A Song Across the Sea (45 page)

Distracted, Muldoon turned his head in irritation. Reece caught him off guard with a blow to his face then hammered his fist into Muldoon’s solar plexus. The air knocked out of him, Muldoon bent over double, giving Reece the opening for an uppercut that snapped his head backwards.

Reece dimly heard excited voices in the hallway outside. Someone pounded on the door.

“Open up at once!” someone shouted. “This is the police. Open up, I tell you!”

Muldoon ignored the command and shook his head from side to side like an infuriated bull. He threw himself at Reece and brought them both to the floor, but he was on top and used his advantage to rain savage blows on Reece’s right arm and shoulder.

Tara leaped forward and grabbed Muldoon by the arm, trying to haul him away from Reece.

“Stop it! For the love of God, stop it!

Muldoon turned toward Tara with a twisted grin. “Look at your husband now. He’s not much of a man, is he?”

Reece, his face waxen with pain, was struggling to get up. His eyes were distant and unfocused, his body trembling with pain.

“Please leave him alone,” Tara pleaded. “I’ll do anything you say, Muldoon. Please.”

A dull thud interrupted them. Then another sounded, and another. Someone was taking an ax to the door.

Tara backed warily away from Muldoon. Would they break through in time? She heard the wood splintering—but so did Muldoon. He started toward her and she realized that he still meant to kill her, even with men right outside the door.

She remembered the gun and lunged for her dressing table. She yanked open the top drawer, but the gun was not where she’d put it.

Muldoon laughed. It was a terrible, mirthless sound. “Are you looking for this?” He held out the Remington. “Such a wee dainty thing it is. Maybe I’ll use it on your husband.” He pointed the gun at Reece.

“No!” she screamed. “Leave us alone! When will you be satisfied?”

“When you’re both dead,” Muldoon growled. “Moments from now.”

She slapped him as hard as she could. He reacted in kind, with his fist. Her face felt as if it had been hit by a train. She felt herself falling backwards, almost as if in slow motion.

The ax blade finally penetrated the wooden door.

Energized by fury, Reece came at Muldoon like a wrecking ball hitting the side of a building, hitting him so hard the pistol flew out of his hand. Again and again his left arm swung forward, until Muldoon’s face was a bloody, pulpy mass. Muldoon clutched his middle in agony, using one hand to try and ward off the blows. Finally, he collapsed to the floor in a groaning heap

Reece bent anxiously over Tara.

“Are you all right?”

Dazed, unable to form words, she tried to nod reassuringly.

A hand reached in through the jagged hole in the door and unlocked it.

“Tara? Speak to me.”

Men rushed into the room. Muldoon was handcuffed, hauled roughly to his feet and half-walked, half-carried away.

Tara saw a blurry sea of faces looking down at her. Only one was clearly in focus. Reece’s.

“Tara. Darling. Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

She smiled and finally found her voice.

“Everything’s going to be all right now.”

•  •  •

Although Tara insisted she was not seriously hurt—just shaken and bruised—it was decided that a doctor would be sent to Adrienne’s house, for that was where she and Reece were determined to go.

It had already been a long night. Tara felt numb with fatigue, battered physically and still spinning emotionally from what she and Reece had been through. She longed to curl up next to her husband and drift off to sleep but she knew how eager he was to see his mother.

A sleepy maid answered the door and stared, openmouthed, when she saw who was with Tara.

Adrienne was asleep at this late hour. Tara tiptoed into her bedroom, with Reece right behind her. She fumbled for matches and lit the candle on the bedside table then touched Adrienne softly on the arm.

“Adrienne,” she whispered gently. “Wake up. Don’t be alarmed. It’s important. Wake up.”

Adrienne stirred and opened her eyes. Her long, tawny hair was slowly turning to silver, and it gleamed in the candlelight as she sat up and gazed at Tara in confusion.

“What is it? Do you have news?” she asked fearfully.

“Better than that.”

Tara stood aside. Reece came forward.

“Reece!” Adrienne said in wonder. “Is it really you?”

He sat on the edge of his mother’s bed and gathered her to him, holding her without speaking. They stayed that way for a long time.

Tara quietly left the room. It was only right that mother and son have their reunion in privacy. Besides, she could afford to be generous. She and Reece would have all the time in the world together now.

