MB01 - Unending Devotion (39 page)

Around them the men roared to life. They lunged at the bouncers, fists swinging. The crash of chairs, the shattering of glass, and the shouts sent her heart racing with new fear. Would they make it out alive?

She wound her arms around Connell’s neck.

He ducked as a bottle whizzed past them. A second later it crashed against the wall.

“Hold on tight,” he said, focusing on the door. He plowed forward, knocking into some men who didn’t seem to care who they were fighting, only that they relished a brawl.

One of the bouncers by the bottom of the steps shouted and began to make his way toward them. His eyes narrowed with a murderous glare.

“Hurry,” Lily urged. She didn’t know if she had the strength to fight anymore.

“I got him,” Stuart shouted to Connell. “You get Lily out of here.”

Connell hesitated.

“Go!” Stuart called again. Then with a cry, Stuart rushed at the bouncer, swinging the butt of his rifle at the man.

She could feel Connell’s muscles tighten as if he resisted the idea of leaving his companions to finish the bloody battle. But the leg of a chair flew past them, and Connell put his head down, shielding her with his body. He barreled his way to the door and kicked it open.

A rush of frigid air splashed her. For once she didn’t care that Michigan was so cold. Indeed, the flittering snowflakes were like kisses against the bare skin on her arms.

He crossed the yard, and the dogs raced to the fence of their pen, growling and barking. But their fierceness didn’t taunt her as it had in the past. She’d faced the dogs and won. And now she’d faced Carr and walked away from him too.

A fountain of unidentifiable emotions began to bubble inside her.

She’d lived through the horror of the past twenty-four hours, she’d stabbed Carr, and she was still alive to tell about it.

A ripple pushed up her throat and ended in a short sob.

Through the blackness of the night, broken by light streaming from the open doorway, Connell peered down at her. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, the worry in his eyes caressing her face.

She nodded, her throat too constricted to utter the gratitude she owed him.

He made his way through the unguarded Stockade gate and down the hill. Shouts and cries of the brawl followed them each step. She clung to him, knowing she should get down and walk but not sure her legs could hold her if she tried. He didn’t stop until he reached the front step of the Northern Hotel.

His labored breath filled her ears with a strange feeling of comfort. He banged the door with his elbow. Immediately it opened and they tumbled inside, into the light and warmth of the hotel dining room.

Oren’s hand shook against the door. His bushy eyebrows formed jagged arches above his red-rimmed eyes. At the sight of her in Connell’s arms, his shoulders slumped and his face crumpled. Tears began to trickle down his cheeks. “Oh, thank the good Lord. Thank the good Lord.”

The gurgling fountain of emotions rose in her. She wiggled to loosen herself from Connell’s hold, leaving him little choice but to lower her. The moment her feet touched the ground she reached for Oren.

His arms folded about her, and he pressed her face into his shoulder. He held her tightly, as if he would never let her go. Silent sobs rose inside her chest, the sorrow and pain from all she’d lost and now all she’d gained. She clung to him as she would a real father.

She couldn’t remember anyone ever crying over her. Anyone worrying about her the way Oren did.

Hot tears streaked her cheeks. Maybe she didn’t have Daisy anymore. And maybe she’d have to give up her dreams of making a home for them. But God hadn’t left her alone. He’d given her an unlikely family in this old man.

For all his gruffness, she didn’t think a real father would have been capable of loving her any more than Oren did. And she was sure there were those, like Connell, whose fathers didn’t love or respect them even half as much as Oren.

She had to remember to count her blessings.

Oren pulled back and tugged a hankie from the inner pocket of his coat. The checkered linen was crumpled and crusty, but he wiped the moisture from his cheeks and then blew into it, making the noise of a rusty bugle.

She swiped at the dampness on her face with the back of her hand.

“You didn’t let any of them no-good boys lay a pinkie on you, did you?” He stuffed the hankie back into the tight pocket.

“Of course not.” She smiled at him through her tears.

