by Renee Ryan
Defeated, Johnny sighed in resignation. “A few weeks ago, I heard Miss Laney tell Katherine she had to get five hundred dollars or we’d lose Charity House.”
At the familiar name and the exact amount he’d counted in a certain woman’s reticule a few weeks ago, Marc’s gut twisted.
Everything else forgotten, he moved a step closer to the kid and pressed for more answers. “Did you just say...Laney?”
The kid kept talking, suddenly spewing words out as fast as they could come. “Yeah. She’s the reason me and Michael have a home now. She’s the nicest lady I know.” A dark sadness flicked in his gaze. “But she’s working too hard. Every night she goes somewhere and stays till real late. She’s promised me she’s not doing what Mama does for Miss Mattie, but I’m not so sure.”
Tears filled the boy’s eyes, but he kept them from spilling with a few hard blinks.
“This Laney you mentioned, she about so tall?” Marc placed his hand in the air near his chin. “Real pretty, with dark hair and light brown eyes?”
“You know her?”
An ugly thought rushed to the top of the others. “Did she teach you how to pick pockets?”
Johnny’s eyes got as big as billiard balls. “Oh, no. Hey, you’re not gonna tell her what I did? She’s going to be so disappointed in me.”
As she should be. Suddenly Marc’s head couldn’t quite take in all the information Johnny had expelled fast enough. An orphanage. A large loan. A woman named Laney.
The facts aligned together, making perfect sense. And yet, no sense at all. If Laney needed money to help fund an orphanage why not just tell him that straight out? Why the secrets? Why the deception?
One sure way to find out. “Let’s go.”
“Where you taking me?”
“Home. It’s time I saw this orphanage. And you’re going to direct me there.”
“I’m not taking you anywhere. Not till you promise not to tell Miss Laney what I did.”
Marc wasn’t about to bargain with a twelve-year-old pickpocket scamp. When he caught sight of the other little boy peering around a building from across the street, he roped his fingers around Johnny’s arm and started out. “We’ll just follow your friend over there.”
Johnny pulled back, dug in his heels using his full body weight for leverage. “You can’t tell on Michael, either. He’s already in trouble for running away last week.”
That got Marc’s attention. “Is it so bad at this orphanage that you have to run away?”
“Oh, no, he didn’t mean to run away. Not really. He just kind of got lost, looking for his dad.”
“Seems reasonable.”
Johnny missed the sarcasm in Marc’s tone. “Yeah, that’s what I said. But Miss Laney made Michael promise not to ever come to this side of town again. She’ll get all sad and gloomy if she finds out he came with me today. Then she’ll give us both that ‘I’m really disappointed in you’ lecture.”
“She will, huh?”
Johnny shuddered. “Oh, yeah.”
Seemed like a pretty good punishment to Marc. After all, he’d known Laney long enough to understand how particularly moving her ‘I’m really disappointed in you’ speech could be. She’d given it to him twice in the past week.
“Please, mister, her lectures are the worst. I’d rather take a whipping. But she never whips me, says that wouldn’t teach me anything.”
Not quite sure why he did it, he started bargaining with the kid, after all. “Take me to the orphanage and I won’t tell on you or Michael.”
“Promise?”
“You have my word.” He’d let Johnny confess on his own.
As though sensing the direction of his thoughts, Johnny looked hard at him, searching his face with the shrewdness of a man twice his age. Marc held his glare, allowing the kid as much time as he needed. “All right, mister. You have a deal.”
Marc lifted his hand from Johnny’s shoulder, then thought better of it. “Before I completely release you, I must point out that I’m bigger and faster than you.”
A hint of disbelief whisked across Johnny’s features. “In other words, don’t try anything foolish?”
“Precisely.”
Marc let go of the boy. Prepared for a break, he caught Johnny in two strides.
Johnny slid him a sheepish grin. “Just checking.”
Marc slapped him on the back then looped his arm across his shoulders. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less.”
After a few blocks of silence, another question came to him, one he couldn’t hold back any longer. “This Laney you mentioned. What does she have to do with the orphanage?”
The boy’s grin widened. “She’s the owner.”
Chapter Sixteen
After making a diving catch, Laney jumped to her feet with the ball securely in her glove. “Got it.”
The sound of her team’s happy cheers filled her ears as they changed sides for a new inning. She did a quick head count, coming up two short. “Anyone know where Michael and Johnny went?”
“I do.” Megan stepped forward. “They went to—”
One of the other kids elbowed her into silence, then finished the sentence for her. “We don’t know where they are.”
Megan’s scowl said otherwise.
Sighing, Laney let the matter drop. For now. If the boys didn’t show up soon she’d ask again, and again, until she received the proper answer. The truthful one.
Before she had time to worry any longer, Michael came screaming around the front of the house. When his gaze landed on Laney he skidded to a halt, and then walked more slowly, head hung low.
She waited until he stopped in front of her. “Want to tell me where you’ve been?”
Michael shook his head.
Laney knelt in front of him and ran a hand across his forehead. “You might as well confess. I’ll find out the truth eventually. I always do.”
