CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

With a curt command, Zeke Morrison bade his astonished coachman to whip up the team and go back to Fifth Avenue or hell, Zeke didn't care which. Trembling, the man was quick to obey, leaving Zeke to stalk off down McCreedy Street alone.

Hours later, Zeke was still wandering aimlessly, not knowing where he was going, caring even less. At first, his footsteps had been propelled by anger. Damn Aurora Rose Kavanaugh! And damn himself as well for being such a fool over her.

If she was so eager to break her neck, then let her. He should have flung the keys to the blasted warehouse at her instead of just dropping them on the table.

But such a mood could not last for long. His rage soon spent itself, leaving a tight ache in his chest, a sensation of vast emptiness that slowed his steps. So Rory had rejected him and he was alone again. It always came to that in the end. He had known that ever since the day he first ran away from the orphanage, maybe even from the day he was born, left to die by the woman who bore him.

But he had always managed to convince himself that it didn't matter. He was strong enough to stand alone. He had a talent for survival, a knack for raking in the greenbacks. What more did he need?

He also had a knack for lousing up every relationship that had ever mattered to him. First his mother, then his sisters and now Rory. Zeke jammed his hands deep into his pockets. As afternoon shadows lengthened along the pavement, his thoughts returned to that scene in Rory's flat.

Go more gently, Sadie had always tried to warn him, and he had tried with Rory. He honestly had. But for too much of his life, he had been used to coming out of his corner, ready to lead with his right. You never asked, you just took, because if you asked, the answer would probably be no.

So he had heaped Rory with presents, tried to shove the ring onto her finger and closed down her warehouse without telling her first. All he had wanted to do was love, cherish and protect her. His blustering manner had only been to hide his uncertainty, his desperate fear she might somehow slip away from him. Perhaps the disguise had worked all too well.

But God forbid Zeke Morrison should reveal too much of his feelings, let it be known that underneath he wasn't so tough after all, but just as vulnerable as anyone else.

He could only imagine what Rory must be thinking of him now, and none of it was pleasant. Fragments of her bitter words echoed through his head. How could you do this to me? You ruin people's lives. No wonder your mother died grieving.

No wonder indeed. Rory had been wise to tell him to get out and spare herself further misery.

With such thoughts roiling in his mind, Zeke took little heed of where he was walking. He nearly collided with a freckle-faced kid hawking papers on a street corner. But the boy was quick to recover himself. Glancing up hopefully from beneath the brim of his cap, he asked, "Paper, mister?"

Zeke shook his head, but the boy persisted. Waving a copy of the World before Zeke's eyes, the paperboy sang out, "Read all about it. Reporter raises doubts about Decker suicide."

Zeke took a quick glance at the headline. So Duffy had made good his threat to continue the investigation. In his present humor, Zeke wasn't even mildly interested. He gave the kid a dollar, telling him to keep the change and the paper.

The boy's eyes lit up. "Geez, thanks, mister." Gathering up his largess and his remaining papers, the lad scuttled off down the street with an energy that left Zeke feeling very old.

Snapped out of his musings about Rory, Zeke at last took a look around to gain his bearings. His gaze fell on the weathered street sign.

Pearl Street.

He should've been surprised, but he wasn't. Some part of him had known all along exactly where he was headed. Where, but not why. What could possibly have drawn him back to this place? Nothing lurked on the block ahead of him but old memories, some of them bad, all of them painful.

Yet still he kept going. The row of brick tenements seemed to close around him, packed so close together they blocked out the rays of the setting sun. The street was even more rundown than he remembered, some of the windows boarded over. An old man rooted through a trash can, hunting for something to eat, while a scrawny stray dog barked and nipped at his heels. From an upper story came the shrill sound of laughter, then the shattering of glass as someone tossed a gin bottle out the window. Across the street, a young girl, looking too worn for her years, listlessly hung much-mended stockings out on the fire escape to dry.

All about him were the sights, the sounds of a world he had tried so relentlessly to put behind him. Almost instinctively he turned to the one place that had been a bright spot in the midst of all this poverty and despair—the second-floor flat, third house from the corner.