•  •  •

He came later to the bedroom that had been hurriedly prepared for them in Adrienne’s house. It was too late to go to Celia’s. Tara had sent word to her hostess. She knew Mary would well taken care of.

“I passed the doctor on his way out. He said that shiner will be gone in a few days, and that you’ll be just fine.”

“I am fine,” Tara said. “But it’s yourself who needs to be examined. After all, you were in no condition for that ruckus with Muldoon. I specifically asked the doctor—”

Reece waved the idea away. “I’ve had my fill of doctors. All I need is a good night’s sleep, and I’ll be back to normal.” He paused. “Almost normal.”

With Tara’s help, he got his shirt off. He stretched out on the bed and issued a deep, heartfelt sigh. Tara slid into bed next to him, careful to keep away from his injured arm.

“After I was over there for awhile,” he said, staring up at the ceiling, “I started to worry that I’d dreamed you up. That I’d come home and find you didn’t exist.”

“And look what you did have to come home to. Muldoon.”

“At least he’s in jail now. And I’m sure he’ll get a long prison term, so he won’t be bothering you again. It’s just that… I shouldn’t have let him get at you. I should have stopped him.”

Tara gently kissed the corner of his mouth, making him smile. “You did just fine,” she whispered. “For a man with only one good arm, you were quite fierce. Did I forget to mention that?”

He kissed her cheek, then her neck, then awkwardly slid her nightgown down over her shoulder so he could kiss the soft white curve of her shoulder, too.

Tara grasped his intent. “Are you sure you’re up to it, Reece? You’re injured.”

“I’ll never be that injured.” With his good arm, he pulled her close to him and kissed her in a way that made her tingle with desire. “Besides, giving Muldoon a thrashing made me feel like a new man.”

“I rather liked the old one.”

“How much?”

She sought out his lips and kissed him slowly, dreamily. He put his arm around her and pulled her even closer.

“That much? That’s not all that much.”

“Well how about this, then?” She nuzzled her cheek against his neck, trailing her fingertips across his bare chest and kissed him again. The hand stroking her back moved slower and slower then slopped altogether. His lips were unresponsive. She drew back and looked at him, then chuckled to herself.

Reece was fast asleep.

R
eece, Tara and Mary moved into Adrienne’s mansion. A newly decorated nursery for Mary adjoined their suite of rooms. It was a splendid, spacious room fit for a child princess.

Reece’s first meeting with Mary had been rocky. Handed to him, she immediately began howling in terror, and stretched out her arms beseechingly to Tara. Before long, however, Mary was following Reece around the house with her stumbling, eager gait, laughing at the funny faces he made for her and playing rough-and-tumble with him.

Tara was concerned that Reece would overexert himself during these episodes, although he was steadily recovering his strength. He still had stiffness in his shoulder but was following a program of therapeutic exercise in order to regain the use of his arm.

He still wasn’t well enough to fly again, so he busied himself with developing plans and assembling blueprints for the factory he intended to build. Tara knew how he chafed to get back into a cockpit.

Tara had the biggest adjustment to make. Reece was living in the home he’d grown up in, but she was now inhabiting rooms that she’d once dusted and scrubbed. In spite of her high-flying Broadway career, it was still strange to be on equal footing with Adrienne and her peers.

One morning while Reece was still sleeping she went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a bit of conversation. She helped herself to some freshly brewed coffee. Cook, George and Francine fell silent when she sat down with it at the kitchen table.

“Will you be wanting breakfast, Mum?” Cook said in a stiff tone. “Francine will serve you in the dining room.”

“Just coffee,” said Tara. “Why don’t you sit down with me? We’ve so much to catch up on. How are your grandchildren? They must be so big by now.”

George looked uncomfortable. “I’d best be gettin’ on with my chores.”

Tara frowned. “What is it? The three of you don’t seem at all pleased to see me.”

“Begging your pardon, but…it’s not right. You sitting in the kitchen table with us like you used to.”

“And why not?”

“You’re one of the household now. The family.”

“Sure and aren’t I the very same person I was when I worked here?”

They had no answer for that.

“Aren’t we still friends? Do you think I’m ever goin’ to forget all that you did for me, helpin’ me with Sheila? Helpin’ me hide Mary and take care of her?”

