My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “But sir, finding her is of great importance. If you say you believe she is in this room…”

  “I am an old man. Perhaps I am wrong,” he said. “But when you ask about her, do not ask if someone knows this girl. You know your employer. This is her grandchild. Just look with your heart and you will find her.”

  “Look with my heart?” she asked as he walked away, obviously oblivious to her confusion.

  “Any luck with the commander?” Jonah asked, whirling her around to face him.

  “No, and yes,” she said. “No, he didn’t exactly point her out here in this crowd, but he did say he knew both Madame Smith and her husband and that he remembered the granddaughter as a child.”

  “So is she here?”

  “He said he could not point her out but felt she must be here.”

  Jonah shook his head. “That makes no sense. How does he know she is here if he cannot point her out?”

  “That’s the strange part. He told me to look with my heart.”

  “And that means what?” Jonah asked.

  “I have no idea,” she responded as she allowed her gaze to travel around the room. “Oh, wait. What color eyes does Madame have?”

  “I have no idea,” he said.

  “Oh, I remember. They are brown,” Madeline recalled. “So now we just have to look for the woman with brown eyes. If she was born in 1855, we are looking for a woman who is twenty-five. If we also guess she has similar characteristics to Madame Smith, then I would guess she also has dark hair.”

  Jonah seemed to consider her statement. “I agree. Come with me.” Jonah led her out of the parlor where the older folks were still congregating and into the ballroom where most of the younger guests had gone.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see that the commander was still in conversation with Mrs. Moody. It appeared that he was doing most of the talking.

  Madeline felt a tug on her arm. “Time to go to work,” Jonah told her as he pulled her into the crowd of dancers. “Remember,” he said against her ear, “we are in love.”

  “Love, right,” Madeline echoed, and yet she had no trouble leaning in and allowing him to lead her across the dance floor like they were indeed a couple.

  For a man who made his living as a Pinkerton detective, Jonah Cahill was quite a dancer. But she already knew that.

  As he spun her around and moved between the couples with ease, Madeline forgot she was supposed to be looking for a brown-eyed woman. Forgot everything about this assignment except for the fact that she was dancing on the arm of the handsomest man in the room while wearing sapphires around her neck, roses in her hair, and a gown that had been made just for her.

  And though her shoes had begun to pinch and her corset had been laced so tight she could barely breathe, Madeline felt like the belle of the ball. When the song ended and another began, they danced on.

  Finally the music stopped, and Jonah leaned down. “Did you see any likely candidates?”

  Oh. “Not yet,” she said. “But if the commander believes she is here, I suppose we owe it to the investigation to keep dancing.”

  The music began again, and Jonah escorted Madeline back out on the dance floor. They danced and then they danced some more, but he knew good and well that woman wasn’t looking for their suspect.

  She wasn’t even looking at all most of the time, not with her eyes closed and her head resting on his shoulder. Oh, but when she rested her head there and tucked her hand in his, Jonah felt like the luckiest man in the room.

  He felt as though all the things that happened to tear them apart no longer mattered. It was a dangerous feeling, but Madeline had always been dangerous to his heart.

  So he danced and danced until finally he couldn’t dance anymore. “All right, Cinderella,” he said to her as he led her off the dance floor. “Let’s find some refreshments and a quiet place to compare notes on what we’ve discovered.”

  A few minutes later, they found a curtained alcove off the second floor opposite the balcony and crowded into the tiny space. Madeline sipped punch and sat quietly for a moment while Jonah watched her, their knees touching.

  “You always did like wearing roses in your hair and being the belle of the ball, didn’t you?”

  She looked up sharply, as if he’d guessed her secret. His Pinkerton training told him Madeline would likely deflect the question with a question of her own.

  “I do actually.”

  Of course his Pinkerton training was completely useless when it came to Madeline Latour. It always had been.

  “Then drink up, Madeline. We have dancing yet to do.”

  “And an investigation to conduct,” she reminded him with an expression that he figured she meant to look serious.

  “Yes, that.”

  Madeline opened the silver bag she’d been wearing on her wrist and retrieved a notebook covered in sparkling gems along with a pencil. Before she tightened the strings, Jonah noticed that the necklace she always wore, the one with the key attached, was nestled in the bottom of the bag.

  “Is there anything we can say we have learned from tonight so far, other than the information from the commander?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I have learned that next time I plan to dance this long, I will ignore my sister and wear my boots.”

  Madeline laughed and then began to write in her notebook. He watched her, allowing his gaze to settle on the curve of her neck, the way she pursed her lips as she appeared deep in thought, and the long lashes dusting her cheeks when she closed her eyes. If their shared past didn’t prevent it, Jonah might have considered spending more time with her after this investigation ended.

  That insight should have felt better than it did. Somehow getting rid of the woman as soon as possible was no longer a goal he wanted to pursue.

  So maybe, just maybe, he would seek her out. Just to see how she fared. Nothing more. Nothing to do with the way those brown eyes melted him or how the feel of her on the dance floor made him forget everything but the two of them.