Sadie's flowerpots were long gone from that windowsill, the curtains that hung there now much dirtier than his mother ever would have tolerated. The place was noisier too. Even at street level, Zeke could hear a man bellowing something in a slurred accent, followed by a smacking sound, then a child's wail.

As Zeke lingered there, a small urchin emerged onto the flat's fire escape. The boy snuffled against his sleeve, nursing a black eye, but was still full of fire and defiance.

"Don't care whatcha do to me," he shouted back through the window. "I'm gonna run away. Someday I'm gonna have lots of money and live far away from this stinking place."

The boy sank down onto the fire escape, drawing his knees up to his chest, staring sullenly up at the sky. Zeke felt chilled watching him, as though he had peeled away too many layers of the past. It might have been himself back up there on that fire escape, so well could he guess what was going on in the child's mind. Brooding over his wrongs, and if he only knew it, dreaming all the wrong dreams.

Zeke felt as if he had seen enough. Turning, he strode rapidly away, covering the blocks that led toward the East River. The dockside area was no place to be at dusk, but the size of Zeke and the blackness of his scowl seemed enough to keep any lurking toughs at a distance.

Besides, Zeke thought wryly, he really had nothing on him of any real value. As he stood by the water's edge, watching the murky waters lap against the embankment, he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew forth the ring.

How different the diamond looked to him now. It didn't sparkle near so much as it had in the jeweler's case. It might as well have been paste, not able to hold a candle to the brightness of the stars or Rory's eyes.

Zeke's fingers folded around the ring, and with a slow deliberation, he drew back his arm and hurled it out across the East River. It landed with a plop, scarce raising a ripple on the darkening waters.

He lowered his arm, feeling worn down and defeated. For the first time in his life, he had no plans for tomorrow, or the day after that. The future stretched before him, an empty succession of years with no meaning, no Rory.

He had never asked anyone's help or advice before. There had only been one person he had even partly needed, but she was gone. Never had he missed Sadie as keenly as he did tonight.

"What am I going to do, lady?" he murmured, tipping back his head, searching the night sky. Even the stars looked cold and remote. It seemed too late to be seeking answers now, too late for so many things.

And then again maybe it wasn't. For too many years, he had been on a headlong rush down the road to wealth and power, not stopping to count the cost. Perhaps the time had come to pause, to cease charging recklessly forward. Perhaps the time had come at last to turn and go back, begin to recover some of what he had lost upon the way.

The area of the city known as Greenwich Village was a veritable labyrinth of crisscrossing streets. Zeke lost his way several times amidst a maze of artist's garrets, antiques shops, cellar cafés and tearooms. He at last located the place he sought along a side road winding down from Sheridan Square. There was little but a number to distinguish the unpretentious three-story townhouse from a row of others just like it.

Zeke trudged up the steps of the high front stoop and rapped with the brass knocker. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped back, his uncertainty of welcome only betrayed by the way he fingered the brim of his hat.

When the door swung wide, he shrank from the flood of light and warmth spilling across the threshold. He hadn't been prepared to have his sister Caroline herself answer his summons.

Caddie stood wiping her hands on a dishcloth, brushing back the straggling ends of her dark hair, which was now a little flecked with gray. She was still pretty, although she had grown a little plump after the bearing of three children. It both disconcerted Zeke and touched a poignant chord of memory within him. How much his sister looked like Sadie, the resemblance only growing more marked with the passage of time.

For a moment, Caddie stared at Zeke. But then her open¬mouthed astonishment gave way to a tremulous smile. "Oh,my! Johnnie!"

"'Evening Caddie," Zeke said sheepishly. He shuffled his feet on the mat, uncertain what to do next. But he was not left to debate the matter for long, as his sister dragged him across the threshold and enveloped him in a fierce hug.

"Oh, Johnnie." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "What a wonderful surprise."

"I was just passing through the Village. I thought I would call upon you for a moment."

He made it sound as casual as he could, despite the fact it had been nearly two years since he had crossed her threshold. Caddie's clear brown eyes gave him a penetrating look that made him squirm, one of those uncanny soul-seeing glances that also reminded him too much of Sadie. But all she said was "I'm so glad you came."

