The minute those two thugs said Maloney’s name, Nick knew he couldn’t stay. They were on to him, and although he’d taken down two of Maloney’s men, he had no doubt more would soon follow. Which meant he needed to return to Chicago immediately to lead them away.
Reaching into Miss Penny’s hodge-podge drawer, he pulled out paper and pen, then sat down at the long oak table that bore the happy scuffs and scars of meals and love served in ample supply. Within three short hours, laughter would reign among an equally hodge-podge family of ten orphans and the two elderly women who cared for them, minus one very cranky and very lonely fugitive on the run. The pen lay limp in his hand, but no more so than his body as he sagged in the chair, eyes trailing into a glazed stare. For the second time in his life, he was being cut off from the people he loved—first Mom, Pop, Gram, and his uncle, and now Miss Penny, Lottie, Mrs. Lemp, and the others.
And Alli. A sharp pain seared through him, and he laid his head on the sheets of paper, experiencing a grief and loneliness he hadn’t felt in years. He had never intended to stay, but in the brief time he’d called San Francisco his home, it had become just that—a respite, a haven, and a place to learn how to love again. And although he hadn’t a clue how it had come to pass, heaven help him, he loved Allison McClare. Her passion. Her drama. Her thirst for life and adventure. And her deep dependence on God—a dependence that had given him glimpses of what Mom and Pop had tried to instill in him. Stirring and stoking his own cold embers of faith until they had warmed his weary soul. Which meant he couldn’t stay—not when his very presence put her and the people he loved in danger.
Please, God, if You’re truly there like I’ve been taught to believe—protect them . . .
Lifting his head, he exhaled a cumbersome sigh and gripped the pen with purpose, saying his goodbyes, first to Miss Penny and the girls, then a separate note for Lottie. When he’d folded and pushed the missives aside, he turned his attention to the blank piece of paper before him, nausea churning in his stomach like the whitecaps on San Francisco Bay.
Dear Alli . . .
He stared at her name, loathe to leave her, yet reluctant to tell her why. Not when he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. A chill shivered his body. And not when he wasn’t sure if he even could come back.
“Can’t sleep?”
His head jerked up. “Miss Penny.” He swallowed hard. “What are you doing up?”
Her eyes flicked from the letters on the table to the two suitcases beside his chair before they narrowed on him. “I could ask you the same thing, Nicky,” she said pointedly, “but I’d rather know why your bags are packed.”
His mind raced as his gaze darted to the clock over the sink, biding his time to come up with a credible answer while Miss Penny went about lighting the stove. “Something’s come up, and I have to return to New York,” he said in the calmest tone he could muster given Miss Penny’s piercing gaze over her shoulder.
“How long will you be gone?”
He watched as she filled the coffeepot with water, then methodically scooped coffee into the steel basket. “I . . . don’t know, which is why I just wrote you a note. But rest assured the captain has another officer in mind to rent the room, so rent will remain intact.”
She pulled two cups and saucers from the pantry and clunked them on the table so hard, he jumped. “I don’t care about the rent—I care about you and why you’re deserting us in the dead of night without even saying goodbye.”
Her accusation jolted, and he shot to his feet, palms splayed to the wood. “That’s not fair. You knew from the beginning my stay in San Francisco was temporary, so don’t act like I’m deserting you.” He sucked in a breath to help rein in his temper, releasing it in a steady exhale while he slowly reclaimed his seat. “And I’d appreciate if you’d keep your voice down. This is hard enough without having to say goodbye to the entire household.”
“Never figured you for a coward,” she muttered, jerking out a heavy spindle-back chair pert near bigger than she, as if it weighed nothing at all.
Releasing a noisy sigh, he thumped back in his chair, head in his hand. “Yeah, well, it’s hard enough facing you, much less Lottie.”
He heard her drop into her seat, saw the folded wizened hands on the table out of the corner of his eye. “And Alli, I suppose?”
A silent groan rose in his throat at the very sound of her name. “Trust me, Miss Penny—it’s better I go,” he whispered.
