Wendy Lindstrom

by Kissing in the Dark

  o0o

  Faith gave Cora a bath, read her books to her and rocked her to sleep. She put her in bed, then went downstairs to her father’s study where he and Duke were talking. She accepted a glass of wine from the lawyer, then sat in a large leather chair.

  Cuvier stood by the fireplace, deep in thought. Finally, he sighed and turned up his palms. “There’s no easy way to explain this, so I’m going to state the bald truth. I was a young man just out of law school when I first visited your mother’s brothel,” he said. “My flower of choice was Rose. Every time. She told me it was foolish to care about her, but that didn’t stop me from falling in love. I thought we could find a way to be together, but she insisted it was impossible . . . .”

  His subsequent silence unnerved Faith. If he left the story unfinished, she would never feel settled. “Did you know about me?”

  “Not right away,” he said, refilling his glass from the decanter on the wine cart. “My uncle offered me a job at his law firm in Chicago, and Rose insisted I take the opportunity to start my law career. I thought if I earned enough money, I could bring Rose to Chicago with me.” He rested his wineglass on the stone mantel. “I didn’t make it back to see her until the second year, and it was only twice, but each time I asked her to come to Chicago with me, she refused. By the third year, I was miserable. I quit the firm and moved back to Syracuse.” Sadness filled his eyes. “That’s when your mother finally told me she had a daughter. But she insisted you weren’t mine. I didn’t know what to believe because she was always twisting her words and changing her mind about seeing me.”

  Faith nodded to let him know she understood, that his absence in her life wasn’t completely his fault.

  “It didn’t matter to me. I wanted to marry your mother and move us to another city, but she refused. When I pushed, she called me a fool and said I was becoming bothersome, and that she didn’t want me to visit her anymore. I stormed out, feeling like the fool she called me. It took me ten years to discover that my father had paid her a visit. He’d told her about my successful family and my achievements in law school, and explained that I would forfeit everything and ruin my life if I continued to visit her. So she made sure I didn’t come back.”

  Of all the possible scenarios Faith had imagined about the man who fathered her, this wasn’t one of them. He’d always been the one at fault. Her mother had always been the victim. But the truth was harsher, because they were all victims. Her mother had loved a man enough to save him from his own destructive love. Her father had loved a woman from the wrong side of town. And their children had suffered the shame of their sins.

  “I loved Rose from the minute I first saw her, and I still wanted her, so I went to see her. She welcomed me as a lover, but refused to marry me. Being continually spurned and lied to finally wore me down, and one day I just decided not to go back.”

  Which explained why he didn’t know about Adam. Because if he’d ever seen the boy, he would know Adam was his son.

  “I thought by helping the judge push the theater project, it would raise property values and your mother could sell the brothel and buy that house she wanted.”

  Pain squeezed Faith’s heart to know her mother had shared her dream with this man—and that he might have been able to make her dream come true.

  “I didn’t know Judge Stone was working against us. I thought he was an honorable man like his brother and father. He promised me great career rewards if I worked hard and kept my nose clean. So when he warned me to stay away from the badlands section of the city, I never suspected it was because of your mother. But now I see what a blind fool I’ve been. Your mother sent me a letter shortly before she died, but I thought . . .” He sighed, a deep sadness filling his eyes. “I didn’t trust her. I suspected that my father was using her again to manipulate me. He wants me to go back to his brother’s firm in Chicago.”

  “May I ask what was in her letter?” Faith asked.

  “Rose said Stone was trying to strip her of her property. I did some digging while I was at the courthouse watching Stone this evening, and it appears she was right. Stone has recently filed papers with the city to list the property as abandoned and seize it for his theater project.” Cuvier shook his head. “I feel like the world’s biggest fool. Judge Stone was using me and your mother to protect his investment.” He handed the letter to Faith. “I let your husband read it while you were tending Cora.”

  Faith’s hands shook as she accepted the letter. Her mother’s pretty script filled the page and brought an ache to Faith’s heart.

  My dearest Steven,

  I need your help. Your father may have directed my actions years ago, but he was right. You would have regretted the sacrifices and losing your position of respect. To confess that Faith was your daughter would have tipped that first domino in your downfall—and perhaps your eventual hatred of me. I kept the truth from you, planning to take our baby away from this place and give her a decent life, but I didn’t have the money and neither did you. I loved you, Steven, and couldn’t stay away from you, but when I got pregnant with Adam, I knew you would recognize him as your own so I had to drive you away before we both did something foolish and ruined your career.

  I thought Judge Stone with his big promises could help me and the children break away from this life. He promised to buy the brothel property for double its value if I became his mistress for a year. He talked of tearing down the brothel and building a grand theater right here on this very property. I thought it a noble and admirable plan. He promised to move me and the children to a nice house in a new town where we could build a respectable and happy life. Like a bird following a trail of bread crumbs, I was too busy gobbling up his promises to realize I’d walked myself into a cage.

