Back to You, page 8
Nora huffed, puffing out her tiny chest, and began to walk towards the ally. Thomas grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Stay here. I’ll bring her back.”
“Well, all right then,” she said sensibly, knowing she could be walking into trouble. “Just bring her back here.”
The warm night encouraged those usually in the taverns to come out and march on to their subsequent establishment. Thomas walked around several drunks who stumbled in his path and ignored a man and woman shifting in the shadows of a building. A group of men walked by, too busy whispering to each other to pay Thomas any mind, but their look had Thomas putting his hand in his pocket. The warmth of the metal of his small revolver was a comfort.
A few curses and a muffled scream echoed through the ally, spurring Thomas into action. He rounded the corner in a matter of seconds. What he saw stopped the breath in his chest as a loud ringing pierced his ears. A disconcerted rage overtook Thomas, making the edges of his vision go black.
He would come to find out that one fleeting moment could drastically change the course of a person’s life.
Chapter seven
Emilia
A few hours earlier
With darkness, the world came alive.
Inside the building, I wiped my sweaty palms on my shift, looking down at the entire expanse of my tan skin practically glowing against the white corset. The contrast was drastic, as was the darkness of my hair when all the other women in the brothel were fairer than I. I was sure that darker women were in the streets yesterday, but my first-night singing made it blazingly clear that I stood out.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and reminded myself that this outfit may be provocative for the time, but it wasn’t for my time. I shouldn’t have felt any more nervous about singing here than on the pub stage. Besides, I had nothing but good reviews the night before, and only a few men tried to touch me. I intentionally repressed the memory of the man who dared to shove money between my breasts and attempted to lift my shift before I swore at him. All the others only needed a quick swat of my hand and a sassy smile to keep them at bay.
The other women kept throwing glares, clearly thinking I would take their men tonight. The evening passed in aggravation and resistance as I had taught them their lines. Even now, though I told them I only wanted to sing, they hated me with a boiling temper that could only be the machinations of Nessa. I tried to ignore them and focus on Biddy, who, in all her natural sweetness, ignored the other women’s resentment and treated me as a close friend.
“Go on,” Nora mumbled by me, her hands behind her back, as she permitted me to go outside. A few men had already started to trickle in, drinking at the bar and flirting with the girls. Nora wanted me to wait until the street was good and busy outside before I started singing.
I grabbed the brass tin on the table next to me, ready to head out.
“Do you think he’ll be here tonight?” I asked her.
Much to my disappointment, I hadn’t seen Shay or Thomas the night before and ended up having to sing the entire night. It wasn’t until near dawn, feet sore and voice weak, I was able to go in. My only choice was to bed with Biddy, and too exhausted to refuse, I gladly lay down next to her. However, somewhere in the back of my mind, my consciousness recoiled at the thought of lying on those soiled sheets, as my drained body quickly fell into a deep sleep for nearly ten hours.
I woke disoriented and panicked at the close view of my surroundings. I was alone in the room, so I regained my composure without anyone noticing. Calming down, my mood quickly shifted to a sense of despair. I had to grab my stomach, nausea overcoming me quickly.
Nora promised Thomas would come into this part of town, but what if he didn’t? Should I have gone to find Shay instead of asking Nora for help? My letter—God, that sounded ridiculous considering I didn’t remember writing it—said to find Thomas. But why? The situation had me nearly pulling my hair out and committing to an asylum.
Being entirely on my own in this century wore on me, and I had to hide that shaking hands from the other girls.
“Don’t ye worry,” Nora said, smile strained. Not for the first time, I sensed that she was keeping something from me.
“Okay,” I mumbled, promising myself that this would be the last night I would try this. Nora be damned, I was going to find Shay without her or Thomas.
Heading towards the door, a man approached me, snaking his arm around my waist and causing my blood pressure to skyrocket. I pulled my face back, hit by the smell of his intense body odor and the reek of alcohol.
“Hands off!” Nora was there instantly, swatting the man away before I could react. “Mr. Clément, this lady is extra special. Ye back off, ye hear?”
“Pardonnez-moi, Madam Kelly,” he said in what I assumed was French. He bowed far enough that he stumbled, almost falling on his face. “Elle est belle.” Standing upright now, his eyes tried to focus on my breasts.
Feeling uncomfortable, I played with my rosary that I hid in my drawers, winding and unwinding the beads around my fingers.
“Stop that vulgarity. Speak English now, ye hear? Now, we have plenty of other pretty women over here…” Nora grabbed ahold of Mr. Clément’s shoulders. She guided him to Biddy, who was all smiles, her naturally sweet charm captivating the man.
I quickly went outside and placed my tin next to the crate. The weather was chillier than the night before, but there wasn’t a breeze, which allowed us to light a small fire in a rusted barrel near me. Nora said it was to keep me warm, but I knew it was for the men to see me better. So, I ascended the crate, noticing how the people passing by eyed me suspiciously.
I started singing a few old Irish songs I used to sing at the pub, and even sang a few new ones the girls had taught me the night before. But, if I was being honest, if it weren’t for Shay missing, I would have enjoyed that time on my small crate much more, singing my heart out.
