Words Spoken True (22 page)

“We’ll worry about that after we put out this first issue. That’s the way it’s always been in the newspaper business. One issue at a time.”

“It’s not just the newspapers we’re merging,” Adriane said softly.

“He’s a good man, Addie.”

“You don’t even know him. I barely know him myself.” A bit of panic edged into her voice.

“You know him good enough, Addie. You love him. I can see that all over your face. That’s all that really matters.”

After Beck left to go downstairs to get the presses ready, Adriane thought that was the one thing neither she nor Blake had mentioned. Love.

Adriane looked at her father and noted the even rising of his chest. Then she turned her eyes to the darkened window on the far side of the bed. While she couldn’t see into the future any more than she could see what the darkness held outside the window, she could make herself face the truth in her heart.

She loved Blake Garrett. More than she loved life. More than she loved the
Tribune
. Adriane’s eyes returned to her father’s white face. More than she loved her father. There had never been any answer but yes inside her to Blake’s demand that she marry him. It was the depth of that feeling that frightened her most.

She slipped to her knees beside her father’s bed and prayed for light to take away the darkness of her fear. Love was good. Not something to fear.

Her father used to tell her the same thing about the dark. “There’s no reason to be afraid of the dark,” he would tell her. “The dark can’t hurt you, and you know I’ll come. I always come.”

“But sometimes it takes you so long,” she’d told him.

“Then think of the light.”

So she had, and when Beck had started reading the Bible to her, he’d pointed out Scripture about light as though he knew exactly what she needed. Beck always knew. She’d memorized those verses so she could whisper the Bible words like a mantra when Henrietta shut her inside the closet. She thought if she could repeat enough verses, the Lord would know she wasn’t bad all the time. That he wouldn’t turn his face from her and would bless her with light. He would send her father to rescue her sooner.

But now it was her father who needed to be rescued from the dark. The familiar verses rose up in her memory.
God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness . . . And the light shineth in darkness . . . I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.

The light of life. That was her prayer.

T
hey stood up together in the pressroom with Beck on her side and Joe on his. Adriane had washed her face and changed into a clean dress since she couldn’t bear the thought of marrying in a dress stained with her father’s blood.

Blake had combed his hair back from his face, and he looked strangely solemn without the stray curls falling down on his forehead. He wore the same jacket still smudged with black and smelling of smoke.

Reverend Cassaway, the preacher Joe had dragged from his bed to perform the ceremony, kept peering at them anxiously as if he expected one of them to back out while he recited the marriage ceremony.

Adriane said “I do” when the man asked her if she would love, honor, cherish, and obey. She felt a deep stillness inside her as she stared at the worn Bible in the preacher’s hands and listened for Blake to make the same promise.

When the silence lengthened, Adriane noted a tremble in the preacher’s hands as he waited for Blake to say the words. Her heart began to pound in her ears. Why didn’t Blake answer?

Blake gently touched her cheek to tip her face toward him. As his eyes captured hers, she knew he’d been waiting for her to look at him before he said the words. She had no doubt as he spoke his “I do” that he was making a promise for life no matter what the reason was for this wedding.

Reverend Cassaway must have felt the same thing, because he looked relieved as he smiled and pronounced them man and wife and told Blake he could kiss the bride.

Both Beck and Joe were smiling along with the preacher as they waited for the kiss. Blake put his hands on her shoulders and stared down into her eyes. Even now they shared no smile. With a sudden flash of understanding, Adriane knew Blake was as afraid of what might be expected of him as she was of what might be expected of her.

At last he kissed her softly before he whispered in her ear, “Thank you for doing me the honor of becoming my wife, Mrs. Garrett.”

The name jolted her, and she pulled back to look at his face. Suddenly a smile was exploding from his eyes and wrapping warmth around her. She reminded herself of the seriousness of the moment. She thought about how upset her father would be that she’d married his enemy. She told herself she and Blake had not shared any spoken words of love. Yet in spite of all this, a smile was bubbling up from deep inside her and pushing out on her face in answer to his. And she felt surrounded by light.

For one magical moment she didn’t think she needed any time at all. She was ready to give herself to Blake without conditions.

