In his mind’s eye Ford saw that day, saw Julia flinch, retreat, as he’d come toward her to reassure her again that she was safe. That the stalker would never hurt her.
“How do you know that, Ford?” she’d whispered. “How do you know that?” He’d heard the fear rising in her, dulling the musical lilt that normally lived in her voice. Her suspicion had nearly buckled his knees. Who was she really afraid of? The stalker? Or him.
His heart had bled, threatened to stop, each time he closed his mouth on the words that would explain it all to her. But the shame of it would have been too much. She’d never have survived it. The last thing he’d wanted to do was make his wife and daughter fearful. The last thing on his mind was to let the world encroach on his blissful home. And in keeping them safe, in keeping them ignorant of the truth, free of the shame, he’d lost them altogether.
Now it felt as if he’d lost them all over again, and it was a stab to the gut.
“I’ve moved to New York, Father.” Such an innocent statement. So simple. I’m here. He’d waited years to hear it. But Ford had stood silent, watching his daughter play with the brooch at her neck, his eyes fixed on the oversized amethyst ring, his gift to this girl’s mother the day Adelaide was born.
Did she know what her mother had meant to him?
She couldn’t possibly, or she’d have suspected what the sight of her might do to him. Instead, she’d just arrived at his door. Unannounced. Unexpected. And all grown up. His tongue that had guarded his words so carefully for so long simply couldn’t loose itself in her unexpected presence.
Ford slumped into the overstuffed chair he kept near the window.
“Damn fool.”
In one breath he voiced the shocked realization that there was no little girl any more. That his four-year-old daughter was gone. He’d longed to see the child. But the woman she’d come to be was another thing entirely.
So like Julia.
His beautiful wife, Julia.
He hadn’t even asked if the girl’s mother was still alive.
Chapter Five
The rest of the orchestra was just disappearing through the secluded offstage door when Addie heard her name spoken behind her. The deep, warm voice identified its owner even before she turned around, and Addie wondered at the little leap her pulse had taken upon simply hearing it.
“Why, Miss Magee. Darned if playing like that doesn’t make me want a dish of ice cream.”
She surreptitiously mopped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand and turned toward the familiar voice. She’d seen him there in the dining room, wanted more than anything to just plunk herself down and get acquainted. But after playing for an hour and a half with a bad shoulder she was dripping wet and faint with hunger. Utterly unpresentable and bent on slipping away.
But he’d found her.
“That is,” he continued with a slight bow, “if you’d care to join me.”
“Well, Mr. Pepper—”
“Jess.”
“—Jess.” Addie looked squarely into the eyes of the man who’d just asked her to step out for ice cream. His informal approach sent a conflicting bevy of alerts. What did his familiarity mean? Did he just assume she was available? Or was he really interested in spending time with her?
She loosened the frog of her violin bow and turned to clip it into the lid of the violin case. As she reached to snap the case shut, the pain in her right shoulder escalated to alarming new heights, and Addie knew the only place she should head was home for a medicinal poultice.
“But I really must get home,” she insisted, settling the case into the crook of her left elbow. If ice cream had any medicinal value, she’d have taken him up on it and slathered the numbing cold mixture over her burning shoulder.
But one look at the face of the man who’d injured it in the first place with his stairwell slam and she herself seemed bent on melting away. His riot of dark hair waved one direction and curled another and framed his face in the most endearing, roguish way. His lopsided grin tied her tongue in a knot and rooted her feet where she stood.
“I’d think you’d be starved after that performance, Miss Magee. I’m sure—“
“Addie.” How quickly she adapted to this casual state of being. Perhaps she could blame it on the shoulder.
“—Addie. I’m sure we can find a café between here and your home, now, can’t we?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“Then it’s settled? Here, let me carry that.” Jess slipped Addie’s short cloak over her shoulders and in one move extracted the violin case from beneath her arm and steered her toward the door. There wasn’t much she could do but move along.
The first time she’d seen him, Addie had wondered about this moment, what it would feel like if the blue-eyed Jess Pepper asked her to step out with him. Then she’d made a fool of herself on Friday, flailing about on the staircase, and had been certain she’d not see him again. Or shouldn’t.
Not if he was looking for a loose woman, anyway.
But halfway through the opening Serenade, Addie had watched the maitre d’ escort the familiar broad shoulders to a table off to her left. Each time he dropped his gaze to attend to his food, she’d studied him.
He was a powerful man, the rare type who could carry off a thick, dark head of hair like that, swept back into handsome chaos. Without the sideburns dignifying his broad face and square chin he might have looked like a prize fighter. Though watching his large, agile hands, Addie had known instinctively he was not a fighter.
At least, not the sordid kind.
His manners were natural, never practiced. Respectful in their simplicity, not polished, yet never seeming to diminish himself...or her. While he rather obviously admired her, it wasn’t the music he seemed most appreciative of, but her expertise in making it. And never once had his expression been anything but attentive.
But what made her most comfortable with him was the simple fact that he was comfortable with himself. He was at ease in his skin, something Addie felt only with her violin tucked beneath her chin.
