Bobbi Smith (27 page)
Authors: Heaven
“Nothing’s wrong,” he denied, not wanting to concern her. She was still a babe, and he wanted to protect her. That was what men did—protect their own, and Lisa was the closest thing to family he would ever have.
“You sure? You know you’re my bestest friend. You can tell me if something’s wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
“Tommy . . . are you scared about something?”
He glanced over at her quickly, surprised by her comment. “No, I ain’t scared of anything.” As he said the words, though, he knew there were things that frightened him. He was afraid of losing Miss Catherine and of losing Lisa. They were the two people in his world who meant the most to him, and he needed them. He didn’t ever want to be separated from them. “Now, it’s bedtime, Lisa. Let’s go . . .”
“Tell me a story first, okay?”
She looked up at him with those angelic eyes of hers, and he was lost.
Tommy sighed. “Okay. Which story do you want to hear tonight?”
“The one about the princess who’s saved by her handsome prince on a big, white horse,” she said excitedly, cuddling up against him and treasuring the security she felt being so close to him.
He looked down at her as she nestled there, and he knew how much he loved her. He would do anything to make her happy. Resigned to his fate, he began her favorite story yet again. “Once upon a time . . .”
It was a good ten minutes later that Tommy finished up with, “And they lived happily ever after. The end . . .”
When Lisa didn’t respond, he nudged her a little. “Lisa? You awake?”
“Umm . . .” she said sleepily.
“Now, let’s get you to bed. C’mon. I’ll help you.” He took her hand and, standing up, he drew her to her feet, then led the way back upstairs to the girls’ dormitory.
Lisa glanced up at Tommy in the shadowed darkness of the hall and saw his calm expression. He seemed at ease, and she forgot all about any worries she’d had about him. Tommy always knew what to do. He always made everything okay, and besides, he’d just told her the story where the prince and princess lived happily ever after, just like them.
“Here you go,” he said quietly as they reached the girls’ wing. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I will. G’night, Tommy,” she promised as she disappeared into the room.
Lisa went to bed and slept peacefully.
Later, Tommy lay in his bed, thinking once again about McKittrick and silently pondering how best to deal with him. He would do something for he couldn’t . . . no,
he wouldn’t
let anyone hurt Miss Catherine.
he wouldn’t
let anyone hurt Miss Catherine.
Fifteen
Matt was up early the following morning. He considered waking Winn to tell him what he’d learned about the orphanage the night before, but in deference to the late night his friend had had, he left him a note instead.
As he breakfasted alone in the hotel dining room, Matt’s thoughts were centered on Catherine Sutherland and her band of orphans. She had haunted his thoughts since he’d left her. She was different, unlike anyone he’d ever met before. He couldn’t explain exactly what it was he felt for her, for it certainly wasn’t logical, but he sensed there was a certain magic about Catherine, and it was obvious that the children felt it, too.
An image of her as she’d looked last night in the garden in the moonlight floated through his thoughts as he tried to eat. She’d been vulnerable and in pain, and a fierce desire to help her had been born within him. Matt had to give himself a mental shake to force his attention away from her and back to matters at hand. But even as he tried to concentrate on his visit to St. Joan’s owner this morning, a part of him wanted to learn more about Catherine. As he finished his meal, he grew determined to find out everything he could about her and her husband, too. Matt wondered why her husband wasn’t working with her to help save the children’s home. Certainly, if she’d been his wife, he would have been by her side helping her in her time of trouble.
His breakfast over, Matt left the hotel, hired a carriage, and was on his way to confront Mr. Markham and, hopefully, change his mind about selling the orphanage. For the first time in his life, Matt regretted not having a lot of money. If he were rich, he could buy the building himself right now and put an end to all the turmoil. As it was, he was going to have to plead her case and hope the man listened. He arrived at Markham’s mansion and boldly knocked on the door.
“My name’s Matthew McKittrick. I’m from Boston and I’m in town on business. I wondered if I might speak with Mr. Markham?” Matt introduced himself smoothly to the maid who’d opened the door.
“What matter did you wish to meet with him about?” she asked, cautiously eyeing the nicely dressed, handsome young man.
“I’m interested in a piece of property he has on the market. I understand the building now being used for a foundling home is for sale, and I’d like to know more about it. If he has the time to see me, that is.”
“One minute.” The maid was courteous, but just as diligent in protecting her employer from Matt as she had been a few days earlier in keeping Catherine at bay. After a minute, she returned and politely ushered Matt inside.
“Please have a seat in the parlor, Mr. McKittrick. Mr. Markham will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you.”
