Wings of a Dove (40 page)

    Immediately defensive, Delaney stiffened.

    Mulrooney raised his eyebrows, realizing he had touched a nerve. "I'm trying to help you, Marsh."

    "I don't need your help with my personal life."

    "Personal life, professional
lifeI'm
trying to tell you that you have to let some of that ice inside you thaw if you're going to make it to where you want to be. You've got great potential, boy, but you have to bring something more to this work. You have to bring heart and soul to it."

    "Soul? What if I told you I don't have a soul?"

    Momentarily startled, Mulrooney gave a short laugh. "Well,     then I'd tell you that you'd better go out and find one.'' Suddenly serious, Mulrooney frowned. "Look, Marsh, I don't know much about your background except for your professional experience on the
Cass County News
, and I don't care to know. I suspect you haven't exactly led a sheltered life, but whatever happened to you, boy, put it aside and start out fresh, because all that talent you've got inside you isn't going to amount to much unless you cut it loose."

    Delaney's clear eyes grew colder. "It's as loose as it's ever going to be."

    "That's a real pity."

    Delaney gave a short, hard laugh. "You're trying to tell me I'll never be another Albert Holmes Bodman."

    "You could be."

    Delaney's smile dropped away. "I'm satisfied to be Delaney Marsh."

    The tired lines of Mulrooney's face sagged as he turned and walked back behind his desk. He lowered his massive frame into the chair with a suddenness that caused it to squeak loudly in protest. He picked up a slip of paper from the pile in front of him and held it out toward Delaney.

    "I want you to go out to Camp Douglas, south of the city. Thirty-eight hundred Confederate prisoners have arrived for internment in the barracks there. There'll be a lot of concern about this whole thing from nearby residents, politicians, the city administration. I'm thinking a lot of our readers would like to know just what those prisoners are like what they're thinking. I'll be expecting a pretty comprehensive piece when you're done."

    "You'll get it."

    Delaney attempted to take the paper from Mulrooney's hand, but Mulrooney held it fast.

    "Did you hear a single word of what I said before, Marsh?"

    A small muscle twitched in Delaney's cheek. "I heard you."

    Mulrooney gave a brief nod. "I'll be expecting that piece for the morning paper."

    "You'll get it."

    Turning without another word, Delaney pulled open the office door. He barely acknowledged the faces that turned toward him as he zigzagged through the maze of desks in the city room.

   On the street a few minutes later, he adjusted his jacket against the bite of winter cold and ignored the coquettish glance of a slender, dark-haired woman as she paused in front of the post office to give him a short wave. He did not spare a glance for the heavy pedestrian traffic or the solid bank of three-story buildings that housed some of the city's major newspapers. After three months, he was inured to being a part of that section of Clark Street between Randolph and Lake that was known as Newspaper Row.

    If he had been in a better mood, he would have laughed at the conversation that had just been concluded in Mulrooney's office. The Emancipation Proclamation had become effective on January 1, but three million Negroes were still slaves. General Grant had begun a sanguinary struggle to open the Mississippi. The capital of the United States was threatened, and some people thought the South was capable of breaking the Federal blockade. There was even danger that the Confederates and their Copperhead supporters would carry the war into Illinois and Indiana.

    And Peter Mulrooney's main concern this morning was that Delaney Marsh had no heart.

    Delaney took a deep breath in an attempt to draw his anger under control. He slowed his step, the thought occurring to him that he was not as emotionless as Mulrooney seemed to think. But that big Irishman was a deal more insightful than he had expected. Or was it, perhaps, that the emptiness inside him was more visible than he realized?

    Delaney dismissed that thought. He was an old hand at disguising his emotions. The only person he could not fool was himself. Despite his determination not to look back, his mind continued to betray him. In countless dreams, Allie spoke to him, laughed with him, appealed to him, and returned his loving. He knew that his determination to dispel those memories had made him harder and more bitter than ever. But if he had failed so far to escape thoughts of Allie, he was now all the more determined to succeed.

    Slowing down, Delaney reached into his pocket for the paper Mulrooney had handed him. The barracks south of Chicago. He surveyed the street for a carriage. Spotting one vacant, he raised his hand in summons, not realizing he had caught the attention     of two young women passing by. He did not notice the appreciation with which they studied his well-dressed figure, the line of his strong profile. He did not hear the gasps of admiration that escaped their lips as he turned in their direction to rake the street with his clear-eyed gaze. Instead, he entered the vehicle, barking the address to the driver in a tone that set the carriage off at a brisk pace.

    He had two thoughts on his mind. First, he was determined to do a job on this assignment that would make Mulrooney eat his words. Second, he meant to make this the first day that he would truly begin to put the past behind him.

    The frigid January temperature had penetrated the small upstairs room where Allie sat beside Mother Case's bed. Allie could not seem to stop shaking. She glanced toward the window, looking at the stark winter landscape. Trees void of leaves now wore a cover of snow frozen to their branches by plummeting overnight temperatures. In the fields, exhausted furrows, barren of summer's plenty, stretched to the horizon in a network of low, rolling mounds covered by a blanket of unblemished white. The scene glistened with a pristine beauty in the afternoon sun, but the beauty was cold and frozen, just like her heart.

    Drawing her gaze back to the room around her, Allie was intensely aware of the stale air and the silence. She had grown accustomed to both in the last few months, having spent the major portion of her day sitting beside Mother Case's bed. But she had experienced a new discomfort in the closeness of late.

    Clutching her heavy shawl around her shoulders, Allie swallowed against the queasiness that rose to her throat. She was grateful that Mrs. Case was sleeping and could not view her distress. She was determined not to allow it to progress to a more advanced state.

