by Delia Parr
Straight ahead, two large wooden desks littered with papers, pens, and inkwells, as well as stacks of newspapers, stood side by side. Behind them, a partition separated the front office from the printing area that was now silent, waiting only for the afternoon when the day’s news would be written and then put to press overnight.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
Jake stiffened as his brother’s hurried footsteps drew nearer. When a door in the partition opened, he clenched and unclenched his fists, anticipating the moment when he would come face-to-face with his brother for the first time in two very long, very difficult years.
Without looking up, Clifford walked into the room to greet his caller, wiping his ink-stained hands with a gray cloth. He was still quite a bit shorter in stature than Jake, but the auburn hair they had in common was now tinged with just a hint of gray and his face was lined and shadowed by overwork.
“I was hoping to get more of this ink off before I—”
Looking up, he stopped abruptly and stared at Jake, while the cloth lay motionless in one of his hands.
For several heavy heartbeats, Jake met his brother’s gaze and held it. “They say you can judge a man quickly by looking at his hands, in which case I would venture to say that you’re still a man completely dedicated to his work.” He felt oddly embarrassed by how rough his own hands had become over the past two years.
Clifford walked forward, but stopped behind the desk he had claimed as his own when they first opened their newspaper four years ago with nothing more than belief in themselves— and a line of credit from the bank to augment their mutual investment of funds they had inherited from their stepfather. He tossed the cloth to the top of his desk. “They also say you can judge a man by his actions, in which case I would venture to say that you are—”
“A coward? An incompetent, irresponsible cad?” Jake offered quickly before his brother could utter the words.
Clifford nodded. “At the very least, although I could add a few more negatives, if you’ve a mind to listen,” he countered as he walked around the desk and stopped directly in front of him.
Jake braced himself by locking his knees and straightening his shoulders. “I’ll listen. I deserve anything and everything you have to say to me.”
“Probably more, if truth be told, although I must admit that I’m quite at a loss to simplify into a few words what you did to me and to the business we started together when you walked away, leaving nothing more than a note for me to read.”
“I know,” Jake offered. “I’m sorry—”
“Unfortunately,” his brother continued, without allowing Jake time to completely apologize, “I had no choice but to stay here and try to clean up the mess you left behind if I had any hope of recouping the losses we suffered.” His voice reflected a deep hurt that tugged at Jake’s conscience.
Glancing down at the tools on the floor, Clifford shook his head. “Did you ever once think about me while you were traipsing anywhere and everywhere, earning your keep as a common handyman with our father’s old tools? Or were you too busy feeling sorry for yourself to give me a single thought?”
“Of course I thought about you,” Jake said.
“And just how would I know that? You never wrote. Not even once. If it hadn’t been for Capt. Grant, I wouldn’t have even known you were still alive, though I suspect you might have been back sooner if it hadn’t been for him.”
“Under the circumstances, I wasn’t certain you’d even care or be willing to read a letter from me,” Jake replied, without defending the man who had given Jake free passage on his ship whenever he needed to move on from one town to another along the eastern seaboard.
Clifford sighed. “Circumstances? I didn’t create those circumstances. You did, the moment you took up the cause for that woman and stirred up public interest in her, even though I warned you to investigate more thoroughly. And when the reporters for the Herald and the Transcript and the Sun uncovered the fact she was a swindler, you didn’t even have the courage to stay and face the truth: Because of your incompetence, that woman and her accomplices disappeared with thousands of dollars. All because you assured the public that rescuing an elderly woman who had allegedly been the victim of her own vulnerability was a worthy cause.”
Clifford paused and shook his head. “The Galaxy became a laughingstock. I couldn’t even give copies of it away for months,” he admitted, his voice crackling with anger. He braced both hands on his desk and leaned forward. “You didn’t even have the courage to stay and help me to rebuild what was left of the newspaper. Did you know I had to move a cot into this cellar because I didn’t have enough money to live anywhere else? Of course not. You didn’t even stay long enough to face me, not even once, did you?”
