Duke rose. “I’ll leave you for now, my dear. Rest. I’ll be back to talk with you again. We have business to discuss. After all, you must earn your keep.”
When he leaned down to kiss her, she turned her face away. His hard fingers clamped on her cheeks like a vice, forcing her head up. He kissed her hard. She felt no passion in him, nor did she see it when he drew back. He had tired of her in that way when she was a little older than Cherry.
Duke paused at the door. “By the way, Angel, if your Michael comes for you, I will kill him the same way I killed Johnny.” He smiled slightly. “And I’m going to make you watch.” Her courage withered. He saw and smiled again.
Angel heard the key turn in the lock and sank down onto the bed.
Duke didn’t come back the next day or the day after that. Cherry brought her food, and a guard made sure the door was locked when the girl left.
Angel knew what Duke was doing, but knowing didn’t help.
Her nightmares returned.
She was running, night closing around her. Heavy footsteps echoed in the alley behind her. Before her were the docks, ships’ masts filling the horizon. She ran from one to another, pleading that they would let her come aboard. “Sorry, ma’am. All filled up,” the sailors said, one after another.
She ran down the last pier and saw below her a garbage scow. The ropes were being untied. Looking back, she saw Duke. He was calling to her, his dark voice pulling at her.
Rats crawled over the refuse in the scow below her, feasting on rotting meat and vegetables. The foul smell assaulted her senses, but she jumped anyway and landed hard. Her hands sank into an oozing mass as rats squealed and scurried in all directions. She almost fainted from the foul stench but clung tightly as the scow began to move. It pulled away from the dock just as Duke reached the end.
“You can’t get away. You can’t get away, Angel.”
Then he was gone, and she was in the middle of a storm-tossed sea. Waves crashed around her, splashing over the sides of the scow. She tried to climb to a safer haven, but there was none. She pulled herself higher to get away from the cold spray. When she reached the top, she saw Rab lying on his back. The black cord was still around his neck, and rats were tearing away his dead flesh. Crying out in fear, she slid down the heap again, huddling in the farthest corner of the scow away from him.
Shivering with cold, she covered her head. “I wish I was dead. I wish I was dead.…”
“Darling, where is it?”
Angel looked up and saw her mother standing before her, shimmering in white. “Where is it, darling? Where’s my rosary?”
Angel scrambled over the heap, searching frantically. “I’ll find it, Mama! I’ll find it!” She saw something glimmer brightly and reached for it. “It’s here! Oh, it’s here, Mama.” The scow lurched violently and rose at one end, dumping garbage into the sea. Angel cried out, trying to reach her mother’s rosary as she tumbled. Her fingertips just brushed the crucifix and beads before it slipped away, spilling over the side into the turbulent sea. Angel felt herself slipping away as well. Instinctively, she grasped hold of something, but nothing was solid enough to hold her safe. Everything was going. She splashed into the cold water, decaying debris churning around her. She kicked and fought to make the surface and when she did, it was calm. She saw a shore and swam toward it. When she reached it, she could hardly stand under the weight of the filth clinging to her. She staggered onto the beach and sank down, exhausted. Her skin was blotched with ugly sores and disgusting growths, like the baby of the young prostitute.
When she looked up, she saw Michael standing in a field. The soft wind made the wheat look like a golden sea around him. The air was sweet and clean. Miriam was walking toward him, a baby in her arms, but he paid her no attention. “Amanda!” he called out, running toward her.
“No, Michael, go back! Don’t come near me!” She knew if he touched her, the foulness covering her would cover him as well. “Stay away! Stay back!”
But he would not listen. He came ahead.
She was too weak to run away. She looked down at herself and saw her flesh decaying and dropping away. Michael walked toward her without hesitation. He was so close, she could see his eyes. Oh…“God, let me die. Let me die for him.”
No, came a soft voice.
