Redeeming Love (63 page)

Angel burst into the house and hugged Susanna before she could utter a word of reprimand. “Oh, Susanna, you won’t believe it! You just won’t!”

Angel laughed. “Well, I take that back. You
would
believe it.” She shook her cape out and hung it up, tossing her bonnet on top with a careless air.

Jonathan noticed the difference in her immediately. Her face was aglow, and the smile she wore was one of joy. “I know what God wants me to do with my life,” she said, sitting on the edge of the sofa. She clasped her hands 436

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on her knees and looked as though she was going to burst with excitement.

He watched his daughter sit down slowly nearby. She looked as though she was losing her best friend. Well, maybe she was.

“I’m going to need your help,” Angel said to Jonathan. “I’ll never be able to repay what you’ve done already, but I’m going to ask you for more.” She shook her head. “I’m going too fast. First I have to tell you what happened today.” She told them about meeting Torie and lunching with her. She told them of the young prostitute’s dejection and hopelessness and how she had felt the same way for so many years.

“She could have had a job with Virgil if she had known how to cook. As it is, he was kind enough to let her stay if I’d go down and work with her for the next few weeks until she knows what to do. She’s quick. She’ll be able to handle things on her own in no time.”

“You’re losing us,” Jonathan said. The girl was so excited that she was making little sense.

“Torie said if she could find a way out, she’d take it. Virgil asked if she could cook, and she said no. And it came to me, right there in Virgil’s.
Why
not?”

“Why not
what?”
Susanna said, exasperated. “You’re making no sense.”

“Why not give her a way out,” Angel said. “Teach her to cook. Teach her to sew. Teach her to make hats. Teach her anything that would give her another way to make a living. Jonathan, I want to buy a house where someone like Torie can come and be safe and learn to earn her own living without selling her body to do it.”

Jonathan grew thoughtful. “I have some friends who might help. How much money do you think you’ll need to get started?”

“There’s a house a couple blocks up from the docks.” She told him how much it was.

His brows rose. It was a great deal of money. He glanced at Priscilla, but she gave him no help. Another look at Angel and he knew he couldn’t say no and blot out the look of hope and purpose in her eyes. “We’ll see to it tomorrow morning.”

Eyes shining, she bent and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, dear friend.”

“Father has other friends who’ll help support the house,” Susanna said.

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Jonathan glanced at his daughter and saw the change in her expression.

He hadn’t seen that sparkle since Steven died. His chest tightened.
Oh, God.

The sudden insight hurt.
I’m going to lose her after all, not to a wild young
zealot who intends to take her off into the wilderness and convert the heathen
Indians, but to Angel and others like her.

He wanted his girl married and settled with children of her own. He wanted her in a house close by so she could come visit frequently. He wanted her to be more like Priscilla and less like himself.

He watched Susanna pace back and forth, plans gushing forth like a fountain. Angel was laughing and tossing in her own ideas, one on top of the other. They were both so beautiful, it was hard to look at them. Light shining in the darkness.

Jonathan closed his eyes.
Oh, God, it’s not the way I had things planned.

But then, what of real, lasting value ever is?

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Thirty-three

When I was a child, I spoke like a child,
I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child;
when I became a man, I gave up childish ways.

1 C O R I N T H I A N S

1 3 : 1 1

Paul headed for Sacramento to look for Angel. If he was going to save his marriage, he had to find the witch and bring her back. Michael clearly wasn’t going to go looking for her, and Miriam wouldn’t rest until she was home. Paul couldn’t stand seeing Miriam grieving over Angel any longer.

How she could still see good in Angel after all this time, he couldn’t even imagine, but Miriam did. Maybe that’s why he loved her so much. Hadn’t she seen good in him?

Right now he would do anything for her, even leave their home and look for Angel, if it would make her relax and take care of her health.

He figured Angel would be plying her trade in the nearest thriving community. He sought out the brothels first, thinking with her rare beauty, she would be easily tracked down. However, “Angel” turned out to be a common name among prostitutes. He found many, but not her.

After a week, Paul left Sacramento and headed west for San Francisco.

Maybe Sacramento had not been big enough for Angel. Just in case he was wrong about that, he stopped in every town along the way and asked after her. No trace.

By the time Paul reached San Francisco, he was convinced the search was fruitless. Too much time had passed since Angel left the valley. It had 439

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been almost three years. She had probably boarded a boat to New York or China by now. He didn’t know whether to feel thankful for his failure or keep on searching until he found some information. Miriam had been so sure, so adamant.

“She’s still in California. I know it.”

Someone must have heard of her. How could a girl like Angel just disappear?

The whole situation bothered him greatly. What if he did find her? What was he going to say?
We want you to come back to the valley?
She’d know he was lying. He didn’t want her to come back. He never wanted to lay eyes on her again. He couldn’t imagine Michael’s wanting her back either after all this time. Three years. God knew what she had been doing all that time and with whom.

But Michael did want her to come back. That was the problem. Michael still loved Angel. He would always love her. It wasn’t stubbornness or pride that had kept him from going after her this time. He said she had to decide.

She had to come back on her own. Well, she wouldn’t. A year should have told Michael that much. Surely, two should have done the trick. When another year passed, even Miriam had given up hope that Angel would come back on her own. She said someone would have to find her.

