Walter felt like a circus clown and was certain he looked like one as well. He probably should have just showed up in his usual clothes, grimy and worn as they were. Instead, the dress pants and shirt had been worn so seldom, they felt stiff and scratchy against his skin.
He stood before the door for a full minute before working up the courage to knock. In the few seconds before it swung open, he had to force himself not to turn and run. What could have possessed him to do something so incredibly stupid?
“Why Walter George, don’t you look handsome.”
Lucinda stood before him, looking like an angel. She was dressed in a dark green frock that made her skin look luminescent.
“It’s Pforzmann. Walter George Pforzmann.”
Lucinda giggled. It sounded like bells. “Can I still call you Walter?”
Walter started to answer, but nothing came out.
“But please come in, no matter what your name is. I cannot risk leaving such a fine looking man at my door lest you’re spotted by others.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
Lucinda blushed. It shot up from her neck. “No, Walter. I would never do that. I mean it. You look wonderful. And you should never, ever grow back that beard.”
Walter mumbled a thank you, although without the beard, he felt as if he stepped out from behind cover while men were shooting at him. Lucinda stepped aside and, finally, Walter walked into the flat.
Lucinda was still staying in the spare rooms of the rectory until Harry could be certain she was not in danger. Part of the bargain they had made with Wilkie after TR had left the room was that, when it was all over, Lucinda would be protected. Wilkie had readily agreed and he would have no reason not to keep his word. They had no real choice anyway.
The table was set for two, with two long candles burning in the center. Walter looked at the tablecloth, linen napkins, and china place settings and wondered if he could really live this way for the rest of his life.
Why not?
Lucinda gestured to a decanter. “Reverend Jennison ordinarily only keeps wine in here, but I persuaded him to let me borrow some of his whiskey. He only agreed because I told him you were good at keeping secrets.”
“Thank you, Lucinda. I’d love one.”
“You certainly look like you could use it. Am I that scary?”
“No. Well, sort of. Not your fault. I . . .”
He was still mumbling when she handed him a hefty glassful, which he downed in one gulp. Quite decent rye.
“Lucinda,” he began, “I don’t know how you feel about me, but . . .”
“Walter George . . . Pforzmann, that is simply not true. You know precisely how I feel about you. I have been in love with you since we met. Are your really saying you didn’t know?”
“I suspected, but . . . can I have another drink, please.”
She shook her head. “Not a chance. Not until we’ve talked a bit.”
Despite himself, Walter almost laughed. “Are you making rules for me already?”
“Someone has to.”
“All right. I suppose I prefer it be you. I’d like to tell you why I came tonight.”
Walter didn’t go on. “All right, Walter. Why?”
“I wanted you to know who I am.”
“I know who you are, Walter. At least in the ways that matter. But please. Go ahead.”
Walter took a deep breath and spit it out. “You know I was raised in an orphanage. Run by the sisters. In New York. I was left there just after I was born, with a slip of paper that had my name but nothing else. I’m not even certain what my birthday is, only that I’m thirty-five years old.
“The sisters were all right, I suppose. Or could have been. They tried to show that they cared for us, but they seemed more interested in making sure we were going to be good Catholics. One of them, she was young, took a liking to me because I learned to read early and liked books. I owe her a lot, I suppose, but I can’t remember her name.”
“You can’t remember someone who helped you?”
Walter scowled. “I don’t remember any of them.”
“All right, Walter. Go on.”
“I was always big for my age, so I sort of protected other boys when the older ones got after them. But no one could protect them from Father Timothy.” He stopped and breathed heavily. “Lucinda, please, just one more drink.”
She nodded and refilled his glass. Walter downed it.
“They all knew, of course. All the sisters, all the boys. He’d pick his favorites and call them into his rooms at night. We all knew the next morning what had happened. But no one could do anything. The boys were afraid of being thrown out on the streets, and the sisters knew the bishop would always take a priest’s side over a nun’s. Each of us waited, knowing eventually it would be our turn.”