Placing his hat on the hall table, she led him into her parlor, a cozy nook of overstuffed furniture and the vases of flowers that had always been Caroline's passion. Still clinging to Zeke's arm, she called out to a man ensconced in a wing-backed chair, reading before the fire.

"Arthur, look who's here. My brother, John."

Zeke awkwardly thrust out his hand as his brother-in-law ambled forward to greet him. Arthur Dawes was an amiable man who forever seemed to have paint flecks on his clothes and a faraway expression as though his mind were off elsewhere, putting the finishing strokes on some canvas.

It never ceased to amaze Zeke that someone could make a decent living for his family out of anything as improbable as painting pictures. But he had to admit the fellow had done well by Caddie. He was almost worthy of her.

Arthur greeted Zeke in a friendly fashion, as though it had been only yesterday that he had seen him. Which, considering the absentminded way Arthur kept track of time, he probably believed it had been.

Zeke found it far more difficult to face Caddie's children, especially without any presents in his hands. They regarded him shyly at first, two curly-headed boys with missing teeth, hanging on the skirts of their sister, Lucy, who had almost grown as tall as her mother.

But it was not long before Zeke found himself surrounded, barraged on all sides with earnest chatter.

"Thank you for the cloak you sent for my birthday, Uncle John," Lucy said with a pretty blush and coy glance. "You're the only one who seems to realize I am quite grown up."

"Hey, Uncle John." One of the boys tugged at his sleeve. “Remember you said once if you ever came to visit, you would teach me how to fight."

"Me too." The littlest one was already doubling up his fists.

Zeke didn't exactly recall having made such a promise, but he feared he might have.

"I think I only promised to do so if your mother approved." He cast a guilty glance at Caddie, who only beamed and shook her head at him.

"You may as well. They are always at the fisticuffs anyway. Just like someone else I remember."

Their eyes met over the children's heads, hers half-scolding, but alight with tender amusement. Zeke grinned back, feeling glad that he had come, until a shadow fell across the parlor.

He heard the rustle of stiff silk skirts and looked around, his smile fading as he met the one face that held no warmth of welcome for him. The severity of her black gown was only matched by Tessa's expression, her features pinched white with disapproval, her eyes as ever dark with accusation.

The bright laughter of the children stilled, as even they seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere. Only Caddie managed to retain a determined smile.

"Tessa, my dear. Isn't it the most fortunate thing? John has just dropped by in time for supper. We must persuade him to dine with us."

"If he stays, I go," Tessa said.

"Theresa—," Caddie began.

But Zeke was already preparing to leave. "That's all right, Caddie," he said quietly. "I didn't come here to cause any more discord." He stepped into the hall, reaching for his hat with a weary gesture. He should have known what a mistake this would be.

But Tessa came hard after him. "You needn't make any noble gestures on my behalf," she spat out. "I know how long Caddie has been waiting to kill the fatted calf for you." She snatched her own shawl off the hall peg.

Behind him, Zeke was aware of Caddie shooing her husband and children toward the kitchen. Zeke felt angry with himself, and Tessa as well, for disrupting the harmony of their evening.

"Stay where you are, Tessa," he snapped. "I said I'd go."

Tessa glared at him as she draped her shawl over her head. "I wouldn't dream of—"

"Just stop it. Both of you."

The harsh command from Caddie startled them. She approached them, blocking the doorway, her hands on her hips, her gentle face flushed. "After two years, I have endured quite enough of this nonsense."

Tessa stiffened. "But Caroline, he—"

"Be quiet, Tessa! Now I want both of you to turn right around and march back into the parlor."

When neither of them moved, Caddie actually took a menacing step forward. Zeke's flash of anger dissolved as his sister's stern expression put him in mind of Sadie those times she had been induced to lose her temper. The incidents had been so rare that even he, ever the defiant one, had scuttled to obey.

After she had them both securely inside, Caddie announced, "Now neither one of you is coming out again until you have put an end to this silly quarrel."

Before either could guess her intent, she closed the parlor door and locked it. Zeke registered one mild protest, but Tessa rattled the knob, bellowing her sister's name.

