The Heavenly Fugitive (26 page)

“Fine.” Ryan reached over and clapped Charlie Zlinter on the back. “You’ve done the right thing here, Charlie. Time to start doing things a little different.”

The two lawyers left then, and as soon as they were outside, Phil said, “Got time for a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

The two men left the jail and ten minutes later were seated in a café. After the hot coffee had come in big mugs, Phil made light conversation for a few minutes, but then said, “How long have you been back, Ryan?”

“Almost three months.”

Phil hesitated, sipped his coffee, then put the cup down. He traced the squares on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth and sought the right words. He actually had a fondness for this man, or perhaps it was more pity. He had always thought Ryan showed good sense in running for his life. Finally Phil looked up and met Kildare’s eyes. “What about Leo Marx? He doesn’t forget things.”

“I know he doesn’t.” Ryan shrugged his shoulders. “But I can’t live in a cave the rest of my life.”

“Maybe I ought to have a talk with Leo. Let him know that if anything happens to you, something will happen to him.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Actually, I don’t mind it. Nothing I like better than leaning on guys like Leo Marx. I’ll give it a shot.”

“Thanks, Phil, it might help.”

“So . . . you’re practicing law again. Where’s your office?”

Ryan gave the young man opposite him an odd glance, and then he chuckled. “It’s on Water Street near the mission.”

Phil blinked with surprise. “The Water Street Mission? Why, that’s where my uncle was converted, and that’s where my father and he first ministered together before they set out for Africa!”

“Yes, I’ve heard all about the Winslow brothers. They left quite a legacy.”

“So you’ve spent some time at the mission? What are you doing there?”

“It’s a long story, Phil.”

“Can’t you give me the short version?”

“I left here running scared for my life. I stayed that way for almost a year. Got into some bad habits, but then I found the Lord. Jesus saved me and that’s it.”

“Why, Ryan, I think that’s wonderful!” Phil said excitedly. “I want to hear all of it someday.”

“Come down to the mission sometime. I’m helping with the work.”

“Are you preaching there too?”

“No, not really. I guess I do a little of that, but mostly I’m just available for people who need help. Quite a few of them in that neighborhood need some legal advice.”

“It’s no way to get rich.”

“No, probably not, but that doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

The two men talked for some time, and finally Ryan said, “I guess I’d better get back. When do you want to try to meet with the judge?”

“How about one o’clock tomorrow? I think I can set it up for then.”

“You really think he’ll go for it, Phil?”

“I’m sure he will. Especially if we agree to keep an eye on the young man.”

“He doesn’t have anywhere to go. I’ve already told him he could come and stay at the mission and help me around the place. We’ll find him a job.”

“That’s all the judge will want. Samuelson’s a good man. I’ll see you tomorrow at one.”

****

Boadicea lunged and broke into a furious run. Rosa leaned forward, the wind blowing in her face. The cold February wind cut at her and numbed her lips, but she loved to ride fast—as she loved to do almost everything else. She clung to the back of the mare, helping her with the movements of her body, but then the headache that had bothered her all morning came back, and she reined the mare in. “That’s enough, Boadicea,” she said rather crossly. The mare had stopped reluctantly and shook her head, trying to get rid of the bit, but Rosa held her firmly. “You behave now,” she said sharply.

The late afternoon sun was sinking into the west, a huge crimson disk. Rosa had ridden for over an hour, and now she reluctantly turned back toward the stables. As she did she remembered the painful scene she’d had with her father earlier in the day. She hated scenes, especially with her father. The two of them had practically no communication now. It was obvious to Rosa that her father was going downhill physically, but emotionally he was the same. He demanded the same obedience from her that he got from Dom Costello, and Rosa was simply not constituted to live under those conditions.

As she moved along the bridle path that wound across the Morino estate, a fox trotted out in front of her, and she pulled up with surprise. The vixen turned and studied her casually without a trace of fear. Rosa held Boadicea in tightly and studied the beautiful animal. Finally the fox turned and walked away placidly, and Rosa exclaimed, “Aren’t you a bold
one!” She touched the mare with her heels and continued toward the stables.

