“My life is as it should be. Working at the store with Father is what I’ve been raised to do.” Lucas looked at the piano keys, fisting his fingers to prevent playing them.
“But it’s not your heart’s joy, Lucas,” I argued. “You should perform. Write your own songs. Travel around the country and share your remarkable talent with others.”
Lucas’s eyes flashed with eagerness and desire for a moment before dimming. “I know you wish the best for me, Rissa. But I know I’m to remain here, working at Russell’s.”
“Be brave like Savannah, Lucas. Break the bonds of expectations set upon you by your mother. Fight for your heart’s desire and let nothing separate you from it.”
Lucas watched me with guarded hope. “You’ve encouraged me for years, Rissa, and your faith in me has brought tremendous solace when it appeared no one supported me. I don’t know if I can do what you encourage.”
I gripped his arm, hoping to have his full attention. “You’re brave, Lucas. As brave as Savannah or I. Have faith in that.”
Lucas nodded, and embraced me. I heard him stutter out a breath. “Thank you for your belief in me, Rissa.”
CHAPTER 11
“WHEN ARE YOU GOING to announce your news?” Sophie asked as she sat next to me on a settee in the back parlor. The bright light of an early December day lit the back room, although a cold wind blew outside, with harsh gusts rattling the windows.
I turned to face her, lowering my pen. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t act innocent with me, my girl,” Sophie said. Her expression turned cautious and concerned. “I know a pregnant woman when I see one.”
“Sophie! Hush,” I said as I rose to shut the sitting room door.
“Ah, so it is true.” She smiled with a satisfied smirk.
I glowered at her before sitting next to her. “Yes. As you somehow discovered, I’m with child. I … I haven’t told anyone yet.”
“Not even your young man?”
“Especially not him,” I said. “He’d worry about me so far away and want me either to stay here to have the baby or to return immediately. I have plenty of time to travel yet.”
Sophronia watched me with nostalgia. “My fondest memories of my marriage were when I was expecting. My husband would rub my back when it ached and spend hours with me, touching my belly to feel the baby move. We’d spend time together, with no need for words.”
“Sophie,” I whispered as I fought the need to see Gabriel. To be held by him. To share with him our wondrous news.
“Don’t deny yourself those memories with your husband out of some sense of duty to your family here. Go home. Be with him. He has every right to spoil you properly now that you’re to have his child.”
“He spoiled me, even when he thought there was no hope of us having a child.”
“Why would he believe that?”
“I doubted for months my ability to have a child. After the tea, I bled heavily. I think I made it too strong. A doctor in Missoula said there was no way to determine if Gabriel and I were unlucky or if it were due to what had happened that spring.” I shared a long look with Sophie where she nodded her understanding.
“Of course you presumed it was due to your drinking the tea.”
I nodded and took a deep breath. “But when I found the courage to tell Gabriel, he was more upset I hadn’t trusted him with my fears. He was unconcerned with the possibility we might never have children.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t like them.”
“No, he’s very fond of them. However, I think he remembered his friend’s near death from childbirth in Butte. Amelia, the miner’s widow? She’d had a baby girl right before her husband died, and Gabriel was there. I heard Gabriel muttering to Ronan once about how hard the birth was and that he would rather have no children than have me suffer the same.”
“Ah, a good man then,” Sophie said with a smile. “Don’t take too long to return to him, my girl. These are moments you’ll never regain.”
***
I WALKED FROM SOPHIE’S house toward Russell’s to visit Aunt Betsy. She planned to leave tomorrow, and I wanted to see her again. Savannah had refused to come with me, unwilling to suffer her mother’s disdain. I walked through the Back Bay and into the South End. Although I wouldn’t visit Mrs. Smythe today, I wanted to walk by my parents’ house.
As I turned onto Union Park, I paused to stare at the oval-shaped park. I walked slowly down the sidewalk, finding solace in the unchanged bow-fronted brick homes that faced the park. I closed my eyes for a moment as I faced my da’s house, memories washing over me of Mama, Da and Gabriel, coming and going through the front door. I blinked and continued walking.