  Stone intends to strip me of my property and home, Steven. He swears he’ll ruin you if I disappear. He is threatening to take Cora from me if I don’t sign the deed over to him. I can’t run and I can’t stay. I have begged Faith to pose as a widow and take Adam and Cora to a safe place, but she fears we’ll never see each other again.

  I’m afraid to take a step in either direction for fear of causing more harm, but I refuse to let Judge Stone take away my only means of escaping this life. Please, Steven, go back to Chicago and take our children with you. I know I’ve sacrificed my chance at love and happiness but please help Faith, Adam, and Cora find the life they deserve.

  Please accept my love and apology, and respond quickly.

  Celia Rose

  Faith lowered the letter to her lap. For the first time in her life, she understood her mother’s deep sadness. Each time her mother had prodded her to move away, Faith wondered if they were too much of a burden to her. But her mother had just wanted them safe. She’d made awful choices, and there were many things she could have done better, many ways she could have made Faith, Adam, and Cora feel wanted, but for all her faults and failings, she was only guilty of being naive and thinking with her heart instead of her head.

  “Can this letter be used as evidence against Stone?” Duke asked.

  Cuvier nodded. “It might not do much good, but I’m willing to face the consequences.”

  “You can’t do that.” Faith lifted the letter. “My mother sacrificed her heart to protect you from ruin. To bring all this out now would make her sacrifice worthless.”

  Cuvier sighed. “It may not serve us anyhow. But Stone has undoubtedly swindled others. I’ll look over the deals I did for him and see if I can track down any of those former homeowners.”

  “Don’t let Stone know what you’re doing before we have a noose around his neck,” Duke said.

  “No worry. Now that I know how corrupt he is, we all need to be careful.”

  “Why would he do this?” Faith folded the letter. “Why would he manipulate my mother and orchestrate a plan that took twenty years just to make money?”

  Cuvier finished his wine and set his glass on the mantel. “I don’t know that it’s about money. But if I were to g
uess, I’d say he’s trying to outshine his brother Gordon, who is the governor of New York.”

  Duke’s mouth fell open. “Governor Stone is the judge’s brother?”

  Cuvier nodded. “They’re twins, but they’re as different as night and day. Before Gordon left Syracuse, he donated his money and intelligence to building the courthouse. The statue out front honors him and his work.”

  “So by turning the badlands into a thriving theater and business district,” Duke said, “Stone not only gets rich but gets the fame and glory for instituting the project, and possibly upstages his brother.”

  “It makes sense. His brother is running for senator, a position once held by their father. Maybe the judge is feeling pressured to measure up to his brother’s success.” Cuvier shrugged. “I don’t know what’s driving him, but I’m going to make him answer for his crimes.” Cuvier crossed to Faith. “I’m sorry I disregarded your mother’s letter, but I never knew when she was being sincere. Every time I believed her, she would do something to tear my heart out. I thought she was lying about Stone because she knew I admired him, and that the letter was a ploy by my father to get me back to Chicago.”

  Faith sighed and handed the letter to him. She didn’t blame Cuvier for being suspicious of her mother’s motives; all her life, Faith herself hadn’t known her mother’s thoughts or feelings about anything.

  “I’m sorry about all of this,” her father said, his voice filled with remorse. “I let my pride and my pain blind me to a truth I didn’t want to see. Despite your mother’s coldness, I sensed her love, and I sensed you were my daughter. But I didn’t want to know for sure, because with your mother’s constant rejection, I couldn’t bear to have a daughter in my life I wasn’t free to love.”

  His honest confession didn’t ease her pain or the years of heartache she’d suffered from being fatherless, but it finally satisfied her question of why he hadn’t come to see her. Steven Cuvier was too easily controlled by others, but he seemed a decent and sincere man. That was far better than the man she’d imagined him to be. And she could forgive him.

  “I know it’s too late for me to be a proper father to you, but would you consider letting me come see you from time to time?” A mix of hope and fear filled his eyes. “I can understand if you object, but I hope you’ll allow me the chance to get to know you.”

  Her whole life, she’d longed to hear those words from her father. To hear them now was both healing and wounding. It was too late for her to sit on her father’s lap like Cora did with Duke, to feel secure and comforted in his arms. But it wasn’t too late to befriend a man she’d been missing all her life.

  She extended her hands to him. “I’ve always kept a place for you in my heart, and I can make a place for you in my life.”

  o0o

  As Faith received her first hug from her father, Duke felt as choked by emotion as he had at his own father’s funeral. It shamed him to think he’d taken so much for granted.

  He thought about the times his dad had taken him fishing or swimming or hunting, or even when they cleaned the barn or worked the mill together. His dad had been always there, always taking care of him, until he grew too ill. Only now, as Duke witnessed Faith’s pain, could he understand just how blessed he was—and how right she was. It was easy to choose between right and wrong when you had respectable and loving parents providing for you.

  And maybe that’s what his father meant when he said a man had to live with his actions and be able to face himself in the mirror. Maybe he wasn’t talking about the laws and rules Duke had built his life on. Maybe he’d meant that a man should make choices he could live with, that each man had to decide for himself what was important, what was worth fighting for, and set his own standards. And the only true direction for Duke was to love and protect his family.

