Union Street Bakery (9781101619292) (36 page)

I wanted to believe that Susie had escaped and had been able to not only remake herself in Ohio, but had returned home to live a full and happy life. As I stepped into my room, the sun hung on the horizon and cast orange and gold lights into the room. I turned on a lamp and pulled off my USB T-shirt and flour-caked jeans and shrugged on an oversized T-shirt. I craved a hot shower and change of clothes and maybe even heading down the street to the pub and getting a burger.

As I reached for the tap, the light I'd just turned on flickered once, twice, and on the third blip went out. I stood waiting, knowing someone had come.

“Shaun.”

Of course no voice answered. That would have been too simple. Instead there was a steady thickening and souring of the air. The lightness around me vanished and in its place the dark anger, which I'd felt a couple of times before. My heart beat a little faster as I clenched my hands at my side.

“The secret's out, Shaun. We know Sally is Susie. And it's okay. No one is going to hurt her. She's safe.”

The books stacked on the floor toppled over and the light on the nightstand flickered. A glass on the sink in the bathroom rattled, fell to the floor, and shattered.

Leave.

The message was as clear as if it had been spoken.

Leave.

“Sorry, pal,” I said in a not-so-stern voice. “I'm here to stay.”

Leave.

“No.”

I stood tense and waiting as the energy swirled around me. Sensing I was in some battle of wills, I mentally dug in deeper. “Like it or not, Shaun, I'm stuck here for the duration. I've got a family to look after, just as you looked after yours.”

For a moment the sour air swirled but my heart did not race this time and my palms did not sweat. Shaun and I weren't so different. We would both do what it took to take care of our own.

And then just as quickly as the presence came, it vanished.

The air cleared and the light on the nightstand flickered back on. Releasing a tense breath, I moved into the bathroom and gingerly picked up the broken glass. A shard caught the tip of my thumb and nicked the skin. A trickle of blood oozed out.

I cursed and grabbed toilet paper from the roll and wrapped it around my thumb. Life at the bakery would never be easy. This place would always require something. Dad had said it was never satisfied and he was right. But I was okay with that for now.

“I am here to stay.”

Epilogue

I
'd never given a guy flowers. I'd received my share, but I'd never given. Buying the yellow sunflowers had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now as I stood outside of Gordon's shop on this lovely early May Saturday morning and watched the passersby go in for the grand opening, I was feeling a little foolish. We'd not spoken much in the last couple of weeks and I wasn't sure if he'd really welcome me.

“Buck up, Daisy,” I whispered. “Don't be a baby.”

With those words rattling in my head, I crossed the street and walked into the shop and was amazed at the crush of people who'd gathered for his opening. I spotted several of my customers as well as a couple of folks from Suburban.

I caught sight of a group of women and knew I'd found Gordon. The ladies in town who came into the bakery had not been shy about gossiping about the new bike guy who was so hot.

As I wove through the crowd, I bumped into a tall guy wearing a Tour de France T-shirt. He had suntanned features and dark hair. “Hey,” he said. “Love the flowers. Tour de France, right?”

“The tour cuts through the sunflower fields of southern France. Very good.”

“Hey, I know bikes.” He shifted a water bottle from his right to his left hand and extended his hand to me. “I'm Sam. Gordo and I rode bikes together back in college.”

“Daisy McCrae. I manage the Union Street Bakery.” The words no longer tripped on my tongue but flowed easily.

“I've seen that place. Very cool.”

“We like to think so. So you in town for long?”

“Maybe.” Twin dimples appeared on his cheeks when he smiled. “I'm starting to like Alexandria a lot.”

The gaggle of women parted and Gordon caught my gaze. He smiled. “Hey, let me go wish Gordon good luck.”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe I'll come by sometime and buy a cookie.”

I laughed. “Right.” When I reached Gordon I'd forgotten about feeling awkward about the flowers or even coming. It was just good to see him. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” He glanced at the sunflowers. “For me?”

“For you. I thought about a cake or cookies but that seemed too predictable.”

He took the flowers. “Thanks.”

“You're very welcome. And I wish you many years of good business.”

“Back at you.”

“Hey,” I said before I lost my nerve, “want to grab dinner and a lecture next Saturday?”

“Lecture?”

“Margaret is giving it. It's about our family and kinda cool.”

“I'd like that.” For a moment we just lingered, only inches apart. The crowd around me faded and I had the urge to kiss him.

“Hey, Gordo!” Sam called. “I got someone you need to meet.”