The boy shuddered. “I was with Johnny. We didn’t mean to get into trouble.”
“Oh, baby, what happened? Where’s Johnny?” She looked over the child’s head, peering toward the front gate. The empty front gate. “Isn’t he with you?”
“I didn’t want to leave him, honest. But he told me to run when he got caught.”
“Caught?” Oh, Lord, not again. “Doing what?”
Michael clamped his lips shut and dug his foot in the grass.
Laney sighed. She’d get nothing more out of the boy.
The sound of voices in the distance had her glancing over Michael’s head again. Her heart sank. “Oh, no.”
Marc Dupree was striding straight toward her, tugging a very reluctant Johnny along with him.
Laney’s first instinct was to pretend she knew neither man nor boy. But Marc’s steady gaze told her the secrets between them had come to an end.
So be it.
Dreading the coming confrontation, she rose to her full height. “Go on, Michael, go play with the others.”
She sent him off with a tiny shove on his back then waved her hand in a small circle, motioning for Katherine to continue the game without her.
Katherine looked at her with a questioning expression. Laney cocked her head in the direction of Marc and Johnny. Katherine’s eyes widened but then she got straight down to business. “All right, everyone. Let’s play ball.”
Once the game began again, Laney trudged across the yard with leaden feet. The moment she opened the gate Johnny burst into a run and launched himself into her arms.
“Please don’t be mad at me, Miss Laney. I was only trying to help.” Tears trickled down his cheeks.
Her breath hitched at the sight of the boy’s obvious despair. She couldn’t remember Johnny ever crying, not even the night she’d rescued him from jail.
Putting Marc Dupree out of her mind for a moment, Laney concentrated on calming Johnny. She held him tightly against her and patted his back. “I’ve never seen you this upset. What’s happened?”
A strangled sob was his only answe
r.
She pulled away and bent down, searching his face. “Are you hurt?”
A curt, masculine snort lowered over her. “He’s not hurt.”
Laney snapped her gaze up. “What did you do to him?”
“I’ll let him tell you the story.”
She reached behind her and pried the boy’s hands from her waist. “Johnny?”
“I...I...” He wailed and threw himself back into her arms. “I stole this man’s wallet.”
Of all the scenarios she’d expected, this was the one she’d dreaded most. “Oh, Johnny. We talked about this.”
“I know. Miss Laney, I’m sorry. Please, don’t give me the lecture.”
Her heart thumped in her chest, a deep sense of defeat magnifying all her other emotion. In the past months she’d tried to teach Johnny right from wrong, tried to help him understand that stealing was never the answer.
Clearly, she’d failed. “I don’t understand why you did this.”
She’d hoped to keep the hurt out of her voice, but at the sight of the boy’s grimace she knew she hadn’t.
“I did it for Charity House.” His hiccupping sigh sent guilt rushing through her. “You told Katherine we were in trouble.”
“You—” oh, Lord, no, please no “—heard us talking?”
“I couldn’t sleep the other night so I went to the kitchen for a snack. You and Katherine were already there. I didn’t mean to listen in but I couldn’t help it.”
“Oh, Johnny, I’m so sorry.” She’d never guessed one of the children would overhear her confessing her worries to Katherine.
“I heard you say we might lose Charity House.” The boy choked on a sob. “I couldn’t let that happen.”
“You needn’t fret over money. That’s my job.”
Johnny didn’t seem to hear her. “But you have to go to work every night, like mama.”
“I’m not working in a brothel. I promise.”
“Then why do you look so tired all the time?”
“Listen to me.” She pulled him back into her embrace and pressed a kiss on the top of his head. “You don’t have to worry about money or anything else while you’re living here at Charity House. It’s my job to bear the burden of responsibility, not yours.”
Johnny shook his head as though he didn’t understand what she was saying.
Laney tried to explain. “It’s really simple. All you have to do is be a kid, nothing else. Just a kid.”
When he still looked confused, Laney realized the boy didn’t know how to be just a kid. The realization broke her heart. Not knowing what else to say, she glanced up at Marc.
The look of encouragement in his gaze gave her the courage to add, “I’m going to get the money to save Charity House.” It was a promise she intended to keep. “In fact, I’m nearly there. Now, no more worrying for you. Go join the game and have fun. You can take my place on Megan’s team.”
Johnny stuck his bony chest out. “I’ll hit a home run.”
“I like that idea.”
With the resiliency of youth, the boy swiped a hand across his face and took off toward the backyard.
Heart in her throat, Laney watched Johnny run to a group of boys and slapped the closest one on the back in greeting.
“You going to keep pretending I’m not here?”
She kept her eyes on Johnny. “The idea occurred to me.”
“You’re not afraid to look at me, are you?”
“Not at all.” She threw her shoulders back, but still didn’t turn to face him. She’d told Johnny she’d handle matters. Now she had to make good on that promise.
But not here.
“It might be best if we went inside for our conversation.” She drew in a calming breath. “I don’t want the children to overhear us.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that. By all means, Laney, lead the way.”
Marc didn’t need to look into Laney’s eyes to know she was worried. Why was she acting as if he was the one in the wrong? Marc hadn’t lied and deceived and evaded throughout their short acquaintance. Nor had he tried to pick anyone’s pocket.
