“Athletic maybe. Like my father. But I had a few too many pieces of cake back then.” She laughed. “Remember how we used to make homemade ice cream? We should make some for the children.”
He had looked away from her, staring out to sea with a stony expression, his eyelids at half-mast. “You were perfect the way you were. I wouldn’t have asked you to be anything but what you are. I loved you, too, Caroline. All my life.”
Her pulse quickened. What had he said? All my life. She would make a joke of it, disguise the fact that her heart was in her throat. “What? No, you didn’t.” She kept her voice light, teasing, but spots of pain widened her chest, expanded her until she was nothing but a beating heart. It couldn’t be true that he had loved her. If that were true, then she had made a terrible mistake. She had married Miller. No, that hadn’t been a mistake. She couldn’t think that way. Choices were made. Julius left. She had the children.
“I planned on coming back,” he said. “I planned on coming back for you when I was worthy of you.”
She stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. Because I’m an idiot. I presumed I’d have more time. I wanted to prove to myself that I was good enough for you. My mother leaving…well, it made me doubt certain things. When I came home, you were engaged to Miller. And you were different. Cowed. And thin. It seemed like Miller had you under some kind of spell.” With the tip of his shoe, he dug a hole in the sand. “I should’ve fought for you then. It’s the biggest regret of my life.” He pointed to the sea with his knife. “I’ve envisioned that day we played wedding many times.”
She closed her eyes, replaying the moments in her mind. The smell of the seaweed veil, the feel of the twisted sea grass around her finger. They exchanged vows, like she’d read about it a book. For better or worse. Richer or poorer. Then, he kissed her, lingering for a moment, tasting of saltwater and smelling of sunshine.
He continued to stare at the sea, his face impassive, the tremor in his voice the only indication of his emotions. “I’ve never been able to move on from you. No woman has ever seemed close to as perfect for me as you.”
“Julius,” she whispered. “I had no idea.”
He turned to look at her, his hat low on his forehead, casting a shadow over his face. “Would it have made any difference? If I’d told you long ago, would you have loved me, too?”
She didn’t know how to answer and searched her hands as if there were instructions written on the knuckles. The words, the truth, came out of her, like he was dragging it with a rope from her insides. “I would’ve loved you, too. I did love you, but I didn’t think there was ever a chance you felt the same way. And now I’m married, Julius. I married someone else, for real, before God and my parents.”
“Yes, I know. I do know. The years unfold, one by one.” He went back to carving the end of the stick. A few more slices and it would be sharp, like the end of a pencil. “Do you have any idea why Ann broke off our engagement?”
“I’ve wondered,” she said.
He was quiet, his hands warm over her cold ones. “She said I didn’t love her as I should. She said I loved someone else. You, in fact.”
She closed her eyes. He must stop talking immediately. They were on the precipice of something. They could not recover if either of them allowed themselves to fall.
“When I was over there and it got bad—oh, Caroline, the noise of the bombs at night—you can’t imagine. I’d sit there, sometimes monitoring an injured soldier, or in surgery under nothing but a tarp, wondering if I would make it to see the morning light. And do you know what I remembered? It was that day when we were kids. I replayed every moment. The way the salt water made your hair stiff, the freckles over your nose that reminded me of the Milky Way, your blue eyes that mimicked the sea, the way it felt when I kissed you, like the world made sense for the first time. Every time I was frightened, sure I would die, I thought of you, Caroline. I vowed to myself, to God, that if I ever got back here, if I ever had the chance to see you again, I would tell you that I love you. I’ve never loved anyone else. It’s always been you. I know nothing can come of it because you love Miller like I love you, but I promised myself I would tell you the truth because if I didn’t, if I kept it inside any longer, I might as well be dead.”
She was crying. He handed her the handkerchief from his pocket, and she dabbed at her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Julius.”
“For what?”
“That we kept our secrets.”
