Saints and Sinners (17 page)

“You know it.” He put her down.

She stood on tiptoe and stared him down. “I know lots of things.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like I think you’re the handsomest man I’ve ever met.”

“And?”

“Oh…” She placed a finger between her lips and sucked upon it. “I don’t know.”

Reilly watched her dress and followed suit. “Are you sure there’s nothing else on your mind?”

“Well, I suppose I could say how much I enjoy being in your bed. How much I miss you when we’re not together. How much I can’t wait to become your wife.”

Reilly swept her into his arms. “I miss you too. More than you’ll ever know. But that’ll soon change.”

* * * *

As they turned onto Sullivan Street, a fire engine clanged its bell and raced through the intersection. Reilly’s gut roiled and he slowed the roadster. Thick gray smoke belched from a building, but neither could make out the exact location. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he eased the car beside the curb.

“Let me out,” Moira said. Before he braked to a stop, she climbed from the car and ran down the street toward the greengrocery.

After parking some distance away, Reilly removed his hat and followed. The smoke thickened and billowed into the cloudless sky. He shuddered at the grim reality. No. That bastard wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to seek revenge. How could anyone be so evil?

Like a rag doll, Moira crumpled onto the sidewalk and buried her face in her hands. “No. No. Tell me it’s not true. Tell me I’m dreaming.” Her body wracked with sobs.

Reilly cradled her in his arms and watched the firemen direct a steady stream of water through the storefront’s window. If anyone were injured in this fire, he’d kill that bloody bastard of an uncle.

A sudden movement to his right caused Reilly to jerk. Mr. Monaghan was trying to comfort his grief-stricken wife. Rocking her back and forth like a baby. They were safe, but everything they’d worked for was being consumed by flames.

He hastened to where they sat but soon returned to Moira’s side. “Your parents are safe.” If only he gotten out from under Morgan Dunne’s thumb before now. What if Moira had sampled some of that hooch laced with wood alcohol? His brain screamed. The thought of her green lamps never seeing the world around her again. He’d rather run himself through with a knife than face such a horrible thing.

“W-where are they? They were supposed to be visiting some friends.” Tears trickled down her flushed cheeks, and he wiped them away. Before he could answer, she saw her parents and rushed to reach them. “Oh, Mama. Papa. The devil
has
come to Sullivan Street.”

Bile rose in Reilly’s throat. Truer words she’d never spoken.

“Hush, Moira,” Reamonn Monaghan said. “We’re all fine.”

The family huddled close, allowing Reilly to join them in their grieving. Yes, he had to tell them of his plans. A bit later. When they had a chance to recover from the shock of everything. Reamonn needed to know before Nola.

“Such a terrible waste. Everything we worked so hard for, destroyed,” muttered Nola Monaghan.

No. Not all was lost. He would see to that. From the rubble, he’d help the Monaghans build an even better life. The fact that he was a Dunne, and had denied his uncle access to Moira, caused this commotion. If Skinny Lonnigan hadn’t made that liquor, Janet wouldn’t have needed Moira to cover for her at the club. It was at The Continental Club that Morgan got his best look at the scantily clad Moira. He’d settle the score with his uncle. With his money and help, Moira and her parents would get back on their feet.

Few words were exchanged. One of the uniformed men who braved the fire approached them after a little more than an hour passed. “Looks like only the lower level was damaged. There’s a lot of smoke up on the second floor. Everyone got out in time. Thank God. You folks have a place to spend the night?”

“Yes, they do,” Reilly said.

“But, we don’t.” Moira held out her hands. “Where will we—”

“There’s an apartment above my clothier’s. It’s not furnished, but it’ll be a place to rest for the night.”

Reamonn clapped Reilly on the back. “I thank you, boy. You’ll be rewarded for your kindness.”

Reilly waved off his words. “No repayment is necessary. However, there are some things
we
need to discuss.”

The two men walked away, leaving Moira and her mother alone. Only Reamonn needed to hear what he had to say. His surprise could wait until after breakfast tomorrow.

“What’s on your mind, Reilly, my boy?”

“I’ve not known Moira for long. Sometimes we just know when we’ve met someone special. Someone we love more than any other.”

“And you’re sayin’ Moira’s the one?”

“That’s so. She’s said ‘yes’, but there’s something I have to know.”

Reamonn’s brow wrinkled. “What’s eatin’ at you?”

“I know your greengrocery and that building are owned by my Uncle Morgan. You made payments to him, didn’t you, Reamonn?”

“Indeed, I did. Regular too.” He pinioned Reilly with an unwavering gray gaze. “Don’t say a word of this to Nola or Moira. They never knew of my...our arrangement.”

“You have my word.” Reilly’s hand ached under Reamonn’s grip.

“With my blessing you’ll have my daughter as your wife.”

“You knew all along, didn’t you?”

“From the first time I saw you two together. Such a handsome couple. Yes. You have my blessing...Nola’s too.”

“I want you to know I’m not involved in any of Morgan Dunne’s business.” Nola and Moira approached, and Reilly placed a finger over his lips. “We’ll talk another time.”

* * * *

Moira kicked the woolen blanket away. The old mattress poked her body. It was all her fault. She should have talked some sense into Janet. Stopped her from working at The Continental Club. Instead, she’d hung on Janet’s every word about how happy she was there.

