by Sharon Ihle
Dimitri answered the question. "She was not thinking of her brain very much. Forgive us if we disgusted your rest." He took Shylo by the hand and dragged her toward the door.
Since she was in no position to argue or do otherwise, she called to Cassie from over her shoulder, "Best lock up again. Oh, and wish me luck at the dock this morning."
"Good luck, Shylo. And... good night." She firmly twisted the lock behind them.
Cassie waited several seconds after she heard a door close down the hallway before moving. Then she quickly retrieved Buck's clothes and boots from her valise and crept over to the window. After pushing aside the beige linen curtain, she shoved up the heavy wooden window frame, stuck her head outside, and whispered, "It's all right now. They're gone."
A moment later a white-faced, wobbly-kneed Buck inched his way along the narrow ledge until he was just outside her window. The only item of clothing he'd had time to grab was his red woolen drawers, but they hadn't been able to keep the bone-deep chill of the damp night air from settling into his slender body. Shivering uncontrollably, he leaned on Cassie's shoulder for balance and finally managed to climb back inside the room.
In spite of the cold air, beads of sweat glistened on his brow. Wiping them away with the back of his hand, Buck said, "Whew. I hope to hell I don't ever have to do that again, sugar lips. I don't mind the cold or even taking a dip in a frosty pond now and again, but there's something you got to know—I'm plumb scared shitless of heights."
* * *
Just like last time, Wyatt Earp and his wife joined Shylo, Dimitri, and Ari as they stood at the steamship wharf the following morning, awaiting the packet's return. Although Josie wore yet another smashingly gorgeous walking suit, this one fashioned in shades of russet and brown, Shylo was decked out in her only presentable costume—the same pink sateen outfit. Today, however, she really didn't mind the other woman's presence. She was far too eager for the reunion that was about to take place to let this woman dampen even one moment of her excitement.
So it was with unfettered joy that Shylo stood alongside the steamer and watched as the purser dropped the rope gate to usher the first passengers down the gangplank. The long anticipated moment when she would glimpse her mother again ended just ten minutes later when Colleen Pappas and her swarthy husband appeared at the top of the steps. Even though she'd aged a little, Shylo would have known her mother anywhere—she was simply the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.
Colleen's flaming red hair was darker than Shylo remembered, almost auburn now, but coiffed stylishly with a neat little row of curls ringing her hairline like a fluffy band. She couldn't see her mother's eyes from the distance, but she knew they would be grayish green "Irish eyes," as William McBride had been fond of calling them.
As Colleen neared the bottom step and a hungry-eyed Shylo could see her more clearly, she gazed on her mother's wide cheekbones and slightly squared jaw, surprised to see that those features were so very like her own. In the next minute Colleen was standing not two feet away from her, hugging and kissing both Wyatt and Josie Earp.
Suddenly surrounded by passengers and those who came to greet them, Shylo was momentarily lost in the glut of laughter, chatter, and strange voices. A man, his voice rife with a thick Greek accent, called out, "Dimitri? Is it really you? And Ari, too? What a surprise." Other heavily accented voices joined his, Dimitri's among them, and the conversation gradually evolved into their native language, shutting Shylo out entirely.
Of course, her gaze never left her mother, who was standing so close now Shylo could almost reach out and touch her. Frozen with both excitement and a fair amount of fear, she stood rooted to the spot and listened in as they laughed over something to do with posadas and tortillas, whatever the hell those were. Ignored by Colleen and Josie on her left, and the Greeks and Earp on her right, Shylo began to feel as if she were isolated on a lonely little island, and that the bits and pieces of the excited conversations were coming at her from underwater. Then, suddenly, while she was still in a state of "not really being there," the women finished exchanging pleasantries, and Colleen dropped a surprisingly cool glance on Shylo.
