Unveiled (25 page)

“Kate, you can’t mean—” Eunice protested.

“Oh, no,” Christopher said sharply. “I’m not having a wife that works. Besides, you can’t go on cleaning the houses of my friends. Eunice, you can try to cover up with Florence Eldridge, but Kate can’t continue that.”

“I wasn’t thinking of working as a maid,” Katie said firmly. “But we do need a second income, and it would be foolish to pretend otherwise. There has to be a way.”

Kate ignored their disapproving glances and scribbled on the paper. Christopher leaned over her shoulder, reading. “Katie, this is ridiculous. You can cook and clean, write in a neat hand, take care of others…they’re all jobs that would fall into one or two categories, and none of them practical for our purposes. What do you propose, to become a cook or a governess? How could we explain that?” His voice was incredulous.

“I can sing.” Katie looked up at him, her blue eyes brimming with inspiration. “I can teach others, either women or children.”

“Are you suggesting that you…tutor?” Eunice asked, though her voice wasn’t as disapproving as a moment ago.

Katie nodded. “It’s perfect. I can teach for a few hours in the afternoon. This is respectable, and will provide additional money. And other society women spend their time in such pursuits. It’s considered fashionable.”

Christopher looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “Do you really mean to spend hours with some ill-tempered brat who couldn’t carry a note to save her life, just to earn a few extra dollars? I won’t hear of it!”

“You haven’t a choice,” Katie said firmly. “I gave notice to Florence Eldridge, and I’ve got to get something.” At his continued frown, Katie persisted. “Christopher, it’s the only way. At this point, pride is a luxury we can’t afford.”

“I think she’s right.” Eunice sighed. “Katie, I hate to see you take on so much responsibility, but I think your plan has merit. And if you two don’t mind, I’d like to help. I can run the household, keep in touch with the right people, and make sure the gossip mongers don’t get hold of any of this. I can keep our place in society until you two are ready to resume yours.”

Christopher scowled. Somehow he hadn’t planned on his reunion with Katie taking this form. Yet even he could see that her plan was necessary. Shrugging in resignation, he spoke. “All right, I can’t fight the both of you. We’ll try it. But if it doesn’t work—”

“We’ll think of something else.” Katie reached out and shook his hand. “This is a business arrangement, you know.”

Christopher’s eyes met hers and noticed that she quickly looked away. Business arrangement. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

Even if it was his idea.

“Paddy, will you come to the door? There’s a strange man here.”

Moira turned back inside the dark row house and indicated the porch. Patrick rose wearily from his seat, his leg stiff from pulling weeds. He had arthritis, but he hid it well and never complained, and had found that a cup of the gin and a pipe worked just as well as reciting his woes.

Outside, someone lounged just beneath the street lamp. Patrick stared at him, a vague remembrance stirring within him at the sight of the handsome young man with the gold hair and a smile that could charm the pennies from the eyes of a corpse.

Yet the memory wasn’t a pleasant one. Patrick hated the way his mind seemed clouded these days, and that the worries over the next meal obliterated all else. He knew this man and didn’t like him. But he couldn’t quite remember….

“Patrick O’Connor.” The young man spoke, his grin insolent. “I don’t suppose you recall me.”

“Can’t say that I do.” Patrick’s heart pounded faster as a premonition came to him. God, it couldn’t be, it was so long ago….

“I’m not surprised,” the young man continued, stepping closer, and placing a booted foot on the porch steps. “Katie only brought me home once to meet the family. Can’t say that I blame her. I wasn’t exactly welcome.”

“John Sweeney.” The words tumbled forth with hatred from Patrick’s lips. How could he have forgotten? John still had the devil-may-care attitude, the cocksure grin, the lack of respect that he’d always had. The man was handsome and possessed charm, that was undeniable. Still, there was something about him that had warned Patrick years ago, when Katie had first introduced him. It was the same sensation he’d experienced when he’d seen a snake, long before it struck.

“What the hell do you want?”