“He's interested in investing in the shop,” Gordon said. “I've got to go.”

“Saturday, then.”

“Yeah.”

Smiling, I tossed him a final wave and made my way out of the shop. The air outside was cool but the sun was warm enough to make this a perfect spring day.

As I reached the bakery, I could hear yelling. It was Rachel. And I'd never heard her so angry. I pushed through the front door and found her standing by the front register staring with a glare that bordered on wild.

“What the heck is wrong?” I asked. Illness, death, fire, you name the disaster and it flashed in my mind.

“There is a man. A horrible man who smokes and rides an old Harley.”

I didn't see anyone. “Where is this man?”

“The kitchen. He left his nasty, beat-up backpack right by the register and is rearranging my kitchen. I told him to get out. He told me to call Henri.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. But he is not answering his phone.” Her flushed cheeks made her eyes look all the bluer. “I am out here to call the police.”

I moved behind the counter and took the phone from her hand. “I don't suppose he speaks with a French accent, does he?”

“How did you know?”

“You just met our new baker.”

What Came Before

Alexandria, January 1852

A
man who stuck his neck out was a fool. A wise man kept his head low, worked hard, and never drew the attention of the authorities.

Shaun McCrae had learned this lesson well in Ireland as a boy when the authorities had hauled his own da off to an English prison. His da had protested rising land rents and had been organizing the other farmers in protest when English soldiers had showed up at their cottage door in the middle of the night. To the sounds of his mother's screams and his little sister's cries, the soldiers had taken his father away. He'd returned seven years later, but he was never the same.

These warnings from the past rumbled as he'd stood in Bruin's and watched today's slave auction. Mrs. Randolph had sent big men to fetch the girl from his bakery and the instant she saw them, she'd clung to her mother. When the men had dragged her to a waiting wagon, she'd screamed as if Satan himself had grabbed a hold of her hair. He'd stood by and watched, and even when her pleading gaze had met his, he'd not said or done anything that gave a hint that the scene troubled him deeply.

He'd gone to Bruin's and stood in the back, watching as the girl had been auctioned to a New Orleans man, Murdock, known for his exclusive fancy houses. There was no fooling himself as to the girl's fate. But again he'd done nothing to draw attention. The girl was kept in Bruin's holding cells for several hours after the auction until Murdock finished his bargaining.

Shaun parked his wagon on the dock in front of the
Diamond
, Murdock's slave ship bound for New Orleans. It was past midnight and the vessel was loaded and ready to leave on the morning tide.

In the soft glow of lantern light, Shaun caught the gaze of the sailor guarding the ship's entrance. The bloke, known to him from his own slave trading days, was called Joey One-Thumb because he'd lost his right thumb in a ship's rigging when he was a lad. Joey had a good bit of muscle, a lacking brain, and he owed Shaun a sizeable bit of money from the previous Saturday night's poker. Joey's presence was a sign from the Lord.

He set the brake on his wagon, tied off the reins, and jumped down. Shoving out a breath, he moved slowly and carefully as if he were a man only about the business of delivering sea biscuits to a ship readying to leave port. He'd done the task a thousand times before and with luck would do it a thousand more times in the future.

He released the rope holding in the wooden barrels and hefted the first to the ground. He unloaded two more barrels and loaded all sideways onto a hand trolley he kept in the wagon bed for such deliveries.

With a grunt, he tipped the load back and pushed it up to the plank. “Good evening, Joey.”

Joey straightened. “If you've come about your money I'll be paying you when we return from New Orleans. I told you I'd not have it until then.”

Shaun's biceps bunched against his shirt as he balanced his weight. He glanced from side to side down the dark, quiet dock. “I've a proposition for you, Joey One-Thumb.”

Joey rubbed his right snubbed thumb along the stubble of his chin. “What is it, Shaun?”

Grinning, Shaun glanced from side to side and swallowed the knot in his throat. “Lend me your keys and give me ten minutes on your ship and I will forget your debt to me.”

“What say you?”

“You heard me.”

“I could land in jail for that!”

“Aye, and I could for asking it. But two hundred dollars is a nice bit of change to have lost at the poker tables. Would be nice to keep it, don't you think?”

The stench of the human cargo belowdecks clung to Joey's tattered jacket. “Why would you give up that kind of money?”

“That's not for you to wonder. Are you interested in my offer?”

“What do you plan to do on that ship?”

“Just delivering a bit of biscuits to your captain. I've heard he has always favored them.”

Joey moistened cracked, dried lips like a man half-starved placed in front of prime beef on a spit. “You'll forgive it all?”