What a fool she was to go gallivanting off with Reilly in the middle of the afternoon. Lying in his bed while the store lay in ruins. Moira doubled over. Her fingernails dug into her palms, and she pounded her fists against the floor.

“Sssshhh. Don’t cry, Moira.” Reilly stroked her hair.

He sat down beside her. Together, they watched the sun’s first light stream through the window.

She accepted his warm touch. “I didn’t sleep at all. Too many things bothering me.”

“Don’t worry about the fire. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter? How can you say such a thing? If I would have been there this afternoon...” She collapsed against him and shivered.

He stroked her back and hair. “No. You were a pawn in the game. It’s over now.” Reilly placed his hand under her chin and tipped her face to his.

“Pawn? Like on the chessboard?”

He remained silent. His eyes, which usually sparkled a bright blue, today shone gray as steel. Something savage tore at his soul. Who? What? The fire?

“Don’t worry about things.” Gripping her hand tightly, he helped her to her feet. “Come with me.”

In an adjacent room, he turned on the tap. Cold water dripped from the faucet and onto the cloth. Reilly dabbed at her face and neck, removing the remaining soot and grime from her skin. No one other than her mother ever touched her in such a loving way before. Underneath those woolen clothes and long johns beat the heart of a man she loved more than life itself.

“I have something to say that might make you happy,” he murmured and opened a tin of biscuits, offering her one.

Moira devoured the crisp wafer. “Happiness isn’t something I should consider after such a terrible turn.”

“But you must go on.
We
must go on.” Reilly paced the floor, his shiny leather shoes crackling as he moved.

“What about us, Reilly? How can we marry soon? What about Mama and Papa?”

He fell to his knees in front of her. “I want to deliver you and your family from all of the evil on Sullivan Street. My uncle might control Sullivan Street, but he doesn’t control me!”

“You’re saying he’s the one who set the fire?”

“Probably, although it’ll be the Devil’s damnedest to prove.” He held her close, his heart beating as fast as hers. “Did you see the place next to here?”

Moira nodded. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Your father can have his store...a new store there. I can loan him the money. We’ll come to gentleman’s terms about the payback and rent. You can have your dress shop.”

With a few kind words, he lifted her burden. Moira’s heart grew heavy at his gesture. This side of the city might have its share of sinners, but Reilly wasn’t one of ’em. He was a saint if ever there was one.

Moira blinked back more tears. “Let them sleep for a bit. They were up all night. You can tell them later.”

“If you want, I’ll go back to Sullivan Street with you to collect some belongings.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Reilly silenced her with a soft kiss. At first, she rebuffed his affections but soon caved in.

Someone coughed and she broke free from his embrace. “We can do that,” she said and finished another biscuit.

From his pocket, he removed something shiny and flipped it into the air. Caught in a shaft of sunlight, Moira recognized the tiny coin he’d stolen from her stage costume. Through the air, it tumbled before coming to rest in Reilly’s palm.

“Care to call it and see how lucky you are?”

She shook her head. “I’m one of the most unlucky people on this earth. I don’t take stock in such things as that.”

He opened his hand and raised it to give her a better view. The side bearing a crude picture of a man winked up at her.

“Of all the things.” Moira hugged Reilly tight.

“Time for us to take a drive.”

“What about them?” She couldn’t leave her parents alone.

“They’ll be alright. I left two more tins of biscuits over there and a pot of hot coffee. There’s also a note explaining my intentions.”

* * * *

Reilly bundled Moira against his hard body. In front of them, St. Patrick’s Cathedral stood proud in the December sunlight. Tiny flakes of snow fell and disappeared on the sidewalk.

Now to pose his plan to Moira. See if she agreed. “Would be a fine place for us to have a wedding.”

Her green eyes sparkled like fine emeralds at his suggestion. “Oh, yes, that would make Mama and Papa happy.” She adjusted her muffler. “Me, too.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to start showing my face around here. That way Father Shanahan won’t think I’m a sinner.”

“You?” She giggled. “You can’t be too much of a sinner to have such a good heart. The very idea. You’re helping my family start over. Such a kindness we’ve never known. We’ve always made our own way in life.”

The tower bells chimed. Reilly reached for her hand. “But now you have me around to help you all. You know, you have the patience of a saint when it comes to me, Moira.”

“True.” The word wafted on the wind. “Someone has to. Might as well be me.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Throughout my teenage years, I pondered the possibility of many different careers. Ultimately, after graduating from college in 1986, I worked in medical offices in a variety of capacities over the next fifteen years. While I thrived on the everyday challenges encountered in a busy medical practice, I discovered an increasing desire deep within to fulfill my destiny. In 2001, with the support of my real-life hero, I embarked on my own odyssey —to become a published author. A fictional hero’s journey is often harried, but I’ve learned that of a dedicated writer is also fraught with its own types of tension, frustration and pitfalls.

Since childhood, reading works of fiction has been my favorite pastime. My beloved late mother and I shared many special moments as we swapped stories about recent books we’d read. She always encouraged me to strive for success and to be true to myself and my dreams. Of course, romance fiction is near and dear to my writer’s heart. Literary fiction also appeals to my sense of art and the written word. Timeless tales such as TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, THE GREAT GATSBY and THE GRAPES OF WRATH are among those on my bookshelf.

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