Back to You, page 29
“If this is my destiny,” I said, looking at him. “Then why would she give me these to go back? Why send me forward to only have me come back and leave again?”
He studied my face while he rested his elbows on his knees. “There must be something that is connected between these two times.” A long pause as his dark eyes scoured my face. “Or someone. Tell me, have you met anyone who is tied to your other life?”
I began to shake my head, thinking it was absurd. And then I stilled. No. That would—that would be insane. He must have read the realization on my face because he began to give me a sad smile.
“Then maybe they are your destiny.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. What did Thomas have to do with anything? From what I knew—and it wasn’t much—he eventually opened the pub with Michael. I didn’t even know if he was ever married, though now I desperately wished I’d done some digging. Just the thought had my blood boiling. “Did Nonna say anything else?”
Papá stood up, face clearly worn from our conversation and the years between us. “Only to follow your heart. She said you often let your mind get in the way of what your heart is telling you. That and those—” He pointed to the box “—come at a great sacrifice. You will know what to do when the time comes.”
“She didn’t say what, when, or why?”
At that, he smiled and shook his head. “No, figlia. That is for you to figure out on your own. It is a great gift you’ve been given. Come now.” He turned towards the open door. “It is late, and you should be heading back.”
I ran my fingers through the beads as I exited the vardo, finding at least eight pairs of eyes on me. The women had returned to the camp, and I searched their faces for the one my Papá had married. When he stood by one—a middle-aged woman, tall, thin, clearly beautiful with her dark hair tied up in an intricate braid—and put his arm around her shoulders, I knew.
“Emilia, this is Bina. Bina, this is my daughter.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling though she didn’t return it. She was too busy eyeing my pants and shirt with disgust. “You guys didn’t have to leave because of me...”
“They went to the creek to wash the dishes,” my Papá explained. “It is our way.”
“But she wouldn’t know that, would she?” Danior sneered.
I looked at him, startled by his hostility. “What is your problem with me?”
“You are a Gorger.”
Not familiar with the word, I gave a questioning glance at my father.
“You are not a Romani,” Papá explained. “Danior believes you have been gone too long to be one of us.”
That stung. I took a step back. “Do you think that as well?” I asked my father, noticing how his wife’s eyes flashed whenever she looked at me.
“No, figlia.” His face was sad, but his voice was steady as he said, “I’d like you to come with us.”
That had me rocking back on my heels. “You aren’t staying?”
“No, we will be gone by the morrow.”
The suddenness left a weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Papá.” My voice broke.
I glanced at the camp, watching how the men and women sat around the fire. I had a distant memory of a camp like this one, one full of laughter and dancing, not this somber scene before me.
“Will you go with us, figlia?”
My eyes returned to my papá, but it was another’s face that I saw. Even as my stomach twisted, I knew the path I was about to take was the right one.
And it sure as hell would be the hardest goddamn thing I’ve ever done.
Chapter thirty
Thomas
It had started drizzling hours ago, thoroughly soaking Thomas until he was nothing but a miserable shell. Mikey took Shay home in the middle of the night when he noticed she was starting to have some pain in her abdomen, but Thomas refused to stop looking. He trudged through the puddles, looked into the saloons, and went to wherever she might be. Gone without a trace. Thomas’s stomach twisted with worry.
Thomas spotted Hiram down the street, his head down against the rain as he came from the direction of the docks. It was Sunday, so he must have come for Evaline or Shay; it was hard to tell which these days. Shay had started going to his church a few weeks back, so maybe the whole group was going.
“What are you doing here?” Hiram asked, surprised.
“Emilia’s missing,” Thomas informed him, rubbing the rain off his face. “We’ve been looking for her all night.”
The dull sky unleashed a downpour that propelled them towards the warm confines of the bakery so quickly that Thomas didn’t bother to stop and look at the unfamiliar horse tied up outside. Removing his cap, he shook his hair, sending tiny droplets everywhere while his eyes adjusted to the soft glow of the lantern. He paused, his chest loosening with relief before galloping at full speed at the sight of Emilia sitting at the table.
“For heaven’s sake!” Rose exclaimed, rushing to them before he could move toward Emilia. “Give me your jackets, boys. Are you trying to kill yourself? C’mere.” Rose fetched each a rag to dry off with and hung their jackets by the fire. “You’ll be catchin’ the cough if you’re not careful.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Thomas mumbled, still staring at Emilia. She hadn’t looked up from the small box on the table as if she hadn’t even heard them come in.
Shay came to him instead. “She’s been like this since she got here an hour ago,” she said worriedly.
Thomas licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. “She say where she’s been?”
Shay shook her head. “Maybe you can get something out of her.”
Thomas squatted by Emilia so he could see her face. A pressure built inside him at the sight of her turmoil. Heaven help him if someone hurt her… “What happened, lass?”
She hung her head back and closed her eyes as they stared at her silently. Thomas shifted uncomfortably onto one knee and spied the bottle of whiskey on the table, and his relief at finding her faded quickly to concern again.
Just when he thought she wouldn’t respond, she began talking. “Your voice is amazing. Did you know that?” Why did she sound so damned unhappy?
