Yesterday's Roses (25 page)

Bending over the still Chinese girl, Hallie groped for the pulse at her neck. Nothing. With a surge of panic, she moved her fingers lower, holding her breath apprehensively. Relief flooded over her like an incoming tide as she discerned a weak, irregular beat, and she let out her breath in a ragged gust.

The young woman had lost a great deal of blood over the course of the endless afternoon, hemorrhaging in a torrent that had quickly saturated her loose-fitting trousers. Hallie looked down at the blanket now stained an ugly, rusty red and, with a hopeless sob, resumed massaging the girl's belly.

In those early hours following the exchange with Officer Brady, the girl had refused Hallie's assistance. So taken aback had Hallie been by the hostile suspicion reflected in those beautiful eyes that she had simply watched helplessly as the girl rocked back and forth on her cot, crooning something to herself in a singsong voice.

But sometime in the blur of the afternoon she had at last turned to Hallie, her eyes brimming with mute appeal. As she moved to the girl's side, Hallie gave silent thanks for the experience gained during her stint as Sanitary Visitor to the Philadelphia tenements. As frustrating and painful as it had been at times, it taught her to reach beyond the barrier of language and to give comfort simply as one human being to another. After all, weren't pain and illness a universal plight?

Cautiously, Hallie turned her palm up and offered her open hand to the girl in a gesture of wordless friendship. It was at that moment that a pain chose to lock the girl in its cruel grasp, and she seized Hallie's outstretched hand with desperate brutality.

Thus the first seeds of trust were planted. Hand motions and sounds replaced words, for Hallie knew no Chinese, and the few words of English uttered by the girl gave little doubt as to her station in life. Through patience, Hallie was able to learn that the girl's name was Tuberose, but little else.

As the twilight faded, so did the fragile communication between the women. Tuberose's breathing was now little more than a shallow whisper; her heartbeat a faint sigh. And the truth was almost more than Hallie could bear: Tuberose was dying and there was nothing she could do.

“Damn it!” Hallie swore, rubbing at the tears of frustration that stung her eyes. “Where has that worthless warden gone?” After Brady had delivered a dismal repast of thin soup and water, of which neither woman had partaken, no one had bothered to check on them.

“Damn! Damn! Damn!” Hallie sobbed, driving her fist against the brick wall with knuckle-splitting force. As pain flamed through her abused hand, she was filled with a desperation that made something deep inside of her snap. Snatching up the tin soup bowl, Hattie emptied the unpalatable contents into the relief bucket and then stalked over to the door.

Taking a long, ragged breath, she struck the bowl across the bars with all her strength. Over and over again she banged, shattering the calm with the chaotic din of metal against metal. She could feel the impact of the blows radiate up her arm, and her shoulder joint soon ached from the impact.

“Get your sorry, godforsaken hide in here now!” She screamed above the deafening clatter. She was startled into dropping the bowl when a clear voice, projecting calmly above the noise, answered her.

“I certainly hope he hasn't forsaken it. I have a feeling my hide's going to need his protection if—HELL AND DAMNATION!” Davinia ejected as she came face to face with the prisoner.

“Davinia, thank God!” Hallie exclaimed, reaching through the bars to clutch at her friend's arm.

Frowning with concern, Davinia gently touched Hallie's bruised cheek. “What happened?”

“The whore kicked Nicholas Connelly in his man parts and then tried to rob him. They say he's ruined for life,” replied Officer Brady, who had been following Davinia, with Marius DeYoung close at his heels.

“Good for her!” cheered Davinia, moving her hand from Hallie's cheek to give her friend a congratulatory pat on the back. “I'm sure the lecher deserved a good swift kick. Would have done it myself, had the opportunity presented itself. But a whore and a thief? Really, Brady! Even you know better than to believe that durn Connelly creature.” She stared at the policeman in her most quelling manner for a moment before snapping, “Well? Are you going to stand there gaping like a day-old market fish, or are you going to unlock this door? You've obviously made a mistake.”

Brady glanced nervously from Davinia Loomis's imperious scowl to the lady doctor's angrily flushed cheeks. “Can't. Not until she sees the judge.”

“Day after tomorrow,” supplied Hallie miserably.

