A Matter of Marriage (16 page)

She
held the woman more tightly, trying to comfort them both. “Alex will find him.
My husband will find your son.”

“He
just wanted some water in his pail. I should’ve gotten it myself.”

Julia
blinked away the burn of tears and continued watching Alex struggle against the
crashing waves, against what was quickly becoming a hopeless mission. A
murmuring crowd gathered, but she didn’t look at them. No one else risked
entering the surf.

A
flash of red in the foaming water caught her eye.

“Alex!”
she shouted, releasing the woman and running toward him, oblivious to the water
soaking her shoes and hem. “There!” She pointed to where she’d seen the color,
the red of the sailor suit’s buttons. “Five feet that way!”

He
dove under. Another wave broke over where he had been standing.

She
backed herself out of the water, waiting and praying.

Alex
surfaced with the boy.

A
cheer went up from the crowd.

Joshua,
sputtering and coughing and crying, clamped his arms around Alex’s neck.

Carrying
the boy, Alex trudged out of the surf, then collapsed to his knees, trying to
catch his breath.

Julia
rushed to his side, knowing how difficult his breathing must be with his
injured ribs. Both he and Joshua were shivering.

Joshua’s
mother, sobbing with relief, stumbled forward and tried to grab her son.

Alex
didn’t relinquish him. Not right away.

Julia
thought she saw a tear rolling down her husband’s face. She couldn’t be sure,
though. Too much saltwater dripped from his hair. Whether he was overcome with
emotion or not, she knew that a large piece of her heart now belonged to
Alexander Devlin MacLean. If he kept on like this, protecting her and saving
small children, she might very well fall in love with the stranger she had married.

When
Alex finally released the boy, Joshua let go, too. The boy reached for his
mother and cried harder. She hugged him close, then carried him farther up the
beach and set him down.

Julia
helped Alex to his feet. “Are you all right?”

“I
… will … be.” His wet clothes stuck to his body. He continued to shiver.

Dr.
Dolan emerged from the crowd, wrapped a towel around Joshua, made a quick
examination, and pronounced him “a strong lad.” He patted the boy on the back
and turned to his mother. “Right now, madam, your son needs a hot bath and a
good rest. Some warm milk with chocolate would go down well, too. I’ll stop by
the kitchen and bring a cup to your room.”

“Thank
you, Doctor,” the woman said. “Would you please watch Joshua for a moment?”
Before the doctor could respond, she rushed toward Alex and threw her arms
around him. “You saved my son. I thought I’d lost him, but you brought him back
to me. Thank you. I’ll never be able to repay you, but you will always be in my
prayers.”

Julia
blinked back tears.

Alex
seemed at a loss as to what to say. He looked relieved when she let go and ran
back to her son.

“I,
uh, need to find my shoes.” He walked away, leaving Julia alone.

Letting
him go, she retrieved Joshua’s pail from its sandy grave and carried it up the
beach. The crowd began to disperse. Several of the men complimented her on her
eagle eye. A woman said, “Without you, that little boy might still be
underwater.”

“Thank
you, but my husband is the true hero. He’s the one who deserves your praise.”

The
men and women gave him that praise as soon as he rejoined her, shoes in hand.
Several men clapped him on the back, failing to notice that each well-meaning
thump made him grimace.

“Well
done, sir,” one man called out.

Julia
inserted herself between Alex and the others, put her arm around his back, and
protected him from their compliments. It was the least she could do after all
he had done for her and Joshua. If, indeed, he was keeping secrets from her,
she hoped he would find a way to trust her as much as she trusted him.

*   *   *

Finally
warm again, Alex eased himself out of the claw-foot tub and wrapped a linen
towel around his hips. The ocean had been numbingly cold. He hadn’t felt it at
first, too intent on his search for Joshua and the race against time. He hadn’t
known how long the boy could hold his breath or if he had managed to gulp some
air between waves. Thank God Julia glimpsed his clothing when she did.

Alex
didn’t know if he could have endured another child dying just out of his reach.

While
in the surf, frantically searching for Joshua, he had seen flashes of his own
son, first as Danny had stood at the window begging to be saved, then as the
smoke and fire swallowed him whole. Danny had disappeared as suddenly as
Joshua.

Forcing
the agonizing thoughts away, Alex opened the bathroom door and stepped into the
bedroom to dress. Spread over the bed were his new clothes. Julia must’ve had
his packages brought up, opened, and laid out for him.

He
chose one of his new sets of work clothes, dressed, and entered the sitting
room. “Julia?”

“In
here,” she answered from her room.

