At least I knew where I stood now. I was on my own again. I would have to forge my own future without any prospect of marriage, or even without the support of his
friendship. All the more reason to set myself up in a profession as soon as possible. I reached into my pocket and fingered the two dollars. I wouldn't be getting any sensible dresses made, that was for sure, because I wouldn't be going back to work for Miss Van Woekem, I'd rather starve than set foot in that house again. How conveniently Daniel had come up with the companion's position for me. Miss Van Woekem was a family friend, indeed. How conveniently he had omitted to mention that she was also the godmother of his fiancee. Just thinking the word brought a physical stab of pain around my heart. I had never believed that heartache was anything more than a metaphor before. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop tears from forming. I was not going to cry.
At that moment the rain began, fat drops that fell, sizzling, onto the granite of the seawall. I stood without moving, letting the rain wash over me as if I were a marble statue. Only when the first drops turned into a veritable deluge and thunder rumbled nearby did I realize the foolishness of my present position. There was no sense in being struck by lightning. I brushed back the plastered strands of hair from my face and started to walk back up Broadway.
As I passed a tavern, a group of young men was entering it. I braced myself for the usual ribald comments. Instead one of them broke away from the rest.
“Kathleen?” he called.
It was my old friend Michael Larkin, my shipmate from the Majestic,my fellow suspect in a murder case. He stood there before me, grinning delightedly. I would hardly have recognized him. I had left a thin, pale-faced boy and here was a well-muscled man with a confident swagger. I had explained to him why I had been using another woman's name when we first met, but I suppose he still thought of me as Kathleen. He corrected himself before I could. “I mean Molly, of course. Silly of me. Molly, it's grand to see you. Whatever are you doing with yourself? You're soaked to the skin.”
“I got caught in the storm. I was out at Battery Park.”
“Recalling fond memories of Ellis Island?” he asked. “How are you? How are the little ones? Are they still living with you?”
“The children are doing just fine, thank you,” I said. “The rest is a long story.”
“Could we meet sometime and you could tell it to me?” he said. “Right now I'm just about to have a drink with my mates, and I won't invite you to join us. This is no place to take a lady.”
“I'd be delighted, Michael.” I even managed a smile. “I'd been wondering about you. You look as if you're doing well for yourself.”
“You've no idea how well. This is the land of opportunity, all right. I'm foreman of a team now and we're just starting work on what's going to be the tallest building in the world. The Flatiron Building, they're calling it, on account of it's shaped like one. My, but it will be a sight to behold. I must take you to see it someday.”
“I'd like that.”
“You better get on home, before we're both washed away.” He dragged me out of the way of a downspout that splashed from a rooftop. “Do you have the trolley fare?”
“Yes, thank you.” He was as kind and generous as ever—a true friend when I had needed one.
“We'll meet again then,” he said. “Oh, and Molly, you'll not believe this, but I've got myself a sweetheart. My landlady's daughter, Maureen. I'd like you to meet her. She's the most lovely creature in God's whole universe. I'm a truly lucky man and I have you to thank for all this. You saved my life. I'll never forget it.”
He was standing there, rain running down his boyish face, beaming at me. Suddenly I couldn't take it any longer. “I'm glad for you, Michael,” I said. “Now if you'll excuse me …”
“So when will you come and meet her, Molly?”
“Some other time, Michael. There's a trolley coming. I really must go.”
I picked up my skirts and sprinted away through the puddles.
Four
I don't think I slept all night. The storm broke with nightfall and the constant rumbling of thunder, along with the rattle of rain on the roof tiles above me, would have kept me awake without the turmoil in my heart. I tried not to think of him, but I couldn't help it. None of it made sense. If only he had been following normal male instincts, then all he would have wanted was to have his way with me. And yet he hadn't. We had come close to passion on occasion, and yet he was the one who had restrained himself and not allowed the passion to continue. He had always treated me with the utmost respect, as if we were waiting for the right time and occasion. Naively I had always thought that the occasion would be marriage.