Cook, Francine and George exchanged glances.

“Sit down and have some coffee with me, and catch me up on the gossip,” urged Tara. “If you insist on treatin’ me like a lady of the manor in front of the others, that’s fine. But let’s have no such nonsense among ourselves.”

Cook actually smiled. “Well, if you’re sure—”

“I’m sure.”

Francine giggled. “Next you’ll be coming up to the maid’s room for some tea and biscuits.” She sighed. “I do miss Sheila. She was real nice to me. We used to talk a lot.”

“I miss her too.” Tara found that it didn’t hurt to think about Sheila anymore.

“That baby gets to look more like her every day,” put in George. He pulled up a chair and lit his pipe. “I hear Emory Millinder’s in Chicago. One of the groundskeepers has a cousin there, and he says Millinder is paying calls on a wealthy widow…”

H
er life couldn’t get any better, she was sure of it. She could ask for nothing more. Reece was home. She was part of a real family again. “Rain or Shine” continued its successful run. She had good friends and the time to enjoy them. Muldoon wouldn’t be bothering anyone for a long time; he was in the midst of a lengthy, unpleasant stretch in Sing Sing Prison after being convicted of attempted murder.

The years of struggle and uncertainty were over. Sadness and loss were a part of the past. She wanted no more surprises from life.

Reece’s long convalescence gave them a great deal of time together. They went for long, ambling walks, usually taking Mary along. Tara cherished the intimate talks they had, sensing that Reece opened up to her in a way he did to no one else.

Their physical closeness resumed quickly, too. At first Tara felt unexpectedly shy with Reece. They’d had so little time together as husband and wife, and he’d been gone for such a long time. She wondered if his feelings for her might have changed. If he still found her attractive. If those two weeks before he’d gone away had been just a dream.

Reece’s unabashed enthusiasm soon put her fears to rest. Tara didn’t think herself beautiful, but she felt beautiful when Reece looked at her with undisguised admiration, or reached for her in the night as if she were the only woman who existed. Their lovemaking in the dark was a natural extension of the closeness they felt each day, although the nighttime activities found her breathless with desire and excitement, eventually leaving her content and peaceful.

One crisply sunny, mid-October afternoon, the biggest surprise of all was delivered to her. She was putting a corduroy jacket on Mary for a romp in the garden, when the doorbell sounded downstairs. Tara buttoned up Mary’s coat and tried to put a coordinating cap on her head, but the toddler dodged out of its way defiantly. “No hat! No hat!” she insisted.

“Mary—” Tara warned.

Just then Reece entered the nursery followed by Lotte. Her hat was askew, her cheeks bright pink. She’d clearly been running.

“I’m so sorry, Tara. I think I did something terrible.” She paused, her breath coming in gasps that almost sounded like sobs. “This lady sent you letters. They sounded crazy, so I threw them away. Today, I opened this one and… Oh, Tara. You must forgive me. I was only trying to help you.”

“Calm yourself, Lotte. Whatever it is, it can’t be all that bad.”

“You must read it right away!”

“I will. I will.”

Lotte handed her the envelope she was clenching in her fist.

“Who’s it from?” asked Reece.

Tara squinted at the name scrawled in the upper left-hand corner of the envelope. “A Mrs. Flanagan.” It meant nothing to her. Seeing Reece’s curiosity, she read the letter aloud.

Dear Miss McLaughlin:

You haven’t answered any of my letters so I guess you don’t remember me from the Titanic. I can’t say as I blame you. It was something we’d all rather forget and it’s been six long years since it happened.

“Wait a minute,” Tara interrupted herself. “There
was
a Mrs. Flanagan on board the Titanic. I remember her now. Her son and me brother Paddy became great pals.” She shook her head at the disturbing memory. “I remember her that last night. She was out of her mind, poor woman, looking for her son and husband.”

She resumed reading:

I wanted to tell you this in person but you didn’t come to see me. It’s hard to put it down on paper but I’ll try. It’s a terrible thing I’ve done. I know I’ll face God’s judgment for it soon. I’m feeling poorly these days. The doctor doesn’t bother coming around anymore. I can’t pay him anyway. When the Lord sees fit to take me, the lad will be all alone in the world. That’s why I am writing to you one last time. He’ll be an orphan and I can’t have that on my conscience.