She looked up and saw Michael standing before her. A small flame burned where his heart was. No, beloved. His mouth hadn’t moved, and the voice was not his. The flame grew larger and brighter, spreading until his entire body was radiant with it. Then the light separated from Michael and came the last few feet toward her. It was a man, glorious and magnificent, light streaming from him in all directions.
“Who are you?” she whispered, terrified. “Who are you?”
Yahweh, El Shaddai, Jehovah-mekoddishkem, El Elyon, El Olam, Elohim….
The names kept coming, moving together like music, rushing through her blood, filling her. She trembled in fear and could not move. He reached out and touched her, and she felt warmth encompassing her and the fear dissolving away. She looked down at herself and found she was clean and clothed in white.
“Then I am dead.”
That you may live.
Blinking, she looked up again and saw the man of light covered with her filth. “No!” she wept. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll take it back. I’ll do anything….” Yet even as she reached out, the defilement disappeared and he stood before her perfect again.
I am the way, Sarah. Follow me.
As she stepped forward and reached out for him, there was a thunder clap, and Angel awakened in darkness.
She lay still, staring upward, her heart racing. She closed her eyes tightly, wanting to go back to the dream, wanting to see it finished, but she couldn’t grasp it. She could scarcely remember it now. It eluded her.
Then she heard the sound that had disturbed her sleep. It came from the next room and was so familiar it tore into her heart.
Duke was speaking in low, seductive tones.
And a child was crying.
But now, thus says the LORD,
your Creator, O Jacob, and He who formed you,
O Israel: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name; you are Mine!”
ISAIAH 43 : 1
Paul knew he had to go back to the mountains. He couldn’t stay on this land another week. He couldn’t stay this close to Miriam and not go crazy. Better the disillusionment and drudgery of gold panning than seeing her walking across the field toward Michael’s cabin.
But he needed money to buy supplies.
Swallowing his pride, he went to Michael and tried to sell his land. “I’m not asking much for it. Just enough to set me up. It’s good land. It should be yours anyway, Michael. You held onto it for me when I went away the last time.”
“I’m land poor,” Michael said and refused the offer. “Wait until your spring crops are ready for harvest. Then take what you earn and go if you have to. The land will be waiting when you come back.”
“I’m not coming back, Michael. Not this time.”
Michael put his hand on Paul’s arm. “Why do you torture yourself? Why do you drive yourself before any wind that blows?”
Paul tore loose, angry. “Why do you wait for a harlot who’s never coming back?” He left before he said more to regret.
He had no choice now but to go to John Altman.
John invited him into the cabin. Elizabeth was rocking the baby, and Miriam was bending over the fire, stirring a bubbling stew. The sight of her made his pulse jump. She straightened and smiled at him, and his knees felt weak.
“Sit down, Paul,” John said, slapping him on the back. “We haven’t seen you in awhile.”
Paul found his gaze drifting to Miriam again. He lost track of what John was saying as he watched her roll out biscuit dough, cut it, and place the pieces in a cast iron pan. John’s silence drew his attention again. Elizabeth was smiling at him. So was John. H
e could feel the heat rising in his face.
“I came to offer you my land, John.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miriam straighten and look at him. A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I’ve decided to go back to the mountains,” he said with finality.
John’s brows flickered.
Elizabeth frowned. “This is rather sudden, isn’t it, Paul?”
“No.” He could feel Miriam staring at him now, hands on her hips.
“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” John asked. “You’ve put a lot of work into that land.”
“I’ve thought about it. I guess I’m just not cut out to be a farmer.” Miriam turned her back and slammed a lid down on the pan. Elizabeth and John jumped and glanced at her in surprise. “I’m not asking much for it,” Paul said, trying to ignore her. He named his price, further shocking them.
“It’s worth far more than that,” John said. He rubbed his chin, troubled by the offer. “Why are you doing this?”
Miriam swung around. “Because he’s a fool!”
“Miriam!” Elizabeth said, stunned.
