It came, in tall glasses held within silver frames and with a slice of lemon floating in it. I sipped and felt the nausea subsiding.
“It is good to see you.” Jacob was smiling at me. “Have you been keeping well?”
“More or less,” I said. “I don’t seem to be tolerating the heat this summer.”
“Who is?” he replied. “More cases of typhoid last week, you know.”
“Little Bridie O’Connor caught it,” I said.
“Bridie? I’m so sorry.”
“Miraculously she recovered, and she’s now out at a camp in the countryside getting her strength back.”
“That’s good news.” He smiled at me again. “You’ve been constantly on my mind, Molly. You haven’t answered my letters.”
“No,” I said. “I’m sorry. I was out of town for a while and then when I came back, I needed time to think.”
“I understand,” he said. “And have you had that time?”
I sat there staring at his kind, earnest face, with his round, wire spectacles making him look like an appealing bird, and felt tears welling up in my eyes. Holy Mother, but I certainly couldn’t cry in front of him!
“I have and I’m afraid my answer has to be no.”
I watched his face fall. “It wouldn’t work, Jacob. I couldn’t marry you,” I said. “I admire you tremendously. I think you’re a very fine person, and you’ve no idea that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever said.”
“Is it still that policeman?”
“In a way.” I stared at the steam rising from my glass of tea and couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.
Two elderly Jewish men with long beards and black homburg hats came in and sat at a table in the corner. I didn’t understand the Yiddish, but the looks we were getting were quite plain to read. No young Jewish man should be alone in public with an unmarried girl, especially with a shiksa.
“Now do you see why?” I whispered to Jacob, indicating the men in the corner. “We’d have that for the rest of our lives.” It was a good excuse, but I knew very well that, had things been different, I’d say to hell with what other people thought. Jacob nodded with appreciation though. “It is a lot to expect a woman to handle,” he said. “Tolerance will never be something my fellow Jews shine at. So I’ll accept your decision with regret. But you know where I live, Molly. If I can ever be of help, just let me know.” He got to his feet and put a couple of coins down on the table. “I’m late for a meeting. I wish you well. I suggest you stay here until you are completely recovered before venturing out into the sun again.”
I watched him walk away. Come back! I longed to shout. You could make this work, a voice whispered in my head. A rapid wedding and he’d never know the truth. But I’d know, and Jacob deserved better. I drained my tea glass, got up, and left the old men staring after me.
ELEVEN
The noon mail delivery brought no note from Daniel. I began to worry that perhaps they wouldn’t even let him write messages any longer, or that perhaps his enemies had intercepted any message that could help his cause. I felt as if I were climbing an impossible mountain, staggering forward one step, only to slip back several yards again.
“I can’t do this, Daniel!” I shouted into the emptiness of the house. “I don’t know how. It’s too much to ask of me.”
I felt stupid tears of self-pity stinging in my eyes again and wiped them away. I couldn’t give up now. It wouldn’t only mean Daniel’s doom, but my own.
I tried fixing myself some bread, cheese, and radishes, which were normally my favorite foods, but I couldn’t seem to swallow and had to push the plate away from me. I knew I’d have to pay a call on Monk Eastman, and I wasn’t looking forward to the prospect. But it was the Eastman gang that now provided my only concrete clue. Somebody had either managed to slip that money into the envelope destined for Daniel or had bribed or intimidated the gang member to exchange envelopes. Either that or Monk was also in the conspiracy, which made my going to see him doubly worrying. Added to that, I had sent Gentleman Jack in search of the Eastmans and he hadn’t returned.
Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)
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