The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (29 page)

Albert crushed out his cigar in the ashtray.  The waiter drifted by and promptly refilled Eve’s Champagne glass and cleaned the ashtray.

Albert presented her with the easy, confident smile of the triumphant.  “Miss Kennedy, you have won.  Yes, you have achieved your goal and then some.  Oh, perhaps it will not turn out as you had planned, but I propose that it will be much improved and more to your liking.  You will achieve money, position and much more.”

Eve took another long drink of the Champagne. 

Albert continued.  “I am about to secure for you a very elegant brownstone not far from Madison Square.  It is flesh colored, with a handsome sweep of brownstone stairs, stout stone balusters leading to the front door, and plush curtains behind lace sheers in the windows.  I am certain you will find it both comfortable and luxurious.  You will find me a generous man, Miss Kennedy,” he said, and then lowered his voice to an intimate whisper. “I am generous in all matters, Miss Kennedy, and I am sure you take my delicate meaning.  I am confident that you will find our relationship to be both a satisfying and profitable one.”

When their main course arrived, Eve nibbled at her food, mostly pushing it around on her plate.  Albert, on the other hand, ate voraciously.

After dessert, Albert sipped his coffee, his eyes lingering on Eve.

“I am aware that you will have to contact your partner and let him know of your sudden change of plans.  If he gives you any trouble at all, just let me know.  I will see to it.”

Eve was still struggling to think.  She was so flabbergasted that she couldn’t latch on to a single thought long enough to put together a coherent sentence.  Finally, she composed one.

“What makes you think I have a partner, Mr. Harringshaw?”

“Miss Kennedy, I have dealt with many types of villains over the years who were after the Harringshaw money.  They have all been handily defeated with great dispatch.  Now, it is obvious to me that you needed a man for this particular crime, Miss Kennedy.  Men are always the brains behind such things.”

Eve felt suppressed rage arise.  She worked to keep her voice even.  She worked at keeping her emotions in check.  She worked at not throwing her glass of Champagne into his face and walking out.

“There is no man, Mr. Harringshaw.  I have no partner.  I can assure you that.”

He smiled, patronizingly.  “All right, Miss Kennedy.  As you say.  It is admirable that you want to protect him.  I understand that you assume I will have him caught and put in The Tombs.  I understand you, and I salute you.  It is an admirable quality.  This further adds to your allure and mystery, Miss Kennedy.”

Eve’s thoughts were whirling with panic.  She needed time.  Time to think.  Time to come up with options.  Time to think about how to get back to her own time, and as fast as possible.  There was no way she was going to let this son of a bitch get his hands on her.

She smiled, but her eyes were cold.  “I will need some time, Mr. Harringshaw.”

“Time for what, my dear?  Trust me.  You have no other options.  I will have your new home ready for you in three weeks, a week or so before Christmas.  On second thought, I have an even better idea.  I will be away in Chicago on business, so things might be held up.  So let us say that you will move in on Christmas Eve.  That will be a marvelous Christmas present for the both of us.”

He narrowed his dark, serious eyes on her.  “Miss Kennedy, I firmly request that you move in at that time, on Christmas Eve day.  I will of course arrange all furnishings and servants, and I will have a seamstress at your call whenever you wish, for day-dresses, gowns, coats and hats—for anything you want.  Your wish will be my command.”

“And what of Miss Price, Mr. Harringshaw?”

“Miss Price.  Oh, well, Miss Price has so many suitors.  Alas, she is in the process of casting me by the wayside, even as we speak.  Do not worry your pretty head about that, my dear.”

Eve knew he was lying.  He would either continue to see Helen Price, at his convenience, or he had already given her the boot. 

Eve swallowed away nausea.  “I have no choice in this matter, do I Mr. Harringshaw?”

“Oh yes, my dear, of course you do.  I can have Detective Sergeant Gantly arrest you tomorrow morning for the crime of blackmail.  There will be plenty of evidence.  You can rest assured that Inspector Thomas Byrnes will have all the evidence he needs to make the arrest and secure the conviction.  But I know you are much too wise to take that course, Miss Kennedy.  And, besides, we will have sterling times together.  I am even considering a cruise to Europe.  You would enjoy that, would you not?”

Eve recalled the research she had done on the Harringshaw family before she’d been propelled back into 1885.  The Wikipedia entry had stated that Albert Harringshaw had been killed on a ship called the Lusitania in May of 1915.  Thirty years in the future. 