She didn't know exactly what she'd expected of this moment, but the last thing Shylo imagined when her eyes met Colleen's was the instant chill that skittered through her, freezing her to the bone. The fleeting thought that her father had erred in calling those eyes "Irish" flashed through her mind, for Colleen's gaze didn't in any way capture the warmth and gaiety generally associated with the Irish. Of course, thought Shylo, her mother didn't have any idea whom she was looking at, and a woman in her position must have learned long ago to keep a safe distance from jealous strangers.
Through the mélange of conversations and her own buzzing mind, Shylo finally realized that Josie was trying to present Colleen to her.
"... and says that she is one of your friends from some time ago in New York. Do you know her?"
With a deliberate show of displeasure, Colleen looked Shylo up and down, and said, "Are you quite certain that I'm the woman you're looking for?"
They were not precisely the words Shylo had hoped for during her first conversation with her mother, but at least they were a start. Clearing the enormous frog that had lodged in her throat, she smiled and said, "Yes, you're the one all right. I have a message from someone you used to know a long time ago."
Shylo thought she saw a flicker of recognition or maybe even suspicion in those eyes, but all Colleen said to that was, "Really?"
"I, um... " Her gaze skimmed Josie, and then Shylo glanced around, seeking a more isolated spot. Noticing a deserted area near the Pacific Coast Steamship Company building, she suggested, "I think I can explain the reason I'm looking for you a little easier if we can move to a more private place to talk."
Josie, whose nose was already impossibly high, lifted it another notch. "If that's what you want, I'll just go see why these men are so excited, and leave you two alone."
"Thank you," said Shylo, but when she turned back to Colleen, her mother was wearing a frown that suggested this was definitely not what she wanted. In spite of that, Shylo persisted. "Would you mind walking up to the steamship office with me for a minute?"
"I would. This is private enough, I believe. Who are you and what is it you want from me?"
Steeling herself against the chill in her mother's voice, Shylo gulped. She was in over her head, the child inside her warned, way over her head. Colleen was dressed to utter perfection in an obviously imported traveling suit of silk and velvet, and a pair of large opal earbobs sparkled out from her lobes, complementing her eyes and the collar of blue stones she wore at her throat.
She reeked of money and all things lofty—but not one comforting aroma touched Shylo's senses. There was nothing to remind her of the love this woman must have bestowed on her as a child. Brazenly presenting herself to Victoria Vanderkellen as the president's niece had been a cinch compared to telling the truth under these circumstances. But she hadn't come all this way to flip coins or let Colleen walk out of her life again—and the woman appeared ready to do just that at any moment.
With another gulp, Shylo said quickly, "Don't leave. I just wanted to say hello again. It's me... Sh-Shylo."
Something flashed in Colleen's eyes, something that was neither haughty nor cold—it might even have been recognition—but the glimpse she saw beyond that austere facade was nothing more than that—a glimpse. With remarkable speed she restored her previously aloof demeanor, but she did lower her voice so she couldn't be overheard.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Miss... Shylo, but you must be looking for someone else. I don't know you."
She turned as if to join the Earps and her husband then, and Shylo impulsively reached out and grabbed her elbow. "But you must know me," she said, panic driving her on. "It's Shylo spelled with a 'y' so's I won't get mixed up with a battle. Remember? And I have Cassie with me back at the hotel."
Colleen shuddered slightly, as if taken
by a sudden chill, and then glanced at Shylo. "Please let go of me. I don't know you, and... and I don't want to."
Shylo's heart, her lungs, her entire system, froze at those words. Never, ever, had she met a colder person—man or woman. Even Farmer Anderson, who had viewed her as slave labor and nothing else, had been warmer. Cold-hearted or not, this second rejection by the woman who'd given birth to her was more than Shylo could take. Before she knew what she was doing, before she even had a chance to think of the consequences, she exploded inside and completely lost control of herself.
"It's me, Shylo McBride," she shouted. "How in the hell could you have forgotten about me?"
Colleen blanched and staggered back a step, pressing her hand against the glittering stones at her throat.
Shylo advanced on her with no rational thought as to what she meant to do next, but then suddenly hands were on her, fingers tugging at her, trying to pull her away.
