Speak Through the Wind (24 page)

Back to Reverend Joseph.

Back home.

With each step she rehearsed what she would say when she saw him. From Canal to Grand she envisioned herself the weeping penitent. Unable to look him in the eye. She would simply walk, head bowed, into his waiting arms and listen to his whispered joy as he held her tight.

But as she grew closer, the anticipation of their reunion changed the scenario, and her steps took on a weightless quality Each replay of it increased their joy until her trudging reverie showed her to practically fly into his open arms, drawn through the air by the force of his smile. The thought of it would have brought an actual smile to her lips, had the expression not threatened to reopen the newly scabbed wound at the corner of her mouth.

Never mind that, though. Reverend Joseph wouldn’t insist on a smile. Or even an explanation, she was sure. Not today, at least. They would have years ahead of them, Kassandra learning at his feet just as she had as a child. Reverend Joseph reading Scriptures, reintroducing her to the truths she longed to remember. He would drill her once more on her Bible, and to prepare for such tests—as well as to quicken her journey—she assigned a book to each step.
Genesis. Exodus. Leviticus. Numbers. Deuteronomy.

Kassandra heard the bells when she hit the intersection of Broadway and Ninth Street, just as she cycled past Second Samuel for the third time. The sound of those bells was as familiar to her as the voice of their caretaker. She stopped dead and thought hard to calculate the date. The days had been somewhat of a blur since the baby—and truth be told for most of the months before—but she knew it wasn’t a Sunday. And while any respectable-looking man with a watch fob shied away from her before she had the chance to inquire about the time, it clearly wasn’t the evening, but it was long past noon. No reason for the bells of the Tenth Street Methodist Church to be ringing at all. The last time she’d heard the bells was the day she left, when Reverend Joseph ordered a mournful chiming chorus in honor of the late Clara. If the bells were ringing, then Reverend Joseph was there.

She took a brief detour on her path toward home, turning east on Tenth Street.

The crowd gathered around the church steps was massive, spilling nearly half a block and making any chance of reaching the door impossible. The first thought Kassandra had upon seeing them was utter relief, as nobody was dressed in mourning clothes and there was no hearse waiting at the front. There was a carriage, though, bedecked with flowers, and the general tone of the people gathered there was jovial.

A wedding.

Kassandra smiled—almost—and tried to imagine who would be coming through the church’s ornate doors as man and wife. Who had been engaged when she left? Who had been slyly flirtatious? She allowed herself a private, youthful giggle, indulging in a one-sided schoolgirl conversation, trying to hearken back to that innocence when Sarah James had been her only link to all things carnal. She scanned the crowd now, looking for a glimpse of her childhood friend, wondering if she still wore her hair in sausage curls and silk ribbons.

Then the door of the church burst open, and the crowd made a path for the new bride and groom. The gathering was at least twenty people deep, and Kassandra had no chance of making her way through. But she would be patient. Soon the bride and groom would ride off in their carriage, the throng would disperse, and Reverend Joseph would be alone—in the good humor that weddings always put him in.

Then she saw him. As tall as she remembered and just as thin. Kassandra’s breath caught somewhere just below her throat. She dropped the burdensome bundle she’d been carrying through miles of city streets and brought both hands to her mouth to stifle a scream.

Meanwhile, Reverend Joseph stood in the open doorway smiling as the bride, dressed in an elegant and expensive gown, appeared in the doorway as well. Kassandra craned her neck, straining to get a better fix on the woman’s face.

It was that dull Dianne Weathersby. How many Friday afternoons had this woman spent in Reverend Joseph’s parlor, while her conniving and desperate mother tried to manufacture a courtship between her daughter and the eligible young minister? Kassandra couldn’t wait to see the poor man who had been coerced into such a union.

Reverend Joseph took the silk hat handed to him, put it on his head, and held out his arm to the former Miss Weathersby. Arm in arm they walked down the steps. When they reached the carriage, Reverend Joseph handed her up as if escorting a queen, then planted a quick kiss on her cheek when he sat beside her. He reached down and pulled out a large bag of sweets, throwing handfuls into the crowd to the delight of the children. With a good-natured command to the driver, whips were tapped to horses and the newlyweds drove away.

The carriage passed just in front of Kassandra. So close that one step would have taken her into its path. But the thought of it didn’t occur to her until a corner was turned and they were gone.

“You can’t very well go back to him now, can you, my love?”

It couldn’t be. But she knew that voice as well as she knew the other.

“How did you find me?” She didn’t want to look at him.

“Ah, now, Kassie.” He grasped her shoulders and forced her to turn around. “Haven’t you learned yet that nothin’ happens to what’s mine?”

“Plenty has happened to me, Ben.”

She’d kept her eyes downcast, but Ben touched his hand to her chin and forced her to look up. He flinched a bit at what he saw.

“It wouldn’a happened if you’d stayed with me.”

Kassandra left those words hanging between them, trying to sort out if they’d been spoken in compassion or as a threat. There was nothing to confirm either one, just a chastising smirk that made her wish she could spit one of her loosened teeth into his face.

“I will not go back with you,” she said.

“Ah hah!” He swept his cap off in a grand gesture toward the scattering crowd. “And how do you think the fine new Mrs. Reverend Joseph will feel about bringin’ this fallen little angel into her house?”

“He will welcome me back.”

“Are you sure of that? A woman can turn a man’s head about things.”

“I am like a daughter to him.”

“Listen, Kassie girl.”

He drew a protective arm around her, and before she knew it, she’d been herded off the sidewalk and around the back corner of the church, away from curious eyes.

“It’s one thing to be the little girl back home after runnin’ away with the handsome delivery boy.”

“I no longer find you as handsome,” she said.