“I want you to go, Paul,” Miriam had said. “It has to be you.”

Listening, he hated Angel more than ever.

At last he reached San Francisco. Fog covered the city, and Paul searched halfheartedly. Finding Angel would create more problems than not finding her. Was he supposed to drag her back to the valley the way Michael had the first time she left? What was the use? She would only leave again. And again and again. Couldn’t Miriam understand? Once a prostitute, always a prostitute. Apparently, some truths came too hard for a girl as sweet and naive as his wife. Or for a man as pure as Michael. Paul loved them both so much, and he couldn’t see how finding Angel would help either of them.

Why had Miriam been so insistent that
he
be the one to find her and bring her back? She wouldn’t explain. She said he would find out for himself. At first, he’d refused, and she’d raged at him. He was stunned that his usually reasonable wife could be so fierce. Her words had been like a sword 440

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slashing him. Then she wept and said she couldn’t go on this way. When she begged him to go find Angel, he couldn’t bear it and gave in.

Now here he was, a hundred miles from home and missing Miriam so much it was a physical pain. He wondered why in the name of heaven he had ever relented. Angel was better lost than found.

Distracted by his own grim resentment, he wandered aimlessly, looking around without really paying attention to what he was seeing. A young woman in gray caught his eye. She was across the street looking in the window and reminded him of Tessie. He hadn’t thought of her in months, and the old sadness came up again, flooding him with pain. The girl leaned forward, and the back hem of her skirt raised enough to show worn, black, high-button shoes just like Tess had worn.

Miriam, what am I doing here? I want to be home with you. I need you. Why
did you ever send me on this mad quest?

The girl straightened and retied her short cap. She turned and waited for a wagon to pass before she crossed the street. Paul caught a brief glimpse of her face and his heart stopped.

Angel!

At first, he couldn’t believe it was really her. It had to be his imagination putting her face over another after all these weeks of looking. She hurried across the street and walked quickly away from him. Pushing his hat up, he stared after her, wondering if he had seen right. He must have made a mistake. It couldn’t be her, not dressed like that…but he followed anyway, just to get another look.

The young woman walked briskly, her head up. Men noticed her all along the way. Some tipped their hats as she passed by. Others whistled and made bold propositions. She didn’t pause or speak to anyone. She clearly had a destination. When she reached the heart of the city, she entered a grand bank on a main corner.

Paul waited outside in the cold mist for half an hour before she came out again. It
was
Angel. He was sure of it. She was with a well-dressed gentleman, a man considerably older and more prosperous than Michael. Paul’s teeth clenched. He watched as the two spoke together for several minutes, and then the man kissed her cheek.

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High-class clientele, Paul thought cynically. And for all her prim and proper clothing, Angel was as brazen as ever. No decent woman would let a man kiss her on a public street. Not even on the cheek.

Miriam’s words haunted him.
“You’ve always judged her. And so wrongly.”

Paul’s mouth pressed tight. Miriam wasn’t here to witness this scene. She didn’t know anything about women like Angel. He had never been able to convince her. She had never quite believed in the existence of a girl called Angel and what she’d done in a brothel in Pair-a-Dice. “You’re not even talking about the same person,” she said. But he knew what Angel was, even if Miriam and Michael never faced up to it.

What on God’s green earth had they ever seen in that worthless woman, to love her with such solid, unchanging devotion? He would never understand it.

He followed Angel to a simple, two-story clapboard building not far from Portsmouth Square. There was a sign on the front door. He had to cross the street to read it.
House of Magdalena.
There it was, printed for any man to see. He had known all along. Now what was he going to do? Even if he told Miriam, she would never believe it. And convincing her would only hurt her more.

Dejected and angry, Paul walked for a long time. It was Angel’s fault he was in this situation! She had been a destroyer ever since he first laid eyes on her. First she’d come between him and his money. He had thrown away gold once in a vain attempt to spend half an hour with her at the Palace. Then she came between him and Michael. Now, she was coming between him and his wife!

He spent the night in a cheap hotel. He ordered supper in the dining room and then couldn’t eat it. When he went to bed, he couldn’t sleep. He kept imagining Miriam’s tear-streaked face. “You never even tried to understand her, Paul. And you don’t understand now. Sometimes I wonder if you ever will!”

I understand all right, and I want the witch out of my life forever! I wish she
was dead, buried, and forgotten.

Paul slept fitfully and awakened long before dawn with the decision firm in his mind to go back to the valley. He would lie to Miriam. There was no 442

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other way to spare her. He would tell her that he had looked everywhere and couldn’t find Angel. Or he could tell her he found out Angel had died of fever or the pox. No, not the pox. Diphtheria. Pneumonia. Anything but the pox. Or he could say she left for the East Coast and the ship went down going around the Horn. That would be believable. But he could never tell her he had seen her go into a brothel a few blocks up from the docks.

Sickened at having to lie at all, he packed his things. All the weeks he had gone without his wife’s sweet company because of Angel made him seethe. He would think of some way to convince Miriam it was a lost cause before he got home. He had to.

On his way to the ferry that would take him across the bay, he began to have doubts. Miriam would want to know the name of the ship. She would want to know the people to whom he’d spoken. She would want to know a hundred details he would have to make up. One big lie he could manage, but not a tapestry of smaller ones.