  Chapter 36

  At home in Fredonia the next evening, after an exhausting train ride from Syracuse, Faith put Cora to bed. Duke had gone to Boyd’s house to get Adam, but only Adam returned, slamming through the door, his face pinched with worry.

  “Is Cora all right?” he asked, huffing like he’d run all the way. “Duke said she was fine, but—”

  “Yes, honey, she’s fine.” But Faith could see that Adam wasn’t. She hugged him and kissed his temple. ‘This wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yes, it was.” He wrenched away. “If I wasn’t so weak, the judge wouldn’t have taken her.”

  “The judge didn’t give you a chance to fight, Adam. He kicked you in the chest. Believe me, even if I’d been outside, he probably still would have gotten her away from us. He’s a smart, powerful man. He’d probably been watching and waiting for exactly the right time to make his move.” She nudged the bottom of her brother’s chin to make him look at her. “Cora’s sleeping, but I need to run across the street to let Dahlia and Iris know we’re back. Will you stay with her?”

  His eyes widened. “You still trust me to protect her?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, Adam, I trust you. You can lock the door and let me in when I get back.”

  “What if Duke comes home first and has to knock?”

  “Then he’ll know what a smart young man you are.”

  She stepped outside, listened to the grating sound of the key turning in the lock, then hurried across the street. She entered the house without knocking, and found Iris in the kitchen near their small cookstove.

  “Duke got Cora back, and she’s all right,” she said, feeling relieved and thankful to have her baby back unharmed.

  Iris whirled, her black-diamond eyes startled and full of tears. “Thank God,” she said. “Did Duke kill the bastard?”

  In all the years Faith had known her, Iris had never cried. “N-no, I . . . we didn’t see him.”

  “Well, I’ll pay the judge a visit when I get to Syracuse.” Her shoulders drooped and she faced the stove. “I’m leaving.”

  “What? Why? Aunt Iris, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “This is your home. You have honest work here, and a decent man who wants to marry you.”

  “I can’t marry Patrick.”

  “Is that what’s making you cry?”

  Iris shook her head. “I can’t drink this tea.”

  Confused, Faith glanced at the steaming liquid. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s a purgative.”

  “Oh, Lord . . .” Faith eyed her aunt. “Did you and Patrick . . . are you expecting?”

  “I could be.” Iris sloshed the brown liquid in her cup. “I’ve taken a small dose of tansy and pennyroyal oils in my tea once a month since I . . . since I started this life. I always drank it before my monthly was due so I wouldn’t know if. . . . I couldn’t even consider having a baby.”

  “Of course not.” Faith smoothed her hand over Iris’s thin shoulders, beginning to understand the hard choices and sacrifices women like Iris made each day.

  “Your mother wouldn’t drink this.” Iris shivered and huddled closer to the stove. “She said life belonged in God’s hands, not ours.”

  Faith agreed, but she understood why her aunts, who had lain with several men a night, would cleanse their bodies each month to avoid pregnancy. Right or wrong, she couldn’t condemn them for it.

  “I’m going to move away, and if I’m . . . if I have to, I’ll pretend to be a widow like you did.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll stay here and marry Patrick.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have what it takes to be a wife and mother.”

  “Poppycock.”

  “It’s true.” Iris moved to lean against the counter. “All I needed at the brothel was a smile and a body men wanted to touch. They didn’t care about me or the woman inside. But a husband would care. Patrick cares. Even knowing what I did before I came here, he wants me. And he wants to know about my life.” She pulled a handkerchief from her house robe and blew her nose. “But how do you tell someone your own mother sold your virginity to the man who provide
d for you?”

  Faith covered her mouth, horrified.

  “She was a geisha, Faith.”

  “Is that a Japanese word for prostitute?”

  “No. A geisha is a trained hostess. Geishas spend years learning dance and music and the art of conversation so they can entertain men in teahouses. Some entertain them privately. When a geisha reaches mizu-age, her virginity is sold to the highest bidder. My mother wanted to go back to Japan, so she sold my virginity to buy our passage.”

  “How awful.”

  “She didn’t see it that way.”

  “But you did.”

  Iris nodded, tears pearling up on her lashes. “I hated her Japanese blood and everything about her. When I scrubbed that man’s filth off my body, I scrubbed away as much of my Japanese appearance as I could, then I left her house.”

  “Your Japanese features make you beautiful. Don’t hate what you are.”

  “I don’t,” Iris said. “I’ve had twelve years to think about this, and I don’t hate being Japanese. It’s my mother I hate.”

  “Have you seen her since you left home?”

  “No, and I don’t want to. I assume she’s still in New York City with that despicable man, since she couldn’t find passage back to Japan, I guess the money did her no good anyhow.” Iris sighed. “She said she loved me, but she sold me to a man I detested. She killed the love I had for her. At the brothel men loved my body, and some men thought they loved me, but I’ve never loved—not until Patrick. And because of him, I can’t drink this damned tea.” She banged the cup down on the counter and stared at the sloshing liquid. “I should drink it. I should leave here.”

  “You can’t.”