She had not ridden more than fifty yards when an intersecting path revealed a rider coming from her left. Wondering who else would be riding on her father’s estate, she pulled the mare over to a slow walk. As the other rider came into view, she was shocked to see Phil Winslow, mounted on the big bay.

“Good to see you, Rosa,” he said casually.

Rosa flushed. The last time she had seen him, she was drunk and fighting two policemen. She hated it that he had seen her like that. It seemed worse for him than for her father, but she could not have told why.

“What are you doing here, Phil? My father will kill you if he sees you here.”

“He won’t see me way out here. The guard let me in so I could talk with you, and O’Connor let me saddle up the bay here to find you. I guess they know I’m not out to hurt you.” He admired the mare and said, “Boadicea looks beautiful. She’s a fine, fine horse.”

Rosa leaned over and patted Boadicea’s neck. She was at a loss for words, but even as she rode along, she thought about earlier days when she and Phil had gotten very close. She decided now that the feelings she’d had for him were only the result of an adolescent crush; still, she had never quite let go of those feelings, and for some reason this upset her.

“How is Jamie doing?” Phil asked.

“All right, I guess.”

Phil glanced quickly at Rosa, his eyes questioning.

“No, actually, he’s not all right.” Rosa amended her statement. “Jamie’s no good—just like me.”

Phil pinched his brow at her comment and lifted his eyes to meet hers. She glared back at him, challenging him head-on, daring him to say something and hoping he would.

But Phil only said, “I’m sorry to hear it. He’s a good kid.”

Rosa felt disappointed when Phil refused to take the bait. She said nothing else but set her lips in a tight line.

Phil also remained quiet, the only sound being the clopping of the horses’ hooves as they rode. The big bay suddenly moved closer, so that Phil’s leg bumped against Rosa’s, and he pulled the horse back. “Caesar, get back to where you belong. Sorry, Rosa, he’s acting a bit rambunctious today.” When she did not answer, he said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about Africa a lot lately. I’d like to go back there. I find myself missing it.”

In the past she had always been fascinated by Phil’s stories about Africa. She wanted now to hear him speak more about it but instead turned her head and stared straight ahead, stubbornly refusing to comment.

“I never thought I’d be lonesome for Africa. It’s so simple there—life, I mean.”

“Well, life’s not simple here,” she snapped.

“Most of the time it’s not,” he agreed.

They were in view of the stables now, and suddenly Rosa turned to him and said, “Now that I’m eighteen, I plan to do as I please.”

“And just what do you please, Rosa?”

The question caught Rosa off guard. She had been so busy running at full tilt for the past two years she’d had little time for introspection. She said, “I don’t know. I just want to do what I want to do.”

“Well, that’s simple enough. Doesn’t work for most of us, though.”

When they reached the Morino stables, Rosa stepped to the ground easily and slapped Boadicea on the flank as O’Connor came to take the horse away. She turned then and waited until Phil had dismounted. He was stroking the big bay’s nose, and she said abruptly, “Do you ever take chances, Phil?”

“Well, I don’t know. What kind of chances?”

“Are you afraid of things?”

“Certainly.”

“What kind of things?”

“I’m afraid of leopards.”

She laughed. “Why, there are no leopards here. That’s only in Africa.”

“But if there were one here, I’d be afraid of it. They can hurt you bad.”

“I mean other things. Have you ever been shot at?”

“Yes, I was once.”

“Were you scared?”

“Absolutely petrified.”

“Did you shoot back?”

“No. Lee Novak did, though. Saved my life. But I was scared enough.”

“Would you ask me out?”

“Why, Rosa—”

“You weren’t afraid to come here to see me today, even though you know what my father would do if he caught you. He’d have a raging fit! So are you afraid to ask me out?”