John broke into laughter. “Now, Paddy, is that any way to greet an old friend? I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. It seemed a kind and friendly thing to do, seeing as we’re both from the old sod.”

Patrick’s fists tightened and he wished he had a shillelagh with him. “It’s been six years,” he said slowly. “You broke my poor Katie’s heart. In all this time you never thought to come by until now. I don’t suppose you wanted to see what you’d done to her and her life.” He spat into the gutter, barely missing John. “So I ask you again. Now that Katie is happy and is making a life for herself, what do you want?”

“Is she happy?” John’s grin didn’t vanish, but his eyes lost some of their sparkle. “Bring her on out then so I can congratulate her on her good fortune.”

“I’d kill you first,” Patrick said softly. He rubbed his blistered palms together, as if aching to make good his threat. “Stay away from her. I’m warning you.”

“All right” John laughed, but this time without mirth. “Calm down, old man. Don’t get that Irish temper up.” When Patrick didn’t respond, he continued quickly: “I don’t have to see Katie. My intention wasn’t to upset her or your family. I just want to see my son.”

For a moment Patrick thought he would pass out, so intense were his emotions. He stared blankly at the young man before him, aware of his light coloring that on Sean was beautiful, his smile that on Sean was dazzling, and his strong build, which his son showed every sign of inheriting. Yet there was a blackness in him that Sean did not possess, an evil that blighted him the way a bruise blighted the most perfect peach.

“No,” Patrick said calmly.

John’s grin died and he met the old man’s stare. “He is my son. I have the right.”

Patrick shook his head. “You have no right. You gave that up when you abandoned my granddaughter. Your son is doing fine. We’ve raised him well without any help from you, and we’ll go on raising him well.”

“I’d like to see for myself.”

Patrick stared at the young man, his eyes searching. He saw John Sweeney’s poorly cut coat, his frayed elbows, his ragged trousers. He saw the places where his boots had worn through, and he saw the cloths stuffed inside to keep his feet dry. He saw the dried mortar on his heels, the scraps on his hands from carrying endless bricks. Suddenly he knew this man as if he’d known him all of his life.

“How much?” Patrick saw that John didn’t look surprised, and that he’d guessed correctly. “How much do you want to leave my family alone?”

His grin broadening, John slouched against the porch pole. “I would be insulted, except—”

“Except that I am right.” Patrick stepped closer, his rugged face expressionless. “I’ve known dozens of young spaulpeens like you. Worthless, all of them. They use their looks and their charm to get what they want.” He spat again, this time not caring that he hit one of John’s boots. “You no more want to see your son than a whore wants to see a constable. I want to know how much money you want from us. Then get the hell out.”

“Easy now. There’s no need to get angry.” John shrugged and took a step back. “I could use the money, and Katie’s doing so well. If you really don’t want me visiting—”

“How much?” Patrick nearly shouted.

“I think fifty dollars will do for a start.”

Patrick’s face didn’t change, but his skin paled. Fifty dollars was all the money he’d saved for the rent, to pay for the next few months. If he gave him that money, they would be forced to leave, to find cheaper housing, maybe in a worse place.

Yet he didn’t have a choice. John Sweeney would crush Katie’s newfound happiness. If this man showed up on the Scotts’ doorstep, making a claim on his son, he could easily destroy their marriage. The Scotts couldn’t risk another scandal, and he had no doubt that John Sweeney would create one.

And Sean. John Sweeney would corrupt the lad, turn him into a street urchin with no morals or conscience. That would kill poor Katie and would crush Moira. They’d fought so hard to give the boy a good life. They’d insisted he go to Sunday Mass, made him wash, helped him as much as they could with his schooling. He was a good boy, a kind boy. And it would all be for nothing if his father ever got hold of him.

“I will get the money.” Patrick turned to go inside the house, then paused at the door. “And if I ever see you near the boy—”

“Don’t worry.” John Sweeney grinned. “I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Returning, Patrick shoved the money in John’s hands. “Now get out”

John Sweeney pocketed the bills, then doffed his hat and grinned as he turned down the street. Patrick watched him with a sinking heart.