“I think about what our life together would’ve been like. I’m ashamed to say I do.”
“I never allow myself that luxury,” she said. “I’m afraid of where that path might lead.”
“Would you have married Miller if you’d known I loved you?”
She sighed. “We wouldn’t have the children if I hadn’t.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t my question.”
“If I’d known you loved me, I would never have noticed another man existed. It’s as simple as that.”
“I don’t know how he does it,” said Julius.
“What’s that?”
“Stays away from you for a minute longer than he has to.”
“That’s just it. He has to.”
“Right. The orphanage and all,” said Julius, his tone bitter. “A better man could’ve gotten past it, Caroline. My mother left me, too. I know what it feels like to be abandoned, but I haven’t let it keep me from the people I love.”
It was all clear to her now. She understood what had happened to his heart that kept him from her. “You did, though, Julius. You didn’t feel good enough for me because of what she did, how she abandoned you. You’re the same as Miller.”
“As much as it hurts me to admit it, I guess you’re right. But here’s the difference between the two of us. If you were mine, I would spend every moment of my life making sure you never experienced the hurt I felt as a kid. I would love you so well that you’d feel nothing but safe and adored. I would not spend all my time away from you,” Julius stood, shoving the stick into the ground and smiling down at her in a way that didn’t reach his sad eyes. “I’m meeting someone in town for lunch.” He brushed a lock of her hair from where it had stuck to her damp cheek. “I’ll see you later for dinner.”
Tears blurred her vision as she watched him stroll down the path from which she had come.
**
She walked to toward the house, wiping her eyes. She would try and sneak inside without seeing her mother. Mother always knew when she’d been crying and she was not ready to speak about what had happened now with Julius. His confession had stunned her. The possibility that she might have had a life with Julius made it feel like the world had tipped and she might fall off at any moment and float about the atmosphere for all eternity, muttering what if, what if, what if? She must put it aside, however. She’d devoted herself to her marriage, to her husband. Loyalty to Miller was the most important thing. He was the father of her children.
Seb sat on the porch, slumped in a chair, staring into his hands. Alarmed, she hurried up the steps. He was back a whole day earlier than expected. Had something happened with Oscar? Did they fight? Had they gotten into trouble?
“Darling, what’s the matter?”
He raised his face. Traces of tears streaked down his dusty face. “Hi, Mother.”
She sat next to him, brushing his hair back from his hot forehead. “What is it? Why are you home early?”
“I called the house and asked Papa to send Frederick for me.”
“Yes, but why?” she asked.
“I have something I have to tell you.” His voice was wobbly, like when he was little and a bad dream had scared him in the middle of the night.
What had he done? Her heart started thumping harder for the second time that day, afraid of what someone she loved was about to say.
“I was with Oscar yesterday. We were at the Wharf with some other of the boys.” His voice broke.
“Yes.�
� Steel yourself. He’s made a terrible mistake.
“It was Father.”
“Father?”
“I saw him through a window. He was with another family.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t understand,” said Caroline.
“I saw him, Mother. I saw him.” He began to sob.
“What did you see?”
“He was with a woman and two children. He had his arm around her and there was a little boy and a girl the same age as Audrey. They were having milkshakes. Father kissed her head.”
Ice water merged with the blood that coursed through Caroline’s veins. With great restraint, she kept her voice steady. “An employee, perhaps?”
“No, Mother. It wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t have his arm around an employee. He wouldn’t kiss them.” Tears ran down his face, in that way boys could cry without any of the muscles of their faces moving. “And she’s…” He trailed off, flushing a deeper red and brushing tears from his cheeks. She imagined they were hot against his smooth cheek. Regardless of her shock, she yearned to take away his pain. “She’s…”
“She’s pretty?”
“Yes. And young, Mother. Very young.”
“There were children with them?” The questions came automatically. She had detached now and sought only facts.