Jake swallowed the lump in his throat. “No. I-I couldn’t. I never meant for you to carry the burden of what I’d done. I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, Clifford.”
His brother stood up straight. “I’ll never be able to forget what you did, Jake, and I’d be less than honest if I said that I’d ever be able to forgive you, either. So if that’s why you’re here, I’m afraid you’ll just have to be as disappointed in me as I am in you.”
Stung, Jake nodded stiffly. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he struggled to choose the right words to say so that his brother would not refuse his request to return to work, in spite of how unforgiving he claimed to be. “You have every right to be angry with me—”
“How good of you to admit it to my face,” his brother snapped. “Not that you care, but I’ve worked long and hard for the past two years without your help. The Galaxy is second only to the Sun at the moment, thanks to the Livingstone trial, and I’m determined to top their circulation by year’s end. If it’s money you want, I’m willing to return your initial investment, but frankly, I don’t think you deserve any of the profits I’ve managed to accumulate.”
Jake cleared his throat. “All I want is to come back and work with you.”
“Work here again? Are you daft?”
“You just admitted that I still own an interest in the business,” Jake insisted. “I don’t want money or any of the profits you’ve earned over the past two years. I just want a chance to prove myself, to you and to the readers I disappointed.”
“I’ve worked very hard to regain the people’s trust,” his brother countered. “Readers have a long memory, especially when they’ve been hoodwinked out of their hard-earned money. And just in case they’ve forgotten how you led them down that ill-fated path, there are reporters for the other penny dailies who will be more than happy to remind them, even if I decided to take a risk and let you return to work here.”
“Then don’t tell anyone I’m back here working again,” Jake argued. “Give me an assignment outside of the city. Anything. I’ll travel anywhere, for any length of time, to investigate the background of any story you choose. Just let me prove to you that I can pursue a story and investigate it until I’ve uncovered the whole truth of the matter and not just the truth I hope or want to see.”
“And if you fail?” Clifford asked.
Jake stiffened. “I won’t fail.”
“But what if you do? What then? Where will you run off to this time?”
“I won’t fail. No matter how long it takes or how hard I have to work, I won’t let you down again. Please, Clifford. I just want one more chance.”
Clifford’s gaze hardened. “If you fail this time, you’ll sign over your interest in the newspaper to me, leaving me free to find a more suitable partner. That’s the best I can do.”
Jake extended his hand. “Agreed.”
Instead of shaking his brother’s hand, Clifford walked over to the desk Jake once used and sorted through a bunch of newspapers lying on top. “Are you familiar with the Livingstone trial, or have you been living in total oblivion for the past few weeks?”
“Actually, I’ve been living for the past few months in a very small town in New Ham
pshire, helping to rebuild a church that was destroyed by fire. They have absolutely no interest in anything beyond county lines and barely support their local newspaper.”
Clifford snorted. “What about the Jewett case two years ago, right after you left?”
Jake nodded. Headlines up and down the East Coast had roared with the Jewett case for a good year after the trial ended. “That I remember.”
Clifford paused for a moment and looked at his brother.
Jake shrugged. “I was living in Philadelphia at the time, and the papers carried the story there, too. As I recall, despite overwhelming evidence, the young man was obviously guilty of killing Helen Jewett, but he was acquitted—a case of where the victim’s ill-fated life as a prostitute mattered less to the jurors than the status of the man who killed her.”
“Exactly as the Galaxy predicted long before any of the other newspapers, which helped reestablish the paper’s credibility,” Clifford noted with pride. “The Livingstone trial, which shouldn’t reach the jury for at least another two weeks or so, is generating even more interest than the Jewett case did, because the man charged with killing this particular prostitute just happens to be a minister. I’m sure you remember him and his organization, Prodigal Daughters, which was designed to bring the city’s ‘fallen angels’ back to the faith. He was rather controversial even before this poor woman was found murdered only hours after he left her.”