“Why, that's absurd!” interjected Marius, joining Hallie and Davinia in their glaring match with the policeman. “Surely allowances can be made? I can personally vouch for this woman's character, and let me assure you, it's beyond reproach.”

“Rules is rules,” Brady quoted. “And I always follow them to the letter. She's not going anywhere.”

“But the girl,” Hallie motioned desperately at the figure on the cot, “is dying. Please, at least release her. She can't harm anyone.”

“Rules is rules.”

“Hell and damnation!” shouted Davinia again, throwing her hands up in the air in disgust. “Marius?” She pulled the preacher aside, and they conferred in an inaudible whisper for several minutes. Giving a vigorous nod, Marius spun on his heels and left.

With that bit of business completed to her apparent satisfaction, Davinia rounded on the policeman. “Well, Brady, if you won't release the doctor, you can at least let me into the cell to see if I can lend her some assistance with her patient. I speak Chinese, you know.”

Brady shook his head. “This woman is violent. After what she did to Nick—” His words faded away, and he paled at the thought.

“Well, since I don't possess the anatomy in question, I should be safe enough.” She smiled cunningly. “Of course, if you're afraid to open the door—”

The man straightened to his full, lanky height, his face the picture of wounded dignity. “Officer Brady, afraid? Of a mere female? Ha!” he exclaimed. “Just trying to protect you, ma'am. However, if you insist on consorting with the prisoners, well, then, all right. Just don't say you weren't warned.”

“Hush now, dear,” Davinia crooned, tightening her embrace around Hallie and patting her friend's heaving back. “You did what you could.”

“Hallie gave a choked sob and shook her head against Davinia's shoulder. “B-b-but it's all so c-cruel! I-I can't imagine anyone f-forcibly performing an a-abortion on a young girl and e-expecting her to service men that s-same day!”

At least two hours had passed since Davinia had entered the cell. Rousing Tuberose from her deathly stupor, Davinia had been able to extract bits and pieces of the girl's horrifying story.

It seemed that the young prostitute had found herself pregnant, and when the Chinese woman who ran the squalid crib establishment where she was enslaved had found out, she'd had the girl held down while she performed an abortion with a buttonhook. Nick Connelly had shown up several hours later, bellowing for his favorite whore, Tuberose. When the girl had objected, the madame had beaten her into submission and then turned her over for further abuse at Nick's hands. He had already forced himself on her several times before Hallie had come upon her.

Staring down at the outline of the girl's corpse shrouded in the bloodstained blanket, Hallie sniffled. “She was so afraid of me. I only wanted to help her, but s-she wouldn't—”

“I know,” Davinia whispered, stroking Hallie's hair.

“B-but w-why?”

“It's a terrible situation. The brothel keepers tell their prostitutes lurid tales about mission ladies. One of the more effective stories is that we like to boil little Chinese girls and eat them for dinner. Rumor has it that we like them crispy. Of course, we scratch out their eyes and pull out their nails before we toss them into the stew pot.”

Hallie pulled away from Davinia to stare at her in disbelief. “Those women can't possibly believe such nonsense.”

“But they do. Why, it seems that we also like to end our cannibalistic feast with a demure glass of brandy mixed with the blood of Chinese prostitutes.” Davinia removed her spectacles and rubbed them on the hem of her gown. She frowned as she peered at a particularly stubborn smudge. “Of course, once I get my hands on the poor dears, they come around quickly enough.”

“But what of those who don't? There are so many of them.”

With a sigh, Davinia balanced her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Many die. The others spend their days in wretched squalor. We do what we can, but—”

“—but it's never enough,” finished Hallie, dry-eyed now. It was true what Davinia said. For every prostitute they managed to rescue, there would be a hundred who would suffer some sort of tragic fate.

“How I hate this city!” Hallie exclaimed, nodding her head fiercely for emphasis. “It's savage and brutal, and I've had nothing but misfortune since I arrived!”

“You have had a rather bad start. But no doubt things will straighten themselves out soon enough if you're patient.”

“No. My patience is at an end.” Hallie took her friend's hands in hers and stared imploringly into her eyes. “Please forgive me, Davinia. But as soon as I see the judge, I'm taking the first ship back to Philadelphia. There's nothing left for me here, except unhappiness.”