“Yes. Two. Like they were a family.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Caroline lurched forward and vomited into the hydrangeas. When she was done, she placed her forehead on the edge of the porch railing. Grains of sand, scattered across the surface, dug into her skin. This can’t be. He’s mistaken. What he saw wasn’t what he thought. Miller. No, no. This cannot be true.
Her son was behind her, taking her arm and leading her inside the house. “Seb, let’s keep this between us for now.”
“You should tell Papa and Nana, Mother. They can help figure out what to do.”
“I know. Just not yet. Can you do that for me?”
“If that’s what you want.” He squeezed her hand as they walked through the door.
Mother lounged on one of the couches, reading a book. She looked up, a smile ready for them, but upon seeing Caroline, tossed aside her book and jumped to her feet. “Are you ill?”
“Yes, I need to rest, that’s all. Just nauseous.”
“Seb, go fetch Margaret. Ask her to bring a cold compress for her head,” said Mother.
Caroline leaned against her mother, trying not to sob as they made their way to her room at the far north end of the house. The main sitting room, large and facing the sea, normally airy and light, seemed suffocating and the aroma of frying onions from the kitchen caused the nausea to come back in full force. Black dots danced before her eyes. Her legs were boiled spaghetti. Mother called for Seb. “Sebastian, come help me. I think she’s going to faint.”
Then, it went black.
CHAPTER TWO
Miller
MILLER DROVE THE COASTAL HIGHWAY toward San Francisco, his hands sweaty. He could barely hang on to the steering wheel. What the hell was the matter with him? It was this meeting with Timmy that had him flustered. He didn’t want to do it, but it had to happen. It was time. His old friend said to meet him at his place of business, a bar near the wharf. They could talk over what he needed. The last time he’d seen him, Timmy had delivered paperwork from some doctor he had in his pocket to keep Miller out of the Army. Official diagnosis of a heart condition. No draft for Miller. Timmy could make things happen.
He took a turn too fast and slammed on the brakes to keep from veering off the road. The moment he’d left Phil, his elation at her words had turned to agitation. Caroline and her blasted family dinners. How many dinners could one family have? He’d tried to get out of it when he’d called last night, pretending to be at the office, but his mother-in-law was insistent. Caroline didn’t feel well and needed him. It would mean the world to them all to have him there for the weekend. For all the weekends. Miller snatched a cigarette from the pack he’d set on the other seat but tossed it aside, realizing he couldn’t light it while driving, especially with these curves. A drink was what he needed. Anything to calm his nerves. Could he do what he needed to do? The life he wanted was elusive if he continued the way he was. Someone had to die.
It was time.
The highway was uncrowded and Miller took advantage of that fact, combined with his anger, to drive faster than he probably should, especially since Caroline wasn’t there sucking in her breath every time he turned a corner. Miller cursed under his breath. He was hot. Why hadn’t he rolled up his shirtsleeves before he left, and now he’d have to roll down the car window. He hated the blasted air blowing his hair this way and that.
His mind jumped to the landlord. Goddamn it if Henry Sayer hadn’t turned into problem. A man knew these things about another man. The way he’d examined Miller when they came back from picking up Mary, his tone of voice when he’d said Phil’s name. He’d noticed it months ago, the way Sayer had glanced, more than a few times, at the door of Phil’s cottage when he was painting the fence. Protective and curious, jealous even, like he was considering knocking on the door to see if she was safe. The toys for Teddy and the bed for Mary. A worried and thoughtful man was a man halfway in love. And then, there was Phil. It was easy to see how she cared about him from the way her eyes softened when she talked about him. Yet today, she’d said he bored her. Was that true? Could he trust her? It didn’t matter. What mattered is that he could make her his wife, give her a legitimate life. He must make it so that the Henry Sayers of the world held no power. A white dress and a wedding. A fancy house and servants. Nannies and private schools. These were the things that would keep Phil happy. There was no choice.
