Nan Ryan (26 page)

“Yes, suh, Doctor Hunter, I tell him you is comin’,” the black man was back on his horse and galloping away.

“Hunter, is he that bad?” Kathleen walked to her husband.

“I don’t know, dear, but I have to go.”

“Certainly. Scott and I will stay here and I’ll go over …”

“No. I won’t hear of it, Kathleen. Scotty would be heart-broken, he’s looked forward to this trip too long.”

“Then we’ll let him go on with Mother and Father. I’ll stay here with you.”

“No,” Hunter said, taking her arm and leading her to the carriage. “You’ve looked forward to the trip, too, and you must be there to celebrate Scott’s birthday.”

“But, Hunter, I feel so bad about you, I really …”

“No arguments, Kathleen, you’re going. I won’t die of disappointment. I’m a doctor, you know it won’t be the first time I’ve had to change my plans. Now, get in the carriage,” he smiled and she obeyed.

“Daddy, get in,” Scott was off the seat pulling on his father’s hand.

“Scotty, Daddy’s not going this time. I’m sorry, son, but it can’t be helped.”

“I want you to go with me.” Scott threw his arms around Hunter’s neck.

“I can’t, Scotty. But you’ll have a good time, so be Daddy’s big boy and take good care of Mommy.” He kissed the boy and handed him to Hannah. Hunter kissed Kathleen’s cheek, “Take care, dear, and have a good time.” He walked to the front carriage and explained to the Beauregards. Daniel hurriedly took Hunter’s luggage from the carriage and Hunter waved goodbye until they pulled out of sight. Scott waved from Hannah’s lap, tears streaming down his brown cheeks, clearly heartbroken that his father was not going with him.

Hunter sighed and said under his breath, “You think you’re disappointed, Scott, I could cry louder than you,” then he turned and dismissed it from his mind as the doctor in him took over and he hurried to his uncle’s bedside.

*   *   *

Scott’s disappointment soon vanished when he reached the riverfront and saw all the boats moored there. The
Roxanne
stood majestically at the pier and when Scott went aboard the white riverboat ready to take him magically down the Mississippi, his eyes grew big and round. He peered up at the tall twin smokestacks, then pointed to the giant paddle wheels. Holding his mother’s hand, he wanted to explore every square inch of the big boat. When the whistles blew loudly and the bells clanged and the huge paddle wheels churned up lovely white foam, the little boy on his first riverboat trip was the happiest child in all Mississippi. He stood with Kathleen at the railing, talking excitedly of the many new wonders before his eyes. When time came for dinner, he said he was not going to eat, he was going to stay right there on deck all night, until finally the determined three-year-old had to be threatened with a spanking by his exasperated mother. Fed and in bed at last, Kathleen bent and kissed the dark little face and whispered, “Tomorrow you can stay on deck all the way to New Orleans, darling.”

Scott’s strong little arms came around his mother’s neck and he kissed her happily, “I love you mommy. I’ll be good from now on, just like Daddy told me.”

“I know you will, sweetheart, now get some sleep.”

“Goodnight, Mommy.” He dropped his arms away, turned over onto his stomach, and promptly went to sleep.

The arrival at the big Howard estate in New Orleans was almost as joyous as the ride on the riverboat. Scotty had never seen so many cousins, aunts and uncles, and friends. He had never met them before that he could remember, but he was destined to have a good time for many of the cousins were near his age. He was not there fifteen minutes before he was merrily running around the big lawns, squealing and chasing his newfound playmates, delighting in their company.

Smiling, Kathleen looked after her happy son as he disappeared swiftly around the corner of the big house, three or four children with him. Scotty was going to have a very good time. The smile left her face momentarily as she thought about her husband, “Hunter, dear Hunter. How I wish he could have come.”

Nineteen

The eleventh of August was Scott Alexander’s third birthday. It was also the last day of the pleasant visit in New Orleans with the Howard family. Kathleen decided that morning to make one last trip into town for shopping, she still had a few more items to buy for her son’s birthday party. Scott begged to go along and Kathleen agreed.

Daniel drove Kathleen, Scott, and Hannah into town and Kathleen assured him it would take no longer than couple of hours to get the things she wanted. He was free to do as he pleased as long as he promised to have the carriage waiting at Lafayette Square at 2
P.M.
to take the shoppers back to the Howard estate.