Shylo shrugged off those insistent hands and went after her mother. "I'm not good enough for you, is that it? Take a look at this?" She shoved the finger weighed down by Ari's garish diamond ring in Colleen's face. "My rich Greek husband gave it to me, and if that's not good enough, there's—"
The rest of the sentence was wrested from Shylo's mouth as Dimitri bodily dragged her away to the private corner she'd sought out earlier.
When he was sure they couldn't be overheard, he looked at her as if she'd lost her mind and said, "What is this all about? You are acting like—what is word for trelli—crazy. A crazy woman."
"Let go of me." She kicked at him.
"Shylo." Dimitri shouted, shaking her. "Get hold of you."
Turning away from him, she shot an angry gaze over to where she'd last seen her mother. Colleen was standing with her husband, Ari, and the Earps, and all of them were staring at her with such shock in their expressions, for a minute she thought she must have ripped off all her clothes. Then she realized they were not looking at her with shock so much as pity.
Her anger turning to fury—for if indeed she had gone crazy, Colleen would by God share in the blame—Shylo tried to twist out of Dimitri's grip so she could confront the group with the truth.
"Stop this," he demanded, his grip ever tighter. "You have made enough fool of yourself. Why?"
"Because, b-because—"
Again she looked to Colleen as the truth formed on her lips, but no one was glancing her way now. They'd walked off the dock to the street, where Niko Pappas was helping his wife into an enclosed carriage that already contained the Earps. Then it drove off, leaving Ari behind.
"Oh... it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters. Now let me go."
"But I am not understanding you." Again he shook her, trying to get her attention and make some sense of her odd behavior. "I cannot help you if you continue this way, katalaves? What is so wrong?"
"Everything—it's over. All of it. You, me, and my reunion. Over." Her words surprised him enough that Dimitri relaxed his grip. Taking advantage of the moment, Shylo wrenched out of his arms.
She backed away from him, and immediately Dimitri pursued her. "Don't," she warned, holding up both hands. "There's no point. It's all been a lie, one huge fat lie. I just want to be left alone right now."
"But Shylo—"
"I mean it. I can't take any more right now."
Before he could reach her or prevent it, Shylo bolted from the dock, darted into the masses milling around the wharf, and lost herself in the crowd. Then she ran, oblivious of the startled shoppers she brushed against on the boardwalks of Fifth Avenue, deaf to their complaints when contact was more forceful than propriety allowed. She didn't know how long she ran, or where she ran to, but by the time she reached the Horton House Hotel, her lungs were on fire and her legs felt like a pair of quivering reeds.
She leaned against the brick exterior of the hotel long enough to recover a modicum of strength, then dragged herself inside. Although she hadn't given much thought to her destination, she'd been pretty sure that Cassie was the only person she could face at that moment.
When she reached the door to the room she'd once shared with her sister, Shylo realized she was still far too distraught to discuss what had happened. On tiptoes she continued down the hallway to the bridal suite, hoping to God she would not find Dimitri there.
She didn't. Grateful for the first thing that had gone her way today, Shylo tore off her bonnet and went into the bedroom. After closing the drapes, she sank onto the oversize chair near the small table at the bedside. She stayed there an indeterminate amount of time, aching and raw inside as memories of her mother's indifferent eyes and cold, cold words enveloped her. Gradually she succumbed to a quiet pain from which there was no escape.
When Dimitri let himself into their room a short time later, she glanced up long enough to make sure that it was he, then noticed the surprise in his expression at having found her there. She dropped her gaze back down to her lap, listening in utter silence as he lit the wall lamp just inside their bedroom and turned the flame down low. Then she heard his cushioned footfalls as he crossed the thick carpet and sat down at the edge of the bed across from her.
"Will you talk to me now?" he asked, his voice a gentle caress.
How could she speak of her mother's betrayal? She could barely think of it, much less voice the facts of her second rejection. "I—I'm sorry, but I don't think that I can. Besides, there's really nothing I could say of interest to you."
"Perhaps you are wrong. I have many, many questions of you. As your husband, I believe I have a right to some answers."
