CHAPTER 35
Jonathan got off the train at Piccadilly Circus and stood still among the rush of the people surrounding him. A temporary job had brought him to London—too close to his childhood home not to go back and visit his old neighborhood. He scanned the street, attempting to find a familiar landmark among the throngs of people and vehicles. Something that would remind him how to find the bookstore his father had owned and the flat above it where they’d lived for the first ten years of his life.
Until that fateful night that had destroyed everything.
After several blocks, the buildings began to look vaguely familiar. Jonathan stopped in front of Hatchard’s Bookshop, his father’s biggest rival. If memory served, his former home was a few blocks east.
The likelihood was high that someone would have rebuilt the store by now, since it was situated in one of the prime retail areas of London. His steps slowed as he neared the spot where he believed Rowe’s Books had once stood. When his gaze fell on the tobacco shop to the left, a long-forgotten memory of his father buying pipe supplies swam to the surface.
His heart began to beat faster. This had to be the right place, though nothing remained of the bookstore. The sign above the door now read Fine’s Haberdashery, and the window sported an impressive array of women’s and men’s hats. Jonathan smiled to himself. With Emma’s penchant for outlandish headwear, she would have loved this place. He rubbed a spot on his chest where a perpetual ache resided, reserved solely for her.
The door to the tobacco shop opened, and a white-haired gentleman emerged. From the full-length apron the man wore, Jonathan surmised he worked there. “If you’re considering a new cap, son, I can recommend Mr. Fine’s wares. Best quality I’ve seen.”
“Thank you, but I don’t need a hat.”
The man walked closer and took a pipe out of his pocket. “Then may I ask why you’ve been standing there staring at the building for so long?”
Jonathan swallowed and turned to look at him. “I thought this used to be a bookstore.”
“It was. Burned down about ten or twelve years ago. Terrible tragedy.” A shadow of grief passed over his ruddy features.
“Fifteen.”
“What’s that?”
“It burned down fifteen years ago.”
The man squinted at him. “You seem quite certain.”
“I am.” He looked back at the building, his muscles tensing as memories of that horrific night intruded into his thoughts. Flames everywhere. Smoke and heat. His father carrying him out, depositing him on the sidewalk, telling him to stay there. Jonathan clinging to his father’s arm, begging him not to go back inside.
“You wouldn’t be the young Rowe lad, would you?”
Jonathan’s manners kicked in. He extended his hand. “Yes, sir. Jonathan Rowe.”
“Ronald Barber.” He pumped Jonathan’s hand. “It’s good to see you again, son. Always wondered how you made out after that terrible night.”
So, this man had likely been there. How many others had witnessed the spectacle? Jonathan wished he could remember more, but only trauma stood out in his mind.
“My aunt took me in,” he said. “She owns a dress shop over in Wheatley.”
“Ah. I’m glad you didn’t end up in a workhouse.” He peered at Jonathan. “What brings you by now after all this time?”
“Attempting to make peace with the past.” Jonathan stuffed his hands in his pockets. Why had he expected that some remnant of his home might still be here? Something that would bring him the closure he craved?
“I’ll never forget that night.” Mr. Barber ran a hand over his jaw. “I had to hold you back to keep you from following your father inside.”
Jonathan frowned, struggling to recall that particular detail. He vaguely remembered someone grabbing him from behind as he screamed for his dad, but he’d had no idea who it was.
“Felt so bad for your father. He had an impossible decision to make: stay out here and keep his son safe, or go back into the inferno for his wife. I’ll never forget the tortured look he gave me before he went in.” Mr. Barber shook his head. “In the end, neither choice would have ended well.”
The lump in Jonathan’s throat swelled. “At least we would have had each other. I wouldn’t have been alone.”
Mr. Barber took a thoughtful puff on his pipe and blew out the smoke. “Lord knows I love my children, but if it had been my Effie inside, I’d have moved heaven and earth to get to her.” He glanced at Jonathan. “Could you hang back and let your wife burn to death without doing everything in your power to save her?”
