Under the Moon Gate (33 page)

Her hand was shaking as she lifted the fragile picture and handed it to Friederich.

“She must have been a remarkable woman to have attracted the attentions of your father,” Patience said graciously, and meant it.

He seemed mesmerized by the image of his mother and father together.

She’d only have a moment. A moment when he was stunned, focused only on the photo.
Conquer your fears, Patience.
She could almost hear her grandfather’s voice calling out to her, trying to protect her, even from his grave.

“
So schön, nicht war?
” Friederich said to himself, tears sparkling in his eyes as he lapsed into German. “
Meine Mutter
. So beautiful.” He stroked the face on the picture.

“Look how they loved each other,” Patience urged. She felt dishonest for encouraging him and, at the same time, a sense of betrayal to her grandmother, because she knew it was true.

Then his countenance turned dark again. “That’s not love. That’s lust in his eyes. Can’t you see it? He used her and threw her away when he was finished with her.”

“No,” Patience said, tears slipping down her face. “My grandfather was not like that. He would never have done that. He was a decent man. He would have come back for you, if he had known.”

Angered, Friederich grabbed Patience by one arm while he turned to throw the picture on the desk. As she saw her last chance slipping away, she managed to snatch the gun and shove it into the deep pocket of her robe.

In the kitchen, the buzzer rang insistently, a jarring sound that clashed with the music still playing on the radio. The roast was done. Her first meal. Possibly her last.

Momentarily startled by the harsh noise, Friederich turned toward the kitchen, and Patience saw her opportunity. She lifted the firearm from the pocket of her robe and leveled it at him, stepping back a few inches to take aim. He sensed the movement and swerved.

Her hands shook, but she steadied them.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will,” she threatened. “Drop the knife and step back.”

She heard Nathaniel’s scooter in the driveway. Her heart beat faster, but she didn’t turn away. The timer buzzer was ringing in her ears. Nathaniel has a key, she thought. He’ll come in any moment. She didn’t want him involved or hurt in any way. This was her mess to clean up.

“Patience,” he was calling out frantically. He must have seen an extra scooter in the driveway and known she was in trouble. “Are you all right? Are you in there?” She heard the front door lock open, and suddenly he was bounding over furniture, knocking over tables to get to her.

“Where are you? Patience, don’t you hear the buzzer? The dinner is burning. I…” He hesitated and froze when he came to the open study door and saw her weapon aimed at the intruder.

Friedrich took advantage of Nathaniel’s hesitation to pull him in by his neck. He swung Nathaniel around and used him as a shield between himself and Patience. Friederich was much older, but his body was thicker than Nathaniel’s lean one. Nathaniel tried to wrestle the intruder to the ground, but Friederich overpowered him.

As he lashed out, a flash of light on the corner of the end table caught Nathaniel’s attention. The golden glow was enhanced by the lamplight. Nathaniel grabbed the heavy gold bar, raised it, and smashed it across the side of Friederich’s head. Friederich went down like a stone. Nathaniel got up, rubbed his neck where Friederich had grabbed him, and started toward Patience.

A hand grabbed his shin and pulled him down. He tried to escape Friederich’s grasp, but the man’s hand crushed his foot. Friederich rose and dragged Nathaniel up with him into a standing position, pressing his blade against Nathaniel’s throat.

“Nathaniel!” Patience screamed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, did he hurt you?” Nathaniel seethed, furious at being bested by an old man, but more frightened for Patience. “You’re bleeding.”

“No.” The breath hissed out of Patience’s body. “It’s nothing.” She tried to hold the gun steady, but her hand shook. How could she shoot the man with Nathaniel in the way? That changed everything. In that moment, she hesitated.

“Drop the gun unless you want a repeat performance of your grandfather,” Friederich called out. “I will enjoy killing him slowly, right in front of you. You will have to watch another man you love die.”

Patience swayed, remembering all the blood gushing out of her grandfather’s body.

“Shoot, Patience,” Nathaniel ordered, trying to get her to focus again. He didn’t care a thing for himself. He had to make sure she was safe.

“Nathaniel, I can’t. I might hit you. He killed my grandfather.”

Nathaniel tried to struggle again, but Friederich gave him a shallow cut with the knife and drew blood. Patience focused on the blood and knew with certainty that the man would kill Nathaniel, would kill them both, if she didn’t take action right now. The time had come to face her fears and wake up from her nightmare.

Patience turned toward the man, took a deep, calming breath and placed both hands on the gun to steady the weapon and herself.

“Friederich,” Patience warned deliberately above the jarring din of the kitchen buzzer and the frantic beat of the music. “Put down the knife and let Nathaniel go or I will be forced to shoot you.”

Friederich laughed madly, doubting her resolve. Patience looked at Nathaniel and signaled, inclining her head to one side. “I think I will kill him now,” Friederich said, with a wild look in his eye. “How much does he mean to you?”

Patience took another deep breath.
Everything,
she realized, and her eyes signaled that message to Nathaniel, but she said nothing and continued to focus on her grandfather’s killer. There was a rapid movement in front of her as Friederich raised his knife to plunge it into Nathaniel’s flesh. She was convinced he would follow through this time.

“Now, Nathaniel!” Patience screamed.

Nathaniel twisted away as she took careful aim for the center of her uncle’s chest, found her mark, and pulled the trigger. Friederich’s grip on Nathaniel slowly loosened. His face registered surprise, then pain, before he fell. His body lay lifeless on the Oriental rug, blood flowing everywhere, spoiling the airy yellow pattern.

Patience felt the blood rush to her own head and fought with everything she had to keep from collapsing.

Nathaniel ran to her and took her in his arms.

“Patience, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What about you?” she demanded desperately. “Are you hurt?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, touching his shoulder. His hand came away with blood on it.