"You might as well have done, Tess," Zeke said. "I think Caddie means it."

Tessa shot him a seething look, but she abandoned her efforts with the door. She stomped over to the sofa and plopped down, lapsing into a stony silence. After a brief hesitation Zeke perched himself on the opposite end of the divan.

The situation certainly was not funny, but he couldn't prevent a chuckle from escaping him. He said, "This reminds me of those times when we were kids and Sadie would make us sit out on the stoop until we had patched up our spat. You were so stubborn, I was always afraid we were going to starve to death."

"Me!" Tessa cried. "It was always you—" She choked off and then averted her face from him.

Zeke inched closer. He managed to get possession of her hand. "Tessa, look at me."

When she wouldn't, he caught her chin, gently turning her head around. Bitter tears sparkled in her eyes, but he forced himself to stare directly into them.

"I'm sorry.

Her lips trembled.

"I know now I shouldn't have done what I did, interfered with your marriage plans in that high-handed way. At least, I should have made you understand why I did it."

She squirmed to get away from him. "You did it to be mean. To get back at me for all the nasty things I said to you about being adopted."

"You know that isn't so." He hesitated, groping for the right thing to say, to make her understand. "I know you never wanted me, but I was trying to be your brother anyway, the best that I knew how.

"I broke up your engagement because-." He swallowed, the words forming a hard lump in his throat. He didn't think he'd be able to get them out, but somehow he managed. "Because I cared too much about you to see you wed some fellow who wasn't fit to lick the sole of your shoes."

Her eyes widened as though stunned by the emotion in his voice. It was as unexpected to him as it was to her. He thought perhaps he had said too much, because she stiffened. But suddenly she dissolved into tears. He watched her in awkward silence for a moment, and then draped one arm about her. She tried to twist away from him, but he persisted, drawing her against the lee of his shoulder. With a great sob, she gave way at last, collapsing in his arms, crying down the front of his waistcoat.

"B-but Johnnie," she wept. "It was so awful. You can't know. When you paid Marco to go away, we were supposed to run off the next day. He left me waiting at the door of the church."

"The bastard," Zeke said, stroking her hair. "If I had him here now, I would break his head."

"If he was here, I would let you."

He rocked her gently until the worst of her grief was spent. She surfaced at last from his shoulder and drew back, sniffing. "I guess I always knew what a bounder Marco was, but he was all I had. He was the only man who would ever have wanted to marry me."

"Idiot!" Zeke used his handkerchief to help her wipe her eyes. "Lots of fellows would have been proud to have you. You were always a clever girl, Tessa. The cleverest one of us."

"Clever isn't pretty."

"You were pretty, too. You still are—except when you've been crying. Then you look like hell."

She hiccuped, the sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"Toad!" she said.

"Shrew!" he shot back.

"Brat!"

They were just completing this tender exchange when the parlor door inched open and Caddie peered cautiously inside. She heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God. It had gone so quiet in here, I thought you two surely must have killed each other this time."

Zeke stood up quickly, shielding Tessa and giving her time to compose herself. "We are half-dead- from hunger."

Caddie smiled until she dimpled. "The old starvation method. Mama was right. It works every time. Supper is ready if you are.” Her gaze tracked uncertainly from Zeke to Tessa.

Tessa heaved herself to her feet, smoothing out her skirts with an air of wounded dignity. "Then what are we waiting for? I can't recall either one of you ever asking my permission to go and eat."

Zeke grinned and made her a mock bow. "Ladies, permit me to escort you to the dining room." Caddie was quick to take his arm, and after a brief hesitation, Tessa did so as well.

It was a strange feeling to Zeke to be seated back in the midst of a family gathering round a supper table. Caddie was doing her best to set him at his ease, pretend that nothing extraordinary was happening.

But she couldn't quite dim the glow in her eyes nor suppress the tiny catch in her voice as she led them in the prayer. "Bless us, O Lord, for these thy gifts." She glanced straight at Zeke, and he was obliged to look away, his own heart suddenly too full.

He barely tasted the excellent roast beef dinner; he was too unaccustomed to entertaining so many emotions to feel quite comfortable. One couldn't do away with all the hurts and the barriers of years, not in the space of one evening. Although Tessa no longer sniped at him, she still refused to meet his eyes or say much to him.