Jonathan pressed his lips into a hard line, his fists clenched at his side. What would he do if Emma were ever trapped in a burning building? Play it safe and wait for the fire brigade, or rush into the flames to get to her? The air seeped from his lungs as the hard truth dawned. Even with his fear of fire, if it were Emma, he knew he could never sit back and do nothing. He would risk everything, face any demon to save her. Just as his father had.
For the first time, Jonathan was able to view his father’s actions through the eyes of an adult and not an orphaned boy.
He dashed the back of his hand across his eyes. “You’re right, Mr. Barber. If the woman I loved was in jeopardy, I’d have done the same thing.”
Mr. Barber squeezed Jonathan’s shoulder. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t rip your father’s heart out to leave you.”
“I know.” And for the first time, Jonathan really did. Perhaps he could finally make peace with the fact that he’d been left an orphan. Finally forgive his father for leaving him.
“Care to come inside for a few minutes?” The man’s kindly eyes studied him. “I’d love to share some stories with you about your father and how he got his business off the ground.”
Jonathan looked at his pocket watch. He had time to spare before he needed to go.
His chest expanded with a pull of fresh air. “Thank you, Mr. Barber. I’d like that very much.”
Randall leaned on the wall of the back patio, watching the sky change from gold to pink, the setting sun casting fanciful shadows over the lawn. Even the beauty of a summer sunset couldn’t lift his mood tonight.
After twenty-two years, his worst fears had come true. His sordid past had returned to haunt him, effectively ruining his future in politics. All because the child he’d forsaken years ago had wanted to find him.
It would be easy to place all the blame on Emmaline for the downfall of his career, but to be fair, she’d come here in good faith to forge a relationship with him. How was she to know the secrets he’d kept hidden all these years? He’d been a fool to think they’d never be discovered. If he’d been less of a coward, he would have told her—and his family—the truth from the very beginning. Maybe then he could have avoided the ensuing disaster.
He drew in another lungful of smoke from his cigar, let it linger for a second, then expelled an opaque cloud that hung in the air before dissipating. Even this activity brought him no pleasure tonight, no easing of his tension. The fact that Harcourt had declined to join him for their usual after-dinner ritual spoke volumes about the man’s disappointment with him. No one had wanted Randall to succeed in politics more than his father-in-law, likely because Harcourt’s own political aspirations had never come to fruition.
The back door opened and familiar footsteps crossed the patio.
Vera came up beside him and laid a hand on his sleeve. “You’re very pensive this evening, darling. Is everything all right?”
He turned to look at his wife. “What do you think? I’m the subject of the city’s latest gossip mills. I’ve disappointed everyone I know, including you.”
She sighed. “I’ll admit I was angry when this all blew up at the rally. But I understand why you would keep such a secret. It’s a scandal today. I can only imagine how much worse it would have been twenty years ago.”
Bitterness coated his tongue. “Enough to make my own mother disown me.”
“I’m so sorry, Randall.” She squeezed his arm. “But this will die down. Another year from now it will be old news, and if conditions appear favorable then, you could try your bid for mayor again.”
His lips twitched. “Thank you for your support, as always, my dear.”
She laid her head against his shoulder. “For the record, I’m also sorry about Emmaline. Although I can’t say I’m sorry she’s gone. She created nothing but chaos.”
The tip of his cigar glowed red in the waning daylight. He tossed it down on the patio stones and crushed it underfoot. “Again, it was my fault. I held back from truly embracing her, from allowing her to get too close, because I knew the secret would come out eventually.” He sighed. “I should have been upfront with her right from the beginning—and with you. Perhaps then we could have avoided this whole mess.”
“No use dwelling on what might have been. We must focus on going forward now.”
A slight cough sounded from behind them. Randall turned to see Corinne approaching with a hesitant smile. At least this daughter didn’t seem to hate him.
“Papa. Mama. Could I speak to you both for a minute?”
“Certainly, darling.” Vera motioned for her to join them.
Corinne came up beside them at the stone wall. “I have something I’d like to tell you.”
For a moment, a jolt of panic hit Randall’s midsection. He prayed his daughter hadn’t done something foolish, like gotten herself pregnant. If so, he might have to murder Will Munroe. He would not allow history to repeat itself.
“What is it?” Vera asked. “You sound serious.”