After a few steps along the cobbled walkway, I stumbled on the uneven bricks. A man sitting on a stoop in the cold midafternoon watched as I righted myself. I blushed and smiled at him as I resumed my walk toward my uncle’s store. After a few steps, I stopped and froze in place before spinning to stare at the man.
He watched me with an amused expression. “I wondered if you’d recognize me.”
I shivered at his voice and took an automatic step backward as he rose and approached me. “You’re dead.”
“No, my darling Clarissa, I’m not. It was meant to look like I’d died in that wretched fire.” His arrogant smile made my heart stutter. “I’m glad my ploy was successful.”
I hit him on the arm before jerking my hand away. “Mr. Carlin almost died trying to save … to save …” I shook my head as I stared at him.
“To save a dead man’s corpse?” Cameron threw his head back and laughed. “I knew if I were to be successful, they’d need to believe I’d died. I knew no one would miss one of the drunks from Front Street.”
“How could you?” I asked as I stared at him with dawning horror.
“Do you really believe I was going to spend my life living in that pathetic little town married to such an inconsequential woman?” He shook his head. “If so, you never really knew me, Clarissa.”
I hugged my arms around myself, dazed. “On that we agree.”
He took a step toward me, and the cloying scent of bay rum overwhelmed me. I shuddered and exhaled through my nose, attempting to dispel the scent. I tried to back away but he gripped my arms. “I knew I needed to return to Boston, but I wasn’t going to return a pauper.”
“You stole the money,” I said. “Not Mr. Carlin.” I glared at him and tried to wrench my arms free. However, he had a firm grip and spun me, propelling me backward until I was pushed up against one of my neighbor’s side walls, near their servants’ entrance. I was hidden from passersby as he loomed over me.
“Maybe I did. You’ll never be able to prove it.” He grinned at me as I tried to shrink away from him and his touch. “What, Clarissa? Not so brave now that you don’t have that lumbering laborer around to protect you?”
His taunt made me shudder, and I tried to struggle against him. “Imagine my joy to realize it was you walking down the street. Alone. I thought to myself that, finally, we could have our time together that we’ve been so sorely deprived of since you moved to Montana.”
“If you think for one moment that I’d relish spending any time with you—” I gasped as he gripped my hair and tilted my head back. A tear leaked out as I again realized I was at his mercy.
“I know you would. You’re that type of woman. Passionate. Thirsty for adventure.” His breaths along my ear caused me to shudder uncontrollably. “And now we don’t have to worry about any interference from that husband of yours.”
At the mention of Gabriel and my life with him, one that I’d struggled so hard to build, a rage filled me. Cameron had me pressed against the wall, but he leaned away from me a moment to study my face. I remembered a lesson Colin had taught me years ago and jerked up my knee, hitting him squarely in his groin. Any pleasure leeched from his face, and he doubled over in agony.
“Don’t ever touch me again.” I stepped around him towa
rd the walkway. I glanced back to see him on his knees, grimacing in pain before I began a hasty walk toward Washington Street.
I wanted to see Aunt Betsy, but knew I wouldn’t be able to handle an afternoon verbally sparring with Aunt Matilda. I approached Washington Street and ascended the new metallic steps that brought me to the elevated railway stop. When the train approached, I boarded and headed toward the North End.
However, rather than visit Florence today, I headed toward Gabriel’s old workshop. I knew Savannah was to visit Jeremy this afternoon, and I needed her. I rode the train to North Union Station, descending the stairs near Canal Street. I was too agitated to note any of the local charm that had always made my walks to Gabriel’s workshop interesting.
After climbing the stairs to the workshop, I leaned in with one ear against the door, but didn’t hear noise from inside. I remembered the few times I had visited Gabriel and then blushed at the thought of what could be occurring. I knocked loudly and heard low voices before footsteps approached the door.
“Clarissa,” Jeremy said as he watched me with frank curiosity. “Savannah told me that you were to visit your aunts.” He opened the door farther, and I walked in. Savannah sat on a bench by the table, papers spread out in front of her. The stove heated the room to a comfortable degree. The only thing missing was a pot of tea. And Gabriel.