“I beg your pardon, Mama. He’s an idiot, a dunderhead, a blockhead, a dunce!”
“That will be enough!” John said, rising from his chair, his face darkening with outrage. “Paul is a guest in our home!”
Miriam just looked at Paul, her eyes blazing as tears ran down her pale cheeks. “I’m sorry, Papa. I guess I forgot my place. Excuse me.” She hurried across the room, snatched down her shawl and opened the door. She looked back at Paul. “Go ahead. Run away to your mountains and your gold panning.” She slammed the door behind her.
Paul sat motionless, shattered. He wanted to go after her and explain, but what could he say? That he was in love with her and it was driving him mad? That Michael would get over Angel and she would be wise to wait?
John sat down again. “I apologize,” he said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Paul,” Elizabeth said.
It would be better if she did. “What do you say, John? Do you want the place, or shall I go into town and see if anyone’s interested?” The sooner he got out of here the better.
Frowning, John looked at his wife. “Let me think about it. I’ll let you know by the end of the week.”
Three more days. Could he stand three more days? “Thanks.” Paul rose.
“Don’t make yourself so scarce,” John said, putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder as they walked to the door. “And whatever happens, you’ll always be welcome here.” He walked him outside. “Whatever’s bothering Miriam, she’ll get over it.”
Paul saw her walking across the field, heading in the direction of Michael’s place. “I reckon she will.” He smiled bleakly. “I’ll talk to you in a few days, John.” He put on his hat and headed for home.
“What do you make of that?” John asked Elizabeth when he came back inside.
“John, I haven’t been able to make sense of anything since Amanda left.”
They waited for Miriam to come home, hoping that she would finally confide in them as she used to. It was after dark when she came in the door. “We were worried,” Elizabeth said in reprimand. They hadn’t expected her to be gone so long.
“Where have you been?” John demanded.
“I went to Michael’s. Then I walked. Then I sat. And then I prayed.” Miriam hunched over and began to sob. John and Elizabeth looked at one another in surprise. Though their daughter was tenderhearted, she wasn’t given to such outbursts of emotion.
“What is it, darling?” Elizabeth asked, putting her arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Mama. I love him so much it hurts.”
Elizabeth looked at her husband. “But he’s married. You know that.”
Miriam reared up, face red. “Paul, Mama! Not Michael.”
“Paul!” Elizabeth said, greatly relieved. “But we thought—”
“It’s always been Paul, and I know he loves me, too. He just too stubborn to admit it, even to himself.” She looked at her father. “I can’t let him leave, Papa. If you buy his land, I’ll never forgive you.”
“If I don’t, someone else will.” He tried to make sense of what was happening. “If he loves you, why would he be selling his land so he can leave?”
“I think he might be going for the same reasons Amanda left Michael.”
“You never did tell us what she said to you,” Elizabeth reminded her.
Miriam blushed. “I can’t.” She sank down into the chair and covered her face. “I just can’t.”
Elizabeth knelt down beside her and tried to comfort her.
“How do you propose to stop Paul from leaving?” her father asked. “He’s made up his mind, Miriam, and that’s the way it is.”
Miriam looked up. “I could make him change his mind.”
Studying his daughter’s determined face, John frowned. “Just what did you have in mind?”
Miriam bit her lip and looked between her mother and father. “Something from the Bible.” She wiped the tears away and sat straighter.
“What part of the Bible?” her father asked sternly.
“I know what it’ll take, Papa, but you’re going to have to trust me.”
“How old is she, Duke?”
His mouth curved mockingly. “Jealous, Angel?”
She wanted to kill him. “Eight? Nine? She can’t be much older than that, or she couldn’t arouse your interest.”
His expression became dangerous. “You’d do well to curb your nasty little tongue, my dear.” He held out a chair for her. “Sit down. We have things to discuss.”
