“He should be at home in bed.” Dr. Chapman shook his head as we watched from a distance. The big, open brickyard shed where so many horrible things had happened was behind us, the wind from the lake whipping through, drying the bricks. We were standing, watching as a wagon was being loaded with all the meager belongings left of the O’Malley’s. The doctor had rushed over when he heard, worried about the strain on Detective Whitbread, but we were unnecessary. All the neighbors were helping Gracie and the children load the wagon, while Detective Whitbread sat on the high seat in his bowler hat and woolen suit, holding the reins. “I sent him home yesterday. Apparently he only left because he wanted to tell his landlady that he would be bringing the pack of them.”
“He’s marrying Gracie and taking in the children, too,” I said. It still amazed me.
“I’m not sure he’d take her without the children. And I’m not sure how two such strong-willed people will inhabit the same dwelling. It certainly won’t be quiet.”
Even from as far away as we were, we could hear Gracie calling out orders. “I’m still so surprised,” I told him. “I never thought of Detective Whitbread marrying.”
“Why? Because he is so single-minded in his job? It won’t change him.”
“Nothing can change him.”
“Exactly. You should not be surprised. He saw the great injustice of what happened to Gracie Foley and he admired her for not submitting to it, for fighting it, no matter how hopeless the struggle. It is what he would do.”
“He is right to admire her. She will do everything she can to take care of him. And she can see how someone so independent needs taking care of. She could see what he needed.”
“Indeed. I expect them to be very happy. Or, at least as happy as any couple may be and happier than most. Mrs. Foley, soon to be Mrs. Whitbread, has known much sorrow. It will make any happiness that much sweeter to taste, I think.”
I remembered how her first husband had beaten her, and I recalled Mooney, the dapper little man who brought her flowers. “I hope she is happy. Detective Whitbread is a good man.”
“He is.” We stood watching for a few more minutes. It was about a week after Whitbread was shot and Stark was killed. I had come to the uneasy conclusion that I must let Joe O’Malley’s false confession stand. To tell the truth would require explaining about the dynamite and to do that would only harm the remaining strikers. I had many sleepless nights over it, but I could not believe that my stepping forward would do anything but harm, as Joe had feared. Reluctantly, I kept silent.
“You have delayed your departure for Woods Hole.” Dr. Chapman had stayed to care for Detective Whitbread. He had not left on the following Monday, as he had threatened. “Will you be leaving now?” In the sudden calm, as after a storm, that followed the breaking of the strike, I was fearful of what it would be like not to see the doctor every day. I had become so accustomed to his presence.
“Soon enough.” He was still staring off towards the wagon. The children were being helped into the back, and they were waving goodbye to neighbors, as they prepared to take off. Gracie climbed to the high seat beside Whitbread and took the reins from his hands.
“Doctor, I am so grateful that you have given your time here during this awful strike. I know it was not a happy time for you, and only your very great generosity has been responsible for keeping you here, when you could have been doing your research at Woods Hole. I hope it has not been too disappointing.” That word reminded me of our earlier conversation about Fiona MacGregor and I could see him stiffen as if it reminded him, too. It was an unfortunate choice. I hurried on to cover it. “I am so glad you were here, though. For myself I do not know how I could have survived this, if you were not here, and I thank you. We all thank you. You are the kindest, most dependable of men.”
He shook himself, then, and turned to face me. “Emily. I once asked you to be my wife and you refused me. I know you believe the offer was made from pity and that is somehow insufficient. A wild enthusiasm or easy intimacy, such as you might find with someone like Mr. LeClerc, appears more like affection to you.”
I felt my eyes fill with tears and struggled to keep them from falling. Raoul LeClerc had been such a mistake. I had been so misled by him. But it was my own mistake, my own stupidity and naïveté that had tricked me. He was what he was.
“But there is something I must tell you, Emily. I know you think some great generosity on my part brought me down here to care for these people. You are wrong. I am not that fiercely generous. You somehow came to believe I cared for Miss MacGregor and was disappointed in her actions in running away with Mr. LeClerc, as she seems to have done. You were very wrong about that, all wrong.
“The only reason I came down here and remained all this time was for you, Emily. It was care for you that brought me, concern that you would bruise your heart on the hopes and failures of the people you were trying to help. I wanted to watch out for you. When I saw you attending to LeClerc and admiring him, it was all I could do to keep from lecturing you. But it is not the sort of thing you learn from a lecture. And you are not a child for me to teach. You are a woman for whom I care very deeply—more deeply than I have ever cared for anyone in my life. If you cannot believe in the strength of my affections, then I will never mention them again. But then you must expect me to avoid you at all cost, as it would be too painful for me.”
The tears would not be restrained and I could feel them on my cheeks. I felt myself trembling. At last, this was what I wanted, I could see it now. But how could I accept him after what I had done? How could I ever tell him what I had done? I gulped for breath and started to turn away, but he took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him. “What is it? What is wrong?” I shook my head, unable to answer, I felt choked with tears I could not shed. “Emily, Emily.” He was shaking his head at me. “It’s Stark, isn’t it? Joe O’Malley didn’t shoot him, did he?”
He held my arms so I had to look him straight in the eye. I could not avoid it. “He said he had been at the clinic and took the gun, but he was never in the clinic. It was you, wasn’t it? You took the gun. What happened? Tell me, Emily, tell me.”
Before I could answer, I found myself sobbing in his arms. It was such a relief that someone knew. We embraced on that windswept expanse of mud flats and I told him what had happened. He made me see that, while my actions were foolish, there was nothing else I could have done, once Stark attacked me. In the end, I felt more at ease in my heart than I had since the death of my father.
Collapsed in his arms, with the warmth of him encircling me, comforting me, I felt at home. A thrill ran through me. Never had I thought to feel like this. I pushed back and looked up into his kindly face and felt so sad. He looked exasperated. I hiccupped in the most awkward manner. “Knowing what I’ve done,” I blurted out, “you couldn’t possibly marry me now.”
“Oh, Emily.” He lifted my chin with his hand and planted a firm kiss on my lips. I felt his other hand on my shoulder blades pressing me to him. The instinct to resist lasted less than a second before I responded eagerly, wrapping my arms around his neck. I hung on to him, as if he were a life raft in a troubled sea, not wanting the embrace to end. He kissed my neck and hugged me to him. “I will marry you, Emily Cabot. I must, you know.” He pulled back, not letting me out of his arms but wiping a few tears from my blubbering face and brushing aside a lock of hair. “We will manage, Emily, I promise you. If Whitbread can sweep away all obstacles, surely we can deal with this. I won’t let you lose your place at the university, my dear, you’ll see.”
I stopped him with a hungry kiss. It was a few more minutes before I asked him breathlessly, “What about Woods Hole?”
“You’ll come. Surely you want to come.”
“Woods Hole . . . I suppose we could stop in Boston.” The world was reeling. I leaned against him, watching the Dens settle back to normal after the departure of the O’Malley clan.
He handed me a white linen handkerchief and I could feel his heart beating in his chest. “It will be all right, Emily. You’ll see.”
I knew logically there would be heartache and problems, but at last I did not care. It was the beginning, rather than the end, of our personal tribulations, but we would weather many storms together.