Eve nodded.  “I see.  Christmas Eve,” she said, feeling urgency building in her chest.  And then she had a thought:  Had Detective Sergeant Gantly been working with Albert to close the trap on her from the very beginning?

CHAPTER 25

On the Sunday evening after Thanksgiving, Eve sat beside Evelyn’s bed at Gouverneur Hospital.  The typhoid fever symptoms had abated, but Evelyn was still not out of danger.  Her body was desperately fighting pneumonia, which Eve was fighting with the only available remedies at her disposal:  clean, boiled water and a broth made with garlic cloves, lemon juice and honey.  She had once taken a course on Naturopathic Medicine and she crossed her fingers now, hoping these ingredients would build up Evelyn’s immune system and help her fight off the infection.  Dr. Long had given her approval to try it, and so Eve spooned some into Evelyn’s mouth whenever she was semiconscious. 

Eve also found tea tree oil in Chinatown and diluted it with olive oil.  After stirring the mixture, she and the other nurses applied it to Evelyn’s neck and chest, rubbing gently so that the oil was completely absorbed.  They had done this several times each day. 

Eve had just finished such a chest rub.  She sat quietly now, staring at Evelyn’s emaciated face.  Although Evelyn was sleeping more peacefully than when she’d first arrived, Eve had still not been able to speak to Evelyn, other than to say “Good morning” or “How are you feeling?”  Evelyn stared back at her with the foggy, distant eyes of a person who was mostly in another world.

Ever since her dinner with Albert Harringshaw, Eve had been on an emotional roller coaster ride.  She’d slept restlessly, eating little and fighting a mounting anxiety.  She had not seen Detective Sergeant Gantly and she didn’t know whether that was good or bad.  Her mind kept flip-flopping, one minute hating the man and the next minute unable to believe that he would set her up in Albert Harringshaw’s elaborate lusty trap.  But then surely Detective Gantly had seen Albert in action in the past.  She wondered if Helen Price had been similarly caught in his web or if she had willingly agreed to be a
kept
woman. 

Eve had to face it.  In this Gilded Age when women were subjugated and marginalized, many women would have jumped at the opportunity to be the mistress of one of the wealthiest and most handsome men in New York City, if not the world.  They would be flattered and overjoyed, just as Albert was sure she would be.  Even with her hesitation, his belief and, unfortunately his ardor, had not been diminished in the least.

But what of Patrick Gantly?  She had thought—no, believed—that he was a good man.  Eve knew he’d been attracted to her.  The evidence was apparent and obvious.  After all, he had helped her get her nursing diploma; and he had warned her about Albert, saying
“I don’t believe he can be trusted when it comes to a woman’s honor.”

Eve shut her eyes, recalling another conversation she’d had with Detective Gantly.

“
I am assuming you and Albert Harringshaw are plotting something.  Perhaps he wants to get rid of me because he does not want to owe me for his life.  I don’t know the reason yet, but, I warn you, if the day comes when I am disgraced and fired from my position, I will have my revenge.
”

Eve slumped down in her chair.  Despite it all, whenever she thought of Patrick Gantly, her heart warmed, she grew aroused and she could not believe he had plotted against her with Albert Harringshaw.  She knew, intuitively, and from his warm and tender glances, that he cared about her.  Okay then, why hadn’t he come to help her?  Surely he knew about Albert Harringshaw’s vulgar proposal—no, not proposal—his royal decree. 

Eve dozed off.  When her eyes opened, Evelyn was looking at her with soft, clear eyes.  Eve sat up, alert, noting that Evelyn’s entire face seemed lit up from within.  It was a pretty face, kind and welcoming.

“Evelyn?”

Evelyn smiled.  “I’ve seen you.”  Her voice was rusty and low.

“Yes.  I’m your nurse.”

“I saw you in dreams.”

“You’ve been very sick.”

“Yes, with tuberculosis,” she said, her smile vanishing.  “I’m going to die.”

“No, you’re not going to die.  You don’t have tuberculosis.  You’ve had typhoid fever and pneumonia, but you’re improving.  Every day you’re getting better and stronger.”

Evelyn worked to comprehend.  “No, the doctor said tuberculosis.  He told me.”

“He was wrong, Evelyn.  The doctor misdiagnosed you.  You don’t have tuberculosis.  You never had tuberculosis.”