She grunted, a sound that any other time would have made him smile. “If heartbreak can be considered better.”
The coffeepot began to bubble and brew, filling the kitchen with the nutty aroma of the Colombian coffee her nephew always gave her for Christmas, making Nick homesick before he ever set foot out the door. Silence hung thick in the air between them while Miss Penny bustled about, clattering dishes. She grabbed a knife and whacked off a thick slice of the cinnamon loaf Mrs. Lemp had prepared for breakfast. He jumped back when she slammed the plate and fork on the table before him, the saucer skittering across the wood, as twitchy as his nerves.
“And trust you?” she snapped, snatching the coffeepot from the stove. “Well, yes, until last night, when I found out you were running out on us.” She poured his cup as ferociously as she glared, plops of steaming liquid scalding his hand. “From my nephew, no less, rather than you—the man I took into my home, loved like a son, fed until the pantry was bare—”
Guilt strangled his words. “Miss Penny, please—”
She sloshed coffee into her cup, then banged the pot back on the burner, returning to her chair with fire in her eyes. “Don’t you ‘Miss Penny’ me, young man—there’s something going on here and I want to know what it is.”
His jaw ground tight as he snatched the pen and slid the paper close, determined to get Alli’s letter written before he left. “I have things to attend to in New York, that’s all I can say.”
She slammed a palm to the table, shimmering the coffee in both of their cups. “No, that’s not all you can say to people who love you. And now you’re going to go and break that poor girl’s heart too, aren’t you?”
He bludgeoned the table, searing her with a heated look. “Blast it, Gram—” He froze, expelling a weary breath while he gouged the bridge of his nose. “I mean . . . Miss Penny.” When he finally looked up, he didn’t even bother to mask the grief in his eyes, his voice a painful rasp. “Don’t you think I’m bleeding inside? Over leaving you—Lottie—the girls?” He looked away, fighting the sting of moisture as he lapsed into a vacant stare. “Over Alli.” His eyelids felt like lead as they closed. “I love her, Miss Penny. Never wanted to, never expected to, never tried to.” A fractured breath shuddered from his lips, voice barely audible. “It just happened.”
“Then stay.” Her frail hand lighted on his arm.
“It’s not that easy,” he whispered. “If I stay, the people I love are in danger.”
“You’re in trouble then?”
He looked up, seeing the tender love of Gram in those glossy blue eyes. “Yes, ma’am, I’m in trouble. Which is why I have to go back, and please believe me—I can’t say any more.”
“Will you return?” she asked, the grief in her eyes breaking his heart.
He stared. And then in a harsh catch of his breath, he swallowed her up in his arms, tears of his own burning his nostrils. “I hope so—someday.” His eyes squeezed tightly over her shoulder. “No,” he whispered, steel edging his tone. “I pray so.”
“Good boy,” she said with a gentle pat of his back, pulling away to cup his face in her hands. “Then I’ll join you in that prayer, Nicky, because you’ve become the son that I lost, and I don’t ever want to go through that again, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded at the blank sheet of paper before him. “Are you going to ask her to wait?”
He expelled a wavering sigh, shaking his head. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be back.”
She rose, palms flat to the
table as she loomed over him with the same menacing glare Gram used to give. “Are you saying my prayers don’t carry any weight, Nicholas Barone?”
“No, ma’am,” he said with a cuff of his neck, the barest of smiles shadowing his lips. “But you and I both know God doesn’t always answer prayers the way that we want.”
Her frail chest expanded and released with a weary gust of air. “No, He doesn’t, Nicky, but this time He will have two stubborn old women, ten relentless children, and one very pretty girl with a stick hounding Him to no end. So I suggest you tell that young woman you love her and intend to come back, understood? Because if our prayers have anything to say about it, Nicholas, you’ll be back giving her a good dose of cranky in no time.”
“Mr. Nick?”
His gaze darted to the kitchen door where Lottie stood in a pink flannel nightgown, rubbing her eyes. No, please . . .
