I gave him my address before we parted ways.
As I moved back toward the picnic, I dared not look behind me to see if he was still watching me. My coat finally came off, as the day seemed to have grown even hotter around me.
For the rest of the day, whenever my mind happened to drift, I could still see his dark, daring eyes.
What happened next was inevitable.
15.
You are an extraordinary woman, Mrs. Sorensen.” James Lee sat by my kitchen table drinking my brandy. Having him there made the whole room seem new, infused with a sweet tension that was not there before. We were alone in the house except for the child. Mads was working all night.
I had been fretting about it all day. Would he come or would he not? Would he truly bring a child to me and settle my dissatisfaction, even if only for a while?
I had told Mads of what was to happen but also told him not to expect too much. “You never know with such people,” I said. “Perhaps they will change their minds and not show.”
I had not told him that Anne’s mother was in prison; I said she had been ill. I did mention the money, however, as an explanation for my choice. Children from the orphanage did not come with cash. He huffed at that, of course, found it immoral that what he deemed greed had steered me in matters of compassion, but he knew as well as I did that we needed the income dearly, and he would surely enjoy the cheese and roast as well as me.
“You barely know me.” I sat down opposite James Lee and poured myself a glass, fighting to keep a steady hand.
“No, but I do know the extraordinary when I see it.” He smirked at me, and again I felt that blush staining my cheeks.
“What about you? Are you an extraordinary man, Mr. Lee?” Having him there under my roof made me feel uncomfortable and exhilarated all at once. I did not understand myself. I had to search to find the right words, though I never lacked wit before. The house around me did not seem dirty and empty, or filled with the echoes of things not to be, but young and invigorated by his presence.
James Lee laughed and raised his glass in a toast. “You tell me, Mrs. Sorensen.”
Between us on the table was a wad of cash, the bills greasy and worn. The little girl, Anne, sleepy and compliant with laudanum upon her arrival, was already in bed. Oh, how sweet it had been to hold her in my arms and press her soft form to my chest. Such a pretty child too, with dark tresses and blue eyes, almost as lovely as Olga. I could not wait to meet her proper when she arose the next day. I had already prepared another bed for me in the room where she slept, so I could listen to her breathing all night.
“She seems to be a quiet girl. A little dark for a Norwegian,” I mused.
“We come in all sorts of coloring, don’t we?”
“Of course.” And the money was good so I would not complain.
He looked around the room, at my pots and pans. “You have a lovely home. It seems to me a good place for an enterprise such as this. What you need, Mrs. Sorensen, is children who aren’t abandoned but secrets someone wants to hide. Then you could charge for their upkeep monthly, and even adjust the price. You’d be surprised to learn how many children like that are born in this city every day. Pregnant mistresses and whores abound.” He leaned back in the chair and grinned with his hand around the glass.
“I am doing this from the goodness of my heart. It’s not some enterprise—”
“Oh, come, Mrs. Sorensen, we both know you would not mind if it were.” His eyes glittered merrily across the table. He swept a drop of brandy from his lip with a darting red tongue.
I could not help but laugh a little. “If I am to make this a business, my earnings will be hard won. It’s not easy keeping children.” I lifted the ruffled collar at my neck a little away from the skin for air. I could not help but think how it would be if it were this man I lay next to in bed instead of my stocky husband. This man, with the devil in his eyes.
“It takes so long for them to grow up too.” James called me back to the matter at hand. “Which is why it might suit you better to keep those who merely need shelter for a while.”
“For a simple man from Norway you know quite a lot about this type of enterprise.”
“I was born in America, in St. Louis. My parents came from Norway, but neither of them was simple.”
“Did they take in children?” I could not help but tease him.
He laughed. “No, I picked up that knowledge elsewhere.” Now that I knew he was born in America, I could hear the American accent hidden in his Norwegian.
“Is this to say, Mr. Lee, that you are prepared to offer me more children to keep in my house for cash?” I had to look away while I spoke; I found the sight of his lips most distracting.
“It is.” His eyes were glittering again in that way that they did and I busied myself with counting the cash, although I had already done it once before.
“It would certainly make it less wholesome, less about the goodness of my heart and more about Mammon,” I muttered with my hands full of bills.
“What do you think would bring you more pleasure? Satisfying your conscience or lining your purse with gold?” I wished that he would not speak of pleasure. His hand around the glass distracted me—oh, to think what those fingers would feel like traveling on my skin.
“Do you think me so simple that it’s all about the gold?” I tried to mask my discomfort with words.
“Yes, Mrs. Sorensen, I do.” His smile never wavered. Our gazes met briefly across the table.
“What would your part in this enterprise be?” I dropped my gaze to the bills.
“I would provide the children, of course.”
“And your price?”
“None—not from you.”
I snorted. “No one does something for nothing.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll take my share on the other end,” he said, when the laughter had died out. “I’ll charge to find the children a suitable home. As for you, I think it is enough to know that I have a friend who might help me out someday.” The longevity implied in his statement was both disturbing and thrilling. I did not quite know what to do with this man, with the way that he made me feel.
“So you want this to be a home for the children of thieves and whores.” It was a statement, not a question. It did not leave me shocked, as perhaps it ought to.
“The money would never run out if you choose to go into business with me.” His eyes glittered merrily.
“That is certainly a tempting prospect.” I licked my lips, tasted the liquor.
“Isn’t it just?” He laughed again; it was a soft, purring sound. “I can be a good friend to a woman such as yourself, who has seen hardships and seeks some solace.” He winked at me across the table. “I would never take you for a fool, Mrs. Sorensen, you can be sure of that.”