After supper, she retired with the children as though eager to escape his company. Although disappointed, Zeke tried to understand. When Arthur also retreated, up to his artist's studio, Zeke was left alone with Caddie.

As with Sadie, there was something about his eldest sister that induced one to open up to her. Zeke found himself telling her all about Rory, the entire mess he had made of their relationship.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Caddie asked.

Zeke heaved a deep sigh. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do. You're going to go find that lovely girl, tell her how sorry you are and tell her how much you love her."

Zeke tensed at the suggestion. Observing him, Caddie smiled. "You said as much to Tessa and discovered it didn't kill you."

Zeke gave a reluctant grin. But it had been easier with Tessa. The reconciliation had been important to him, but not as it would be with Rory, putting his entire heart and soul on the line.

But there was no arguing with Caddie. As she saw him to the door and handed him his hat, she said, "When you've made it up with her, bring Aurora Rose round to see me. I want to welcome her to the family."

Zeke only nodded, the vision Caddie's words conjured far too agreeable to dwell upon. As he turned to go out the door, Caddie rested her hand upon his arm. Her parting smile was a little wistful.

"Whatever happens, John, don't be such a stranger, all right?"

For answer he deposited a brusque kiss on her cheek before he strode down the steps. He heard her delighted gasp of surprise, then she slowly closed the door, leaving him alone on the darkened street.

Alone? No. It was strange. There wasn't another soul out on the pavement, but he didn't feel alone. A soft smile played about his lips as he glanced back at his sister's townhouse, the welcoming light shining past the lace curtains and making him feel as if he had brought some of that warmth away with him.

Whistling a tuneless song, he leaned up against one of the gas street lamps and wondered if he should return to Rory's flat, if he had enough courage left to do any more soul-baring tonight. He was thinking of summoning a cab when the door to Caddie's townhouse suddenly swung back open.

To his astonishment, Tessa burst outside. She was trying to arrange her shawl as she went, but she was in such great haste she let the black wool trail over her shoulder. She glanced anxiously up and down the street and appeared relieved when she spotted Zeke by the lamppost.

"Johnnie. Wait!" she called.

He hadn't moved a muscle, but she came tearing down the front steps as though she expected him to disappear.

As she drew up breathlessly beside him, Zeke said, "What's all this, Tess? You couldn't bear to part with me or you decided you wanted to punch me in the nose after all?"

"N-no," she panted. "This isn't the time to be funny, John."

The lamplight haloed her pale features, and Zeke could see she was not smiling. Nor was the familiar glare present either. Rather her eyes were filled with an uncertainty, that same troubled look that had rendered him uncomfortable at the dinner table.

"I have something important to tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago."

She seemed so deadly solemn she was starting to scare the hell out of him. He waited, but she was unable to go on, to meet his questioning gaze. She hung her head.

He took hold of her hand to give it an encouraging squeeze and discovered her fingers were trembling.

"What is it, Tessa?" He joked to cover his own growing unease. "Did you pay some gypsy woman in the Village to put a curse on me?”

"Johnnie, please don't," she said hoarsely. "It's about the night Mama died."

That was one night Zeke could hardly bear to remember, let alone talk about. He let go of his sister's hand.

"Tessa, if you are going to heap old recriminations on my head, I wish for once you would spare me. I did try to get there sooner that night. I honestly did."

"I know that," she said in a small voice. "I guess I always realized that, but I was so upset for Mama. She needed so badly to talk to you before she died. She said if she didn't last until you came, she trusted me to tell you—"

"It's all right, Tessa," Zeke broke in, dreading that his sister might begin sobbing all over again, out in the middle of the sidewalk. And damn it all. He could feel his own eyes starting to smart. "Even though I didn't deserve it, I knew how loving, how forgiving Sadie could be. I can guess what she wanted to tell me."

"No, I don't think you can. You see she knew who your real family was."

Tessa's halting confession was so far from what he'd expected, her words slammed into his gut with the weight of a powerful fist.

"What?”

