a flower that grows in the cracks of the cobblestones, outside of the flower bed, and that makes your bloom all the more beautiful, all the more special.”
He lifted one of her hands, kissed the back of it. “I know you think there’s not a place for you in my home, but you are so wrong. So very wrong.” He refused to believe there was anything they couldn’t overcome together. “My home is exactly where you belong. Proving that no one is above or below anyone. I now believe every life on the Titanic was worth as much as the next. Every life on this earth is worth as much as the next.”
A Family for the Titanic Survivor Page 21