“That, Dr. Gardiner, remains to be seen.” Both women spun around. Hallie blanched with shock as she met the glittering green gaze of Jake Parrish.

Chapter 15

“Jake Parrish! And long overdue, I might add,” scolded Davinia as she sprang to her feet and stalked over to the barred door, where he stood scowling at them.

Jake forced his gaze away from where Hallie sat concealed in the shadows and met Davinia's irate glare coolly.

“Charmed to see you, too, Davinia,” he drawled, tipping his top hat in a mock salute. “But long overdue? I received your message exactly—” he pulled out his musical pocket watch and snapped it open with a flourish, “—forty-two minutes ago. Therefore, I feel safe in considering myself prompt in answering your rather unusual summons.”

Hallie jerked her head up in sudden recognition as the lilting melody from the timepiece drifted across the small space of the cell.
“Invitation to the Dance,”
she thought, feeling almost sad when Jake closed the watch cover and the charming waltz ceased. She shook her head with a sigh. Since the first day she had met Jake and he had opened that watch, she'd struggled to place the tune. Strange that after all these months of trying, she should remember now.

“You know exactly what I mean by ‘prompt',” Davinia lectured, shaking her finger at Jake as if he were a naughty toddler from her Sunday morning Bible class. “Why, the poor dear has been in this stink-hole for hours now, and the way I see it, this whole unfortunate incident is all your fault. I was shocked to hear of your ungentlemanly behavior.”

Jake shot a questioning glance in Hallie's direction, wondering just how much she had told Davinia about their amorous encounter. But the infuriating woman was pointedly ignoring him, studying the writing on the walls

as intently as if it contained the answers to the meaning of life. With a snort of frustration, he looked away.

He'd been a fool to think that she would want his help. Here he had come charging to the jail like a lovesick knight bent on rescuing his lady fair, and the lady didn't seem any too eager to be rescued. At least not by him.

That thought made his mood growl foul in the extreme. Skewering Davinia with his glare, he snapped, “How the hell do you figure this is my fault?”

“Lavinia paid me a visit this afternoon. She had quite a bit to say about the morals of our new doctor. Seems she dropped by your house for a neighborly visit this morning and walked in on you and Hallie at a rather—shall we say—inopportune moment.”

Jake made an impatient sound. “So?”

“So—if it hadn't been for what I'm sure was her unwilling ravishment at your hands, Hallie would never have been wandering the streets in such a disreputable state.”

“Unwilling ravishment?” Jake murmured, signaling Officer Brady with a brusque hand motion. “Interesting point of view.”

Hallie cringed inwardly at his subtle reference to her wanton behavior. He was right, of course. She hadn't been at all unwilling. She retreated deeper into the shadows. Lord! Hadn't she been humiliated enough for one day? The last thing she wanted was to have Jake here, seeing her at her lowest point. She would never be able to look him in the eye again. Not if she lived to be a hundred years old.

Nodding curtly to the officer, Jake commanded, “You can unlock this door now.”

“Well, sir—” The policeman's prominent Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he shot the mighty Mr. Parrish an anxious look.

“Open it.”

“But—”

“Am I not making myself clear, Officer Brady?” Jake arched his brow in question and stared down at the man in a manner that never failed to intimidate even the most stalwart of individuals.

Unnerved by the cold intensity of that green gaze, Brady found his Adam's apple giving a lurch that almost choked him. Rumor had it that it wasn't prudent to cross Jake Parrish.

The officer glanced at the two women in the cell and then back at the powerfully built man in front of him. With a shrug, he fumbled for his keys. Mr. Parrish looked perfectly capable of handling the redheaded she-devil. Besides, the man had always been more than generous when it came to contributing to the various policemen's funds, a fact which went a long way toward making up Brady's mind.

Hallie watched the exchange silently, her face veiled by the heavy curtain of her hair.
Isn't it just like that nasty toad, Brady, to grovel all over His Royal Highness? And isn't the air in the cell getting a bit close?
she thought, feeling suddenly breathless as Jake moved into the room, resplendently dressed in formal evening wear, complete with a long black cape. His commanding presence seemed to make the already small space shrink to claustrophobic proportions.