Eve saw tears form in the corners of Evelyn’s now glistening eyes.  There were no tissues in 1885, so Eve took a clean handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at Evelyn’s eyes.

“It’s okay, Evelyn.  You’re improving.  You’re going to be healthy again.  You are not going to die.”

Evelyn couldn’t stop the tears.  “I apologize…” she said, and then she began to sob and cough.  Eve stood and handed her the handkerchief, placing a gentle hand on her back, whispering words of comfort until the coughing ceased and Evelyn lay back into an exhausted peace.  After she’d wiped her eyes clean, she focused on Eve standing above her.

“I prayed for help,” Evelyn said.  “I prayed so hard for someone to help me.”

“We’re going to get you well, Evelyn.”

“And you’re here…” Evelyn said in a whispered reverence.  “There you are.  I saw you in my dreams.  You were so far away, across a bridge, and I waved to you.  It seemed that you were in another time and place where there were things flying in the air, and there were vehicles that moved without horses and they were moving about so fast, and with such ease.  I waved to you and you waved back to me.  They were such strange dreams.”

Eve’s gaze never wavered as she listened.  She felt the hair on the back of her hair stand up, as Evelyn continued.

“I saw you running in a lovely green park under golden sunlight, and a dog was beside you, barking and leaping,” Evelyn continued.  “You were playing and laughing and you looked so happy.  I kept calling for you.”

Eve eased back down into the chair, unsteadily.  “Those were interesting dreams,” was all she could answer.  What else could she say? 

“Evelyn, your brother, Clayton, knows you’re here.  He’s been by several times to sit with you and talk to you when you were asleep.”

Evelyn stirred, trying to sit up.  “Clayton…?”

“Don’t get up, Evelyn.  Please, just lie back and rest.  You need lots more rest.”

“But Clayton took me to that doctor.  I don’t remember where.  He said he was a good doctor and he’d help me, but I didn’t want to go.  I didn’t like it there.  I thought I was going to die.  I felt so ill, so dreadful there.  It was so dark and gloomy.  I was so alone.  I don’t want to go back there.  Ever.”

“It’s okay.  You will never go back there.  Never.  I promise you.  Clayton is happy you’re here.”

Evelyn nodded, her memory sharpening.  “My mother?  How is she?  Does she know where I am?  Has anyone told her?”

“Clayton said he would stop by and see her this morning, Sunday.  This is Sunday November 29th.  He said he wasn’t sure she’d let him in but I encouraged him to go and tell her where you are, and that you did not have tuberculosis.”

Evelyn shut her eyes for a moment.  “November the 29
^th
?  Oh my.  Oh my, my, so much time has passed.  I have been ill for so long.  For so very long.”

Her voice grew soft and distant.  “I wonder where he is… I wonder where…I told him to go away.  I told him…”

She stopped, her eyes suddenly opening wide.  “Where?”

“Where is he?”  Eve asked.  “Is that what you want to know?”

Evelyn met her gaze.  “No… I mean to say… Well, it doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter now.  Not now.  Oh, my dear mother.  I wonder how she is.  She wouldn’t take any money from me after I met…” and then she stopped again.  “Oh, I am so wretched.  I am such a wretched woman.  I deserved this terrible illness.”

Eve pushed to her feet.  “Evelyn, don’t say that.  Please relax now and don’t upset yourself.  Let’s not talk anymore.  The important thing is you’re getting better and better.  I’m going to leave now so you can rest.”

“Don’t go yet,” Evelyn said, reaching weakly for Eve’s hand.  “I don’t even know your name.  What is your name?”

Eve let the silence draw out.  Once again, she felt the impacting collision of past, present and future.  She was staring into the face of Evelyn Sharland, the woman who had never received John Allister’s letter declaring his devastating remorse and his undying love.  If he could do it all over again, would he risk all and marry her?

Eve had changed the future—Evelyn was alive.  All Eve had to do now was to keep Evelyn alive and get John Allister Harringshaw to the hospital to see her.  Eve was positive once the two lovers were reunited, the natural course of events would take care of the rest.  Surely, Evelyn and John Allister would risk everything for their true and enduring love.

“Won’t you tell me your name?” Evelyn asked.

“It’s Eve.  Eve Sharland.”

Evelyn looked at her, thoughtful and confused.  “Sharland?  Eve Sharland?  Evelyn Sharland, the same name as mine?”

“Yes.  We are related, distantly related.”