I turned toward Jeremy, blinking away memories and a tear as I attempted to focus on him. “You kept the chair,” I whispered. I touched his arm, and he nodded with a shy smile.
Rather than sit in my rocking chair, I moved toward the table and sat on the opposite side of Savannah on another bench. Jeremy joined us, settling next to Savannah.
“Somehow I don’t believe you’re here for nostalgia’s sake,” Jeremy said as he studied me.
“I remember telling you that Cameron died,” I said, pausing to clear my throat as my voice broke at Cameron’s name. They both nodded. Savannah set aside the papers and pencil, paying full attention to me.
“I thought I’d walk to see Aunt Betsy and Aunt Matilda. It’s not that cold today, and I wanted to stroll past my old street.” I smiled as I shared a rueful smile with Jeremy. “I wanted a bit of nostalgia, remembering my walks with Gabriel, reliving our conversations. Remembering Da.”
“What happened, Rissa? Why aren’t you at my parents’ house?” Savannah asked. She reached across the table, and I grasped her hand.
“I saw a ghost,” I whispered.
Jeremy squinted at me and cocked his head to the side, a move so reminiscent of Gabriel that I had to look away for a moment. “Not Cameron.”
I nodded.
“How?” Savannah breathed. “He died in a fire.”
“He made it look like he died. Instead a drunk from Front Street was incinerated in that blaze. And Sebastian nearly died trying to save him.” I closed my eyes and whispered, “I’d reconciled myself that he’d only torment me from my nightmares. I never imagined I’d see him, alive, talking to me again.”
“Rissa,” Savannah murmured.
“What did he do to you?” Jeremy demanded in a low, dangerous voice.
I shook my head dazedly, the memory of today intermingling with the memory from the sitting room nearly two years ago. I attempted to quell a shudder but failed.
“Did he touch you?” Jeremy asked. I felt him near me, but he refrained from getting closer.
I met his worried gaze. “Yes, he did. He intimated that, since I had managed to separate myself from Gabriel, we could have a reunion of sorts.” I half smiled at Jeremy’s growl of displeasure before I sobered. “He pushed me against a wall, and all I could smell was his cologne. And feel so weak again.”
“Rissa,” Savannah whispered. Her quiet entreaty brought me back to the present.
“I finally remembered one of Colin’s lessons to me when I was younger.”
Jeremy watched me, a hopeful, wicked gleam in his eye. “Please tell me you did more than stomp on his foot.”
I laughed at his wry words. “Yes, I kneed him in his … in his …” I waved my free hand but didn’t know what to say.
“Delicate zone,” Jeremy said as he nodded his approval. “Good. I hope you left him flat on the pavement, ruing the day he ever dared to speak with you again.”
“I did,” I said with pride.
“Good for you, Rissa.” Savannah bit her lip. “But why was he in your old neighborhood?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “It was such a shock to see him, I never thought to wonder why he was there. The only person he knows is Mrs. Smythe.”
“He couldn’t have an interest in her,” Savannah breathed.
“They’re two sides of the same coin,” Jeremy said. “I think they’d be perfect for each other.”
I snickered my agreement.
“Wasn’t there some sort of scandal involving money surrounding his death?” Savannah asked.
“Yes. When he died, the company safe was breached at the same time as the fire. Everyone accused Sebastian, the mill foreman, of stealing the money.” I shook my head in consternation. “Anyone with sense would know he would never steal from his employers. He’s loyal and smart and wouldn’t do that. Besides, at the time he was supposedly busy stealing the money, he was in the mill, trying to save who he thought was Cameron. And nearly dying in the process.”
“Maybe they thought there was some sort of conspiracy?” Jeremy said. “That he would look to be aboveboard when he was really working with others to rob the company.”
