Under the Moon Gate (31 page)

“That was nice,” he said softly. “Hold that thought. I’ll hurry back. But I want you to promise me you’ll lock up while I’m gone.”

“Nathaniel, I’ll be fine. You won’t be gone long. I’m not afraid anymore. Really.”

“Sure, I know,” he said, pretending a calm he didn’t feel. He was only going to be gone as long as it took to wipe the floor with the bastard who was threatening Patience, and then he’d be back in time for the first course. He’d pay the man off, give him whatever he wanted, and hopefully frighten him away. He had money. If he needed to get his hands on some fast cash, he could always sell his boat.

“You have your key, don’t you, in case I can’t hear you from the kitchen?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, checking his pocket to make sure as he looked back at her one more time. That she had given him an extra key really did prove she trusted him. She was smiling now, trying to put on a brave face, for him. He could be brave for her, too. He was a pirate, after all. Fearless. That’s how she saw him. And that’s what he’d be, have to be, for her.

Tears gathered in her eyes.

He couldn’t leave her hurt and mad, so he added, “Now, don’t burn the dinner, dear.”

Patience laughed in spite of herself. “I’ll try not to.”

****

Patience didn’t even know if she could make dinner, but she was determined to finish what she started.

She locked the door behind Nathaniel, put on a CD, and listened to some Forties music. She liked the sounds of the Big Band era. It made her feel closer to her grandparents and helped to lift her mood and temper her disappointment about Nathaniel leaving so abruptly.

She would finish dinner preparations, set the table, and put on something fresh and sexy for Nathaniel. She had seen Cecilia operate. She could do that. Her heart was in freefall, and tonight she was determined to make Nathaniel fall in love with her, too.

The main dish was in the oven. The timer was set. An accompanying dish was simmering on the stove. Patience went to her bedroom and turned on the shower, leaving the door open so she could hear the music while she showered. She sang along as she lathered up, washing her hair. Smiling, she daydreamed about what it would be like tonight. A candlelight dinner out on the veranda. Music pouring out into the moonlight. Stars everywhere. And then, after dinner, romance. She was finally ready, and tonight she would tell Nathaniel how she felt. She closed her eyes, let the warm soapy water wash over her while her imagination ran wild. She knew just how it was going to be between them. He would take her into his arms and press her close, and she would open her lips and—

Suddenly her naked body stiffened as a large, hairy hand reached in, snaked her from behind, and yanked her from the shower. She tried to scream, but another hand was covering her mouth. Her heart beat so fast she thought it would burst out of her chest. She shook from the shock, and the cold made her teeth chatter.

“Patience, don’t make a sound, not if you want to live.” The man spoke in broken English with a heavy, guttural German accent Patience found intimidating and frighteningly familiar. She gasped when she saw the flash of a sharp blade.

Fear shot through her, and she tried to struggle out of his hold, but the intruder was too strong.

“One wrong move and I’ll gut you.”

“W-what do you want?” She barely choked out the words. She didn’t think he could understand her since the words were muffled against his hand.

Releasing her suddenly, he dangled her sheer, white robe in front of her so she could catch it, and when she did, he clamped his arms around her body again.

“Now, get dressed. Slowly. And don’t turn around. He flicked the knife against her throat and drew a drop of blood.

She cried out.

“First blood.” He laughed. “You’re shaking. You’re afraid. That’s very good. You should be.”

“Nathaniel,” she whimpered, wanting to crawl into herself. She didn’t know if she had said it aloud or thought it.

“Your sea captain is otherwise occupied. He won’t be coming to your rescue. Not in time, anyway.”

“What have you done to him?” she asked. She couldn’t see the man’s face. She did recognize his voice. It was the man who had threatened her on the phone. He sounded like an older man, but he had the thick, strong arms of someone much younger.

“Just threw him off course.”

“But I locked the doors,” she whispered.

“Yes, of course you did. Did you think that would stop me? I’m very resourceful. Did you like my little diversion, Patience?”

“Diversion?” Patience was puzzled.

“The fire,” the man hissed.

“You set the fire on Nathaniel’s boat?”

“Yes. It gave me a chance to get into the house, steal your keys, and make a set for myself. Did you and your sea captain have fun on Front Street today?”

How could he know?

“I’ve been here in your bedroom all afternoon, waiting for you. For us to have this time alone together. I think I’ve been very patient. You really should get the lock on your bedroom door fixed.”

Tears began to slide down her cheeks. All she could think was that her dinner was going to burn and she’d never see Nathaniel again, never touch him, never kiss him, never get the chance to tell him or show him how much she loved him.

The intruder stroked her neck methodically and his fingertips skimmed the front of her robe. Disgusted, Patience tried to pull away. She couldn’t stand his hands on her.

“You can struggle all you want. You can’t get away from me.” She was shivering uncontrollably now.

“Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your body, not in the way you think, just your dead body. Yes, I’m going to kill you, Patience. Do you want me to tell you just how? First, let me tell you about how I killed your grandfather.”

Still wet and slippery from the bath, and practically naked, she sprang on the balls of her feet, pivoting, to try to get a look at her attacker. But he grabbed her face and twisted it away.

“My grandfather?” she seethed. “You killed my grandfather? Why would you do that? How do you even know my grandfather?”

The man loosened his hold on her and whispered softly in her ear, “Because he was my father.”

Patience sagged against him. She couldn’t have heard correctly. She didn’t understand.

“But how can that be? My grandfather had no other children.”

He forced her face forward for one more moment, and then threw her roughly on the bed.

When Patience finally turned to face him, her mouth flew open in confusion and her eyes widened in shock.

“Grandfather?” she whispered, going pale. The intruder was younger than her grandfather, but as she stared at the man in the dimming light, he had the definite look of William Whitestone. “Is that you?”

