Blake seemed to think the whole thing humorous. “You’ve just got cold feet. Had a bit of that myself before the wedding. Father’ll set you right.” He jabbed Jack in the ribs and headed out of the room.
The elder Kensington resumed ranting. “I know it’s the holiday season, but there are four business days left this week.”
Jack edged away from the Cape buffalo head mounted at eye level. Its huge black eyes and curved horns made him more than uneasy. The blood-red carpet and smell of polish recalled childhood and the parlor he was never allowed to enter. People with houses like this did not accept “no.” He could sure use Darcy right now. She had a way of bulling around any obstacle to get her way.
“It’s done,” Kensington said, hanging up the telephone receiver. “Imbeciles. They don’t know their brains from their bums, but rest assured, your aeroplane will be here within the week or they’ll pay a hefty price.” He clapped Jack on the back. “Care for a drink? Eugenia, have the housekeeper run in some ice.”
The sleek Mrs. Kensington, who had appeared from nowhere, pursed perfectly formed red lips. “It’s Sunday.”
“For heavens sake, can’t I offer the man a drink?”
Kensington’s walrus mustache bristled with irritation.
“Thank you anyway,” Jack said quickly. “I have things to do.”
“On a Sunday evening?”
“Do stay for supper.” Mrs. Kensington touched Jack’s arm lightly. “The newlyweds will be joining us.”
Reason enough to leave.
“Thank you, ma’am, but I have things to do. Mr. Kensington. Thank you. You’ve saved me a lot of travel.”
“It’s my money,” the man joked, though Jack didn’t find much humor in it. Bad enough he was into these people for thousands. When they realized how much it would really cost, he expected them to back away in a hurry. Blake was young enough to ignore the cost for the thrill of adventure. Blake’s father was another matter.
Jack hustled out into the night, glad to leave the sterile house behind. Flurries fell on roofs and porches. Lights glowed through front windows, beacons of warmth lining the streets. In one house an old man danced with his wife, their steps slow and painful, their faces rapt with tender love. It was achingly domestic. In another home a family said grace around the Sunday meal, heads bowed. Jack could almost taste the roast turkey.
How long had it been since he’d sat for a family meal? Before Mom died. Before boarding school and the army and flying. There were meals, sure, and people to share them with, but never a family, never a wife or mother to welcome him home. Never children who laughed and told stories.
For the first time in years, he longed for it—not what was lost, but what could have been. He—Jack Lindsey Hunter—wanted a family. The idea stunned him. He’d never quite imagined himself with a wife and children. He’d never allowed himself that fantasy.
He shook his head. This foolishness had to be brought on by fatigue. He hadn’t slept well in days.
That was it.
Yet, as he walked back to the boardinghouse, he looked for Darcy in every parlor window. She must live in this grandest of Pearlman’s neighborhoods, where the three-story Victorian and Federal homes towered over the town. He walked past house after house, but none of the windows revealed her.
The snow was coming down harder, sticking to every branch and limb and accumulating on the sidewalks. He trudged through it, collar turned up.
Darcy was right. He had returned to Pearlman to see her. He needed her. Her fire and spirit energized him. She made him believe anything was possible. When he was around her, he actually believed he could cross the Atlantic.
Then he spotted her in a modest two-story house. She stood in the front window, back to him, gesturing the way she did when she was excited. He lingered as the snow piled onto his shoulders and cap.
She was directing a trio of children in a game that apparently involved jumping on and off the furniture. Little heads bobbed up and down, followed by Darcy’s larger, more lovely one.
The ache intensified. He wanted this so badly it hurt.
A large snowflake landed on his jacket. Its minute crystals spread in glorious beauty. He touched a finger to it, and it melted. By trying to hold the snowflake, he’d destroyed it.
Just like with Darcy. Hold on too tightly, and he’d ruin everything that made her wonderful. Protect her, and he’d lose her, but at least her family would have her.
No matter how much she argued and protested, he had to keep her on the ground. For her sake. Unlike him, she had too much to lose.
A church bell tolled the hour and reminded Jack that he didn’t belong here amongst the happy memories and loving families. He had to let them go. He had to let Darcy go.
He shook off the snow and walked back to the boardinghouse.