    In an effort to take her mind from her physical discomfort, Allie looked toward the woman lying almost hidden beneath the heavy comforters. The vigil at Mother Case's bedside would not be of much longer duration. The doctor had not needed to speak the words on his last visit. Everyone knew Mother Case would not last much longer.

    Allie's eyes touched Mother Case once more, and the well of sorrow within her deepened. The dear woman was so still. Al ways slight, she was now no more than a shadow against the spotless bed linens, her sweet face gray and lifeless. Allie listened with sudden anxiety for the sound of her breathing. She released a relieved breath when she heard the shallow sound, not quite understanding the complexities of a sickness that forced the victim to labor pitifully to breathe at one moment while allowing her to do so with unexpected ease the next.

    Her mind on Mother Case's deterioration, Allie gave no thought to the changes that had taken place in her own appearance in the months since Delaney's departure. In truth, she had given scant attention to her reflection as she had absentmindedly braided her hair each morning and twisted the coils around her head. She had paid little notice to the shadows beneath her eyes, which bespoke a sorrow not entirely related to the sickroom. She had not noticed the marked thinning of her already slight frame or the complete absence of color in her cheeks. Instead, she had occupied her time in going over in her mind, time and again, the events that had let her to this point in her life. Her regrets were overwhelming.

    Swallowing against the bile rising in her throat, Allie gripped the medal suspended around her neck Delaney’s medal needing its comfort. She knew her time in this house was limited. Although she was uncertain where she would go, she did not expect to remain after Mother Case was gone. She was certain she would not be wanted or needed in a place where hatred and resentment of her abounded.

    The hatred was on Sarah's part. Sarah had changed little since Delaney's departure, except that her abhorrence of Allie seemed to have intensified. That was evident from the venom in her unrelenting gaze and the fact that she had spoken hardly a word to Allie since Delaney left.

    But the truth was, Sarah had spoken hardly a word to anyone since that morning. Shocking everyone, she had seemed to withdraw into herself, spending most of her time in her room. She had steadfastly refused to see any of her suitors, including Bobbie Clark, who was genuinely distressed. He had not skipped a single week in stopping by.

    Always difficult, Sarah had surpassed herself in her dealings with the family. Her mother's dire state of health affecting her little, she had refused to pull her fair share of work in the house     until Papa Case had stepped in with a threat she could not ignore. In silent protest, she had kept even more closely to her room and had maintained her unyielding silence. This behavior was so uncharacteristic of Sarah, with her need for attention, that it had caused everyone deep concern.

    But as Mother Case's illness had progressed to the critical stage, concern for Sarah's reclusiveness had ceased. Allie could not understand Sarah's resentment of her own mother or her refusal to spend time with Margaret despite the knowledge that her mother was dying. Allie was aware that her thoughts were of small consequence in the final outcome of things, but she also knew that neither Jacob nor James would ever forgive Sarah.

    Closing her eyes as yet another wave of nausea all but overwhelmed her, Allie clutched the medal tighter, desperately fighting the chills that shook her.

    "You need some fresh air, Allie. Then you'll feel better."

    Allie jumped at the thin, unexpected voice that rose from beneath the comforters. Determined not to reveal the full extent of her physical discomfort, Allie rose carefully to her feet and took the few steps to the bed with a smile on her lips.

    "I didn't realize you were awake, Mother Case." Reaching out, Allie stroked back a silver strand that clung to Margaret's gray cheek. "It's almost suppertime; I'll get you something to eat if you're hungry."

    "I'm not concerned with food right now, dear." Her faded eyes assessing Allie's face, Mrs. Case attempted a smile. "My dear Allie, you look terrible."

    At Allie's startled expression, Mother Case's smile softened. "I'm the one who's ill, Allie. Only I have the excuse to look poorly. I don't like to think you've been neglecting your own health to take care of me."

    "I'm all right." Allie pulled her shawl closer, tears filling her eyes. "I'm chilled today, that's all." Making an attempt to change the subject, Allie looked toward the window. "Have you looked outside, Mother Case? The fields are several feet deep in snow, and the surface is frozen solid."

    "And you haven't had a breath of fresh air for a week." Allie protested, but Mrs. Case reached for her hand, taking it with a small shake of her head. "There's no use denying it, Allie. I haven't been so ill that I haven't seen you sitting by my bed day    after day. You've kept good watch over me. You've been a good daughter to me, Allie, better than the child of my own flesh."

    "Mother Case, Sarah is unhappy."

    "Sarah wanted Delaney, and he's gone. He wouldn't take her with him, and I credit him for his intelligence, even if I am angry with him for"

    "Please."

    In deference to Allie's appeal, Margaret halted her words. She suddenly gasped. An expression of panic flickered across her face, only to disappear as quickly as it had come.

    "Are you all right, Mother Case?"

    "It was just a twinge." Margaret paused, holding Allie's gaze in the brief silence. "And then again, maybe it was the Lord's prodding finger."

    "Please, Mother Case."

    "Allie, you must try to understand that I know I'm dying. I've known for a long time that it will not be long before I'm called home. I can only think that the Lord has not seen fit to make his final summons in consideration of my many prayers. Do you know what I prayed for, Allie?"

    Allie shook her head.

    "I prayed that God would not call me home until I was able to see my children settled and happy in their lives. But time is growing short, Allie."

    "Mother Case, it will be a long time before Sarah accepts that she cannot have the man she wants."

    "I'm not talking about Sarah. She has made her own unhappiness with her disregard for the unhappiness she has caused others. She will never be happy until she realizes she cannot always take from life, that there comes a time when she must give. The children I am concerned about are James and you, Allie."

    Allie averted her head, but Mrs. Case continued.