As Matt entered the main hallway of the mansion, he was impressed by the home’s opulence. The house was in the American section of New Orleans, and it was beautiful. High-ceilinged, with crystal chandeliers and silver doorknobs, the three-story structure bespoke of elegance and wealth. He could tell at a glance that Markham didn’t need the money from the sale of the orphanage, and he wondered why the man was so determined to be rid of it.
The maid directed him into a spacious sitting room, and Matt made himself comfortable, sitting on an overstuffed sofa. He took the time to study the room, hoping to learn something about the man he was about to meet from its furnishings. Everything was tastefully decorated, but revealed nothing of Markham’s personality. The only personal thing in the room was a large oil portrait of a beautiful, young, fair-haired mother and child hanging over the fireplace. He glanced at it once with little real interest, and then a moment later felt his gaze drawn back to it, as if he’d missed something in his first quick appraisal.
Matt studied the portrait, wondering why the woman and child seemed familiar to him. The mother was lovely—exquisite actually. Her blonde hair, wide, innocent green eyes, and shapely figure, made her the kind of woman few men could forget. He noticed the distinctive, heart-shaped gold pendant on a fine gold chain around her neck. The little girl was as pretty as her mother, with pale hair and angelic beauty. He was certain he’d never met either of them, and yet, something about them looked so familiar. He shrugged off the impression.
“Yes, Mr. McKittrick, is it? I’m Benjamin Markham. What can I do for you this morning?”
Matt rose respectfully at the sound of the man’s voice. He turned to find Markham standing in the doorway observing him with a keen eye. Matt returned his regard openly, finding his host to be a slightly heavy set, distinguished-looking man of some fifty years. There was an air of imperial authority about him, and Matt could tell right away that he wasn’t someone who was used to being trifled with.
“Good morning, sir.” He went forward and offered him his hand.
Markham shook hands with him, then waved him back to his seat.
“Let’s be comfortable while we talk business, shall we, Mr. McKittrick?”
“By all means.” When they’d been seated, Matt on the sofa again, and Markham in a chair near him. Matt asked out of curiosity, “Tell me, sir, who is the woman in the portrait?”
“That portrait is of my wife, Analisa, and my only child, Belinda.”
“They are lovely.”
“Thank you. They were very beautiful.”
“Were?”
“They’re both lost to me now. My wife died years ago when Belinda was small, and my daughter died just four years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Markham quickly changed the subject; thoughts of his daughter were painful for him. “Shall we get down to business now?”
“Of course. I came to see you this morning for I heard that the property now housing St. Joan’s is on the market. Is that true?”
“Yes. I’ve decided to sell the place. Are you interested? The price is most reasonable considering the location.”
“I’m interested in the property, Mr. Markham, but not in the way you think.”
“What?”
“I’m interested in convincing you not to sell. I want to convince you to keep the orphanage open,” Matt said bluntly, seeing no reason to beat around the bush with the man.
“That’s out of the question, and I resent your coming here under false pretenses.” Anger flared in Markham’s eyes as he glared at Matt.
“I did not lie. I spoke the truth. I said I was interested in the sale of the property, and I am. I’m interested in preventing it,” Matt declared.
“Good day, Mr. McKittrick.” Markham stood up abruptly, ending the short interview. “I don’t believe we have anything more to say to one another.”
“Do you realize what’s going to happen to those children when you force them out of that building in two weeks?”
“Who sent you here? That Sutherland woman? I always knew she’d be trouble one day . . .” he muttered in disgust.
“No one sent me.” He defended Catherine. “When I heard what was about to happen to St. Joan’s, I came of my own accord. Have you been to the orphanage lately? Have you seen what a good job Mrs. Sutherland has done with those children? They’re happy and well-cared for, Mr. Markham, and that’s more than what I can say for the orphans in a lot of homes.”
“No, I haven’t been there and I have no plans to go,” Markham snapped, unwilling to listen to this stranger telling him his own business. He had a personal reason for selling the home, and he was going to see it through. He wanted nothing more to do with children—any children. He wanted the money back he’d invested in the building, and he was going to spend it on himself and try to find some happiness in what was left of his life.
“Don’t you understand the terrible harm you’ll be causing if you do this?”
“Don’t you understand that I don’t care?” Markham returned hotly. “Good day, Mr. McKittrick.”