“I’m curious to see the inside of your home,” he said with a hint of irritation as he followed her across the large expanse of perfectly manicured lawn. “The one you took out a loan with Prescott to pay for.”
She spun around then, a swathe of outrage turning her eyes a golden, liquid brown.
“Am I wrong?”
“No. The loan was for Charity House.” Without explaining further, she turned back around and continued toward the row of stairs leading to the front door.
Glancing around, Marc noted the immaculate lawn, the flowers and shrubs planted in tidy rows. Everywhere he looked he saw order and charm, comfort and beauty. He hadn’t seen this much concentration to detail in a long time, maybe never, except in his hotel, of course.
Apparently, he and Laney had a lot more in common than he’d originally thought.
Why didn’t that make him feel better?
Crossing the house’s threshold, the smells of home greeted him. The tangy odor of soot from the fireplace mingled with the lemon wax from the floors and furniture. The lingering aroma of fresh-baked pies transported him back in time to his childhood. For a brief moment, Marc experienced a peace that transcended all understanding.
The sensation unnerved him.
“This doesn’t look like an orphanage to me.”
“That’s the general idea.” Still not looking at him, she directed him into a parlor.
Again, he was met by a combination of luxury and warmth all around. “Definitely not a typical orphanage.”
“Charity House isn’t an orphanage. It’s a place where prostitutes and women of questionable virtue can leave their precious children because they can’t care for them in the brothels, saloons or wherever they choose to conduct their business.”
She connected her gaze with his. The sadness in her eyes captured a part of him long dead. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her he wasn’t here to hurt her or the children. No, he wouldn’t harm her. He did, however, want answers.
In the silence hanging between them, Marc took his time studying her face, enjoying her beauty as he hadn’t allowed himself to do since discovering her in Mattie’s brothel. He’d been afraid to look at her like this, afraid he’d want her in his life, permanently, even knowing she’d deceived him on purpose.
Now he knew why. Except, he didn’t. Why had she withheld the truth from him?
“Help me to understand why you kept your orphanage a secret from me.”
She linked her gaze with his, holding him in place with the intensity of her stare. “The children who live here aren’t typical orphans. In fact, the majority aren’t orphans at all. Most of their mothers live on The Row.”
Marc took her hand in his, squeezed gently, let go. “Go on.”
“There’s not much more to tell. Here at Charity House we turn no child away. My goal is to offer boys and girls a chance to break the cycle of sin so rampant in their parents’ lives. I try to give them a solid, Christian upbringing. No condemnation. No judgment. Just love and unconditional acceptance.”
A noble pursuit, to be sure, but she was leaving something out, something important. “How do you fund this place?”
“The children’s mothers pay a monthly boarding fee, when they can. Some of the fathers help out as well, but not many.” She dropped her gaze to the floor and sighed. “Most men deny responsibility when a woman who isn’t his wife finds herself in trouble.”
As he silently studied Laney’s bent head, Marc wondered about her father, no doubt a member of the group of men she’d mentioned. Marc saw the true beauty in her now. The kind that came from a heart that sacrificed everything for children no one else wanted, not even their own parents. Children like she had once been, scared and alone.
When she looked up again, he noticed the dark circles and lines of exhaustion dancing across her face. Her schedule had to be grueling, working here
during the day and at his hotel at night.
Marc understood a lot about Laney now, and admired her all the more.
But she hadn’t shared any of this information with him willingly. Had it not been for Johnny’s fast fingers, Marc might never have found out about Charity House. He had to remember that, or else he might find himself doing something foolish. Like falling in love with Laney O’Connor.
A woman who hadn’t trusted him enough to share the most important part of her life with him—her home, and the children she cared for.
“I take it the loan you have with Prescott was for this place.”
“Renovations were needed.”
Marc looked around him, drank in the luxury. Moving through the area he touched a vase, a crystal ornament, a porcelain pitcher. “Don’t you think you overreached necessity a little?”
“Perhaps.” She looked around, sighed. “But most of this came with the house. Understand, Marc, this is the only home most of these children have ever known. I want to keep it intact, down to every trinket. I want to provide a sense of permanency that never changes, no matter what comes at us from the outside world.”
That was her reasoning for the fancy furnishings?
“What if you fail to raise the rest of the money for your loan with Prescott?” He couldn’t keep all the anger out of his voice. “What happens then?”
“I won’t fail.”
How could she possibly know that? “Laney, you aren’t thinking about the long-term consequences. So you pay off your loan, this time, what happens if you get strapped for money again? Sell the furniture, the trinkets?”
“If I have to, then yes.”
He looked around him again, gauged the value of the furniture and trinkets, found himself becoming the voice of reason. “A house this size, with so many mouths to feed, takes more money than these furnishings would bring in, a lot more.”
“You make it sound as if I’m fighting a losing battle.”
“Aren’t you?” She’d already admitted funds didn’t come in on a regular basis. “You still didn’t answer my question. What happens if your money runs out again?”
“Then I find another way to stay afloat.”
