Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chicago

December 24

It felt good to have his feet on solid ground once again. Jared walked the short distance from his brownstone to Grace’s home. The house had been dark late last night when he arrived home from Europe. He squinted as the glare of the early morning sun bounced off the glistening snow.

The anticipation of this moment had grown until he could hardly wait for morning to come. Today was Sunday. She wouldn’t be at work if she’d taken another job. He didn’t care if he had to court her slowly, if she required time to be sure of his resolve, but he would convince her in the end. For now, he just wanted to look at her again.

He’d had two weeks, coming home aboard the White Star Majestic for the Atlantic crossing, to clear his mind and sharpen the image of the last time he’d been with Grace.

She had provided the crucial piece to the puzzle of his past with the same unselfish concern she had for everyone, and then she had let him go without question. Donagon had stayed on an additional two weeks, but Jared had left on the next train for New York and then gone on to Italy in a single-minded quest to find the answers to his past. A quest that had taken the better part of two months.

The bustle of the ship’s activity on the return trip had been depressing. He’d not been prepared for the crushing loneliness. Oh, he’d been prepared for the sexual ache that was his constant companion, but now it seemed as if all his days were overcast.

He missed the intelligent conversations, the defiant raise of her chin. He missed the subtle scent of her hair, her laughter, and her gentle innocence. He missed the feel of her in his arms, how she filled all of his senses and made him long to sink into her softness.

Now he knew why he’d never been able to bring himself to say goodbye to her. He hadn’t really wanted to say the words. He hadn’t been thinking clearly, but now, for the first time, he had something to offer her other than passion. He loved her with all the intensity of that frightening emotion.

He wanted to share his life with her, wake up to her every morning, and carry her to bed every night. He wanted to buy her jewels and furs and fill her belly with his children. He wanted to claim her as his own before God and the whole world.

He knew only Grace could give him the peace he’d sought for so long.

If only he could make her understand how deeply she’d touched his life. When he looked in his shaving mirror, he no longer saw reflected there the lonely shadows that had plagued him all of his life.

A rush of emotion welled up in him and left him with a sense of deep longing.

He had traveled straight to Chicago from Europe, not even stopping at Ravenhall. He’d been gone nearly two months, two months in which he had literally found himself, along with a mountain of relatives. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and a wonderful set of grandparents. He had been so alone, and then Grace had filled up all the holes, all the dark empty places that had tormented him so, with her love and her goodness—and now with so much family he actually chuckled aloud at the memory of all of them talking at once, each trying to be heard above the din. He had never felt so loved, so accepted.

His mother’s sister had taken him in her arms and wept at her good fortune to have a piece of her beloved twin sister back. Geni, Ja-nee. His mother’s name had been Geni Bianchi.

But how could he go about convincing Grace he was worthy of her when he had so callously abandoned her? He’d been a fool. He took the precious gift of her body, left her to care for Zia Bruna by herself, abandoned her after her life had been so recently threatened, and never once told her that she’d become the beacon of his life.

He trudged through the unshoveled snow on her sidewalk, deciding he would perform that mundane task for her as soon as he’d kissed her thoroughly, if she would allow the intimacy. She would have to receive him. He would insist, beg.

Get down on one knee.

On both knees, if necessary. He smiled at the thought. He would gladly spend all his remaining days on his knees for her if she would send just one smile his way. One crooked, beautiful, mind-boggling smile.

Jared stomped the snow from his shoes and raised his fist to knock on the door. As he did, he glanced at the mailbox mounted nearby. Charles and Amelia Brown was printed clearly on a white label affixed to the metal flap.

Jared’s brows knitted together in confusion as a chill swept over him. He pounded on the door and then pounded again when no one answered.

“Hold your horses, bud,” a male voice muttered, opening the door a crack to cautiously eye the stranger glaring at him through the small opening.

“Who are you?” Jared demanded.

“Since I live here, I think the better question is who the hell are you?” the man asked, glancing at the metal chain that attached the door to the frame.

“Where is Grace Hathaway?” Jared asked with a clipped tone.

“My wife and I bought this place from her. We moved in two days ago.” He started to close the door.

“No, please,” Jared begged, now contrite and needing information. “Do you know where she is?”

“Sorry, bud. I have no idea.” The man tried to close the door. “Fer Christ’s sake, man. Tomorrow is Christmas. I’ve got a lot to do.”

Fear swept over Jared, chilling his blood. He turned sharply in his tracks and ran the distance between Grace’s brownstone and Zia Bruna’s house.

He pounded on the door, his breath coming out in great ragged puffs, fogging the glass of the sidelights. When he turned and leaned heavily against the door, he realized the futility of his actions. A “For Sale” sign stuck out of the snow in the yard.

He turned when a woman with two small children all bundled securely against the cold scurried down the sidewalk. Jared recognized her as Grace’s friend.

“Wait, please wait!” Jared called from the steps.

The woman hesitated, one arm holding the youngest close to her breast and the other clinging to a mittened hand whose crowning glory of red curls tumbled out of a matching handmade cap. The woman seemed to recognize him and frowned.

“Hello,” she mumbled, trying to hang onto her squirming daughter. Red curls won and bolted toward Jared, wrapping herself around his knee.

“Patty! Behave yourself!”

“She’s fine, really.” Jared smiled hugging the red curls to his leg with one large hand. “I wonder if you could tell me where to find Grace?”

The woman’s eyes softened. “You don’t know, do you?”

“I was out of the country until yesterday.”

“Her aunt passed away in late November. Grace left right after the funeral. We were all surprised. No one knows where she went. I’m sure she’ll be back eventually, probably after the holiday. Bruna’s house is still for sale.” She reached out and touched his sleeve. “We all miss her, and Bruna, too. They always treated me like family.”

Jared thanked the woman for the information. She turned to leave, beckoning the little girl to her side.

“No, Mommy. I want to stay with Mr. Jared and play in the snow.”

“All right. Ten minutes. I’ll call for you.”

Jared sat down on the first step and levered his elbows on his knees. He recognized the depths of his emotion as not mere disappointment but an ache with enough power to double him over.

And paralyzing fear. Would he ever see her again?

And bone-deep guilt. He hadn’t been there for her when she lost Zia Bruna, and now she was alone like he used to be. What if he never had the chance to hold her again, to tell her of this love he had discovered within himself? Love because of her. Love to which she held the key.

He stared at the tiny child lying on her back in the snow and moving her arms and legs in a wide fluttering motion. Up and out, over and over.

“I know where Graciella is,” the child sang.

Jared knelt near her. Did the child really know or was she playing a game? He looked at her with wet, hopeful eyes. “Where is she, Patty Cake?”

“She told me she was going to make snow angels.” Patty smiled and continued the movement, finally rising to show Jared a perfect replica of an angel in the glistening snow.

“Thank you, Patty Cake, my angel.” His voice was a husky sob as he took the small child in his arms. “Merry Christmas to you,” he said, exchanging a snowy hug with the red-headed imp. Delivering her to her mother, he hurried back to his brownstone.