Scott loved the magical shops and when Kathleen took him inside Holmes department store on Chartres Street, with its tables filled with shiny new toys of every description, his eyes lit up and he happily pointed out a dozen things he would like to have. Kathleen made a mental note of the ones he lingered over the longest. When they left the store without her purchasing any of the wondrous treasures, Scott didn’t cry, but was clearly disappointed and confused.

His mother merely smiled down at him and said, “Scotty, you will get lots of nice things tonight at your birthday party. Now I want you to go along with Hannah for a while and she will buy you some candy. I have some things I must do and I will meet you in an hour at the sidewalk café in front of the St. Charles Hotel.” She winked at Hannah. The prospect of being allowed to eat candy at the lunch hour brought a smile back to Scott’s face and he willingly took Hannah’s hand. The two went off down the street and Kathleen hurried back inside the store and bought six or eight of the toys her son had expressed a desire to own. Happy with her selections, she told the pleasant, middle-aged clerk to wrap them in colorful packages and have them delivered to the Howard estate by the end of the afternoon.

Kathleen went on to the café to wait for Scott and Hannah. She ordered a cooling lemonade and sat contentedly sipping the drink and lazily watching the activity on the streets of the charming, colorful city. She sat with her back to the St. Charles Hotel, a large green and white table umbrella protecting her from the hot summer sun. Relaxed and radiant, Kathleen Alexander was pleasantly content, idly daydreaming, a pleased smile on her face.

“Kathleen,” the warm, resonant voice came from behind her. She knew in an instant who was calling her name. No other voice on earth could caress her in quite the same way, make her heart leap to her throat, or send tingling messages through her entire body. Slowly, she turned around to face him.

Standing so close he filled the entire scope of her sight, she looked at him and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Taller even than she had remembered, she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. He was wearing a pearl gray broadcloth jacket and tight black trousers. His white ruffled shirt was set off handsomely with a gray silk cravat and in his hand was a wide-brimmed panama hat. His swarthy face was browner than ever, his flashing dark eyes as dark as midnight, and his thick hair so black it was nearly blue. One brief look at the handsome face brought back all the pain and longing she thought she had put behind her. She loved him still, loved him totally, unreasonably, foolishly, to the exclusion of every other human being on the earth.

Dawson Blakely had come down from his hotel suite and walked through the elegant lobby into the outdoor restaurant. He had seen only her back. The silky blond hair was neatly pulled into a chignon, but her slender white shoulders were exposed in the pink summer frock and the swan like neck and head were tilted at an angle too familiar to mistake. For a few minutes, Dawson had stood without moving, no more than ten feet behind her, his big hands trembling on the brim of his hat. Afraid she would flee, run away in anger if he approached her, he had considered hiding his presence. He could step back inside and content himself with looking at her back while she remained unaware of his eyes secretly feasting on her. He couldn’t do it, it was not enough. He had to look at her face if only for a second before she fled from him in disgust. He had walked nearer and softly called her name. She hadn’t turned immediately and Dawson’s heart had begun to thump against his ribs. She had recognized his voice and was going to rush away without giving him even a glimpse of her lovely face.

But, then their eyes held, as both studied the pleasing countenance of the other. The face he’d carried with him across an ocean and which had haunted his tortured dreams night after night for years was smiling up at him. The lonely years he’d spent without her evaporated as he lost himself in the big blue eyes filled with an unmistakable welcome. The open invitation in those dear eyes gave him the courage to speak.

“May I join you, Kathleen?” he said very softly.

“Yes, please sit down, Dawson,” she answered without hesitation.

Dawson pulled a chair out across from her, ducked his head under the umbrella, and sat down. He laid his hat on the table and settled back in the chair while his dark eyes never left her. He wanted to touch her hand, but dared not risk so bold a move. He folded his big hands on the table in front of him and hoped she wouldn’t notice that they were trembling. Kathleen looked at him and felt an overpowering urge to reach up and touch the beloved brown face, to feel its strong jaw line under her fingers if only for a moment, but she sat with her hands clutched tightly in her lap. Her hands were turning white from the nervous pressure she applied, sending all the blood from the tips of her fingers.

After an awkward silence they began talking, Kathleen speaking first. “You’re looking well, Dawson.”

“Thank you, Kathleen, you are too. You’re lovelier than ever, if that’s possible.”

Kathleen coughed nervously. “Do you live in New Orleans now? I thought you were still in Europe.”

“I just got in last night from Spain. In fact, this is the first time I’ve been here in almost four years.”

“Oh? What brings you here now? Do you have business or is this a pleasure trip?”

