A Song Across the Sea (44 page)

So Muldoon was back in Tara’s life.

“I’d like to see my wife. How long before the show is over?”

Folden consulted the gold timepiece he extracted from a vest pocket. “Not long to go. She should be just starting the closing number right about now. I’ll take you back there. You can see her as soon as she comes off stage.”

Reece started to follow Folden, still trying to piece together what was happening. Did Tara think he was dead, too?

•  •  •

Alone in the center stage spotlight, Tara took a deep breath as the orchestra began the first few bars of Addie’s poignant closing number. The woodwinds were the first to waft the delicate music into the air, their notes swirling together like autumn leaves coaxed along by breezes. The horns lent a weighty, melancholy tone to the composition, and the string instruments brought the full, rich swell of sound to life. Tara loved this song, as sad as it was.

She began softly, almost tremulously:

Let them whisper what they will

Let them say I was a fool

That I loved a man who never could be mine

There are things they cannot know

His kiss, his touch, the glow

Whether love burns for one day or for all time

The music rose and grew louder. Tara moved across the stage gracefully, with a natural fluidity to her long, slender limbs. Her elegant sea-green gown looked luminous in the soft white beam of light that followed her. Its ruched bodice molded itself to her rounded breasts and tapered down to her narrow waist, then flared into full, flowing skirts trimmed with vertical tulle flounces that hinted of sea foam dancing atop waves. Her lustrous chestnut hair was uplifted into a mass of soft curls held in place with decorative combs, exposing the pale length of her slender neck, the sleek curve of her jaw.

Now it was time to unleash the full power of her voice and the raw emotion that only thoughts of Reece could inspire.

Don’t tell me

That I’m lucky to be free

That another man will some day catch my eye

Don’t tell me

About other fish in the sea

For the oceans of my heart have all run dry

Her concentration was usually complete but tonight her mind made room for other thoughts while she sang. She recalled a long-ago fantasy she’d had, in which she wore a sea-green dress like this one and sang on a stage in front of lots and lots of people. She’d been just a girl when she’d dreamed that dream. The combs adorning her hair tonight were only painted gold, and the jewels embedded in her gown were glass beads, not real pearls, but the rest of the fantasy was uncannily the same. Only that earlier, wishful version was complete because the man she loved was waiting in the wings for her…

He’ll be back

Just let me dream it

Let me plan and hope and scheme it’s

Not a lot to ask for,

Just the man I love

Something caught her eye: the shadowy form of a man, standing just offstage. Was that a stage hand? The prop master? No. No one in the company. Yet there was something familiar about it, something in the easy, confident stance, the powerful build, that…?

Still singing, she edged closer to the phantom, changing her blocking and thereby confusing the lighting crew. After she spent a moment in darkness, they quickly recovered and made adjustments, managing to illuminate her new direction.

Because until he does, you see

There’ll be no other fish in the sea for—

Dear God, she thought, tears springing to her eyes. It was Reece. It was Reece. Please let this be real and not be some cruel joke. Please let it be Reece, alive and right here, mere feet away from her.

She stopped singing, confused, wondering. Time hung suspended while she stared into the shadows offstage, not daring to believe…

Tara didn’t see the perplexed expression on the orchestra leader’s face. He continued to lead his musicians along valiantly in an improvised vamp, waiting for her to pick up her musical cue and re-enter the song. Tara stood there, staring off into the wings.

“Reece?” she whispered tearfully, taking a step closer to the shadow. “Is it really you?”

The music faltered, then stopped. Curious whispers broke out among the audience. Was this part of the show?

Tara did the unthinkable. In the middle of a song, in the middle of a show, she ran offstage and threw herself into Reece’s arms, for it was him, it had to be him! Just to be sure, she pulled him onstage into the spotlight and gazed at him as if she were a starving woman beholding a banquet table. It was no mirage. No shadow. It was Reece himself.

“You’re alive! You’re home!” She felt his arms go around her and knew, finally, that it was not a dream.