Blake’s own smile became a laugh as he grabbed her up in a sweeping hug that lifted her off her feet. By the time he set her back down on the floor, she felt dizzy from more than the spinning hug. The feel of his body was burned into hers. Then Beck and Joe took turns kissing her flaming cheeks before slapping Blake on the back.

The moment did not last. Even before someone knocking on the door interrupted the explosion of joy, Adriane had remembered how unseemly her conduct surely must be with her father so near death upstairs. She let the worry and sadness flood back through her, almost welcoming them, because she knew and understood those feelings. This joy that filled her when Blake touched her was too new, too strange. She again needed time.

The knocking turned into a frantic banging and brought them all back to the realities of the night. Outside on the streets there was a riot.

Beck picked up his gun from the table. “I’ll see who it is,” he said.

Blake followed him out into the hallway while Adriane stayed frozen in her spot waiting.

Beside her Reverend Cassaway cleared his throat nervously and looked at Joe. “I think I’ve performed the necessary service for these two as requested. Perhaps it would be best if I just hurried on home now. Mrs. Cassaway will be worried.”

“Sure, preacher.” Joe slipped the man some money before he pointed the way to the back door.

Reverend Cassaway tucked the bills in his vest pocket and wasted little time making his escape, pausing only a bare few seconds to say, “I do hope that’s not trouble of any sort and that you’ll be very happy, Mrs. Garrett.”

After the man scurried off down the hall, Joe looked over at Adriane with an embarrassed grin and shrugged a little. “Sorry, Miss Adriane, but he was the best I could do this time of night.”

Adriane was only half listening to Joe as she heard Beck open the door. What if it was Stanley? Or worse, his father. Coleman Jimson could have somehow heard of their troubles and be coming to demand payment of the money her father owed him. Adriane’s eyes went to Blake’s broad back between her and the door. She, at least, could no longer be that payment.

She was relieved and surprised to hear Duff’s voice out in the hallway. “Where’s Miss Adriane?” he said.

Adriane’s relief vanished at the sight of the boy’s face as he brushed past Beck and then Blake to find her. She met him at the door of the pressroom and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Duff,” she said. “What’s happened?”

He tried to answer, but all he could get out was another “Miss Adriane” before the sobs choked out any more words. She’d never seen him like this. He was always so tough, old beyond his years, as he worked to take care of his mother and sisters. But now, this moment, he was a heartbroken child in her arms even though he was nearly as tall as she was. She held him and waited, her own heart growing heavier inside her.

As quickly as the sobs came, they stopped. Still, she kept her arms around the boy and waited for him to share his sorrow. At last he raised his head off her shoulder. “It’s me sister, Miss Adriane. Lila.”

The tears were gone as if they’d never been, but Adriane almost wished them back. She could hold him while he cried. She knew no way to ease the terrible hopelessness on his face, and even before he spoke the words, Adriane knew there was no chance his sister would wake again.

“Tell me what happened, Duff,” she said gently. “Was she caught out on the streets in the riot?”

“No, I could’ve protected her from the likes of them.” His face went cold. “It was the slasher. He must have grabbed her as she left work. I should’ve never let her take that job at the tavern, but she promised she’d be watchful.” Despair washed over him as he repeated in almost a wail, “She promised.”

For a minute he looked ready to break down again, but then his voice hardened. “I left me mother and sisters with neighbors to come be telling you, Miss Adriane. At least with me own sister, the
Herald
won’t be beating us with the headlines.”

“We won’t print the headlines at all if you don’t want us to, son,” Blake said quietly behind the boy.

Duff whirled to glare at him. “How could you know about it already?”

“I didn’t,” Blake said, but Duff wasn’t listening.

He threw himself at Blake, flailing him with his fists and screaming, “Maybe it’s true the rumor I been hearing. Maybe you are the slasher yourself. Killing the poor girls, killing me own sister for to sell more of your newspapers.”

“Duff!” Adriane tried to grab the boy’s arms.

“It’s all right, Adriane,” Blake said without looking at her. He allowed Duff to hit him a few more times before he caught his arms and held him. “You don’t believe that, Duff, but it could be you’re going to find the truth of why I’m here just as hard to believe.”

Duff quit fighting and looked up at Blake. They studied each other a moment before Blake said, “You saw her, didn’t you?”