He cursed again, thinking of Sayer. He should have vetted the landlord before agreeing to put Phil there. He’d assumed Sayer was an old man, no threat at all. He was, though, despite his missing arm. He was young and handsome and a blasted war hero. A secluded cottage was supposed to keep her away from other men, especially ones like Sayer. The streets of San Francisco were full of eligible men back from the war in droves, all considered heroes with their medals and their stories of courage. Who knew what went on over there anyway? A man wasn’t going to confess to a woman what it was truly like, or what he did in the dark when fear and doubt were like metal in his mouth.
Before he left Phil’s cottage, Miller had called his attorney, a recommendation from Timmy years ago. Robert Sizemore had access to information he shouldn’t. Miller didn’t ask how. What Robert discovered did not please him. Henry Sayer was a rich man, sharing his father’s substantial fortune with a twin sister. Land, passed down generations from early settlers, all along the coastline, not to mention buildings on entire city blocks in both San Francisco and Los Angeles. The one commodity that continued to grow, especially now the war was over and the need for military equipment had lessoned. Land in California? This was to be coveted. Therefore, it was unlikely Sayer could be bought off, coerced to leave by the enticement of a large check. Plus, he wasn’t the sort of fellow to be persuaded by money. A man who made furniture with his one fucking arm when he could easily live off his father’s fortune was not the type of man persuaded to do anything because of money.
Sayer took care of the woman he loved. This they had in common. Sayer also had the means to do so. And, Henry Sayer had no wife or family to get in the way of what he wanted. He was free. Miller was not.
He needed the means to take care of Phil once he was free. A life insurance policy on Caroline was the only answer. Edmund Bennett might throw him out on the street once Caroline was gone. He had to ensure his future was secure. For Phil. He had to do it for Phil.
Yes. Full circle. He always came back to the place he’d started. Caroline had to die. Henry Sayer had to die.
**
He met Timmy at his bar, leaving his car on the street. The neighborhood was dark, even in the middle of a summer afternoon, like an invisible veil hovered over the narrow streets. Timmy
owned the building, using the bottom for a bar, the top for his living space, and conducted business in the back, away from other customers.
He was at his usual table in the back when Miller entered. Cigarette smoke hovered near the ceiling and mingled with the smell of stale beer. A half-dozen men sat at the bar, slouched over their drinks. Miller kept his gaze from them, not wanting any trouble. They were mean drunks, Timmy told him last time he was here. Regulars, always looking for a fight.
Timmy stood when he saw Miller, holding out his arms. They embraced, and he caught the scent of bourbon and hair oil. Barrel-chested, with thick black hair and pock marks on his cheeks, the man before him bore no resemblance to the boy from the orphanage, other than his ice blue eyes.
“Good to see you. What’re you drinking?” asked Timmy.
“Whiskey. Up. And a beer.” He needed a stiff drink to steady his nerves.
Timmy called out to the bartender, then gestured toward a chair. “Sit. Tell me what you need.”
Miller glanced behind him and to the side. They appeared to be out of hearing distance from any of the drunks at the bar. “I have some trouble.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s my wife.” He hesitated, looking over his shoulder and lowering his voice. How to say it? “I love someone else. I want to start a new life. But you know, I married her for her money.”
“Yeah, I remember. The wedding her folks threw her…holy crap. I’d never seen a house like that one before. I remember thinking, my man Miller got it good from now on.” He touched a hand to his heart. “I was touched you got me an invite.”
“Well, heck yeah, we were practically like brothers.”
The bartender came with their drinks. Miller downed the entire two fingers of whiskey, feeling it burn the back of his throat before warmth spread through his chest. His hands were shaking. He needed to get control of himself. Timmy wouldn’t take kindly to cowardice. When they were kids, Miller was the boss of their little orphanage gang because he was smarter than the rest of them. They relied on him for answers. But now? Timmy lived a kind of life Miller couldn’t fathom, with ties to the seedy underbelly of San Francisco.
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