“Good.” He took a deep breath, and his drooping shoulders rose like a weight had been lifted from them. “Then that saves me the trouble of having to go up there and start smashing heads together like rotten squash.”

Lily caught Connell’s gaze. The look told her what a struggle he’d had convincing Oren to stay back at the hotel during the rescue. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of threats he’d had to use to keep the man from barging out the door and striding into danger.

She nodded her thanks, hoping he could see how grateful she was for his protection of Oren.

He nodded back.

The door banged open and a gust of snow and cold swirled inside with Stuart. His brow was wrinkled, and he gulped for breath. “How’s Lily?” He stopped at the sight of her next to Oren. “Are you okay?” His voice was gentle and his eyes filled with agony—the agony of a man in love with a woman he’d just about lost.

Her breath stuck in her chest.

Did Stuart love her?

She’d always sensed his affection. But the look in his eye went much further than normal concern.

“I’m doing fine now that I’m here,” she said, avoiding looking directly at him. Had she somehow led him on? She’d tried to keep things plain and simple between them. She considered him a good friend and a companion in the fight for justice. But that was all.

She could feel his gaze probing her.

“Did Carr hurt you?” He took a step toward her.

“I would have died first before letting him defile me.” She turned away from Stuart, knowing the gesture would hurt him but needing to tell him somehow they could never be more than friends.

Vera draped a quilt over her shoulders. “You don’t know just how sick with worry we’ve been.” Her eyes were puffy and red, and when she patted Lily’s cheek, her lips trembled. Mr. Heller huddled nearby, his whittling abandoned in his chair by the fireplace. Even his face was full of worry.

Lily drew the quilt over the exposed flesh of her bosom. She couldn’t keep back a shudder at the thought of how close she’d come to ending up like Frankie.

The sorrow of the girl’s death squeezed Lily’s heart and brought fresh tears to her eyes. How had she managed to fail so miserably to help Frankie?

Her head dropped. She’d lost both Daisy and Frankie.

How could she have been so foolish to think she could orchestrate everything by herself? Why had she ever believed she needed to be the one in control, that she knew more about what needed to be done than God?

Look what had happened when she’d finally relinquished her plans—God had sent practically the entire town to her rescue.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about Carr anymore.” Stuart twisted his hands together. “Maggie helped him to his office. And once he was gone, his bouncers stopped fighting.”

For the first time, she noticed Stuart’s sling and the lacerations on his face. Guilt threatened to choke her. She didn’t need to ask him who beat him up.

“I think,” Stuart continued, “the townspeople made it clear they don’t want Carr or any of his men around anymore. It’s only a matter of time before he moves out of Harrison.”

“Good.” But at the moment, she couldn’t even take consolation from the fact that she’d had a part in the man’s downfall. It all was too little, too late.

“Maybe with your help,” Stuart offered, “we’ll be able to close up a few more taverns.”

She shook her head, fighting back the overwhelming emotions that threatened to make her start sobbing again.

“And we had twenty-three in attendance at the Red Ribbon Society meeting last night—”

“I can’t stay, Stuart.” She finally met his gaze. She was sure he could read the truth in her eyes, along with her regret at having to hurt him.

His kind eyes clouded.

When she looked over at Connell, at the haggard lines that drew his handsome features tight, she couldn’t keep her heart from leaping at the remembrance of his whispered declaration of love.

He’d told her he loved her.

But had he meant it? Or had he spoken the words out of the desperation of the moment?

Surely he could see the questions in her eyes. The desire for him to declare his love for her again. To promise to take her away from this place and never return.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and didn’t say anything. Even the depths of his eyes were murky and unreadable.

She dropped her chin, but not before she caught sight of the understanding on Stuart’s face. He knew why she couldn’t stay with him. His face acknowledged what her heart was afraid to admit—that she was in love with Connell.

“Lily needs some time away from this Godforsaken town,” Oren muttered. “I’m taking her back home. At first light.”

Home. The word was warm and comforting and wrapped around her like a fresh spring wind.