At
the threshold, he stopped and peeked in. The room was simply furnished, with a
bed large enough for two, a linen-covered bureau, a dainty French writing desk,
and shelves weighted with books, shells, driftwood, and framed photographs of
two women, one who could only have been her mother.

Alex
leaned in farther. To his surprise, Julia was sitting in a rocking chair by the
window, sewing the hem of one of her dresses. He was impressed. Elizabeth would have never considered taking up needle and thread for anything as practical
as mending an item of clothing.

“Come
in,” she said, resting her hands on the dress covering her lap.

He
felt his eyebrows lift. “You’re inviting me into your bedroom?”

“You
are my husband.”

“Yes,
well, not in every respect.” He stepped inside. “Not yet, anyway.”

She
swallowed visibly but didn’t look away. “I see you found your new clothes. Theo
delivered your packages. I laid them out and gave him your other clothes to be
laundered. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not
as long as you didn’t tell him to throw them out.”

“They’re
not mine to dispose of. I had hoped, however, that you would wear one of your
new suits this evening. I thought we could do my rounds early and then dine in
the Crown Room.”

He
leaned against the bureau. “To be honest, I’d rather stay in tonight, away from
any more demonstrations of appreciation.” He put a hand to his aching back. If
he kept going the way he had since his arrival at the hotel, his body would
never heal.

“Of
course. I should’ve thought of it myself. Word will have definitely gotten
around by now. It’s likely a reporter from the local newspaper will want to
interview you.”

“Not
interested.” He examined her sterling silver-backed hand mirror. “I don’t want
to talk to any reporters.”

“But
you’re a hero, the only person who jumped into the surf to help Joshua. And you
stayed in that freezing water because you refused to give up. Everyone will
want to hear from you. You saved a child’s life.”

He
returned her brush to the bureau. “I don’t want to think about any of it. I
certainly don’t want to talk about it to some reporter.” He hated how close
they had come to losing Joshua. “What’s the chef’s special tonight?”

She
jumped up and tossed the dress on the chair. “How can you just put it out of
your mind like that? I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am to you for
saving him. I don’t know how I would have faced his mother if you hadn’t pulled
Joshua out alive.”

“If
it hadn’t been for you, I would have failed.” Again. He started for the door. “I’ll
be in my room putting my clothes away. Call me when dinner arrives. And order a
bottle of wine with it. I’m thirsty.” At her room’s threshold, he paused and
looked back. “After dinner, I’ll be going to bed early. Alone.”

While
standing in the surf, helpless to find Joshua, Alex had felt wave after wave of
guilt threatening to drown him. For over three years, mired in self-blame and
suffering, he had tried not to think about Danny, essentially wanting to forget
his own beloved son. He had married Julia to start his life over, hoping to
find love and have other children. Alex groaned as he crossed the apartment. He
had betrayed his little boy, and he did not deserve happiness.

Despite
her exhaustion, Julia lay awake. Dinner with Alex had been like eating alone.
He had barely said a word, even after drinking nearly the entire bottle of wine
himself. In fact, he had become quieter, as though turning inward, brooding
about something he refused to share with her.

When
he’d said good night, he hadn’t even tried to touch her, let alone kiss her. She
had discovered she wanted his affectionate and stirring touches.

An
odd, unidentifiable noise made her sit up straight in bed. The sound had come
from somewhere in the apartment.

She
listened hard, trying to hear over the sudden hammering of her heart. Had her
attacker dared to enter her refuge?

The
noise came again, this time mixed with a loud muttering—Alex’s voice.

Relieved
but concerned, she slid out of bed and tiptoed into the sitting room.

The
ramblings continued, but with his door closed, she couldn’t make out what he
was saying. She crept closer and put her ear to his door. He kept mumbling, his
bed frame creaking and bedclothes rustling.

Worried
for him, she knocked lightly but received no response. The sounds inside
continued. She opened the door and switched on the lights. “Alex?”

His
eyes were shut tight. His body thrashed from one side to the other. He was
shirtless, the sheet and blanket tangled around his lower body.

She
winced at the vivid coloring of his bruises. He was surely in pain, yet he
didn’t wake. His incomprehensible muttering rose and fell, louder and softer.
Was he feverish after his plunge into the ocean?

He
moaned, pausing in his movements. She pressed her hand to his forehead.
Perspiration dampened her fingers, but his flesh was cool. She breathed a sigh
of relief.

“Alex,
wake up.” She shook his shoulder.

Eyes
still closed, he suddenly screwed up his face and shouted, “No!” He drew the
word out for what seemed an eternity, like the howl of a coyote.

Gooseflesh
spread over her body. In anguish and astonishment, she watched as tears
squeezed out of his eyes. What could he be seeing that was so terrible it brought
him to tears in his sleep?