“Whatever you say, I’ll never believe Sebastian had anything to do with the missing money. He’s a good man.” I shuddered. “Besides, Cameron admitted today he wasn’t going to return to Boston a pauper and mentioned the money from the safe. I’m sure he stole it. I just never thought he’d resort to murder.”
“Well, it’s your word against the town opinion in Missoula,” Jeremy said. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“I think we should have a gathering of minds,” Savannah said. “Let’s all meet at Sophie’s tonight. Jeremy, come with Florence and Richard. I’ll telephone Aunt Betsy, and we’ll concoct a plan.”
“I agree,” I said as I rose. “I should leave. I’m interrupting.” I waved, indicating the pile of papers in front of Savannah.
“Oh, I’m just trying to determine what we’ll need in our new home. Delusions of grandeur as I know everything we’ll have will be secondhand,” she said with a contented smile.
“I’ll escort you home, Clarissa. I don’t want you walking around with Cameron lurking about.” Jeremy rose, heading toward the small coat rack.
“I’ll come too,” Savannah said. I looped my arm through Savannah’s for the trip to Sophronia’s.
***
THAT EVENING, I SAT in Sophie’s parlor, attempting to smile bravely as everyone slowly trickled in. A fire crackled, emitting a gentle heat. Scattered lamps lit on side tables provided a welcoming glow to the room, in contrast to the stark brightness that would have been provided by an overhead chandelier. I had moved nearly every chair and settee in Sophie’s parlor so that they formed a large half circle, facing the fireplace, a low black walnut table in the middle. All seats were occupied. I sat nearest the fire, although I wished I had sat closer to the windows, as I felt a trickle of sweat run down my back.
“Well, my girl, you’ve gathered us together for some purpose. I hope you’ll soon share it with us.” Sophie’s voice was scratchier than usual as she tried to puzzle out why we were all assembled.
“A few of you know what happened today, so please forgive me for repeating myself. I was to visit Aunt Betsy and Aunt Matilda this afternoon. However, on my walk to Russell’s, I met Cameron.”
Colin jerked in his chair. “That’s impossible. He died in the sawmill fire. He’s buried in Missoula.”
“It wasn’t him who died, Col. Some poor drunk from Front Street. Didn’t it seem odd to you at Da’s funeral that his m
other wasn’t angrier with me? At the time I was focused more on Mrs. Smythe, but, now that I think about it, I should have expected his mother to be distraught at seeing me. And she wasn’t.”
“What does he want?” Aunt Betsy asked.
“An illicit affair with Clarissa,” Jeremy said as I paused too long to answer.
“No,” Sophie gasped. I had rarely seen her shocked, and this was one of those moments. “The insolence!” Sophie said as she fanned herself. Her eyes flashed her displeasure.
“What can we do?” Florence asked.
“I don’t know. I have no desire to see him again, but a good friend of Colin’s, Gabriel’s and mine was accused of stealing the company money from a safe during that fire. I believe, and Cameron intimated, that he stole the money. I doubt I can obtain a binding confession from him. But I’d like some proof that he’s alive.”
“Have someone take a photograph of him,” Jeremy said. “That would prove the man is alive and help your friend in Missoula.”
“Would we have to hire a photographer?” Florence asked.
“No, we’ll buy one of those Brownie cameras from Kodak. One of you”—Sophie gazed with meaning at Jeremy, Richard and Colin—“will keep yourselves hidden as Clarissa is speaking with him.”
“If we splurge, we can buy one of their new pocket cameras,” Aunt Betsy said. “It would be much less obvious.”
“But how will we prove that she is speaking to him now and not when she used to live in Boston?” Savannah asked.
“The first picture taken should be one of the day’s newspapers so it dates the photos,” Jeremy said.
“Maybe I could also carry the same paper with me,” I said.
“Exactly,” Sophie said.
“We have to be close to them to obtain a decent photo of Cameron, Mrs. Chickering,” Jeremy said. He frowned as he envisioned the scene. “If there’s one thing I learned in the war, the best information you receive is that which the person freely supplies. We want him to feel relaxed with Clarissa, and, if he sees one of us, he won’t be.”
Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5 Page 10