“You think I’m your grandfather?” The man laughed wildly. “Or maybe your grandfather’s ghost? I think you’re going insane, Patience. Your grandfather is dead. There is a strong family resemblance, though, don’t you think?”

“Who are you?” she demanded, her teeth still chattering from fear and the chill in the room. She pulled her filmy robe tighter around her.

“I suppose you deserve to know the whole story, since I’m going to kill you anyway. I think you’ll be surprised. Would you like to hear it?”

She was too frightened to speak, but she nodded and huddled under the covers, scooting as far away from the apparition as possible.

Chapter 29

Nathaniel wrapped a shaky hand tightly around his beer, took a pull from the bottle, and then got up from his seat near the door to pace the length of the smoky bar again. The man was a half hour late for their meeting. It was getting dark. He had promised Patience he’d try to be home. She would be worried.

The jukebox was playing. The few tables that filled the narrow room were brimming with customers, but there was no sign of whoever had written the note. No one seemed to be looking for him. No one appeared to be nervous. He had looked every one of the patrons in the eye and received no acknowledgement, no response, no recognition.

He could have kicked himself. He had no idea what the man looked like. Why hadn’t he given a description? Was he young or old? Heavyset or thin? Bearded or clean-shaven? Dark-skinned or light? Local or foreign? Had he ever been in the bar at all? If so, why hadn’t he come forward? The man obviously knew what
he
looked like. He wasn’t going to show. He was playing games.

Nathaniel got the sinking feeling that he had been tricked. Lured away from Marigold House and away from Patience. The man could be with her right now. She could be in danger. Nathaniel slapped some dollars on the bar to cover his tab and ran outside. A brief look around confirmed that no one was waiting for him here. His scooter was right where he had left it, untouched. He unlocked it, dragged on his helmet, and raced out of Hamilton like his life depended on it. Because he had a horrible feeling in his gut that Patience’s life might depend on it.

Chapter 30

Patience held her hand to her galloping heart. The man looked so much like her grandfather it was uncanny. She wanted to cringe and flee from him in terror, and at the same time she stifled the urge to fling herself into his arms and cry out, “Grandfather!” But this man exhibited no tenderness like her grandfather. And the look he gave her jolted her system like a shock. It was a look of bitterness and pure evil, emotions she had no experience with. Yes, his thick German accent was the same as that of the man on the telephone. She was sure of that. But she couldn’t put it together. It made no sense. He said he was going to kill her. What reason did he have to want to harm her? Why did he hate her so much? And what did he mean by saying William Whitestone was his father?

“If you want money, I have it,” she offered, her body shaking. “You can take whatever you want that I have in the house. I can get more. Why have you come?”

“To tell you the story, Patience. I’ve waited a long time to tell you the story. Money is only part of it.”

Patience bit her bottom lip until it bled, then took a deep breath. She scrunched the robe in her hand, bunching it up, letting it go, bunching it up again. She huddled further under the blankets.

“It’s the story of a little boy in Dresden,” the man began. “Do you know Dresden, Patience? It’s a city in eastern Germany. Have you ever been there? Of course, you haven’t. Your grandfather would never have allowed that. Surely you’ve heard of it? Dresden was a beautiful city, one of the most beautiful in Europe, before the bombs destroyed it. But I’m jumping ahead of myself.

“I was about seven then. Too young to go to war. Too young to see and suffer the scars of war when it came to our city. After the military academy, where my father studied engineering and was first in his class, he served on a battleship and then became a
Kapitänleutnant
in the
Kriegsmarine
, a loyal Nazi. Next, he worked in intelligence in the
B-Dienst
. He was a shining star, so full of promise, my mother said, that they sent him off on a secret assignment, which explained why he couldn’t visit us. But she promised me he would come back one day. She told me, ‘He will love you. You’ll see.’

“My mother said I should be proud of my father. I should be proud of
Kapitänleutnant
Wilhelm von Hesselweiss. But how could I be proud of a man I had never met? Oh, I’d seen pictures. She kept his picture in a place of honor, on a lace doily on a small table in our apartment. But he never did come home. He never wanted my mother or me. He never wrote to her, never even tried to contact us.

“I was a handsome boy, my mother said, just like my father. ‘You’re like an apple off the tree,’ she liked to tell me. ‘The image of your father.’

“So why did the other boys make fun of me and call me the son of a whore? Why? Because my mother never married the handsome
Kapitänleutnant
. He slept with her, had his fun with her, but then he left her, alone, to raise a son alone in the misery of war. She was a good woman. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way he treated her.

“My father was an important man, my mother told me. He was doing an important job in the war. He didn’t have time to worry about how we were faring. He was a wealthy man. I can see now how wealthy he was. So why were we starving? Because he didn’t provide for us. When my mother became pregnant, her parents forced her out of their home. So the young boy went to sleep each night with a hunger in his belly so great that he didn’t think he could survive until morning. And a craving for a father that was never satisfied.

“Never once did my mother speak ill of him. She loved him until her dying day. She waited for him and he never came. His name was the last word she breathed. He was not worthy of her love, and yet, for some reason, she worshipped him.

“My mother was just a statistic, one of the hundreds of thousands who lost their lives in the Allied bombing raids. The bombs that wouldn’t stop raining down their death and destruction. We were running, but there was no escape from the fire. We were separated by the crowd. My mother tried to hold on to me, but she had to let go of my hand. One minute she was there, the next she was on fire. And I had to watch. I remember wishing I had died with her.

“Perhaps you’ve read about the firebombing of Dresden? It was worse, much worse, so much more painful than the newsreels and the history books paint it. You are a student of history, but nothing said about it is as bad as living through it.