Tessa bit down upon her quivering lip. "I think Mama must have always known. She said the people at the orphanage told her when she adopted you."

Zeke was stunned to silence. Sadie had known all along who his real parents were and never told him? Sadie, the one person in all the world he had trusted ever to be honest, straightforward, had kept such a thing secret from him? Feelings of betrayal cut through him.

Tessa stole a nervous glance up at him. "Well? Aren't you going to say anything? Aren't you going to ask who—"

"I'd rather know why. Damn it, Tessa. Why didn't she tell me?"

"Mama was afraid of losing you. Your real family was wealthy and powerful. All the things you ever wanted. If you had known, you would have gone running off to them."

"To seek out people that let me be dumped in a trash can?" Zeke raked his hand back through his hair, in a gesture fraught with anger and bitterness. He thought that nothing could hurt more than the realization Sadie had lied to him, but something did—that she had apparently believed him capable of turning his back on all her loving kindness, seeking to belong to some cold-hearted bastards simply because they were rich. His pain was the more acute because of his fear that at some point in the shallowness of his youth, Sadie might have been right.

"And after Mama died," Tessa concluded in a voice half-guilty, half-defiant, "I never told you any of this—just out of spite."

"So tell me now. What's the name of these marvelous beings Sadie thought I would be so eager to desert you all for? The Astors? The Vanderbilts?"

"No, a family named Markham. They had this son named Stephen.” Tessa faltered when Zeke stared at her.

"Have you ever heard of them? I believe it was the maiden name of that friend of yours, Mrs Van something."

"I know who the Markhams are," Zeke said. His ears had been filled with enough gossip about the family, even from Mrs. Van H. herself. But Zeke could not credit that it had anything to do with him.

"Do you mean to stand there and tell me that Stephen Markham was my father?"

Tessa nodded unhappily.

"That’s crazy. From what Mrs. Van H. has told me about her brother, half the unwanted brats in New York could lay claim to being sired by him. What makes you so sure he was my father?"

"Because Mama said so. She even tried to find out more, who your mother was. She went to visit that Mrs. Van Hallsburg."

Zeke flinched. Another leveler. He hadn't been floored so many times since the last time he had put on gloves and stepped into the ring. "Sadie did? When?"

"A long time ago. I'm not sure. Mrs. Van Hallsburg admitted the part about her brother. She said your mother was some sort of an actress, but she wouldn't tell Mama more than that."

Zeke seized Tessa by the shoulders in a hard grasp. "You mean that Mrs. Van H. knew that I was her brother's son?"

"I guess so."

This was worse than madness. This was a nightmare. Images of Cynthia Van Hallsburg seared his mind, how she had behaved in his study that day, the blaze of unsettling passion in her eyes, her kiss. He could still imagine the brassy taste of it on his lips. He felt like he was going to be sick.

"None of this makes any sense." He gave Tessa a brusque shake. "Go on. Tell me the rest of it."

She squirmed to be free. "There isn't any more. Mama was dying the night she told me. It wasn't all clear. Please, Johnnie. You're hurting me."

It took a moment for her cry to penetrate his haze of confusion and anger. Abruptly he released her, his mind trying to cope with a barrage of information he had never sought. He had always told himself that he didn't give a damn about knowing who his mother or father were. They had left him to die, hadn't they? Then the hell with them. But these half-answers, half-truths were worse than knowing nothing at all.

Tessa rubbed her arms where he had gripped her. "You are making me sorry I told you. You've got a crazy look on your face, Johnnie."

How did she expect him to look when she had just turned his world upside down? He said curtly, "Go back into the house, Tessa. You shouldn't be out here by yourself."

"By myself? Where are you going?"

He didn't answer her, pacing off several impatient steps and scanning the street ahead for the approach of a hack. Of course there was never one around when needed. But it didn't matter a damn. He would walk all the way to Fifth Avenue if he had to.

Tessa trailed after him, tugging at his sleeve. "Come back to the house, John. You're scaring me."

He pulled away from her, his lips set in a taut, angry smile. "You've no need to worry about me, Tess. I'll be in no danger. I'm merely going to pay a late-night call upon my dear Aunt Cynthia."