“I’ve made a decision that I hope you’ll be pleased about.” She looked directly at Randall. “You in particular, Papa.”
“Go on.”
She clasped her hands together as though nervous. “I’d like to go to college after all.” She hesitated. “I want to become a teacher.”
Randall drew in a breath. Finally, a bit of good news.
“A teacher?” Vera asked, her voice thin. “What made you suddenly decide this?”
“Emma was the one who first suggested it. When I was helping her with Marianne’s therapy, she remarked how good I was with her, how patient, and that I might make a good teacher. It was just a passing comment, but it got me thinking. Then I started tutoring Will’s younger sister.”
“When did this happen?” Randall frowned. How had he missed so much that was going on with his family?
“A few weeks ago. The point is that I really enjoyed helping someone learn. And Will seemed to think I had a knack for it too.” She gave a tremulous smile. “So I’d like to look into courses at the university, if that’s all right with you both.”
Vera remained unusually silent, which likely meant she wasn’t thrilled about Corinne’s choice to pursue a career instead of look for an eligible husband. It was another issue she and Randall had disagreed upon regarding their children.
Randall dropped a kiss on the top of his daughter’s head. “You know that I want you to further your education, so I’m thrilled about this. I’d be happy to take you to register.”
“Thank you, Papa.” She beamed up at him.
“But don’t you want to get married, Corinne?” Vera said at last.
“Of course I do, Mama. That leads me to my next topic.” A slight gust of wind came up, and Corinne rubbed her arms. Then she straightened to her full height. “I intend to marry Will Munroe once we’ve both finished our schooling.”
“Will? But he’s not—” Vera clamped her mouth shut.
Randall knew exactly what his wife had been about to say—that Will wasn’t of the right social standing. That he was only taking courses as he could afford them, and thus it would take a long time to complete his degree. That Corinne would be an old maid by then.
Randall laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “No need to panic, Vera.” He turned his focus to Corinne. “As you know, I think the world of Will,” he began. “And I told him when he came to see me that once he’s finished his degree and gets a better position, we will revisit his . . . suitability at that time.”
Vera’s shoulders relaxed under his fingers.
However, Corinne’s chin jutted out in a way that they both knew too well. “I didn’t ask for permission, Papa,” she said. “I will marry Will one day, as long as he still wants me. In the meantime, we will be courting—unofficially.” She looked from him to her mother. “I love him, Mama. And he loves me. Maybe that will change over the next few years, I don’t know. But we intend to see where it takes us.”
Vera moved to sit on one of the patio chairs, running her pearls through her fingers as she did when agitated.
“Is Will in support of your intended career?” Randall asked carefully. He’d already alienated one daughter. He didn’t want to risk losing another.
“He is.”
“I see.” Randall scratched his chin. “In that case, as long as you are always well chaperoned or see each other in public places, I will accept your decision.”
A tentative smile bloomed. “Really, Papa?”
He nodded. “I’ve noticed a new maturity about you lately. It’s time I trust you to make some decisions for yourself.”
She leaned in to hug him. “That means a lot, Papa. Thank you.” She drew back. “There’s one more thing.”
Vera threw up her hands. “What now?”
“It’s about Marianne.”
His wife stiffened as though preparing for a blow.
“I intend to keep helping her with her therapy, as Emma did.” Corinne went to lay a hand on her mother’s arm. “I think we owe it to Marianne to help her get out of that chair one day.”
“It’s time, Mama. Time to let go of your fear. Marianne is strong. She can do this. And we have to support her. Emma showed me that.”
Vera reached out for Corinne’s hand and, without a word, nodded.
Randall cleared his throat. “You’re right again, Corinne. I’ve let fear control too many aspects of my life. It’s time to change that.”
His wife and daughter looked up at him with such trust and admiration that his chest swelled.
Despite the turmoil Emmaline’s arrival had caused, it seemed he and his family had much to thank her for as well. In the short time she’d been with them, she’d forced them to take a hard look at their lives and brought about some needed transformations. Because of her, Randall’s career may have suffered a setback, but his family would reap the benefit of his renewed commitment to them and to their future.
He prayed Emma would find happiness back in England, and that one day, God willing, their paths would cross again.
Maybe then he could make up for all his mistakes.