“Aye, every last bit of the debt. But you must act right now or the deal is off.” Shaun dug a loaf of bread from his pocket and handed it to the man.

Joey hesitated a moment and then fished a ring of iron keys from his coat pocket. He slipped the keys into Shaun's rough hands as he took the bread. “Just ten minutes.”

Shaun nodded. He pushed his burden up the gangplank lit only by a few swaying deck lanterns. The ship under him creaked and swayed as he pushed toward aft section doors. He'd delivered sea biscuits to
Diamond
before and knew its general layout. The male slaves would be kept in the hole of the ship, chained to the floor, but the females and children were locked away in a cell just belowdecks and across from the captain's quarters. The captain rarely chained the women and children unless they caused trouble.

The ring of keys bit into his fingers as he wheeled toward the port that led to the lower levels. Several sailors, dozing against a mast, waved a weary greeting to him. They'd seen delivery people here before so he wasn't out of place and in the fading light they'd not be able to tell who he was or what he was delivering. Only Joey One-Thumb could say for sure that Shaun McCrae had boarded the ship and his greed would keep him silent.

He backed his load down a few steps and descended into the lower deck. The stench of the hole of the ship was a deck below but the foul order had permeated the floorboards and rose up to burn his nostrils. He'd arrived in this country with just the clothes on his back and there had been little work for a poor Irishman. With Jenna to feed, he'd taken work on a slave ship. He'd worked three voyages but found his distaste for the trade growing with each nautical mile. He'd quit and found work on the docks. Two years of backbreaking work and his talent for cards had won him a bakery and respectability.

Thankfully, at this hour the slaves were asleep as well. During the daylight hours, especially when it was so hot or cold, their pitiful moans rose up through the floorboards like specters from hell.

“And you risk it all now, boy-o.” He lowered the barrels down and unloaded the first, full of biscuits. And then he unloaded the second, empty and hollow, as it had been the day it had arrived from the cooper.

Fumbling in the dim light with the keys, he moved to the last door on the right, the only door with bars on the door's single window. He glanced inside and saw several older women huddled by the porthole where cold, fresh air drifted in from the river. One woman held two small sleeping children and a few others stared sightlessly into the dark.

He pulled in his breath. “I've come for Susie. Is she here?”

The women turned and each frowned their fear and frustration. For a moment, he thought they might rally around the girl and make a scene but in the next instant, one of the women nodded to a silent figure in the corner. She sat on the floor, alone, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head ducked.

“Susie, you are to come with me now.” He could say no more without creating a fuss. They had but minutes before someone would wonder why he'd lingered too long belowdecks.

She lifted her head and stared at him. For a moment, she blinked as if she didn't believe her eyes. He nodded as if to say
, Come here, girl.

Rising, she moved toward him. He could see that her dress was torn and a bruise had darkened her cheek and shoulder. Anger burned hot and quick in his gut and he knew one day he'd collect his own pound of flesh from the man who'd harmed her.

He fumbled with the keys, found the right one, and opened the door as she rose and moved toward him. Many of the women stared at him, angry and hostile, as if they assumed he was taking the girl for a few minutes of pleasure. He tugged her roughly from the room and locked the door.

When she started to speak, he raised his finger to his lips and bade her to be silent. In a few quick strides they reached the barrels and he pried the top off the empty vessel. He hefted her thin form and set her in the barrel.

“Not a word to anyone about this. Ever,” he said. “This must be our secret.”

She glanced up at him, her face so pale and stricken. A bit of his heart broke when he looked into eyes drained of fight and filled with fear. She nodded.

He capped the barrel and then set it back on the dolly. With a grunt, he put the barrel on the dolly and backed up the stairs with his burden. He pushed across the deck and down the gangplank where he found a nervous Joey glancing from side to side and shifting his gaze.

Shaun returned the keys to Joey. “I was not here, boy-o.”

The seaman's gaze darted from side to side. “They will ask.”

“Aye, they will and you did not see me.” He paused. “The two hundred dollars is your reward for the help. Two broken legs will be your reward if you talk.”

Even in the flickering lantern light, he could see the man pale. “I won't talk.”

“See that you don't.” He paused. “And boy-o, when they go looking for anything that might be missing, it fell overboard. You hear me?”

“Overboard?”

“You heard a loud splash.”

“A loud splash.”

Shaun patted him roughly on the cheek. “There's a good lad.”

And without another word, he hefted his barrel into the bed of his truck and drove into the night.