“Mr. Markham . . .” Matt stood to leave, but as he did, he met the man’s gaze squarely, searching there for some reason behind his madness. “I don’t understand. Tell me why you’re doing this. Right now, you own a building that’s being used to provide a desperately needed service. You are saving children’s lives! Yet, for some reason you’re willing to throw all that away without any thought to the misery you’ll cause.”
“How dare you lecture me?!” Markham was seething. “You don’t know anything about me! What do you know about misery? You do-gooders are all alike! You talk a good game, but where were you and all the others when my daughter needed help? Tell me that!”
“Your daughter?”
“Yes! Belinda ran off and married against my will some years ago. The man deserted her when she became pregnant. Belinda was too proud to come home. To this day, I regret the things I said to her before she ran away . . . She became seriously ill and died. I didn’t find out until months afterward.”
“I’m sorry.” Matt looked back up at the beautiful young girl in the portrait. It pained him to know that she was dead. Young people should never die. Death was for the aged who’d had enough of their time on Earth and were on their way to better things.
“Not nearly as sorry as I am,” Markham came back at him. “When I finally got word, I began looking for my granddaughter. I’ve been searching for the child ever since, but there’s no trace of her to be found anywhere.”
“Your daughter had the baby?”
“Oh, yes. A little girl.” The anger drained out of the older man, and suddenly he was just sad and pathetic in his misery and loneliness. “A precious little girl . . . and that child, the last living link to my Belinda, is lost to me forever.” He paused to draw a steadying breath. “If I could have found that child, I could have made up to Belinda everything I said to her in anger. . .”
“Mr. Markham, you could be helping others just like your daughter if you continued to run the home.”
The mention of St. Joan’s brought him back to the present, and he grew stern and formidable again. “Good bye, Mr. McKittrick. I’m not interested. I’m tired, very tired, and I just want to be left alone.”
He walked toward the doorway to let him know that he was serious about ending the conversation. He’d already blurted out more than he’d ever wanted to reveal, and now he wanted him out of his house and out of his life. It was too painful to think about Belinda and speculating about his lost granddaughter only made him feel worse. He just wanted to forget.
“Good-bye, Mr. Markham,” he said solemnly as he left the house.
Matt’s mood was dark as he made his way back to St. Joan’s. He would have to tell Catherine the truth about what had happened. There could be no avoiding it. He just didn’t like being the bearer of bad news. As he crossed the city to the orphanage, he sought an answer to their dilemma. He knew there had to be something else he could do to help, but right now he wasn’t sure what.
Matt arrived at St. Joan’s far too quickly to suit him. He was met on the steps by Tommy again.
“Good morning. Is Mrs. Sutherland here?” he asked.
“What do you want to know for?” the boy challenged with manly bravado. He’d been up all night worrying about Miss Catherine, and he was determined to protect her from Matt. He wasn’t going to let this man hurt her again.
Matt was stunned by the open hostility from the boy. “Is something wrong, Tommy?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong. I just want to know why you have to see her again. I want to know if you’re gonna talk to her today, like you did last night.”
“Last night?”
“Sure, I was watching you last night, and I don’t like what you did.”
“Look, son, I don’t know what I did to make you angry, but if you’ll tell me, we can talk it out.” Matt couldn’t imagine what had upset the boy, but he was determined to find out.
“I saw you here last night,” he said accusingly. “I saw you leave, and I saw Miss Catherine crying after you left. You said something or you did something to make her cry. I don’t want her hurt. And if you’re gonna make her cry again, then just go on and go right now.” Tommy’s chin jutted out aggressively as he moved to stand before Matt and block his way up the steps.
Matt stared down at the youth who was facing him with all the pride and daring of a man. For one brief moment, Matt wanted to laugh, but quickly reconsidered. At eleven, Tommy was more of a man than some thirty-year-olds he knew. In that moment, Matt decided to explain to him just what was going on. With this kind of courage, the boy deserved it. It was obvious how deeply he cared for Catherine.
“Tommy, I know how important you are around here, and how much Mrs. Sutherland relies on you. I’d like to confide in you. Can I trust you to keep a secret?”
“Yes.” Tommy eyed him cautiously, unsure about returning any trust in him.
“Let’s go somewhere where we can talk privately, man-to-man. What I’m about to tell you has to stay just between us, all right?”
Tommy nodded and led the way to a quiet corner where no one else could hear them. Matt noticed that as he walked ahead of him, the boy’s shoulders were squared and his head was held high.
“This is safe. Go ahead,” Tommy told him when they were out of earshot.
“There’s big trouble here at the orphanage,” he said point blank.
“What kind of trouble?” His eyes narrowed as he tried to gauge the man’s sincerity.
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