Davinia, however, was unperturbed by Jake's proximity. Glaring up at him, her hands firmly braced on her hips, she demanded, “Just what do you intend to do about this fiasco, Mr. Parrish?”

“I need to know the nature of the fiasco before I can do anything about it.” Bracing himself securely on his cane, he leaned toward Hallie and demanded, “Exactly what happened, Dr. Gardiner?”

Tightly reining her desire to demonstrate exactly what had brought her to this impasse, Hallie calmly raised her eyes and with a nonchalant shrug, replied, “Why some poor innocent beat me up and tried to rape me. Being the reprehensible wretch that I am, I defended myself. Surely, Mr. Parrish, you can see what a heinous criminal I've become and how deserving I am of my imprisonment.”

Jake closed the narrow space between them in several long, uneven strides. With his free hand, he grasped Hallie's upper arm and pulled her to her feet. As her battered face was touched by the light, he drew in a sharp breath. “And did he succeed?”

With a short, bitter laugh, Hallie replied, “To beat me? As you can see, at that he was most effective. But at rape?” She was unable to stop the single tear that escaped from the corner of her eye. “At that he was no more successful than you.”

Jake flinched at the accusing note in her voice. Is that really how she viewed what had happened in the parlor? Attempted rape? He could have sworn that, before the Donahue women had barged in upon their tryst, Hallie had been just as inflamed by passion as he. Had he been wrong about the willingness with which she had melted into his embrace and about the eagerness with which she had returned his kisses? Could it be that he had been so long without a woman that he could no longer differentiate between one who was willing and one who was not?

Frowning, Jake raised his hand and gently smoothed away her tear with his thumb, his touch growing light as he traced the livid bruise on her cheek.

“What I had in mind, Mission Lady, was an act of love, not violence,” he whispered. “I guess I went about it all wrong. I promise never to force my attentions on you again. Forgive me?”

Hallie released a ragged sigh. Slowly, she reached up to the hand that was cupping her cheek and laid her palm against it, lacing her fingers through his. Then she nodded.

“Hallie,” he groaned.

There was such yearning in his voice, such a note of pain, that Hallie glanced up at his face in wonder. As their gazes touched, the tenderness in his eyes was enough to crack the fragile dam that held her emotions in check. With a strangled sob, she allowed the torrent to flow forth. She would have fallen weakly to her knees had Jake not caught her and crushed her against the reassuring warmth of his chest.

Heartrending sobs racked her body as he held her, her tears falling as freely as the rain that splattered against the window. When she felt Jake's hand move down her back in long, soothing strokes, Hallie buried her face in his shirt, not caring that she was making a mess of the immaculate linen. Unbidden, she reached up to clasp his wide shoulders, desperately seeking comfort from his closeness.

In silence, Jake held her, mentally cursing himself for being an inadequate fool. Damn it to hell! Why did he always fail those for whom he cared the most? First he had failed Serena, and now Hallie. Both had found nothing but disappointment with him, found him not worthy of their love, found him lacking as a man.

Jake's arm tightened around Hallie in a fierce hug. Worst of all, he had failed to protect them. When he thought of that bastard hurting Hallie and touching her like that—

With a groan, he buried his face in Hallie's tangled hair. He would find the man who was responsible for abusing her in such a manner and make sure he never touched her again. He would make sure no one ever harmed her again, even if it meant defending her with his life. Anything. If only she would give him the chance to prove himself.

Sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, he pleaded, “Trust me, Hallie. Please let me be the one to keep you safe.”

But his pleas, which were little more than a longing sigh, were lost in the wrenching sounds of her distress and faded in the air, unanswered.

Gradually the storm of Hallie's tears abated until all that remained was the persistent rhythm of her hiccupping. Dropping a kiss on top of her head, Jake reluctantly released her and slipped his handkerchief into her hand.

Hallie gave him a tremulous smile of thanks before pressing the soft linen square to her nose and blowing. Everything was going to be all right now. Jake was here. She found a dry corner of the handkerchief and mopped away the remainder of her tears, absentmindedly noting the monogrammed initials JVP. She sighed and gave her nose one final wipe. JVP—her wonderful Jake. She was safe now. Jake was here.