Reece eventually found his voice. “How I’ve missed you, Tara,” he managed to choke out. “You’ve no idea.”

“Don’t ever go away from me again.”

“Never.”

She couldn’t get enough of the feel of him. She hugged him fervently, wanting to meld into him so that they were one and could never again be separated. When she pulled away and fully looked at him, she was horrified by his pale face and the bandaged arm that rested in a sling.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. You’re wounded. Have I hurt you?”

He laughed, and suddenly he was the old Reece again. The tawny, tousled hair, the crinkly lines emanating from the corners of his gold-flecked eyes, the resolute jaw paired with the mouth that was quick to smile—it was the Reece she knew. All the troubled years in between their first meeting and this moment fell away in an instant.

Someone in the audience coughed. Someone else snickered. Belatedly, Tara remembered where she was. She turned sheepishly to the audience, aware that she’d committed an outrageous show business faux paux. Still, her tone was assured when she addressed the onlookers.

“I’m sorry for interruptin’ the show. You paid good money to hear me sing, you did, and I’ll be finishin’ that song straightaway for you. But you see, this is me husband Reece. He’s just now come home from the war.”

A thunderclap of applause and riotous cheers greeted this announcement. Tara knew that it wasn’t for her and Reece alone. Many in the audience were themselves waiting for sons and husbands and brothers to come home from the war. Reece’s return gave them fresh hope.

Tara took Reece’s good hand in hers and waited for the noise to subside.

“I’ve waited so long for him that I’m not goin’ to let him out of me sight. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll finish me song with me husband right here beside me.”

She had to paraphrase only a little:

Now that he’s back, you see

There’ll be no other fish in the sea for me

No other fish in the sea…for…me

The audience roared its approval. The curtain fell, but not before Reece and Tara came together in a fervent, long-awaited kiss.

•  •  •

“That was the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever seen,” Ted Lattimer said, when Tara came offstage after her third curtain call. “Do you think you could do it every night? Listen to that crowd!”

Lattimer turned to Reece and thrust out his hand but reconsidered when he saw the sling. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Waldron.”

Chaos broke loose backstage. Actors and crew members clustered excitedly around the happy couple.

“Everyone, this is me husband Reece,” Tara called out, trying to make herself heard above the chatter. “I’d love to introduce all of you but right now—as I’m sure you’ll understand—we’re after goin’ home. We’ll have everyone over in a few days.”

“For a big party,” added Reece.

Tara kissed him again. “Just let me change, and then we’ll be off.” She led him toward her dressing room. “I think there’s someone else who’ll want to see you tonight, if you’re up to it. Your mother.” The policeman guarding Tara’s door nodded politely and stepped aside. She turned back toward Reece and sighed. “Oh, darlin’. I can’t believe you’re really here. It’s like a dream. And surprisin’ me the way you did!”

A warning flashed across Reece’s mind. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten about the mysterious man who’d conveyed him to the theater. It was evident that Tara hadn’t known a thing about his arrival. She certainly hadn’t sent anyone to pick him up. Something was very wrong.

He followed her into the dark room.

“That’s funny. I always leave the light on. The switch is right over—”

He heard her cry of alarm and groped blindly for her in the darkness. When the light came on a moment later, the “driver” who’d met him at the docks held Tara in front of him like a shield, his hand crushing her throat and making her gasp wretchedly for air. With a quick, snakelike movement, the man reached over and locked the door, then drew a revolver from his coat pocket.

Reece cursed himself for his stupidity. Of course. It was Muldoon who’d brought him here. Reece had intended to protect Tara from Muldoon, now that he was home. Instead, he’d allowed the two of them to walk right into some sort of a trap.

“Let me go,” Tara croaked. “I can’t breathe! There’s a…policeman…right outside the door.”

“The door is locked,” Muldoon said calmly, “and if your husband shouts out, I’ll break your lovely neck. Don’t struggle, my dear Tara. This’ll all be over soon enough.”