Angel was dressed in a pink satin and lace confection. Though the gown fit her slender body perfectly, Angel hated it. She hated having every curve revealed to Duke’s perusal. He was checking out the merchandise, deciding how to display it to the best advantage. “Pink no longer suits you,” he said, dismaying her that their thoughts could be so alike. “Red, I think. Or deep sapphire blue. Even emerald green. You will look like a goddess in those colors.” He touched her bare shoulder before he took his own seat.
She faced him across the small table, schooling her face to show nothing. He studied her with a tight smile. “You’ve changed, Angel. You were always headstrong and aloof. It was part of your charm. But now, you are careless as well. It’s not a wise thing to be in your position.”
“Perhaps I don’t care what happens to me anymore.”
“Do you wish me to prove you wrong? I could, you know. Very easily.” He tapped his fingertips together. She stared at those aristocratic hands, hands without calluses, pale and manicured. Beautifully shaped hands that were capable of unspeakable cruelty.
She remembered Michael’s hands, large and strong, clearly used to hard labor. They were callused and rough. His hands had looked so cruel and yet been so gentle. His touch had healed her body and opened her heart.
Duke’s eyes narrowed coldly. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Because nothing you do to me really matters.”
“Did your Michael tell you that? You’ve been away from me too long.”
All those horrible nightmares, the secrets and guilt she had carried. Michael had said once she would have to throw away all her old baggage. That’s what Duke was. Old baggage. “Oh, no, Duke. I carried you with me wherever I went.” She saw his smug smile and added, “What a waste of precious time.”
His mouth pressed into a hard line. “I’m going to give you a choice, my dear. You can manage the girls or become one of them.”
“Take Sally’s place, you mean? Whatever happened to her, Duke? I never saw her again after you moved me uptown.”
“She’s still in New York, making out very well for herself at the brown-stone. She’s still quite beautiful. Too lush for my tastes, of course.”
“Poor Sally. She’s loved you for years. Or did you never know? I suppose you did. You just didn’t care one way or the other. She’s too old for
you, isn’t she, Duke? Too much of a woman.”
Duke came out of his chair. Grabbing her hair, he yanked her head back, and his face came down within inches of her own. “What’s happened to you, my dear?” he said in a deceptively soft voice. “What will it take to bring my little Angel back?”
Her scalp was on fire, her heart in her throat. He could break her neck in an instant if he chose to. She wished he would and put an end to all of it. His dark eyes changed as he glared into hers.
Frowning slightly, he eased his grip. “You’re no good to me dead.” Could he read her mind so easily? He let go of her with a hard jerk and stepped away. He crossed the room, then looked back at her warily. “Don’t push me, Angel. As fond as I am of you, you are not indispensable.”
Angel thought of the child. “Who is manager of the keys now?” She smoothed her skirt so he wouldn’t see how badly frightened she was or what her reasons for asking were. He was perplexed. That was far preferable to sadistic.
“I am.” He pushed his hand into his pants and pulled out a ring of keys.
“I think I would prefer Sally’s position.” If she could discover which key belonged to the girl’s door, perhaps she could get her out of this hellhole.
Duke was smiling, eyes laughing at her. He tossed the keys onto the table before her. “The wine cellar, pantry, linen cabinets, and costume room.” He opened his collar and slipped out a gold chain. A key was on it. “This is the one you want.”
Still smiling, he came to her again and rested his hands heavily on her shoulders. “I think you do need a lesson after all,” he said silkily. “I’m going to introduce you this evening. You’re going to wear a blue gown and leave your glorious hair down. You will be a great sensation. Every girl I have is lovely, but you are something very rare and special. Every man in the house will want you.”
Angel’s skin grew colder and colder as he spoke. She wanted to bolt from the chair but knew, even if she did so, she would succeed in nothing. It was wiser to sit still and wait.
“You will be the keeper of the keys next week, my dear, but for this one week, you will serve our patrons yourself. I have several in mind that will prove useful to me.” He smiled. “Besides, I’ve kept you far too exclusive. You need a little awakening as to how well you have had it.”