It wasn’t the last they’d hear of John Sweeney. Everything Irish in him told him so.

“La, la, la, la…la.”

Katie winced when Sara Witherspoon’s voice cracked as she reached the upper range of the scale. Patiently Katie smiled encouragingly, then hid her reaction as Sara screeched through another octave.

She was beginning to think it wasn’t possible to teach some people music. Katie herself had never questioned her own gift; it was something she took for granted and thought everyone else possessed the same talent. She was quickly learning that what came so easily to her was excruciatingly difficult for others.

Yet it provided a job, and everything was working as planned. Christopher was employed at the Peppers’ bank, with only Charles knowing the full extent of their need. And Eunice was circulating the story that as well-to-do newly-weds, Katie and Christopher felt so fortunate that they wanted to return some of their new happiness to others. It was all coming together, except…

“La, la, la…lala.”

Except she and Christopher were not living as husband and wife. Katie wondered whether he had really intended to get her back just for the Pembertons’ money. It had worked; Ella had been as good as her word. As soon as it was confirmed that Katie had come back to Christopher, Ella had forwarded a one-year portion of Fan’s dowry. Eunice had quickly applied the money to pay off outstanding debts, but it was even more obvious that Katie had been right. When the worst of the bills were paid, there was very little left.

So they were living together, but they weren’t sleeping together. Katie blushed even to think of it. The Scotts’ house was so large that it seemed foolish to suggest sleeping anywhere other than the feminine bedroom that Eunice had indicated was reserved for her. Stripped of most of the furniture, it looked overly big and empty, as if waiting for its real occupant. Katie sat in the huge bed alone at night, wondering if she should speak to Christopher, but she was afraid to bring up the subject. Her own emotions wouldn’t stand the light of day, and she had no desire to begin a conversation that might prove painful. She’d been hurt too much in the past to take that risk.

And if she had to be truthful, she hadn’t confessed everything the way she’d intended. She’d been so shocked when she first returned to Christopher at the way he lived that she couldn’t bring up the subject of Sean. She attempted to at other times, but without a real intimacy between them, it was just too difficult and risky. She was forced to keep her son a secret, and as time went by it was harder and harder even to attempt telling Christopher the truth.

So they lived as polite friends, Christopher going off to his job every day, Katie to hers. She went every morning to her family to see to her son. She hadn’t been paid yet, so she couldn’t give them much money, but she was worried. Paddy didn’t seem himself, and even Moira was distant. Only Sean was the same.

“La, la, la, la…lalala.”

“Maybe we should try something less difficult.” Katie turned the sheet music on the polished piano and indicated a new piece. “This one should be nice.”

“I’m bored,” Sara said petulantly, banging the keys with her fingers.

Katie forced a smile. “You’re doing fine. Your voice gets prettier every day. And you wouldn’t want Melissa Eldridge to outperform you, would you?”

Sara shook her head, her blue bow flapping behind her. Melissa Eldridge had the reputation of being the neighborhood songbird, and like everyone else, Sara couldn’t stand her. Newly motivated, the young girl studied the music, then began again while Katie directed. Katie tried not to think of cats howling, but when Sara attempted the new piece, she swallowed hard, in pain.

“There you two are.” Jane Witherspoon entered the room, her smile beatific as Sara sang. “My compliments, Fan. I never knew you were so talented. My Sara gives a whole new meaning to the song, don’t you agree?”

Katie nodded, straight-faced. It wasn’t nearly as difficult to assume Fan’s role again as she’d thought it would be. This world was so different from her own that she could easily keep the two separate. Jane patted her daughter’s head, then indicated the French doors.

“You can run outside now, Sara. That’s enough for today.” She continued to smile as her daughter raced off, then she turned to Katie. “I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done. Even in a few short weeks, the difference in Sara’s range is remarkable.”