“I don’t know why really,” he answered as a hint of a smile came to his full mouth, “perhaps fate brought me. What about you, why are you here?”

“I … we’re down visiting my mother’s family. A vacation really, we’re leaving in the morning.”

“We?” Dawson said, interested, “Is your husband with you?”

“No. Unfortunately, Hunter had to remain in Natchez. His uncle fell ill at the last minute.” Kathleen looked down at the table.

“That’s too bad. Who did you come with, surely you aren’t in this wicked old city alone?”

“Certainly not,” she answered too quickly, “Mother and Father are with me and my …” Kathleen stopped talking because Dawson was no longer looking at her. He had turned his attention to something behind her and the smile had left his face. His black eyes widened and his expression was strange and puzzling. Kathleen turned to see what he was staring at.

Coming down the sidewalk toward their table, Hannah was being tugged along by an excited, laughing Scotty. “Mommy,” he shouted, dropping Hannah’s hand and running to Kathleen. “We had candy, Mommy. Chocolate.”

“I see you did,” she smiled, “and it looks like most of it missed your mouth, darling. Your face is all sticky.”

Dawson’s intent eyes were on the boy and when Scott turned to look at him, Dawson smiled down at the youngster. “Hello, son,” he said quickly, then rose to speak to Hannah.

“Good Lawd, Mistah Dawson, if you ain’t a sight fo’ sore eyes! I can’t believe it’s really you,” a big grin spread over her face and she looked up at him, happy to see him. Suddenly she glanced nervously down at Kathleen.

“It’s good to see you, Hannah. It’s been a long time, sit down, please.”

“Naw, suh, Mistah Dawson, don’t mind me none. I jest stands right here, I be fine.”

Dawson sat back down and once again turned his full attention to Scott. “Will you sit on my knee for just a minute?” He held out his arms to the child.

“Oh, no,” Kathleen said hurriedly, “he’s dirty, Dawson, he’ll get you …”

Scotty quickly went to Dawson’s arms and was willingly lifted onto the stranger’s lap. “How old are you, Scott?” Dawson asked, studying the flashing black eyes in the little olive face.

Scotty held up three fingers in front of Dawson’s face. “It’s my birthday,” he announced proudly, “I’m getting all my presents tonight!”

Dawson laughed heartily and said, “That’s wonderful! You know what? Today’s my birthday, too.”

Scotty looked at him and said innocently, “What did you get? Did you get any presents?”

“Yes, I did, son,” Dawson looked over Scotty’s head to Kathleen and smiled, “I got exactly what I wanted for my birthday.”

Kathleen flushed and said, “Jump down, Scott, it’s time for us to go home,” and rose from her chair.

“Just a minute,” Dawson said, still holding to the boy’s tiny middle. Dawson reached into his pocket and drew out a twenty-dollar gold piece and presented it to Scott. “I didn’t know it was your birthday, so I didn’t get you a present. Take this and buy yourself something.”

Scotty grabbed the shiny gold piece and said, “Look, Mommy, can I keep it?”

Kathleen didn’t answer, looked helplessly at Dawson. “Sure you can keep it, Scott,” Dawson assured, “but only if you give me a good-bye kiss.”

Scotty gladly threw his tiny arms around Dawson’s neck and smacked him on the mouth, giving Dawson a sticky chocolate kiss before jumping down and running to Hannah to show her his gold piece. Dawson felt a lump in his throat; there was no mistaking his remarkable resemblance to the adorable little boy. He watched the child skip along beside Hannah, then turned back to look at Kathleen.

Ignoring his questioning eyes, she said, “It was nice to see you again, Dawson,” and she held out her hand.

He took it in both of his, squeezed it gently, and said in a whisper, “I’m staying right here in this hotel. I’m alone, my room number is 412.” She jerked her hand away as though it were burned, turned and left without saying a word.

Dawson slowly sank back into his chair and watched her walking away. She caught up with Scott and Hannah and took the boy’s hand. He wished she would turn and look back. Dawson said to himself, “If she turns back to look at me, she’ll come to me tonight,” then held his breath, praying, willing her to turn around. She kept on walking, getting further and further away with each passing second. Hope slipped away and he knew he was never going to see her again. So far away now she would soon be completely out of sight, Dawson still watched, his eyes straining, every muscle in his body taut he wanted to scream at her, beg her to look back. Just one glance! Please, dear God, turn around! His agony was reaching its painful climax and his lungs were exploding in his aching chest from lack of oxygen.