Abruptly
every muscle in his body seemed to tense. “Danny!” he cried out.

She
shook him harder. “Alex! Wake up!”

His
eyes blinked open, and his body went limp. He peered up at her, then glanced
around. When his gaze returned to her, he said, “Julia?” as if questioning who
she was and where they were.

“Yes.
Are you all right?”

His
eyes cleared. “Why are you here?”

“You
were having a nightmare.”

“Oh.
Yeah.” He grabbed the covers, tugged them free of his lower body, and pulled them
halfway up his torso. “I remember.”

When
he didn’t explain, she said, “It must have been awful. You were thrashing
around quite violently.”

He
only shrugged.

She
felt a wrenching pang in her heart. Why wouldn’t he confide in her? She was his
wife.

“Who’s
Danny?” she asked.

His
eyes locked on hers.

“You
shouted that name. It obviously means something to you.”

He
rolled onto his side, facing away from her. “Switch off the lights on your way
out please.”

She
didn’t move for a full ten seconds. An empty, hopeless feeling overwhelmed her.
Eventually she made it to the door and turned out the lights. Under the cover
of darkness, she said, “All right, Alex. Keep your secrets. There’s no reason
for you to trust me with them. After all, our marriage was nothing more than a
business arrangement.”

She
shut the door, fought back the tears stinging her eyes, and forced herself to
walk calmly to her room.

*   *   *

Alex
stood behind his closed door the next morning and breathed in the smells of
bacon and sweet rolls. Despite his hunger, he remained in his room, trying to
come up with a way to apologize to Julia for turning his back on her. She
deserved better from him, especially after her efforts to keep the well-wishers
on the beach from clapping him on the back.

Though
she’d only been trying to help him late last night, Alex felt as if she were
prying into his past, a past he didn’t want to talk about. He had relived
enough of it during his nightmare.

Leaning
forward, he pressed his forehead against the coolness of the painted wood. For
several months, the nightmare had left him alone, but last night it returned
with a vengeance, reminding him of his failure to protect his son. Julia had
every right to know who Danny was, but talking about him was excruciating.

If
Alex did speak of him, he feared that the pain he had kept to himself would
trickle out at first, then rush like a flood through a narrow canyon. He didn’t
want anyone to see him that way, most especially Julia.

Straightening,
he finally opened the door, no closer to a solution. He walked through the
sitting room and into the small dining area. She was seated in the same chair
as yesterday, a barely touched piece of toast on her plate. She held a coffee
cup with both hands.

He
cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

She
didn’t look up. “Morning.” Her voice sounded deeper than usual, and there was
nothing welcoming in her greeting.

Alex
dropped onto the chair to her left and tried to think of something neutral to
say. “Smells good.”

She
took a sip of her coffee, still not looking at him.

He
gave in, hating the coldness he knew wasn’t her. Normally, she could warm a
room just by being in it. He had hurt her by refusing to answer the simplest of
questions.

He
pressed his palms to the tabletop. “Danny was my son.”

For
a moment, she didn’t move, but then the cup in her hands started to shake.
Afraid the steaming coffee would slosh over the rim and burn her, Alex took the
cup from her hands and carefully placed it on the saucer. He steeled himself
for the inevitable, the truth he had to tell, about Danny anyway.

“He
died in the same fire that took Elizabeth’s life, as well as a servant girl’s.
He was four.”

Her
hand flew up to her mouth. “Oh, Alex. When I told you about my baby sister, I
said you couldn’t know what it was like to lose a child, but you do know. Too
well. I am so sorry.” She placed her hand over his forearm. “Losing him in a
fire …” She shook her head. “I can’t even imagine.”

“It’s
best you not try.” He sucked in his stomach, attempting to maintain control. “I
see it enough for the both of us.”

Her
fingers gently closed on his wrist. “Your nightmare last night?”

He
nodded, afraid to say more.

“Tell
me.”

“I’d
rather not.”

“Please
don’t keep something this important from me. Despite the reasons we married, I
am your wife and you said you wanted to stay. If you choose to keep your past
from me, it will always be a wall between us.”

She
was right. He knew that, but—

“Please,
Alex.” She covered his wrist with both hands. “What happened?”

He
drew a deep breath, stared at a covered platter without really seeing it, and
remembered. “It was … a Thursday night. Elizabeth and I were arguing, again,
about money. She wanted to redecorate the house that I hadn’t wanted in the
first place. Her parents bought it for us as a wedding gift. That way they
could keep Elizabeth, their only child, close to them. We were three houses
from theirs, and I hated the influence they had over her, and then over my son
once he was born.”

He
closed his eyes as the memories emerged—his in-laws telling him how his own son
would be raised, as if he had no say in the matter.