  And the fact they had agreed that their past was just that—the past—and that they were starting all over. So maybe there was hope for them yet.

  Who was he kidding? He couldn’t imagine life without this woman, could he?

  Jonah dismissed the crazy thoughts—along with the desire to kiss her—with a roll of his shoulders while Madeline, unaware, continued to write in her notebook. A young man and his lady friend strolled past, their laughter preceding them. When they were gone, Jonah rose and offered Madeline his hand to help her up. “What color were that woman’s eyes?”

  “The one who just walked past?” She shrugged. “I wasn’t looking.”

  “Go find out, then.” She appeared ready to protest. “Go on. I will save your seat here in the alcove.”

  Though she still looked as though she was formulating an argument against it, Madeline dropped her notebook and pencil into her bag and pressed past him, leaving the scent of roses in her wake.

  Jonah settled back down on the opposite chair where he could watch as Madeline walked over to the pair and struck up a conversation. A moment later, she returned.

  “Blue eyes, so not our suspect.” She sat back down. “What was the point of that exercise?”

  He feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We are here working on an investigation and it was your turn.”

  Her eyes pinned him to his chair. “To go look into someone’s eyes?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  She leaned back against the papered wall and grinned. “So this was a test?”

  “No, it was your chance to actually do some investigative work.”

  “I have been.”

  “Have you?” He paused. “With your eyes closed and your head on my shoulder?”

  Was that a blush that crossed her pretty cheeks? “I think we’ve been here long enough,” she said though she made no move to leave.

  “Probably.” He smiled. “But I’m enjoying my
self.”

  She nodded toward the hall beyond the curtains where a trio of gossiping women was comparing notes on the clothing choices of the females in the ballroom. “Go enjoy yourself by checking those three.”

  Jonah lifted a brow. “I am the Pinkerton detective in this investigation, Madeline, and you are the newspaper reporter. I give the orders.”

  “That may be,” she countered, “but which of us do you think they would be more forthcoming in speaking with?”

  He frowned. She was right.

  “Go on. I will save your seat here in the alcove.” She patted the place where he’d been sitting then offered a broad smile.

  Jonah felt Madeline’s eyes on him as he walked over to the ladies. “Excuse me,” he said, and they all turned to look at him.

  All three had dark hair and were approximately the correct age. He looked at their eyes. Blue. Green.

  Jonah groaned when his attention reached the third one. She was wearing colored spectacles that made her eye color impossible to discern. Now he understood the women’s discussion regarding the appearance of all the others on the dance floor. Their companion was blind.

  “Sir?” Green Eyes said. “Is there something you needed?”

  “There is, actually,” he said. “Do you see that lady over there?” Jonah waved to Madeline, who gestured back reluctantly. “She and I were just talking about something rather interesting. You see, my companion believes there are more women here with blue eyes, and I say there are more whose eyes are green like yours.”

  Green Eyes smiled. “Well indeed there is one of each here.”

  Blue Eyes nodded.

  Jonah pondered a way to ask politely about their friend but could think of nothing that might not sound impolite. Green Eyes must have sensed his discomfort.

  “My friend’s eyes are also green,” she said, and the blind woman nodded.

  “Thank you. I will tell my friend that I am in the lead,” he said as he walked away.

  “Sir,” the blind woman called. “And your friend? What color eyes does she possess?”

  He thought a minute. “I believe they are brown.”

  She laughed. “Well that does make things interesting, doesn’t it?”

  “It does,” he said as he wandered back to take his seat in the alcove.

  “Well?” Madeline asked.

  Jonah studied her face and then shook his head. “None there. Two sets of green and a blue.”

  “So no brown eyes yet, then?”

  “Only you, Madeline.” He stared openly. “Wait just a minute.” Jonah leaned closer until their noses almost touched.

  “What are you doing?”

  He sat back. “Just testing a theory.”

  “And what theory is that?”

  “The theory that you are the Smith granddaughter.”

  Her eyes widened. “Me? What kind of idiocy is that? I have a father in New Orleans who is alive and well and will attest to the fact he is not the deceased Samuel Smith, and I also have a mother who delights in telling the story of how incorrigible I was as an infant. Now my brother, he would probably be delighted if we were not actually related, but that is another story altogether. Then there’s the problem of me not yet having been born in 1855.”

  “Madeline, I am joking. Your birth records clearly rule you out. And yes, I checked,” he said as he rose again and helped her to her feet. “Enough of this. Back to work.”

  Her laughter followed him past the three ladies and all the way to the stairs. However, when he turned to look over his shoulder, he found Madeline disappearing up the stairs in the opposite direction.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as he fell into step beside her.

  She grinned but said nothing until they reached the third-floor corridor. It was dark up here, the lights being reserved for the lower two floors, but Madeline appeared not to care.

  Traversing the length of the hall with nothing but moonlight to guide her, Madeline reached the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the corridor and lifted it. She turned around as if to beckon him and then giggled softly.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded as she disappeared out the open window to what must be the roof of the balcony below.