He was offering her something she’d never had. A home. With him.

She reached for Oren’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re right. I need some time—time to sort out my life.”

He pressed back, his eyes promising her that he’d take care of her and give her everything she needed.

As much as her heart longed for Connell to declare his love for her again, to sweep her off her feet and take her somewhere where they could always be together, she was grateful for Oren and his offer. He was giving her a chance at permanence, at settling down, at belonging.

She didn’t need Connell. Instead, she probably needed some time to get used to the idea of not taking care of Daisy anymore, of letting her go, and finding how she fit into the plans God was piecing together for her life.

Besides, hadn’t she been the one to say that she and Connell were too different, that they should go their separate ways?

She smiled at Oren. “Let’s go home.”

If only her heart didn’t already miss Connell.

Chapter
30

G
lorious spring sunshine poured through the large windows of the photo studio and bathed Lily in warmth. She dipped her rag into the sudsy bucket of water and splashed it against the glass.

In the darkroom, down the hallway, she could hear the clinking of vials as Oren prepared the daily emulsion, dissolving nitrate of silver in a bromised gelatine. He’d taught her how to spread the mixture over the plates that would eventually go into the camera.

She didn’t enjoy the process of preparing the plates as much as she did the actual picture taking, which Oren had started teaching her too.

She rubbed at the window, making it sparkle, the vinegar in the cleaning solution tickling her nose. The sunshine would make for a good day in the studio, providing the necessary lighting. Thankfully, their appointment book was full.

In the early morning, the traffic on Washington Avenue outside the shop was still slow. With the recent spring thaw, the streets were nothing but giant mud puddles. By midday, they would swarm with all the shanty boys who’d left the camps during the river drives and had come to spend their hard-earned cash in the taverns and brothels of Bay City.

She tried not to think that Daisy was somewhere in the middle of all the debauchery.

It was easier to pretend she’d gone somewhere new, somewhere to make a decent life for herself.

With a sigh, Lily paused her robust efforts of cleaning the window. She’d tried hard over the past month to accept that Daisy was gone and hadn’t wanted to be with her, but the rejection still stung.

She hadn’t been able to understand why Daisy had run away again. She wasn’t sure that she ever would.

But she’d honored Daisy’s wishes and hadn’t gone looking for her. Although that hadn’t stopped her from wanting to march down to Hell’s Half Mile and search until she found her. And it didn’t stop her from asking Mrs. McCormick if she’d heard from or seen Daisy every time the dear woman visited the studio.

But the answer was always the same: She hadn’t seen Daisy anywhere.

Her sister had disappeared. And apparently not even Tierney knew where she’d gone.

And, of course, Mrs. McCormick always had news of Connell. She claimed he had approached his father with plans for reform within the company and had begun implementing some of the changes, even though Mr. McCormick had been opposed. It was clear Mrs. McCormick was proud of Connell.

Truth be told, Lily was too.

He hadn’t walked away from the problems like she’d wanted him too. Instead, he’d done something even more courageous. He’d stayed and was fighting to make things better. He was discovering where God wanted to use him.

Lily dropped her rag into the bucket and walked over to the wicker chair in front of the plain gray backdrop they used for most of the portraits.

With a heavy heart, she plopped into the chair, drying her hands on the folds of her skirt.

She rested her elbows on her knees and lowered her face into her hands. She was ashamed to think of how judgmental she’d been, of the accusations she’d leveled at Connell.

If only she could rewind time and take back the things she’d told him.

A painful ache lodged in her throat.

She’d been wrong to suggest that he leave his family business for her.

And now because of her foolishness, she’d lost him.

As much as she’d tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, that she’d make a life for herself without him, she knew losing him would hurt until the day she died.

If only she hadn’t been so proud. She wasn’t as pure and righteous as she’d thought. Except by the grace of God, she too could have fallen into a sinful life like Daisy. Perhaps the first step in battling temptation was humility—recognizing that she wasn’t infallible and needed God’s help.