“Nor, my love, are you so little.”

“And who did this to me?” She felt tears well up in her swollen eye and tried to turn away.

“Aw, now, love,” he said, lightly running his finger over her bruised face, “you can’t be blamin’ this on me, now. How many of them were there? Seven? Eight? That’s more men in one night than most—”

Kassandra reached her bloodied, bandaged hand back and slapped Ben’s face so hard the imprint was immediately visible among the freckles.

“Do you know what they did to me?” She was close to screaming, but the thought of the happy gathering just a few feet away brought her back to her senses. “Do you, Ben?”

“Kassie—”

“They—they
raped
me.”

The sound of it, spoken aloud, made it real at last. She balled up her fists and pummeled his chest, over and over, repeating in a choked whisper, “They raped me. They raped me. They raped me.”

He took the blows unquestioning, unflinching, until the pain in her hands brought them to a stop. He didn’t try to comfort her in any way, never attempted to put his arms around her, draw her close, hold her. He simply stood—as unyielding as the solid wall behind her—until her hands were still, her breath steady.

Then, in a quiet voice of reason he said, “And just what do you think the reverend’s wife will think about all that?”

“What can you possibly mean?”

“She’ll want to know what you were doin’ alone in the street at night, talkin’ to a group of men—”

“I did not talk to them!”

“Of course you could always just keep it to yourself, but women have a way of sensin’ these things.

“No, Ben Connor,” Kassandra said, shaking her finger in his face, “You will not do this to me again.”

“And what am I doin‘?”

“I will not let you seduce me again.”

Ben threw his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Kassie! I haven’t touched you—”

“You know what I mean. It worked once before, but not again. I will not listen to your lies again.”

“Now, love.” He attempted to grasp her arms, but pulled away at her recoil. “Stop and think. Did I ever, even once, lie to you?”

“Of course you did!”

“Think, Kassie. I may not be the most honorable man in the world, but I am a man true to his word. I never lied to you.”

“You deceived me.”

“That’s not the same.” That grin was back, and the past few hours—the past year—was disappearing behind it. “Come back with me now, Kassie. There’s no thin’ for you here.”

“There is nothing with you.”

“You’ll be safe. I promise you that.”

“Is that all I am allowed to ask for?”

“You’ve seen this city,” Ben said. “Bein’ safe is more than a lot of women have.”

He turned from her then and started to walk away, leaving her in the shadow of the church. It would have been a clean exit had he not stumbled over her bundle that she’d dropped sometime during their conversation.

“What’s this?” he said, bending down to pick it up. “This looks familiar.” He shot her a mischievous grin. “You’re quite the thief, aren’t you?”

“Please, Ben,” she said. “I didn’t have anything—”

“Now, you know I can’t allow anyone to steal from me.”

“I’ll send it back.”

“Oh, no, love. I might be offerin’ you up to the reverend’s new wife, but I’m takin’ this with me.”

Ben hoisted the bundle over his shoulder and started down the street. He had one hand in his pocket, and Kassandra swore she heard him whistling.

She stood alone watching, for the second time, any hope she had for a future disappear around the corner. She took one following step, then another, and when she, too, rounded the corner, she saw Ben standing next to a hired cab, her belongings in his mother’s quilt strapped to the back, grinning like the triumphant prince.

“I know it’s been a long day for you,” he said, “so I figured to take you back in style.”

Silent and sullen, Kassandra allowed herself to be handed up to the cab’s seat.

It was late afternoon when the cab came to a stop in front of Mott Street Tavern. Ben stepped down and gallantly held out his hand to help Kassandra to the street, but she ignored him and did her best to breeze past him. When the cabbie unlashed her bundle and attempted to hand it to Ben, she shouldered her way between them, saying, “I will take that.”

Ben shouldered her right back and handed the cabbie a substantial amount of cash and coin while taking the bundle from him in one smooth gesture.

The tavern was far from empty, but not a sound emitted from any of the people gathered there when Ben pushed through the front door and walked in with a sullen Kassandra lagging behind.

“Hallo, everyone,” Ben said, oblivious to their gaped-mouth silence.

He walked straight through the tavern and out its back door. Kassandra followed into the horrid back room to the stairs, her eyes long accustomed to making a way through this darkness. She followed close behind Ben, her legs threatening to keep her from taking even one more step.

Ben stopped just short of the second-floor landing, and she collided with him in the utter darkness.

“I just want you to know, Kassie … I want you to know that I forgive you. For the baby.”

It was the first he’d spoken about their child, and so shocked was she, she was unable to say anything in return.

Ben sighed and climbed on.

When they reached the second-floor landing, Kassandra reached round the corner to find the railing to guide her up to the third floor, but Ben’s voice stopped her once again.

“No, Kassie.”

She felt his hand grip hers, and he led her down the second-floor hallway—past girls who stood in their open doorways, whispering as she walked by. He took her three doors down, right next to Bridget’s room, and opened the door. Inside were a plain iron post bed, a washstand, and a grime-covered window letting in the last of the afternoon light.

“Ben, you cannot mean—”

“You’ll always be safe here, love,” he said, not looking at her. “I’ll see to that.”

He walked over to the bed and put her bundle upon it. The knot gave him a little trouble, but he soon got it loose and untied the rope. Then, in one grand gesture, he took one corner of the quilt and flipped Kassandra’s belongings onto the mattress, sending Clara’s Bible and the silver-handled mirror clattering to the floor. The tiny bird figurine flew across the room, hitting the wall.

The sound of it caught Ben’s attention, and he stooped to pick it up and brought it over to Kassandra.

“No harm to it,” he said, grabbing her hand and placing the little statue within it. “Just a bit of a chip.”