“He’s the minister who confronted those women on the street and tried to convert them,” Jake offered.
“And visited the brothels regularly at night to see them, which did not endear him to the owners of the brothels or the city elites who frequented them,” Clifford added. “Here. Read these,” he ordered as he shoved a handful of papers into Jake’s hands. “Learn everything there is to know about the case.”
“If the trial is right here in the city, it’s going to be hard to hide the fact that I’m back working here, assuming that’s what you have in mind,” Jake stated.
“But you won’t be here. Not for very long, although I expect you to keep a very low profile while you’re here,” his brother said. “There’s no doubt that Reverend Livingstone is guilty, and the city will not accept his acquittal like they did for Jewett’s murderer, which means his fate is sealed. But right now, the big question that’s fueling public interest isn’t about the trial itself. It’s the mystery surrounding Livingstone’s daughter, Ruth. She’s gone missing, and no one, including two of my best reporters, has been able to find her.”
“What do you think happened to her?” Jake asked as he began skimming the headlines on the four-page newspapers.
“Speculation seems to favor the idea that she didn’t go into hiding to avoid the scandal of the trial, but that her father may have killed her, too.”
Jake abruptly stopped reading and met his brother’s determined gaze. “You actually think he killed her?”
“I don’t know, although in all truth I suspect he didn’t. He doesn’t seem to have many supporters left, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that one of them is giving her a place to hide from the press as well as the officials who would dearly love to speak to her. If you’re serious about redeeming yourself, then that’s your assignment. Find her.”
“Find her,” Jake repeated, envisioning days, if not weeks, spent traveling again, risking all that he owned to meet his brother’s challenge.
“If she’s dead, you need to find her body and have it positively identified,” Clifford demanded. “If she’s alive, you need to find out why she went into hiding and whether or not she has evidence that would help to convict her father. Either way will suit both our needs. Just find Ruth Livingstone before anyone else does. Otherwise you’re finished here. Permanently.”
Jake swallowed hard. His brother had given him a challenge almost impossible to meet, but it was a challenge he could ill-afford to turn down. “Is there anywhere I can stay while I’m in the city?”
“I still have that cot in the back storage room. You can sleep there. Just be discreet. I want as few people as possible knowing you’re back in the city again,” Clifford snapped.
“I’ve slept on worse more than once during the past two years,” Jake replied. He knew he would never again find a good night’s sleep if he failed his brother professionally again. But he was determined to earn even more—his brother’s forgiveness.
Five
Toms River
Breathing hard, Ruth shut the bedroom door and leaned back against it for support. Her fingers were trembling so hard she had trouble unbuttoning the cuff of the sleeve on her work gown. When she finally managed to free the button and fold back the cuff, she blinked hard to clear her vision, stared at her forearm, and nearly gasped.
The circle of flesh just above her wrist bone was already turning purple. And she was just as shocked to see there were droplets of blood oozing from several places. She had never expected that Lily would actually bite her, but that was the least of her worries right now.
With Lily safe and secure in the crib Phanaby had borrowed from a member of the congregation, Ruth ignored the toddler’s cries of protest and rushed to the kitchen. She moistened a cloth with cold water and gently pressed the cloth against the wound and winced. “She bit me. She actually bit me!”
As the throbbing finally eased into a dull pain, Ruth removed the cloth, looked at her forearm, and groaned. She would wear a small but nasty bruise there for a good while, but at least Lily had not bitten her on her cheek, which would be impossible to hide.
When Lily let out another burst of shrill screams, Ruth hunched her shoulders and cringed. There was no doubt that anyone downstairs in the apothecary would be audience to her crying.
Embarrassed by her inability to handle Lily and dreading the apology she owed to Phanaby for what Lily had done, which inspired this tantrum, she took a deep breath. After she checked to make sure the bleeding had stopped, she rinsed the cloth before setting it into the sink. She quickly rolled her cuff back into place again before she heard footsteps rushing up the back staircase.
