This time her smile was genuine. “I’ll make them for her again next week.”
Next week. Would there be a next week at the park? The horrible inspector might be at the picnic again. The inspector who was Alma’s fiancé. She could hardly bend her mind around the idea: Alma was to marry a cruel, manipulative man who took advantage of immigrant women. Francesca could only imagine the number of women he’d abused; his position made them all the more vulnerable. If she was any kind of friend, she’d tell Alma the truth before it was too late. Even if Alma didn’t believe her. Even if she never wanted to see Francesca again.
She glanced at Fritz, who also seemed lost in thought. “You’re lucky to have them.”
“What? Your cookies? I know.” He gave her a teasing grin.
“Your family. Alma is a special person.”
He nodded. “She is. We’ve been the best of friends since we were kids. After our father died, we grew closer than ever.” He looked down, kicked a pebble with his boot. “Papa was sick for a few months and suddenly he was gone. That all seems so long ago now, but I still miss him.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He studied her with his piercing blue eyes. “You understand, don’t you.”
“Yes,” she said quietly, avoiding his eye. “Mamma…she disappeared. One day she didn’t come home, and we don’t know what happened to her. My father… Well, you know that story, don’t you.”
The muscle in his jaw flickered. “You did the right thing by leaving.”
“Yes,” she said, voice soft. If he only knew what she’d done to get here. Unwittingly, her free hand covered her midsection.
She walked silently beside Fritz for a while, looking ahead at the dust clouds kicked up from horses and carriage wheels. The busy parade of pedestrians flowing to and from their destinations in the city, businessmen, women with their parasols in bright summer colors. A low rumble rolled across the sky. Soon, rain would scatter the pedestrians as they searched for cover, and the dry streets would turn to mud. It was just as well they’d left the picnic when they did.
Fritz glanced at her several times, meeting her eye, and then looked away again, a line forming between his eyebrows.
“What is it, Fritz?” she said at last. “You look like you have something to say.”
“Yes.” He laughed nervously. “Yes. I have something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
“What is it?”
A clap of thunder startled them both and drowned out the noise of the humming city beneath it. The next instant, the sky tore open. Rain sheeted down in one thick wall of water.
They laughed as they were instantly drenched. Fritz grabbed her hand and pulled her beneath the blue awning of an elegant building only a few blocks from the Lancasters’ home. And suddenly, they were huddled quite close together. Thunder boomed overhead, and rain poured down over the awning like a waterfall.
She stared up at him, watching water drip from the brim of his hat.
The smile faded from his face, and his eyes turned serious, holding her there.
She scarcely breathed. After a moment, her cheeks grew hot beneath his stare and she whispered, “Should we brave the rain, or wait it out?”
He brought his finger to her lips, tracing their curves.
She shivered at his touch, her lips parting in anticipation. She wanted his kiss—she wanted him—but she shouldn’t lead him there, down this path they could never travel together. Her heart ached as she stared into the beautiful face of the man she’d grown to care for, deeply.
“I have something I need to say now, or I’ll lose my nerve,” he said, voice husky. She nodded, unable to speak. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Fran. I look forward to seeing you every night after work, and every Sunday. I wanted… I need to know if you feel the same way about me. If I could…maybe…if I could call on you, the way a man does a woman he wishes to…” He licked his lips nervously. “What I’m trying to say is, I care for you and not just as your friend.”
Pain and happiness and a hunger she’d never felt before flooded her limbs, and she felt as if she might split in two. She wanted this man with all her heart, but did she deserve him? She knew it didn’t matter in the end, because she could never have him. Her terrible secret would ruin her—and his family, and they’d never forgive her. Dear Alma would be devastated, too.
“Fritz,” she breathed, touching his cheek with her fingertips. How to tell him? How could she dash his hopes without shattering her heart and his? But it was already too late.
He took her face gently in his hands, his vivid eyes trained on hers. “You’re so beautiful. And strong. I’ve never met a woman like you. You have bewitched me, Francesca Ricci of Sicily. I don’t remember who I was before I met you.”
Though she knew it was wrong to lead him down this path, the words she longed to say sprang to her lips. “And I care for you. So much, caro mio.”
He smiled as he brushed a wet strand of hair from her face, traced her nose with his fingertip and, at last, slowly bent over her. His warm lips brushed hers.
She leaned into him, her limbs turning liquid. Pain twined with pleasure, and for a moment, she felt as if she were on the edge of a cliff, looking out over vast but terrifying beauty. One step forward and she would plummet, never to find her way out again. One step back and her world would go dark and cold. But she took a step into the oblivion that surely awaited her and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was powerless to stop herself. Powerless to stop any of it.
She was falling in love with Fritz Brauer.
Investigation to be conducted at Ellis Island James Mackle reports. Manhattan Chronicle.
July 15, 1902—While Commissioner William Williams is said to be ruthless in his pursuit of wrongdoings at Ellis Island station, new information has come to light suggesting there’s still much work to be done. A number of recent reports point to collusion, bribery, and misconduct toward the immigrants arriving nearly every day. Williams will work in accordance with investigators by hosting extensive interviews of all personnel.
President Roosevelt is reportedly pleased with the commissioner’s diligence. The staff, however, is not. An anonymous source relayed their dissatisfaction with Williams’s activities, saying the commissioner has overstepped his position on numerous occasions and should be dismissed. This tip has sparked speculation among journalists on the Ellis Island beat.
Perhaps, it is more than the staff that needs investigating.
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