“Alex?”

He
opened his eyes.

“Go
on,” she prompted.

He
breathed in, then out. “Maintaining and staffing a house that big was more than
I could afford with a wife who constantly spent money on herself. I told her we
would not be redecorating, that I’d been looking for houses in a more
affordable neighborhood. She threw the biggest tantrum I’d seen yet. Bottles of
perfume and powders and I don’t know what else went flying, crashing and
breaking against the walls. There was no talking to her when she got like that.
I didn’t even want to be in the same house with her, so I left. I went for a
walk. When I got back, the house was on fire.”

“I
don’t know what to say.” Her voice was filled with compassion and sorrow.

He
didn’t want her sympathy. Her hands on his wrist were enough to undo him if he
didn’t keep a tight rein on his emotions.

“Later,”
he said, “I learned the fire had started in her room. Her tantrum had most
likely continued after I left. The kerosene lamp on her dressing table may have
been knocked over, the flame igniting what she’d spilled.”

“The
poor woman.” She stared at the browned toast on her plate, shuddered, and
jerked her gaze back up to him. “Where was Danny?”

He
swallowed hard. “Upstairs. Asleep in the nursery on the third floor. He …”

She
waited. “Don’t stop. I know this is painful for you, but please don’t stop.”

He
scraped a tiny patch of tablecloth with his blunt fingernail. “I haven’t talked
about Danny since I left Baltimore.”

“Then
you need to do so. The only way I was able to move forward after Lily’s death
was to remember the happy moments I had with her—the first time she smiled at
me or how she would fall asleep on my shoulder. Having had Danny for four years,
you must have many treasured memories of him.”

He
nodded slowly. He did, but they were trapped, only occasionally sneaking out to
surprise Alex with their poignancy. But then his failure and loss would smack
him so hard he’d nearly double over with the pain. The happy memories would vanish,
scurrying back to their hiding places.

“Will
you tell me just one?”

“No.
His death overshadows them all. He suffered and died because of me. My argument
with Elizabeth led to the fire, and I couldn’t save him when I had the chance.”
He pulled his arm from beneath her hands. “Danny was trapped by the fire. From
the street, I saw him at the dormer window. It was closed. Locked too tight for
his little hands to open. I tried to get into the house, up the stairs, but the
fire was too fierce.” He lowered his head.

“What
did you do?” she whispered.

His
heart pounded, his mind taking him back to that night. “I climbed the tall
sycamore in front of the nursery. Its branches nearly touched the house. But it
was an old tree.”

When
he didn’t go on, couldn’t go on, she got up, moved behind him, and put her arms
around him. Her face pressed against his neck.

At
her touch, Alex felt tears leaking unbidden from his eyes. He had trouble
speaking. “No. Don’t hold me. I’ll never get through this if you do.”

She
held him tighter. “Yes, you will. You don’t have to keep everything to
yourself. Tell me the rest.”

He
struggled to regain his composure, but the tears kept coming, the first real
tears he had shed after his family’s deaths.

“Danny
was crying for me, shouting for help between coughs. His small fists beat
against the glass.”

Her
arms tightened on him even more, and Alex tried to keep talking through what he
recognized as sobs coming from himself. He was glad Julia wasn’t facing him.

“I
was so close. But the fire was closer. One moment Danny was there, the next he
was gone, devoured by smoke and flames. I couldn’t give up, though. I shinnied
across a stout branch and reached for the edge of the roof below the window. The
branch cracked. Broke. I was falling through space, helpless to save my son.”

She
pressed her cheek to his good cheek. Her face was as wet as his, and their
tears merged.

“I’m
so very sorry,” she said, a quiver in her voice.

“This”—he
traced the ugly, raised ridge of his scar—“was my souvenir that night. On my
way down, a branch ripped open my face. Every time I look in the mirror, I’m
reminded of how I failed my son.”

Her
fingers touched the line of his jaw. “Alex, you risked your life for your son
and nearly lost it in your efforts to rescue him. You did everything you could.”

“But
it wasn’t enough.” He pulled her hand away from his face. He didn’t want her
comfort, didn’t deserve it.

“Sometimes
our best is not enough. Yesterday, though, you saved Joshua. You saved his mother
from suffering as you have, from blaming herself for not acting differently
when she had the chance. At that moment, she could not foresee the consequences
of her son’s desire to fill his pail with water, just as you could not foresee
a fire starting because of your wife’s tantrum.”

Her
rational comparison made sense, but he couldn’t let go of his guilt. “Rescuing
Joshua doesn’t change how I feel about Danny’s death.” He pushed his chair
back, forcing her to step away.