Walter looked down and spoke to the table. “Then it happened to me. One night, when I was twelve, he came into the room where we slept and told me to come with him. I knew what it meant, but I went. When I was walking, my legs felt stiff, as if my knees wouldn’t bend. When we got to his room, he closed the door, and then stood with his back to it. Then . . . right away . . . he started to . . . was going to . . .” Walter looked up. Lucinda drew back when she saw the fury on his face. “There was a bottle of wine on the table he was going to make me drink. But I grabbed it and swung it him. I was so tall that I was able to hit him square across the cheek. He didn’t fall, but his eyes went wide, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. But suddenly, I felt free. The bottle hadn’t broken, so I hit him again. Wine had poured out and was all over my clothes. When I hit him a third time, the bottle broke and glass was everywhere. Finally, he went down . . . like he was shot . . . and didn’t move.
“I stared at him for a couple of seconds . . . lying there. It was like I’d just woken up after a dream. I ran back to where we slept and grabbed my hat . . . funny, I didn’t want to leave without my hat. Dumb hat too. I didn’t take anything else, but there was really nothing else to take. I came out again and ran down the hall. The sisters had come out and were standing there, watching me. They didn’t know what to say . . . they could hardly discipline me, since they knew what Father Timothy was up to. The doors were locked, so I screamed for someone to open them up. I must have looked like a wild animal. The Mother Superior’s hands were shaking . . . she was terrified. But she managed to unlock a side door and I ran out. To this day, I don’t know if that priest lived or died.”
Lucinda had not moved, but managed to say, “Oh Walter, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded, but then went on. It was all going to come out now. Finally. “So then, I was just another orphan living on the streets. But I was big, strong, and mean. I got into a lot of fights at first, but the other kids learned not to tussle with me. One time, one of them tried to rob me while I sleeping. We were in an alley. I woke up and grabbed him around the throat, but he stabbed me with a penknife. For some reason, it didn’t hurt. I held him with one hand and hit him with the other until he stopped moving. I was bleeding, but the wound wasn’t very deep, so I was able to keep pressure on it until morning. A local pharmacist . . . a nice old man . . . stitched me up. After that, word got around that you couldn’t kill Walter, even with a knife.
“I missed reading, so one day, I wandered into a library. Started pulling things from the shelves to read. A lot of history and science. Started coming back every day. One of the librarians noticed me and gave me other things to read. Wonderful books. A lot of philosophy, men I had never even heard of before. After a few months, she offered to let me stay with her, but I couldn’t. I didn’t trust anybody that much and by then I couldn’t bear to sleep inside. I always wanted a way to escape from wherever I was.
“Then, when I was fifteen . . . but I looked a lot older . . . I joined the army. Volunteered to go west. Where I met Harry. He was a sergeant. Helped me learn to ride a horse. Never had to in the streets. We were sent to the Dakotas. I had a flair for soldiering and soon I was a sergeant myself, always a stripe short of Harry though.
“You know the rest. I was there for eight years. I loved and hated the army. I loved the . . . well, I guess you could call it family. I hated what we were doing though. Every year, we squeezed more and more land out of the Indians. We made treaties and broke them, killed people who wanted nothing more than to stay on the land they’d been promised. Harry felt the same way. It was little more than theft and murder. Harry heard about this division of the Treasury Department that officially went after counterfeiters, but also helped investigate bank robberies and a bunch of other crimes. It seemed like a better way to live, so we joined up.”
Walter slumped in his chair. He was more exhausted than if he’d been awake for two days on the plains. He was soaked in sweat and felt dizzy. He grasped the sides of the table because he thought he might fall off the chair.
After a few seconds, Lucinda put her hand on his arm. “You’ve never told anyone before, have you? Not even Harry.”
Walter managed to shake his head.
“Thank you then, Walter, for your trust.” She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
He looked up. “I’ve never been able to . . . trust . . . anyone . . . to . . .”
She smiled and he was filled with . . . what?
Peace.
“You can trust me.”
“I know.”
They spent another two hours together. Walter managed to eat a slice of perfectly cooked roast, and had only one more shot of rye. They talked some, but not too much. Mostly they were just with each other, two souls adrift, each of whom had found an island in the other. When Walter left, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and they knew, if he came through this, they would be together.