“Yes, but Emma—that's different. You know I'd even forgo finishing my play to see her.”
I had no idea who Emma was, but already I was feeling jealous. Supposedly Ryan wasn't interested in women, so I'd given up all hopes of falling in love with him. But this one woman's name had such a powerful effect on him that I saw her instantly as a rival.
“So where is she? How long will she be here?” Ryan had put down his glass and was perched at the edge of his seat.
“She's only passing through on her way back from Europe,” Vlad said. “She said she'll be at Schwab's tonight, if any of her friends want to find her.”
“Then I must go to Schwab's this instant,” Ryan said. “I can't let her go without seeing her again. How did she look, Vlad? Is she well?”
“She looked fine, Ryan. In the best of health.”
Ryan had risen to his feet. “I am sorry to desert the party, but I must answer to a higher call.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “I fear I must leave you, dearest Molly.”
The champagne had made me bold. “Who's Emma?” I asked.
“Only the most fascinating woman in the world,” he said. “There's no one like her.” Without warning, he grabbed my hand. “Come with me. You have to meet Emma. She loves the Irish.”
Before I could think rationally, he had whisked me out of the saloon and into the crisp night air.
Twenty– one
It felt like September. The night air had a chill to it, which made walking delightful. I was still bubbling with the champagne, and floated along easily, tethered to earth by Ryan's hand. We flew across Washington Square, with the marble arch looming ghostly in the lamplight to one side of us. Late-night student revelers came out of cafes and taverns, laughing and singing. Couples drifted like spirits along leafy paths, pausing to kiss in the shadows. Sharp painful memories stabbed at me, dragging me down to reality for a moment.
Then we passed on into quiet backstreets where we only encountered a policeman on his beat. How far were we going? The wine had dulled my brain, but not enough to stop me from wondering what the fascinating Emma would think about Ryan's bringing another woman to meet her.
At first glance, Schwab's Tavern, tucked away in the more seedy section of the Village, was not particularly inviting—a drab sort of place and lacking the noisy gaiety of O'Connor's. It was dimly lit and full of smoke. The front tables were empty but there was a large group clustered around a table in a far back corner. They huddled like black shadows around a single candle on the table. The barman gave Ryan and me a curious look, but Ryan released my hand and rushed to the back table. “Emma, darling, you have returned to me,” he announced with great drama.
A figure rose from among those at the back table. She turned, saw Ryan, then let out a little gasp of delight as she held out her arms in an embrace. “Ryan—my dear boy. It's been too long. I'm so glad they found you and passed along my message. How could I possibly visit New York without seeing you? I would have been devastated.” Their arms came around each other and they stood there, embracing.
I was completely dumbfounded. I had expected a gorgeous young creature, exotic enough to sweep even Ryan off his feet. Instead Emma was a dowdy, almost middleaged lady. She had a severe round face, unadorned with any powder or rouge, and her dark hair escaped in untidy wisps from her bun. Her dress was black, high-necked and unadorned. In fact, she resembled a governess I had once known.
As they embraced, her eye fell upon me. “And who is this, Ryan?” she asked, breaking away from him.
Ryan took me by the hand again and led me to her. “This is Molly. You'll like her. She's Irish and opinionated.”
“Excellent,” Emma said. “We're always glad to meet new recruits, aren't we, Sasha?” She turned to the man beside her. In the light of the candle flame he looked gaunt but rather good-looking in a poetic sort of way. He was dressed in worker's garb with a black cap on his head. “Sit down. Sit down,” She clapped her hands. “Come, make room for them.” I noticed there was some kind of foreign accent to her speech. “We're drinking tea, but I expect they can find you something stronger.”
“We're already floating on champagne, Emma dearest. In celebration of my new play, you know.”
“You have a new play coming out?”
“Opening shortly in New York, after we've taken it on the road to iron out the creases. You'll love it, Emma. It may seem funny on the surface, but it's very deep. It deals with the whole question of nationality and loyalty—do I owe loyalty to a country, a clan, a family, just because I was born into it?”