  “Come on,” she whispered, “but be quiet about it.”

  Jonah followed her outside and then stalled. She was nowhere to be found.

  “Over here,” she whispered. “Around the corner.”

  Jonah looked over the edge to see that the grounds three stories below were filled with men milling around and guests arriving and departing. From the sounds of laughter, there were also guests on the balcony below.

  The former president’s private carriage remained in its place up front, so likely many of these men were in his protection service. Jonah groaned. The last thing he needed was to have some fellow with a gun and a badge find him skulking around so near to the roof.

  He crawled around the corner to find Madeline sitting with her back against the redbrick wall. Being as careful as possible not to be seen, Jonah settled beside the infuriating reporter.

  “This is madness.”

  “I know,” Madeline whispered in that same dreamy tone she had used under the stars aboard the Haven. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  For a moment she did not think Jonah would answer. Then he turned to look at her. “I repeat, Madeline. This is madness.”

  “Oh come on, Jonah. Relax. We have plenty of time to circulate through the guests and look for the Smith woman. But how many opportunities will we have to sit out here under the stars on such a beautiful night?”

  “With people on the porch below us and half the law enforcement in the city on the lawn?” He shook his head. “I do not know how you talk me into these things.”

  “These things?” She shook her head. “Maybe I am wrong, but it certainly looked like you got over here of your own free will. But maybe I just have that kind of power over you. If that’s the case, then I wish you would let me know so I can better use it when I really need you to do something.”

  “Oh, you always did have power, all right,” he grumbled as he adjusted his coat. “The power to drive me completely out of—”

  “Hello,” someone said from below them. “Is someone out there?”

  “I’m with the Pinkerton. Everything is fine,” Madeline called in her best imitation of a man’s voice.

  “All right, then,” the man below responded.

  Jonah leaned close until their shoulders were touching. “You are completely incorrigible.”

  “What?” Madeline turned to face him, and their noses almost touched. “I told the truth. I am up here with the Pinkerton, and everything is fine.”

  To avoid looking into those far-too-familiar eyes a moment longer, she turned her attention to the night sky. “See, look how beautiful it is up here.”

  From their vantage point, the rooftops of neighboring homes gave way to the waves of the Gulf of Mexico to the east and the sparkling waters of the bay to the west. The lights on the first and second floors of Madame’s home had been doused, but there were still a few windows on the third floor that showed evidence of lamps that were lit.

  One of those was her own room, visible now as she craned her neck to look around the palm tree at the corner of Madame’s property. Funny, she didn’t remember leaving her lamps burning.

  She leaned over just a bit more to make sure she was looking at the correct window. Her hand slipped and so did she. Jonah’s strong grip hauled her back against him.

  “What in the world are you doing?”

  “Just looking,” she said as she adjusted her bag back up safely on her wrist.

  Madeline gave the windows one more look and decided she must have left the gas lamp burning after all. Vowing to be more careful, Madeline leaned back against the brick wall, caring nothing for the fact that she might be crushing the roses in her hair.

  There was too much beauty in the night skies above right now to worry about silly
questions like whether a lamp was lit. Indeed, the moon was one day away from being at its fullest, so there were fewer stars to be seen. Still, she easily found the North Star, Orion, and the Big and Little Dippers.

  She might have pointed them out to Jonah, but that would require her turning to look at him. And when she turned to look at him, he was close.

  Too close.

  And when Jonah was that close, all Madeline could think of was that kiss. Much as she felt she knew the answer, she still wondered if maybe Jonah hadn’t been pretending in front of Mrs. Brown.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  There was, but she would never admit it.

  She felt strange inside. Soft and… something she couldn’t define and didn’t particularly like, considering the past history between them.

  It had happened under the stars on the Haven, and it happened again just now. The past was crumbling, and a possibility of a future together beckoned. Or did it?

  “Madeline, look,” he said as he pointed to a spot in the eastern sky.

  Following the direction he pointed, she saw a falling star streak across. “Oh,” she said softly. “So beautiful.”

  “Yes,” Jonah said as he gave her a sideways look. “You are.”

  Looking as if he was surprised at the words he spoke, Jonah returned his attention to the skies overhead. “We’re due for a meteor shower soon,” Jonah said. “I can’t remember the name.”

  Madeline smiled and supplied the name as she dared a look in his direction. She quickly looked away again.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “That’s the one. So you really are interested in astronomy, aren’t you? Is this recent?”

  “No,” she said. “I suppose I just didn’t think to mention it before, but I would give up being a reporter if I had any hope of becoming an astronomer. Which I don’t, of course,” she hurried to add.

  Jonah chuckled. “Anything that would make you give up being a reporter is something you should consider,” he said as he offered a grin. “Just let me know how I can help.”

  “Oh I’m sure you would like that. Then who would irritate you?”

  “My point exactly,” he said as he motioned in the direction of the window where they’d climbed through. “Inside with you, Madeline. The stargazing is over for this evening.”