Hiccupping more softly now, she looked up to thank him properly. But his attention had turned to signaling Officer Brady, who had been watching the exchange nervously.

As the man came scrambling into the cell, Jake inquired through clenched teeth, “What exactly are the charges against the lady?”

Oblivious to Jake's thinly concealed wrath, Brady answered, “Why, she's a thief and a whore. And besides that, she's dangerous!”

Hallie groaned to herself.
Here it comes again.

Jake's eyes narrowed with fury at the slur to Hallie's character. Forcibly containing his urge to wrap his hands around the jailer's neck and wring an apology out of him, he barked, “Who leveled the charges?”

“Nick Connelly.” Brady jerked his head in Hallie's direction. “She kicked the poor man square in his privy parts.”

Hallie let out a squeak of outrage. But before she could protest further, Jake interjected, “Square in his privy parts, you say?”

Was that a note of satisfaction she heard in his voice? Hallie glanced up at Jake in wonder, only to find him staring down at her, his face awash with tenderness.

Wrapping his arm protectively around her waist, he bent close to her ear and whispered, “Good for you, Mission Lady. I hope you kicked the bastard good and hard.”

She moved closer to his side and nodded.

Brady, who had missed the whole exchange, bobbed his head vigorously. “Word has it,” he continued, his voice taking on a tone of confidentiality, “that Nick is real bad off. The doctors say he'll be ruined for life—if he lives at all!”

“Tragic.” Jake winked at Hallie. “It seems we have a desperate character on our hands. I had no idea my fiancée had such an unfortunate temper.”

“Fiancée!” chorused Davinia and Brady, while Hallie merely stared at him, her eyes bulging and her mouth gaping.

Jake cupped Hallie's chin in his hand and casually snapped her jaw shut. “Why, yes. I can't imagine why Miss—or more correctly, Dr.—Gardiner, didn't mention the happy news. You should have seen Judge Dorner's face this afternoon when I told him the glad tidings. He was so looking forward to meeting my bride-to-be at his party this evening.” He frowned slightly. “I can't imagine what he's going to say when I tell him that the bride is unable to attend because his officers have locked her up.”

Brady paled visibly. “I had no way of knowing that she was to marry you. But you see, she did kick Nick—”

“I know where she kicked him,” Jake ground out irritably. “I've been kicked there a few times myself, and unless my betrothed has legs like a mule, which I assume she doesn't,” he contemplated Hallie in a dubious manner until she stamped on his foot, forcing him to finish in a pained tone, “I seriously doubt that Nick is either half dead or ruined for life.”

“But Nick said she was—”

“A whore?” Jake snarled, his expression turning menacing. “Were you about to refer to my future wife as a whore, Brady?”

Brady made a choking sound and gestured helplessly. “Well—”

Jake cut him off with a sharp slashing motion. “I would be careful where I cast aspersions if I were you. I find I'm growing touchy when it comes to the subject of Dr. Gardiner and very impatient with this whole episode. Now, I'd suggest you release the doctor into my custody.”

“But I can't just let her go,” whined Brady. “She has to see the judge.”

“Fine. Then I'll have Judge Dorner brought here.”

Brady sputtered at that suggestion. “B-b-but—”

“The judge was most anxious to meet my—oh, yes, he referred to her as the ‘luckiest little woman in San Francisco.'” Jake flinched as Hallie responded to his “luckiest little woman” remark with a sharp pinch to his arm. Quickly composing himself, he proceeded to beam down at her as if he were indeed the proud husband-to-be.

Davinia Loomis, who had stood quiet witness during the exchange, made an exasperated noise. “Hell and damnation, Brady! Stop being such a durned idiot. We all know this woman is no whore, just as we all know what a goat Nick Connelly can be.”

Brady chewed his lip indecisively. “But—”

“But, nothing!” Davinia scolded. “Think, man. Do you really want to have to tell Judge Dorner that you've mistakenly arrested Jake Parrish's fiancée?”

Brady's Adam's apple bobbed convulsively at that thought, and he turned an alarming shade of purple.

“Well, seeing as Mr. Parrish is such a good friend of Judge Dorner, I'll release her. But only if he promises not to let her out of his sight until after she's been to court.”