“Ye are the one who can sing, lass,” he said offhandedly. She was slurring her words so much that he leveled the other two women with a sharp glare. “Who gave this to her?” he snapped.
Shay shrugged, shaking her head, eyes round as globes.
“She had it when I came down,” Rose admitted. “George went to meet the boys before service—”
“I got it myself,” Emilia said, turning her russet eyes to him. “Don’t yell at them. I deserve it after the night I had.” She squinted at him as she leaned closer. “C’mon, say something to me.”
Thomas pulled back, hit by the strong scent of the whiskey. “Ye are drunk, lass.” He took another look at the bottle and started. It was the same as the one they drank out of a few weeks back. Biddy must have sequestered Emilia away at some point in the night.
Emilia frowned. “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“What do ye want me to say? Are ye going to tell me what happened?”
“Fine, don’t make me feel better.”
To Thomas’s dismay, her eyes swelled up with tears that began to fall. He reached up, swiping them away with his thumbs, and sighed. “Ye like me voice?” he asked, wanting to ease her pain even if it meant no answers.
She nodded, leaning into his touch. Thomas was vaguely aware of the two other women going upstairs to give them some privacy. Hiram followed them up, probably in search of Evaline.
He grabbed Emilia’s chair and turned it towards him, making her gasp.
“What are you—”
He stood up and dragged a chair in front of her. “I can’t kneel like that any longer.” He sat, staring at his hands in thought. “Me voice wasn’t always like this.”
“What do you mean?” She hiccupped, covering her mouth. Thomas gave a sad smile, unable to deny how cute she was.
“I doubt ye would be able to understand me if ye heard it coming off the ship. The accent faded over the years.”
“It gives me the tingles,” she admitted, turning an extraordinary shade of red. To his surprise, heat replaced the tears in her eyes.
Thomas stared at her beautiful face, memorizing every freckle as his mind went to war with itself. A quick battle that his mind lost. He leaned in and cupped her face with his hands, pulling her gently toward him. Her breath caught as her eyes fixed on his mouth. He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to hers, feather-soft, savoring the sensation. He had never enjoyed kissing a woman so much.
Emilia grabbed his jacket, pulling him closer as her kiss became more frantic. She ran her hands through his wet hair and climbed onto his lap, making him growl as he slid his hands up her back and deepened the kiss.
“Tell me you want me,” she said, her lips still on his.
“Oh, I want ye, gypsy,” he admitted, pulling her closer so that every inch of them was touching. “Ye don’t know how badly. From the moment I saw ye singing on the street there.”
She stilled for a moment, processing his words, before kissing him roughly. “Tell me I belong here,” she whispered, body rigid as she rested her forehead against his. “That I made the right decision.”
“What?” he asked, pulling back to look at her face, but she caught his lip between her teeth and sucked it into her mouth. He moaned even as he pulled free.
Had she noticed he’d been keeping her at a distance? She must have; the lass was no fool. If it affected her like this, though, he wasn’t sure he did the right thing. Or maybe he didn’t pull back hard enough.
“What are ye doing?” he growled, grabbing her arms.
“What does it look like?” she smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“It looks like ye had too much to drink.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she reassured him and ran her hands over his chest, making him shiver. “I’m not letting you push me away anymore. I choose this. I choose you.”
“Stop,” he said gruffly, stilling her hands as her words wrecked him. “Ye can’t be serious. Ye know this won’t work.” He gave her a pointed look that had her flushing in anger. “I won’t do this with ye now. What happened?”
Emilia sat back, hurt, scrunching up her features. She looked to the side, hiding her tears. “It will all be for nothing.” Emilia turned all her anger back to him, pushing his chest. “You’ll do it with any other whore. Why not me?”
His mouth hung open while he tried to find the right words, but he couldn’t say them fast enough. Emilia pushed him again, propelling herself to stand up this time and walk away.
“Where ye going?” he growled, prowling after her.
“I’m leaving,” she hissed, shoving her hair into her cap so fiercely that strands fell down.
“The hell ye are. Talk to me.”
Emilia glared at him and stomped to the door. Thomas grabbed her arm, pulling her back. A sharp crack filled the room as the sting from the slap landed across his cheek.
“What the feck are ye doing?” Thomas yelled, grabbing her arms and shaking her until her cap fell off, her loose waves cascading around her shoulders again. “Why don’t I want ye? Of course, I want ye! If ye were any other slag I’d take ye up against the wall, right here, right now.” He pushed her against the wall, pinning her to it while he pulled her head back by the hair. Emilia’s eyes widened, finally some sobriety in them. He ran his lips up her neck as his hand squeezed her breast, making a whimper escape her lips. “Don’t provoke me, lass,” he growled. His mouth found hers, ravaging her with his tongue like she wanted. He wished he was kissing her like it would be the last, but this kiss was meant to be all-consuming, desperate, punishing. If she wanted to be treated like a whore, he could make her his own personal one. Show her just how much he wanted her beautiful, full body.