Now it was Phil who felt at a loss for words. He looked at the young woman before him as she defiantly awaited his answer. She took off her riding cap and shook out her hair, the sunlight glistening on its silky surface and running over the gentle curve of her shoulders. Her riding outfit, a boyfigured fashion, merely accentuated her feminine appeal. He had always thought she had a beautifully fashioned face, but now there was something about her expression that troubled him. She had the same rich and self-possessed curve of her mouth, but there was an unhappiness in her lips and in the way she held her head. He could not explain it. Suddenly Phil felt the strange things a man feels when he looks on beauty and knows it will never be for him.

He finally found his voice again and smiled. “Are you daring me, Rosa?”

“Yes!”

“All right. I’ll take you up on the dare. I’ll pick you up tonight at six—but I get to pick the place.”

“Fair enough.” Rosa suddenly smiled at him, and he saw at least a trace of the young girl he remembered so fondly.

“But you’d better not tell your father.” Then he turned and walked away, leaving the big bay.

“What’ll I wear?” she called after him.

“Nothing fancy,” he shouted back.

****

Rosa had not known what his reply meant—
“
Nothing fancy.”
She didn’t dare let her father know she was going out with Phil. He had not returned from his office in any case, and she had simply told her mother she was going out. She put on a simple but expensive maroon wool dress with a hemline much lower than she was accustomed to wearing. When the doorbell rang, she grabbed the fur coat her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday and ran to open it. She saw Phil standing there smiling and said to him, “I’m ready.”

“Cold tonight. It’s a good thing you’ve got a warm coat.”

He led her to the car, opened the door, and helped her in. When he got in beside her, he said, “You remember this car?”

“Of course. Your grandmother and Amelia and I picked it out. You still have it.”

“Of course I still have it. Probably always will. It was the last thing my grandmother could give me . . . and my grandfather, too.” He drove down the long, winding drive of the Morino estate and out the front gate, getting onto the highway leading into the city. He expertly navigated the downtown streets and finally said, “You found out I could take a dare. Now I’m going to see if you can take one.”

Rosa instantly turned to him. “What are you daring me to do?”

“Don’t run out on me.”

Rosa was suspicious. “Where are we going?”

“A place you’ve never been to before.”

Rosa did not answer, but she watched carefully. She knew New York City very well, and when he turned down Water Street she was curious. This was one of the toughest parts of New York, and when he pulled up in front of a sign that
said Water Street Mission, she suddenly exclaimed, “You’re going to make me go to a religious service?”

“Not
make
you. I’m just
daring
you.” He looked at her with a challenge in his eyes, and a smile ran over his lips.

Rosa wanted to get away, but she held her ground. “All right, but after the service
I
get to pick a place to go next.”

“Fair enough. Come along.”

As the two went in, he explained why he had wanted to come. “My uncle Barney was converted here. My father joined him, and from this place they went out to Africa as missionaries. I’ve always wanted to come here, but I’ve got an extra reason tonight.”

“What reason?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Rosa was curious. She felt out of place as they moved into the meeting room and among a congregation made up mostly of derelicts. The room was large and quite bare, with unmatched chairs scattered about and a platform at one end. “Come on. Let’s go down closer to the front.”

“The back’s good enough for me,” Rosa said nervously. “You know I’m a Catholic, don’t you?”

“Sure, I know that. So what?”

“We’re not supposed to attend Protestant services.”

“You want to leave?”

Rosa stared at Phil. Actually she did want to leave, but she was too stubborn not to go through with Phil’s dare. “I’ll sit here—but nothing anybody says is going to change me.”

“That’s a good open-minded attitude. Come on.” Phil led her to the front, where he found a couple of seats. They got some strange looks, for both of them were well dressed, but a few people spoke to them as they sat down.

Rosa did not know what to expect. She had been taught that it was wrong for Catholics to attend Protestant services, and in all truth, she did not even attend Catholic services anymore, except when absolutely necessary. She was, however, a curious young woman, and when the service started, she
tried to follow the songs from a battered paperback hymn-book that Phil held for her. She had never heard singing like this before, being accustomed to high-church music from a trained choir. The words of the songs did filter through to her and gave her a curious feeling.

When the song service ended, a short man with an angelic face got up and said, “Now, fellas, we’re gonna have a good sermon tonight, so let’s hear it for Ryan Kildare.”