Singing was my outlet, escape, and refuge all rolled into one, and those two nights I sang for the small crowd were ones I would cherish for the rest of my life. Bringing joy and laughter to those struggling and trying to survive was enough to endure the stares of some men. Besides, if I remembered correctly, weren’t they going to be at war soon? So, it was the least I could do while trying to find my friend. Especially since I would be gone long before then, anyhow.
About an hour later, I saw two black hats separating the crowd around them. They were taller than most, making it easier to stand out. A muttering of curses went through the gathering around me, but, to my surprise, no one stopped the two men. It was only a matter of seconds until they pushed their way through the last of the people and emerged in front of me.
A huge man with the warm tan of someone of a mixed race appeared first, admiring me with golden eyes that held more disinterest than the wanton thoughts of the other men. He stood there, hands in his trousers pockets as he waited for his friend to stand next to him, his strong brows lowering in thought. I looked toward the other, noticing first how his white skin offset his friend’s and the similar way that they carried themselves. Then, he lifted his head, his hat covering most of his face while bent, and it was as if time had slowed.
It couldn’t be.
My words caught in my throat, though I was able to recover with just a slight tremor in my voice.
Holy shit. I’ve got to be hallucinating. There’s no way that he found me.
And yet, there was no denying that he was the man in the picture hanging in my family’s pub.
Thomas.
It was undoubtedly him, from the short black beard on his sharp jaw, to his prominent cheekbones that framed a slightly crooked nose, probably from a break. But the most striking feature of his face was his eyes. They were green, not the blue that I suspected. The most vibrant green eyes I’d ever seen, slanted in a way that gave the impression of a predator zeroing in on their prey. And they were staring right at me.
I couldn’t look away, enraptured by the man I had looked at since I was a kid. Although, I had to admit, he was a little intimidating. He was just my height while I was standing on the large crate—putting him several inches over six feet tall—and his shoulders were as broad as two of me.
The longer his eyes rested on me, the more my words began to falter. I knew I had to find him, but why was he so interested in me? I had the sudden urge to turn him around, push him away so he’d start walking somewhere else.
Instead, I closed my eyes and let every feeling trapped inside me out through my voice. I could pretend he wasn’t there if I didn’t look at him.
That didn’t change the hyper-awareness of feeling his heated gaze upon me. His presence took up more space than his body, sweeping me into his atmosphere. And that was what convinced me that I wasn’t completely losing it. That I hadn’t imagined him in front of me.
The song ended, and I let out a small breath through my nose, trying to get up the nerve to talk to Thomas. At least the uneasy, prickling sensation had faded.
The crowd was still murmuring and rowdy as I tamped down my nerves. And when I finally opened my eyes…
He was gone.
I looked around, scanning the crowd for his black hair above everybody else’s, but he was nowhere in sight. Had I imagined him? He vanished as suddenly as he showed up, and I found myself scrambling off the crate, running through the crowd hollering for more songs. I ignored them, sweeping my eyes left and right for Thomas.
I walked down the street, where there were significantly fewer people. I looked to my right and swore I saw a man turn down an alley. Instinctively, I followed him, wanting to catch up.
As soon as I entered the alley, a hand was clasped around my mouth, and the sharp bite of a knife pressed to my throat. I tried to scream, but only soft grunts could escape my captor’s hands, and the blade dug in deeper. A warm trickle of blood began to drip down my throat, freezing me in place.
“What is a pretty lass like ye doin’ out ‘ere by yerself? Mmm? Lookin’ for a little trouble?” The stench of the man’s breath had me recoiling from him as much as I possibly could. His hand began to fumble with my shift. I tried to pull the knife away from my neck, but he was too strong.
“Stop movin’, ye wench!” he hissed, lifting the thin fabric high enough to get under it. I bucked to try and get him away, but it only seemed to excite him more, and the knife started to sting. “Ye would think ye’d be used to it by now, ye whore. Too pretty to be wasted on that crate.”
Something warm pressed against my flesh, causing hot tears to roll down my face. I prepared myself for what was to come next, only to hear a click of metal that stopped the man short.
“Let the lass go,” a deep voice growled, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps to erupt over my entire body. I didn’t have to look to know who he was.
The man withdrew from me, and my shift fell back into place. I ran to the other side of the alley, plastering my back against the building so no one else could sneak up on me.
Thomas had a small gun pressed to the side of the greasy-haired bastard.
“C’mon, Tommy boy! Ye know I was just havin’ a wee bit of fun. No need to—” Thomas cracked the man’s skull with the butt of the gun, cutting off his words. The man dropped the knife and grabbed his head.
I winced, looking away.
“Ye ever touch a lass like that again, and I’ll cut ye. If ye ever even look at this woman here, I’ll gut ye…” Thomas began to speak in Irish, so I couldn’t understand him, but whatever he said had the man visibly shaking.
With the vehemence that Thomas spoke and how he had the gun shoved underneath the man’s jaw, my stomach twisted in knots. Was I wrong to go searching for this man? He did save me, but it was clear that Thomas might not be the gentleman I had imagined all these years.