“You didn’t kiss me before I went to bed,” she whispered, padding across the linoleum in bare feet. She crawled into his lap and laid her head to his chest, rosebud mouth expanding in a sweet, little yawn. “How come?”
He cuddled her close, his smile sad at the familiar scent of talcum powder and a hint of animal crackers he’d given her to stash in her drawer. “Sure I did, Lottie, but it was so late when I came home that you were sound asleep and never even knew.”
“Really?” She tilted her head as if she were peeking up.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a kiss to her nose, “and I just kissed you awhile ago too.”
She pulled away to peer up intently, sky-blue eyes blinking. “Why?”
Heat singed his collar, and his gaze flicked up to see the pinched lips of Miss Penny before he wrapped his arms around Lottie to draw her close. “Because I’m . . .” He stalled, the prospect of telling her he was leaving every bit as difficult as he knew it would be. “I . . . have to go away for a while, Lottie.”
She jerked back again, the sudden sheen in her eyes all but ripping his heart out. “Where?” she whispered, voice soft and frail like the little girl he held in his arms.
“Back home, sweetheart, to where I used to live.”
“But why?”
Miss Penny hiked a brow and Nick blew out a shaky breath, tucking his head to Lottie’s. “Because I have something I need to do, darling, and it’ll probably take me awhile.”
“How long?”
He glanced up at Miss Penny and expelled a weary sigh, taking Lottie’s little hand in his. “That depends on your prayers, Lottie, and Miss Penny’s.” He tucked a curl over her ear. “Will you pray for me to come back?”
A pudgy hand to his cheek assured him she would, along with tender words that thickened his throat. “Are you and God friends again, Mr. Nick? Because Miss Penny and I have been praying for a long time that you would forgive Him.”
Forgive Him? His heart wrenched. No, sweetheart, I’m the one in need of forgiveness. “Yes . . . yes we are, Lottie, so thank you for your prayers.”
She patted his cheek. “You’re welcome, Mr. Nick. And Miss Penny and me and the girls will pray every day that you come back, okay? Because we may be orphans, but we’re all family now and you too—God’s family.” She turned to grin at Miss Penny. “Ain’t that so, Miss Penny?”
The old woman’s gaze glimmered with moisture as she swiped at her eyes. “Yes, darling, it is. God’s Word says, ‘I will not leave you orphans.’ ”
She turned back to Nick with a peaceful smile, tone patient as if she were the adult and he were the wide-eyed child in need of comfort. “See? He’ll take care of you too.” Scrambling to stand on his lap, she rested small hands on his shoulders. “So even though your mama and papa and Gram are gone to heaven, God gave you to us, Mr. Nick, to be in our family, so you just have to come back. ’Cause everybody knows God takes care of His family, okay?”
He nodded, unable to speak for the emotion clogging his throat.
She pressed a tender kiss to his lips, as soft and gentle as the wisp of an angel wing. “I love you, Mr. Nick.” A tiny yawn escaped as she leaned her head against his. “Will you tuck me in? I’m sleepy.”
“You bet,” Nick said, voice gruff with tenderness while he bundled her in his arms. He ducked his head to Lottie’s so Miss Penny couldn’t see the sheen of tears in his eyes.
God’s family. Which meant he was no longer alone. “ ‘I will not leave you orphans,’ ” Miss Penny had said, and somehow he felt the approval of Gram, Mom, and Pop from afar, assuring him it was true. He nuzzled his nose into Lottie’s soft curls while he carried her up the stairs, the bong of the clock in the parlour matching the loud thud of his heart.
“He’ll take care of you,” Lottie had said with the utmost assurance, and at the thought, a warmth invaded his chest that had less to do with the small bundle of heaven in his arms than it did with the bright glow of a little girl’s faith.
“Everybody knows God takes care of His family.”
“I didn’t,” he whispered. Laying her back in her bed, he tucked her in and gave her a kiss before making his way from the room, the barest of smiles tipping the edge of his mouth.
Till now.