Her husband. Of course. He wasn't here to find out about Colleen. This was about them. With an agonized groan, Shylo let her head fall back against the chair and closed her eyes. "What do you want to know?"
"There is much confusion over your behavior at the dock." Dimitri's voice grew harder. "The woman you sought, the lady you tried to attack, is very upset, I think."
In a voice as hollow as her emotions, she said, "I don't care."
"I think you should, since she is the wife of my father's brother—my uncle Niko."
Shylo's eyes flew open. "Your uncle?"
"Yes. I believe that makes Colleen Pappas, the woman you insulted, my aunt."
"Your... aunt?" Good God, she thought, would this day of cruel surprises never end? She laughed, the sound desperate, hysterical, even to her own ears. "I won't even discuss who insulted who at the docks today, but why didn't you tell me that Niko Pappas was your uncle before now?"
Dimitri shrugged. "I wasn't sure that he was my uncle until I saw him today. He has changed his family name."
There was nothing she could say to that. She'd done exactly the same thing.
Dimitri leaned forward, rested his forearms on his knees, and let his hands fall between his legs. Then, although she did her best to look away, he captured Shylo with an intense gaze. "It would seem that we both have kept some secrets. Perhaps it is time we spoke the truth to each other."
Again Shylo's head fell back against the chair. "I wish that I could, Dimitri, but I'm afraid I've had about all the truth I can handle for one day. I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"But I," he said, that smooth, velvet voice a little rough around the edges, "have had more lies than I can handle for my entire life, and need today's truths. Let me decide where to begin. To start, please tell me how can this woman have made you so upset, and is it possible that I heard you call yourself "Shylo McBride' when you spoke to her?"
Hugging her knees against her chest, Shylo rocked back and forth on the chair. She'd known this was coming, so why not answer him and get everything over with in one day? She was full up with pain already, there couldn't possibly be room for any more. And what did admitting her real identity matter now that Colleen knew who she was? There was no one left to fool.
Releasing her knees, Shylo sat up straight, then smoothed her skirts as if that might somehow make her and the things she'd done more respectable. "Shylo McBride is m
y true name, the one I was born with."
"McBride?" Dimitri was stunned and, instantly, confused. "But didn't you tell me that your friend Cassie was the McBride? Have you exchanged names?"
"No. Cassie is also a McBride. She's my baby sister." At the look that suddenly shadowed Dimitri's handsome features, an expression not unlike the one Colleen wore earlier, Shylo realized much too late that she was not up to this at all. "I'm sorry," she whispered, unable to do more. "Sorry if I... inconvenienced you."
"Inconvenienced?" He laughed harshly. "I am not understanding what any of this means. Please explain to me."
"What's to explain? I lied to you about everything I am and everything I've done. You're a free man—what else do you need to know?"
He rose from the bed then, moving as if he truly were carved of marble, and said in a dark tone, "Free of what? And what about the Folsoms and the president? Do they know of this?"
She might have dissolved into tears right then had Dimitri not brought up her "ties" to the White House. But her guilt receded a little, and she snapped, "I'm a McBride. I've always been a McBride. The Folsoms have no idea who I am, and if Grover Cleveland knew I was running around telling folks I'm the niece he doesn't have, he'd probably toss me into prison and throw away the key. Is that clear enough for you to understand?"
A muscle in Dimitri's jaw twitched as he asked, "You lied to me about your family?"
Miserable again, Shylo nodded. Then she leapt out of her chair and looked him in the eye for the first time since he'd come into the room. "But I'm not the only one who lied, and I'm not going to take the blame for everything. The day you asked me to marry you—when you figured on using me and my link to the president—you led me to believe there would be something in the arrangement for me, but you don't have any more money than I do."
"It is not the same. We are not talking about money—it is our marriage at issue here."
"It is the same," she insisted, her hands on hips. "You said 'the arrangement' between us was nothing but a business deal. Maybe I didn't quite hold up my end of the bargain, but so what? Neither did you and business deals go sour every day, don't they?"