Hurrying out of the kitchen and into the hallway, Ruth reached her bedroom door just as Phanaby and Elias came rushing through the door at the top of the staircase. Although she was grateful that Lily’s screams had quieted to a whimper by then, she still felt guilty for the look of pure panic in their eyes. The poor woman’s face was as pale as the full moon that had been shining last night while Ruth was rocking Lily back to sleep for the third time. Her husband, who hurried forward to stand alongside her, was panting for breath.
“What happened to Lily?” Phanaby gushed, her concerned gaze locked on the closed door.
Ruth managed a weak smile and battled tears that welled again. “I’m so sorry that we worried you both up here. She’s fine. Just having a bit of a tantrum again. I-I put her into her crib, but as you can hear, she’s quieting down now.”
Elias furrowed his brow. “Are you sure she’s all right?”
Nodding, Ruth moistened her lips. “I’m sure.”
Phanaby let out a huge sigh and patted her heart. “I thought for certain she’d gotten hurt. She was screaming so loudly, I heard her outside. I dropped the laundry I was hanging up into the dirt and ran right back inside where I nearly bumped into Elias, who had left Reverend Haines in the shop to run up here to see if you needed help with the poor child.”
Ruth cringed. “I-I’m so sorry. I’ll wash everything again for you,” she assured the woman before glancing at her husband. “Please ask Reverend Haines to forgive us for making him wait on our account,” she said, although she was not worried overmuch. She could not think of anyone else in the village who would be more forgiving or more discreet than the pastor of the small church where the Garners had taken both her and Lily to attend services.
Elias nodded but glanced at the bedroom door before meeting Ruth’s gaze again. “If you’re certain she’s all right, perhaps it might be best if I leave the two of you to sort through
this … this difficulty.”
“She’s perfectly fine,” Ruth insisted.
While he quickly disappeared back down the hall, Phanaby cocked her ear to the bedroom door and smiled. “She’s quiet now,” she whispered. “Do you think we could just check on her to make sure she’s not quiet because she’s getting into more trouble? She nearly climbed out of the crib a few days ago, remember?”
Ruth groaned, turned the doorknob, and eased the door open. She tiptoed into the room, with Phanaby right on her heels, but they did not need to cross the room to peek into the crib. Lily was sound asleep, lying at the top of Ruth’s bed with her tiny arms wrapped around Ruth’s pillow. The two fingers she liked to suck were still in her mouth, and she had Ruth’s shawl gripped tightly in her other hand.
As annoyed as she was with the little imp, Ruth took one look at her and felt a hard, quick tug on her heart. Lily’s poor little face was swollen and blotched with patches of red, the ringlets that curled about her face were wet with her tears, and all Ruth could think about was how very frightened and confused this little one must be after being swept from her caretaker and the mother she would never see again to live with strangers.
Silently, Phanaby took Ruth’s elbow and led her out of the room, easing the door closed again before she started them both down the hallway. “Since Lily can climb out of that crib, it’ll probably be best if we return it to Mrs. Martin before Lily has a chance to climb out again and hurt herself. She seemed so happy when I left you to go outside. Whatever happened to upset her so?”
Being careful to protect her wrist, Ruth took a deep breath. She stopped in front of the Garners’ bedroom door, forcing Phanaby to halt her steps. “After you went outside to hang up the clothes you’d washed, I wanted to help. So I moved Lily’s chair into the corner, sat her down, and gave her a few of her toys to keep her occupied while I emptied the washtub,” she offered.
She paused as a warm blush spread from her cheeks down the full length of her neck and then poured out yet another apology. “The washtub was too heavy for me to lift, so I started taking out the water, a potful at a time, and … and I suppose I was trying so hard not to spill any of the water on the floor that I didn’t notice that Lily managed to slide off her chair and disappear. By the time I realized she was gone and found her, I’m afraid I was too late. I-I’m sorry. I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to make amends. Truly, I will,” she insisted.