“I had to make sure it was her, don’t you see? I thought maybe they could be wrong. So much was happening out on the street. I thought maybe Lila was just fearing to come home.”

“But it was her.”

“It was her.” The look on Duff’s face as he spoke the words sent a chill through Adriane. His voice changed as he begged Blake to help him make sense of it all. “Why’d he have to be doing that to her, sir? Why couldn’t he have just killed her easy without slashing her all up like that?”

“The man’s a monster.” Blake’s face turned rock hard. “But we’re going to catch him and make him pay.”

Duff’s shoulders drooped as he stared down at the floor. “Ain’t no way to catch him. Nobody cares about an Irish girl. Just look what happened out on the streets tonight. Nobody tried to stop that.”

“Some people did,” Blake said.

“But they couldn’t,” Duff said.

“No, but this killer is not a mob. He’s just one man.”

When Duff kept his head down, Blake ordered him, “Look at me, Duff.”

Duff slowly raised his eyes back to Blake’s face.

“We’re going to catch this killer,” Blake said. “He’s going to pay for what he did to Lila. And Dorrie and Megan and Brenda and Kathleen.”

“How are we going to do it, Mr. Garrett?” Duff asked.

“I don’t know, Duff, but we’ll find a way. You, me, Miss Adriane. Maybe we can make the headlines work for us. You see the
Tribune
and
Herald
are the same paper now.”

Duff looked from Blake to Adriane. “The same?”

“We merged the papers,” Adriane said. “It’s too long a story to tell right now when you need to get back to be with your mother, Duff.”

“I can explain it quick like, boy.” Beck came over to put his arm around Duff. “They done gone and got hitched up together a few minutes ago. Now come on. I’ll go with you back to your ma’s house. Mr. Garrett and his crew can get out the first issue of the
Tribune
-
Herald
without us. Course not as easy, but they’ll get it done.” He shepherded the boy out of the pressroom with his arm still around his shoulders.

“Beck will take care of him,” Blake told Adriane. “You’d better go see about your father.”

She had started toward the stairs when he stopped her again. “And take some paper and ink and write something. I’ll send one of the boys up for it when we’re ready.”

She looked at him. She hadn’t been able to write anything worth printing for days, even weeks. How could she expect to write anything now when she felt so totally drained by everything that had happened in the last few hours? “My father wrote the stories for the
Tribune
,” she told Blake.

“Then write the stories your father would have written. Better yet, write a story about your father and how he was standing up to the mob trying to stop the madness. Write about how he never intended for the men to take his words so far.” His eyes softened on her. “It’s a story that has to be written, Adriane. And one that should be written by you.”

Upstairs one of Blake’s men—Adriane thought his name was Calvin—met her at the door with a relieved look.

“He ain’t come around, miss,” he said. Then the man on the bed behind him forgotten, he peered past Adriane toward the stairs. “Sounded like more than a wedding going on down there. I started to come find out, but I figured I’d better not since the boss told me to stay here till you got back.”

“Mr. Garrett has everything under control.”

The man smiled a little. “The boss always does, miss. It’s a real talent of his getting things to go the way he wants.”

For some reason his words bothered Adriane. “I don’t suppose he wanted your offices to burn down.”

“Well, not that for sure. I reckon Jimson played rougher than even the boss expected, but he ain’t give it up. There’ll be an issue of the
Herald
on the streets in the morning just the same as every other day since he come to Louisville.”

“Not exactly,” Adriane reminded the man. “The
Tribune
-
Herald
.”

“For sure, miss,” Calvin agreed quickly with an embarrassed bob of his head. “And a fine paper it’ll be.”

She let him make his escape down the stairs without saying any more. Adriane didn’t know why the man’s words rankled her. Then she sighed. Perhaps because he was right. The truth was the masthead might say
Tribune
-
Herald
, but it was the
Herald
editor, the
Herald
men putting out the first issue, the issue that would set the tone of this new paper.

Adriane went to her father’s bed and watched his chest rise and fall a few moments before she took his cold hand in hers. “I love you, Father,” she whispered softly. The noise from the pressroom drifted up the stairs, but she shut it out as she went on. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to please you, but I couldn’t marry Stanley. I couldn’t.”