26
Alli stared through red-rimmed eyes, the rain-splattered panes of glass in the conservatory revealing a bleak, gunmetal sky that wept as much as she.
“Did he say why?” Her mother whispered, stroking Allison’s arm, which now lay as limp on the cushion as the letter she held in her hand. The same letter Nick had couriered to her home early this morning, telling her he’d left for New York via train.
She shook her head, unable to fathom why Nick Barone would tell her he loved her, then just turn around and leave. “Unfinished business,” she said in a nasal tone, handkerchief soggy. “Something he has to do in New York.”
“If it takes my last breath, I’ll find the slime who did it someday and gun him down too.”
Her eyes wavered closed as a sob rose in her throat. Oh, Nick . . .
Loving arms pulled her close. “Alli, I’m so very sorry, but surely he intends to come back.
Alli sniffed and blew her nose. “Yes, he promised he would try, but he has no idea when. Said it could take six months or longer, maybe even a year . . .” Her voice broke on a heave. “If at all.”
“Oh, Alli . . .” Her mother cradled her in her arms, rocking and soothing her like she’d done in all the tragedies of her life—skinned knees, fractured arms, broken hearts . . . Roger. “Nick loves you, darling—I could see it every time you two were together this last month, and he told you so himself, didn’t he?”
She nodded dumbly, recalling with painful clarity the intensity of his manner when he’d kissed her goodbye at the door after their awful ordeal last night. A mixture of sorrow and love in those gray eyes she wouldn’t soon forget, and a desperation when he’d crushed her close, as if he never wanted to let her go . . .
“So, here you two are—why aren’t you playing whist with the others?”
Alli’s head jerked up at the sound of her uncle’s voice. The pinch between his brows deepened as he squatted before her. “Alli? What’s wrong—why are you crying?”
Her mother expelled a heavy sigh and patted Uncle Logan’s arm as if to assure him everything was fine. “Nick’s left town for a while for some sort of business dealing in New York,” she said quietly before Alli could utter a word, “so understandably she’s upset since he didn’t tell her beforehand—just wrote her a letter.” Caitlyn fanned loose curls from Alli’s face, her smile shaky at best. “But I assured her he cares for her and will probably come back soon.”
A heave shuddered Alli’s body as she blotted her face. “Oh, Mother, I hope so.”
“Alli,” Uncle Logan whispered, his face a composite of grief and conviction that iced the blood in her veins, “please know how painful this is for me to say . . .” He paused long enough to engulf her hand in his own, his eyes locked on hers. “But I hope he doesn’t.”
She flung his hand away and spran
g to her feet, almost toppling him in the process. “You have never given him a chance, Uncle Logan, not once, despite the fact that I’m in love with the man and he’s in love with me.”
“He’s lying to you, Alli,” he said with a sorrow she felt keenly. Gaze tender, he rose slowly, regarding her with a candor she’d come to respect and admire.
Until now.
“Which is exactly why I haven’t given him a chance up to now—I sensed it in my gut. Believe me, Alli, after Roger, the last thing I want is for you to be involved with another charlatan, a man you can’t trust.”
“I can trust him!” she shouted, body quivering as she barricaded stiff arms to her waist.
“Logan, please . . .” Her mother intervened with a hand to his arm. “Allison doesn’t need this right now. She needs our love and support.”
“I agree,” he said quietly with a firm squeeze of her mother’s hand, “but she also needs the truth, because in the end, Cait, that’s the greatest love and support we can provide.”
Allison backed away, distancing herself from the words she didn’t want to hear. “The truth is, Uncle Logan, Nick loves me and I love him, and you’ll just have to get used to that.”
“I can’t,” he whispered, grief bleeding into his words like fear was bleeding into her heart. “The man’s a fraud, sweetheart. He lied on his police application. Led Captain Peel to believe he was on the force in Lower Manhattan for several years, but not only is there no Nick Barone on any police roll in the state of New York, but it appears he was a member of a gang. A con man who did a short stint in prison for manslaughter . . . right before he abandoned the woman who was carrying his child.”