He pulled back and knew she must have seen the anger in his face if the tension across her features was any indication. “The only reason I haven’t is that ye mean more to me than any other woman. None of them matter!” He screamed it, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration, making her flinch with the sudden movement. “Because your first time should be special, with a man that ye marry. Not some Irish trash that isn’t going anywhere. Ye deserve the world, Emilia! I can see it. They can see it!” He pointed to the stairs, knowing all three had come down when they heard the yelling. “Why don’t ye, goddammit?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled with an odd mix of perplexity and triumph on her face, which completely dumbfounded him. “You keep pushing me away,” she went on. “I thought—”
Thomas growled, throwing the nearest chair across the room, making all of the women jump. He ran his hands through his hair and kept them there, not trusting himself to lower them or else he’d break something.
A breeze blew through the open door, sweeping Mikey in with it like an avenging angel. Thomas glared at his brother and his annoying habit of showing up at the wrong time.
“Why the feck are ye yelling?” Mikey asked, scanning the room. He raised an eyebrow when he spotted the chair.
“Not now,” Thomas growled. “Why are ye even back here?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Mikey said, eyes darting to the women on the stairs so quickly Thomas almost didn’t see it. Mikey must have cared for Emilia more than he had realized to come in at this hour. In fact, for him to come at all was utterly bewildering. Either that or another reason brought him in…
Mikey let out a low whistle and put his hands in his pockets, cutting off Thomas’s train of thought as he strolled over to Emilia. He didn’t hide his perusal of her physical and mental state. “He’s going to bloody war, lass. I’m sure ye can write love letters and all that. Nothing to fret about.”
Emilia looked at Mikey like he was an absolute gobshite. If Thomas wasn’t so angry, he would’ve laughed. And then the realization hit him, feeling the dread pool in his stomach. Emilia must know that he already enlisted.
“Why is your shirt open?” Mikey eyed Thomas’ chest, pulling him out of his thoughts. Mikey’s eyes widened, and he gave a devilish grin. “What have ye two been up to?” He crossed his arms, waiting.
Thomas growled. “Get out.”
“Oh no, deartháir daor.” He picked up the chair Thomas had thrown and straddled it. “I think I’m rather enjoying this.”
“You don’t belong here.” Hiram snapped at Mikey.
“That’s rich coming from ye,” Mikey said with equal vehemence, pointing his chin in Shay’s direction. “Tell me, where have ye gone after finding out about the baby growing inside her?”
Shay paled at Mikey’s almost flippant remark.
Hiram jerked back as if Michael had struck him. “I never left,” his voice rumbled dangerously. “I was just with her yesterday, matter of fact. Tell me, what have you done for her? She wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for men like you!”
“Men like me?” Mikey stood up and took a step forward. “Tell me, what is a man like me?”
Thomas glanced at Emilia, wondering how they got here and began buttoning up his shirt while they were all distracted.
“Bigoted bastard.” Hiram went nose to nose with Mikey, neither of them backing down. “A selfish, depraved prick who has done nothing but carry out unspeakable acts for his own betterment. You’ve never loved anyone other than yourself. And you sure as hell wouldn’t know how to fight for anything other than your own gain. At least your brother fights for what is right. For a cause that goes beyond him. And has respect for those around him. You shouldn’t even be in the same room as her!”
Though his face was pale, Mikey sneered. “At least I can look at her rounding belly and not go green in gills.”
“Enough!” Thomas’s voice boomed, causing the whole room to fall silent. “Do ye not see what ye are doing?”
It took a minute for the men to retreat, but they shut up at the sight of Shay’s pale face.
“Ya’ll are idiots.” Emilia wobbled a little bit and caught Thomas’ arm for balance. “Neither of you deserve her, and Rose should throw you both out. Go on,” she said to Rose. “Get rid of ’em!”
Shay rolled her eyes in exasperation, but Rose straightened her shoulders, her round face set in resolve. She gave Emilia a disapproving look. “First, mind your place, child. I will turn out whoever I need to, but I didn’t fight for a place of my own for another white woman to tell me what I should do.”
“I didn’t—” Emilia stopped, shriveling under the woman’s glare, and seemed to change course. “Right, sorry, ma’am.”
Rose let out a big sigh, her ample chest swelling with her subsequent reprimand. “Now, you boys get on out of here,” she snapped. “I’m not going to have you talk about Ms. Shay like that.”
Mikey took a step towards Shay, hesitating to go to her side. “I didn’t mean to upset ye…” he said to her. Thomas rocked back on his heels. That was the closest to an apology he’d ever heard from his brother.
Hiram snorted. “That’s because you don’t give a shit.”
“Stop!” Shay barked, and to Thomas’ astonishment they shut up. “I don’t know what is wrong with you two, other than you need to get over hating each other. I’m done with it. Hate each other all you want, but leave me out of it.”
“Why’s everyone yelling?” A soft voice floated down the stairs.
Shay turned around quickly, scooping up the little girl into a hug. Mira had come down with her, hands balled into fists as she took in the situation.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Shay said to Evaline. “Were we being too loud?”
Evaline nodded and stared at everyone. Then, “Uncle Tommy!” she squealed, squirming out of Shay’s arms to run to him.