They moved through the large glass-paneled side door and onto the street, and Addie found herself falling into rhythm with his easy stride. It felt good, walking in the company of this man. Perhaps she could put up with her burning shoulder long enough to enjoy some quiet conversation.
At his quizzical look, she nodded her head to the right. Home was this way.
Addie held her right arm close to her ribs, her hand at her waist. It was the only position that was comfortable. She longed to support it with her left hand, take the weight off the joint. But her left was tucked properly into Jess’s elbow. And that felt entirely too good to abandon.
She fought for control of the small portion of her brain that was not focused on her shoulder and tried to carry on a conversation. He was witty and intelligent, ready with humor and unaware when he was being charming. To her horror, all she could manage were monosyllables.
“I actually think it was quite a piece of marketing genius,” Jess was saying.
“Genius?”
“Oh, absolutely. Ten women clad in the most boring grays known to man playing music more full of color than a gaggle of peacocks.” Jess shifted her violin for a better grip beneath his outside arm. “Sheer genius.”
“A gaggle of peacocks. That’s what we sound like to you?”
“No, no, no. You sound like a gaggle of peacocks looks. You know what I mean? A tumult of color.”
“Mmm. And we look like...?”
“Hmmm.” Jess walked a couple of paces in silence. “Well, let me put it this way. If you sounded like you look, we’d find you playing in funeral parlors.”
Addie chuckled. It was all too true. She’d told the girls to look like St. Agnes, after all. It was the best way she knew to achieve some sort of uniformity.
“But,” he continued, “if you looked like you sound, they’d sell you to the circus.”
Addie laughed and nearly
choked on the pain it rendered in her shoulder. She was getting worse in a hurry. Dammit! Why now? Double damn. That was no mystery. She’d overdone it playing the Delibes Divertissement. It was a programming mistake she already regretted. She could easily have left it out and saved her bowing arm the added stress and toll the pizzicato passages always took. But she had to go and show off, for this very fellow who was treating her to iced cream.
“So there you have it. Like I said. Sheer marketing genius. Now, which of these bistros offers the kind of thing a starving virtuoso feeds upon?”
They were halfway down Second Avenue, and Addie had caught him eyeing the last couple of cafés they’d passed. She knew she had to beg off now before he got her into the café. Her grip on the pain seemed to be evaporating more with each step.
“Jess, on second thought, I’m not up to chatting. Or ice cream. I really must be getting home. Please understand.” She watched his face, hoping he wouldn’t think she was brushing him off. The disappointment that fell across his eyes was oddly comforting.
“Forgive me, Addie. I know you must be exhausted. Another time perhaps?”
“Yes!” She answered too quickly and didn’t even blush. A little pain and her feminine tact had fled. “Yes, I’d like that.”
“Is this your building?” Jess asked, and looked up at the gargoyles looming overhead.
“No, I’m just over there,” she replied, indicating the gloomy brick monstrosity across the street. She felt none of the embarrassment that Hamilton had forced her to feel when he’d dropped her at home after the Joplin affair. She removed her hand from his elbow and reached for her violin, but Jess moved smoothly behind her, switched the violin case to his outside hand, and took her right elbow to escort her across the street.
“Then I’ll just-“
“Ow! O-o-o!” Addie grabbed her right elbow and pulled it back to her side.
“What? Did I—?”
Jess looked stricken and Addie tried her best not to cry. The shoulder was shrieking now.
“I just need to get home and put a poultice on my shoulder,” she gasped. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. It’s been hurting since...since yesterday.” She couldn’t tell him it had been hurting since he’d tossed her into the banister. “And then playing all evening has made it worse. I’ll be fine, really, once I get home.” Addie babbled as she began to back away from Jess, intent on getting home quickly.
“Addie, let me—”
He was following her, and that was the last thing she wanted.
“Please! I’ll be fine. Good night!”
She hurried across the street and into the dark alcove of the front door, pulling the key from her drawstring bag as she went. But when she tried working the key with her left hand it refused to turn in the lock.
“Dash it all. Blasted key!” She was flushing hot and cold with the pain that had escalated dramatically since he’d jostled her arm, and then his large hand dropped over hers and in one twist he had the door opened.
“Th-thank you, I—”
Jess took the key and helped her through the door.
“I’ve got your violin. You just look after yourself.”
She looked at the violin, stunned to see that it was still tucked under his arm. She had never let her violin out of her sight before, but tonight she’d left it in Jess’s care and turned her back on it without another thought. It must be the pain.
Addie chastised herself for her carelessness as she scuttled toward the elevator, trying to disturb her shoulder as little as possible.
“G’d ev’nin’, Miz Magee,” the bellman tipped his cap and pulled back the cage door for her to enter. He threw a disapproving look at Jess when he followed her into the elevator.
“I’m her doctor,” Jess lied easily. “Miss Magee has injured her shoulder.”
The bellman raised his eyebrows, half accepting the explanation, and launched the snail-paced elevator toward the third floor. The relentless jarring of the simple pulleys made Addie long for the stairs, but just when she thought she couldn’t tolerate another bump, the cage screeched open and Jess helped her into the hallway.