With one hand, Patience removed the belt from her terrycloth robe and pressed it to Nathaniel’s wound. Within seconds, it was soaked with his blood.

“Sit down, and I’ll call the police and straighten this whole thing out,” Patience said, keeping pressure on Nathaniel’s wound. Nathaniel managed to unlock the death grip she had on the weapon and pry the gun loose from her fingers, placing it on the desk. She dialed the emergency numbers.

Then she smelled the burning roast. “We’d better move into the kitchen. I need to shut off the oven and that incessant buzzer.” Before they moved, she picked up the faded picture of Emilie and her grandfather.

“Who was he?” Nathaniel prodded, looking at the body, as Patience supported him while they walked together into the kitchen. “Did he say? Was he your grandfather’s associate? Was he Nighthawk?”

“He was my uncle, my grandfather’s son from Emilie.”

Nathaniel’s face mirrored his surprise. “Your grandfather had a son with the girl in the picture, the girl in the garden in Dresden?”

“Yes, that’s right. A son he never knew about.” Patience showed Nathaniel the picture. “You see?”

Nathaniel took the picture from her, stared at it again, tucked it back in the diary, and closed the desk drawer.

“He was going to kill us, both of us, after we dug up the gold, and then bury us in the garden,” Patience said, holding up the bag her uncle had brought with him. “He came for this. The money and the gold. And he threatened to expose my grandfather. He was going to kill you, Nathaniel. I couldn’t let him kill you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, stroking her hair as they walked back into the study. “You’re still trembling.”

“Nathaniel, I shot my own uncle. His name was Friederich.” Patience bent down, stepping in the pool of blood with her bare feet to feel for a pulse. Maybe, maybe he was still breathing. Maybe she could revive him somehow.

But he was already cold. The little boy from Dresden could not be saved.

“He’s gone, Patience,” Nathaniel said, gently. “You can see that he is.”

Patience touched Friederich’s forehead lovingly, brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen over his face. “He looks exactly like my grandfather, Nathaniel,” she said absently. “I could have loved him. I would have. My grandfather would have welcomed him into our lives, into our family, opened up his heart for him, if he had been given the chance. I miss my grandfather. I miss him so much.”

“I know you do,” Nathaniel said. With his good arm he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “I wonder what ever happened to Nighthawk?”

“You don’t think my grandfather killed him, do you?” Patience asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

“It’s possible. He would have done anything to protect you and your grandmother. You must know that by now. But maybe he just disappeared mysteriously from the island after the war.

“We know he spoke to your grandfather after the war about the missing documents. We know he exacted payments for them. But I got the sense that your grandfather thought this latest attempt at blackmail was Nighthawk’s doing. So he must have thought Nighthawk was still alive. From what you’ve told me, he never knew about his son.

“A man like Nighthawk collected enemies. I don’t think we have to worry about him anymore. One way or another, he’s probably dead by now. It’s been too long. Surely someone has already dealt with him. He got what he deserved.”

Patience shivered, thinking about how difficult the situation and the gun would be to explain to the authorities.

“You’re just in shock now,” Nathaniel said, wrapping his arm tighter around Patience. “He was a burglar, a drifter, Patience,” Nathaniel prompted. “He came to rob the house, he threatened your life and you wrestled with him and shot him with his own gun. Isn’t that how it happened?”

Patience shook her head. “You want me to lie to the police?”

“I want you to go lie down in the bedroom,” Nathaniel instructed gently. “I will handle the police.”

“No, Nathaniel. It’s time I started facing life again. We’ll handle this together.”

But she let him comfort her, keep her body pressed close against his, and kiss her. She was cold, so cold. She had taken a man’s life. Her uncle’s life. How much different was she, really, from her grandfather?

Chapter 31

The police and the doctor were gone and Patience, after dressing, finally felt warm again. Nathaniel had built a roaring fire, and they huddled closely together under a quilt on the couch in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames.

They had eaten the dinner she cooked after all. Nathaniel couldn’t stop talking about how good it was. Patience knew she had ruined the meal. The meat was burnt and tough, the vegetables overcooked, and the potatoes raw. But he didn’t complain. In fact, he ate every bite on his plate. He hadn’t stopped to get the wine, his pretense for going into town, so they drank some liquor from her grandfather’s cabinet. It felt warm going down and loosened her inhibitions.

They talked about everything, ignoring only what had just gone on in the study. They spoke of his life, hers, nothing in particular, just enjoyed each other’s company. Being together was enough.

“Tell me about your family, Nathaniel,” Patience prompted.

“The Morgan men made their mark on Virginia,” Nathaniel said proudly. “They were among the leaders of Colonial Virginia. My ancestors were former governors, statesmen, successful businessmen. They devoted themselves entirely to their work and to Virginia.

“As a consequence, loveless marriages are a long tradition in my family. The Morgans grew tobacco, but they were best at cultivating bad marriages. The Morgan men don’t have any trouble getting women…just keeping them.”

“Then maybe the Morgan men are marrying the wrong kind of women,” Patience pointed out. “Tell me about your home, Nathaniel,” she urged wistfully.

“Fair Winds is a large, historic plantation along the James River corridor, in the southeast part of Virginia, between the coast and Greater Richmond,” Nathaniel explained. “We have access to the ocean, which is important. There were always sailors in our family. There’s been a home on the site since the early seventeenth century.”

“The James River,” began Patience as she stared off into space, almost hypnotized by the fire. “It’s 430 miles long and was originally known as Powhatan Flu by the English colonists who settled at Jamestown in 1607. They named it after the Indian Chief Powhatan. They renamed it for King James. The river begins near the western Virginia border, west of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and joins the Chesapeake Bay at Hampton Roads. I’m also familiar with all the major tributaries. You know, Thomas Jefferson lived on a tributary of the James River.”