A dark stain began to form on the man’s pants, and I realized with a start that he had pissed himself. I couldn’t blame him; I was barely holding it together and wasn’t even facing Thomas’ wrath. Then, with a shove from Thomas, my assailant stumbled into the street. He ran towards the crowd without looking back.
Thomas breathed heavily, looking at his feet.
“Thank you,” I whispered, not knowing what to say, and frankly too scared to say the wrong thing to him.
He turned to me, looking as if he had forgotten I was there. The closer he got, the clearer his features became, several different emotions sweeping across his face before settling into indifference. Finally, he raised his hand, and I flinched, pulling away until I felt him gently sweep wayward strands of hair away from my face. I peered at him through my lashes, afraid to move.
“Ye shouldn’t be here,” he said. My heart nearly burst through my chest, thinking he somehow knew who I was. “Why aren’t ye with your people?”
“I don’t have anyone,” I admitted, letting out the breath I was holding. The Italians. Of course, he thought it was odd I was in the Irish part of Boston. Where were the Italian immigrants even during this time? I raked my brain, trying to remember the history lessons they taught me in school, but I wasn’t sure. “And, I can’t find my friend…”
His back stiffened at my words. “That’s right.” He grimaced and nodded in thought. “C’mon, then.”
“What?”
“I believe we need to have a talk with Madam Kelly, aye?”
“What do you know of Madam Kelly?” I asked, blushing at what he may know.
His eyes roamed my body, causing me to cover myself. I didn’t want him to see me that way for some reason. It made me feel ashamed and confused in that dirty ally, though I had done nothing wrong.
He shook his head and looked upward, avoiding my gaze. “She said ye were looking for someone?”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking of a way to tell him what I needed without admitting he was one of the people I needed. “She agreed to get me into contact with someone who could help me find my friend. I was going to head to The North End, but she said it was too far away—”
He glared at me, and I recoiled.
“What?” I asked.
“Madam Kelly jilted ye, she did,” he growled. “Come!”
The anger in his voice made me jump just as his gentle touch on my back sent a shudder through my body. He evoked so many emotions in me that my body started to shake, overwhelmed. Yet I followed, knowing full well I was a helpless sheep navigating the wolves.
Chapter eight
Emilia
The small crowd that was still gathered around Madam Nora’s bar parted for Thomas. It was puzzling, knowing I would’ve struggled through them on my own, and I wondered yet again why he affected everyone. We entered the building, the door crashing into the wall so hard that everyone around the room quieted and turned in our direction. I felt myself shrink back, so Thomas’s body hid most of me.
“So, ye found the wench!” Nora hollered unnaturally loud for such a small frame. She came at me, face scrunched in anger.
Thomas put his arm back and pushed me farther behind him.
“Aye, I did,” he admitted. “And it’s not what ye think. She didn’t steal your money; she was looking for someone.”
Nora’s head reared back, squinting as if she didn’t believe him. “Did ye check everywhere?” She looked around him, eyeing my breasts and clothes like she was about to find out herself.
“Aye,” Thomas sneered, lying convincingly well.
“You know I wouldn’t steal from you,” I spoke up.
“I don’t know ye, ye wee wench! For all I know, ye were playin’ me all along!”
“Take care not to raise your voice,” Thomas warned. “Your patrons are getting a free show.”
Nora huffed, looking around as her nostrils flared and her mouth went tight.
“You know I needed to find my friend,” I growled, just as angry. I stepped around Thomas and stood in front of Nora. “She’s scared, alone, and if she’s hurt, I swear to God I’m going to come after you first for not helping me.” With each word spoken, my voice grew so everyone could hear me. I hadn’t meant to do it, but everything that had happened built up, and I was ready to explode.
Nora’s eyes widened momentarily before narrowing. “This is how ye thank me for putting a roof over your head and food in your belly?”
“It was one night!” I yelled.
“Tell me, Nora. How long were ye gonna wait to tell her she’s already in The North End?” Thomas asked.
“What?” I gasped, looking to see his expression, but his hard gaze was on Nora. In my own time, I’d been in Charlestown. How had I ended up all the way in the North End?
Movement on the stairs caught my eye. Nessa just came down with the big man I had seen with Thomas earlier, sneering at me as the man looked questioningly at Thomas. Thomas just shook his head.
I looked around for Biddy and found her standing by a small man I hadn’t seen before. Face pale and eyes round, the guilt was clearly written on her face.
“You lied to me?” I choked out. Though we’d just met, that betrayal had hurt the most. “After everything we talked about? I thought you were my—?” I stopped and shook my head, unable to say that I had started thinking of her as a friend.
“I’m sorry—”
“Thomas.” Nessa sauntered over to us, batting her lashes at him. “Please tell me you’re not siding with this gypsy filth?” Her shoulder bumped into mine as she sidled to his side, holding on to him. She looked at me, smirking.
“Gypsy?” My face paled at her accusation. I wasn’t stupid; I knew gypsies had bad reputations. “I’m not a gypsy,” I denied even as the memory of my grandmother had me wondering…
Could there be truth to it?
“Word around town is ye are…” She lifted a red brow.
“I’m Italian. My family—”
“Always lyin’, aye?” Nessa sneered.