“Let go of her,” uttered Reece explosively. “Now, you son of a bitch!”

“Keep back, I tell ya.” Muldoon cocked the revolver and pointed it at Tara’s head.

“Let go of her and deal with me. What do you want, Muldoon? This is quite an elaborate little game you’ve set up for yourself. Tell me about it. Why did you bring me here yourself?”

“Sure and that was a stroke of pure genius, wasn’t it now? You see, I intercepted the telegram meant for her ladyship here, tellin’ her you were on your way home. I thought it would be a nice surprise if I delivered you right to her doorstep, and then killed you in front of her.”

Tara’s eyes were wild with fear. Reece could tell that she was close to panic. Trust me. He tried to will the message into her mind. Trust me, Tara. I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ve both come too far for it to end here, like this.

While Muldoon talked, he loosened his grip slightly—ever so slightly—on Tara, just as Reece hoped he would. Reece, keeping him talking, moved nearer to Muldoon.

“How’d you get in here without anyone seeing you? That was a neat trick, with all of the precautions that have been taken to keep Tara safe.”

Muldoon shook his head, pleased with himself. “Same way I’ll be goin’ out. Through the window. No one ever thinks of the window, do they?”

“All because Tara humiliated you,” Reece taunted Muldoon. “She made you look like a fool, didn’t she, Muldoon. How dare she treat you as if you were vermin?”

He’d struck a nerve. Muldoon’s cheeks reddened as if he’d been slapped. His voice was choked with anger.

“She thought she was too good for me!” he raged. “A farmer’s daughter, puttin’ on airs, actin’ like I was some manure she’d stepped in. All the while she was plottin’ to come to America and find herself a rich husband.” He stared at Reece as if he wanted to throttle him, if only his hands weren’t busy gripping Tara at the moment. “A rich coward of a husband,” he sneered. “I’ll show her who’s the better man now.”

Reece cast desperately about for a means to get Tara safely out of the way before Muldoon had a chance to pull the trigger. He could jump Muldoon, try to get the gun away from him, but with Tara in the middle—

He tried another tactic.

“A coward? Is that what you think I am? I’m not the one who’s bullying a woman. Why don’t you put down the gun and fight me like a man, Muldoon? Or maybe you’re afraid of me. You’re pitiful, Muldoon. A real man would be willing to fight me with his bare fists.”

“No, Reece! You’re hurt! Please—” Tara’s cry was cut short by Muldoon’s hand, clamped over her mouth.

“Come on, Muldoon.” Reece circled him, keeping up the pressure. “Only cowards bully women and use guns.” He gestured toward the sling holding his arm in place. “You can’t even beat a man with only one good arm, can you?

Muldoon emitted an angry growl. He shoved Tara aside and charged Reece, landing a hard punch on Reece’s damaged shoulder.

“No!” screamed Tara.

Reece staggered but stayed on his feet, his face clouded with pain. He swung and hit Muldoon in the jaw, sending him toppling over a chair.

Muldoon bounced back up like a cork, jeering.

“You fight like a spoiled rich boy. You’ve no idea what it’ll take to beat me. Make no mistake about how this is all goin’ to end.”

“Help!” shouted Tara urgently. “Somebody help us! There’s an intruder in here!”

Muldoon made a move toward her, intending to silence her, but Reece blocked his path. Weaving and darting, Muldoon feinted a punch to Reece’s face. When Reece deflected it with his good hand, Muldoon rammed his other fist into Reece’s right shoulder again. And again. And again.

Reece nearly collapsed. He swayed heavily, fighting off a wave of pain and nausea. Must…stay on my feet…he thought. Must…

His vision was blurry, red-rimmed with pain, but he saw at its outer edges that Tara was trying to inch her way toward the door. Good! If she could unlock the door-

He’d keep Muldoon busy in the meantime, although he didn’t feel strong or fast enough to be much more than a punching bag.

“Miss McLaughlin? Are you all right?”

“No! Muldoon is in here! He’s locked the door. Please help us!”