She led him to her door and leaned on the wall while Jess used her key.
“Thank you for your trouble. I’m afraid I’d be sobbing in the gutter by now without your help.”
“No trouble at all.” He swung the door open and she hurried in. “Can your roommate help you with the poultice?”
“I don’t have a roommate.” Addie spoke without thinking, and realized too late she could have sent him on his way if she’d just let on she had someone to help her.
“You should have told me you were in pain, Addie. I’d have brought you home directly.” Jess propped the violin against the wall inside the door and surveyed her tiny domain.
She wished he hadn’t seen her wretched one-room studio. Addie took a quick look about for any unmentionables in view and blanched. The chamber pot. Had she emptied it before leaving for the hotel that evening?
“You’re going to need my help,” he said, lifting the cape from her shoulders. “Do you have the makings for a poultice?”
“Jess, I can’t ask you to—”
“I didn’t hear anyone asking, Addie. Now tell me where your medicinals are.”
Addie relented in the face of his determination and pointed to the drawer and cupboard where he would find muslin, mullein leaf and comfrey root.
First he found an empty cocoa tin and dampened the muslin by dipping it right into the pitcher. He folded and rolled the cloth and stuffed it into the tin.
“What are you doing,” Addie asked. She was impatient for the poultice and couldn’t see this step as anything but a waste of time.
“You’ll see,” he smiled, and glanced over his shoulder, sending her a compassionate smile that convinced her she could be patient for a few more minutes. Addie managed to remove her hat pin and hat with one hand and checked her condition in the vanity mirror.
Woman in pain, she thought. Not very appealing.
As she stowed the hat pin in her top drawer, her eye stopped on the small bottle of laudanum she’d kept after her mother’s final bout with pneumonia. With a glance over her shoulder at Jess who still had his back to her, she flicked the cork out of the bottle and sipped several drops.
Just considering taking the laudanum revealed to her how bad the pain had become.
By the time she’d stowed the hat and hung her cape on its peg, Jess had rigged a contraption to hold the cocoa tin over the base of a kerosene lamp. He had the flame turned full up beneath it, and was mixing the comfrey root and mullein leaf in a small, wide-mouthed pot he’d found sitting empty on the window sill.
“Can you get undressed all right?”
“What!” Addie sputtered. “I should say not! I mean...”
“Suit yourself, but once this poultice is in place, I don’t think you’re going to want to move.”
“But I—”
“Trust me.”
Jess stepped behind her and unhooked her skirt. Addie gasped and caught the skirt with her left hand before it slipped free of her hips.
“That’s quite enough. I’ll manage quite nicely without your help, sir!”
“Addie, we’re both adults here, are we not? Crawl into bed as soon as you’re finished. Just whistle when you’re ready.” Jess discreetly kept his back to her and resumed his work on the poultice.
“I’ll do no such thing.” Addie gathered as much dignity as she could muster and turned to usher him out. She stepped forward and tromped on the bottom of her skirt, yanking her hand painfully down.
“You— ow!” Her next breath disintegrated on a whimper, and she cradled her arm again. A tingling buzz flitted across her forehead and she lifted a slow hand to tap at it. The laudanum was working on her brain already. When in blue blazes was it going to reach her arm?
“I’ve got all night, Addie. You can crawl in fully dressed or in your birthday suit. Makes no difference to me. B
ut one way or another you need to get into bed so I can get this poultice on your shoulder. It’s just about ready.”
He stood with his back to her, an easy pose with the weight slung on one hip. Addie considered his instruction, and knew there was a reason she shouldn’t crawl in bed. She fought the fuzz and concentrated hard to remember what it was, but nothing made sense.
She took a deep breath and held it, slipped out of her skirt and laid it over the foot rail of the bed. She unbuttoned the high-necked blouse, let it fall to her wrists before she gently tugged it off and slid it clumsily over the back of her desk chair. The air filtering through her chemise began to dry her fevered sweat. She stood a moment, grateful for the feel of it.
Shoes. Did she usually wear her shoes to bed? Addie studied the eight buttons that marched up the outside of each shoe and sighed. Tonight she’d wear her shoes to bed. But it hardly mattered. She doubted she’d sleep a wink, anyway.
She plopped on the edge of the bed and swung her booted feet under the covers and began to lie down, but new pains ripped through her arm and pushed back the laudanum haze. She gasped and snatched the covers up to her chin with her left hand just as Jess turned around.
“Here, let me help y—”
“No, no! I’ve managed. Thank you anyway.” Keeping the covers around her as much as possible, Addie turned to her left and used her good left arm to support her as she dropped herself to the pillow.
“There, now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Jess was behind her now, rolling a pillow behind her back. She relaxed against it and found that it was just what she needed to take the stress off her shoulder and lessen the pain. She opened her mouth to thank him and snapped it shut. Would he smell the narcotic if she spoke?
“Good. Ready, then?” Jess leaned toward her a bit, awaiting permission to begin administering the poultice.
The Devil's Dime (The Samaritan Files) Page 6
