Rapture's Rendezvous (16 page)

Marriage had never been spoken of between Alice and himself. The sensual side to their relationship had begun shortly after Alice had become his private secretary, assisting him in his business, the mammoth Hopper Shoe Company that had grown to be known all over the country.

Alice, being closer to Michael's age than Maria, had already left a trail of tumultuous love affairs behind her, and this alone was reason enough for Michael to have chosen not to ask for her hand in marriage. He had been watching and waiting for the right woman … a virgin … an innocent… to take as a wife.

Maria. Oh, how he now ached for Maria. She was all that he had wanted in a wife, and even more so, being so gifted in beauty and bodily proportions. “Oh, God,” he worried further to himself. She had trustingly given up her own virginity while in his arms. And now he had let her slip through his fingers. She was now gone from his life, to never be again. . . .

“Michael,” Alice stormed, moving to his side. “You haven't heard a word I've said. Please tell me. What is it that's bothering you?”

Michael went to a desk and opened his journal, reading a few entries. “When will you begin typing the report, Alice?”

“Is that all you have to say, Michael? Are my skills as a typist suddenly more important than my skills as a lover?”

Michael scowled, slamming the palm of his hand on the desk top. “You must remember that you do get paid for clerical services,” he said darkly.

“Michael.. . please. . . .”

“The journey was a long one, Alice,” Michael grumbled. “I am tired. Please excuse the sharpness of my tongue.”

An abundance of white lace was revealed when Alice slipped her jacket off. She smoothed her skirt with her fingers then went and sat down on a cushioned chair behind the smaller secretarial desk that sat facing Michael's. She rolled a sheet of paper into the Remington typewriter that Michael had purchased for her own private use shortly after she had been hired as his secretary. In only a matter of weeks she had mastered this new “contraption,” as Michael still continued to call it.

“Hand me the journal, Michael,” Alice said, straightening her back. “If work is what you want, work is what you shall get.”

Michael closed the journal and carried it to her. “I would like to have the report ready for the union meeting upon my arrival in Saint Louis,” he said. “You see, I also have duties to perform. I was asked to make this trip with a specific purpose in mind, so it is only proper that I be ready for any questions from those union members who put their trust in me.”

“But, you are so somber,” Alice said, reaching into a top drawer, pulling out a cigarette.

Michael struck a match and lighted it for her, then relighted his cigar. He went and sat down behind the larger desk, positioning his. feet to rest on the top, crossing his legs. He inserted his hands into his breeches pockets, fitting his thumbs to hang over the outside. “The immigrants are a sad lot,” he reflected. “Well, I should say most of them are,” he quickly added. Maria's face flashed before his eyes, making the
pulsebeat throb in his temple. If he let himself, he could even feel the touch of her lips….

“Most of them you say?” Alice asked coolly. “How can you tell one from another? All the ones that I have seen are dressed in drab clothes and slouch so as they walk, like scared peasants.”

Michael pushed himself up from the chair, trying to keep from lashing back at her. He knew that to do so would be to reveal too many truths to her. Instead, he went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of port, then slouched down into a heavily upholstered chair, turning the glass in his hands, watching the overhead light reflect into it, like diamonds on display. “These .. . uh . . . peasants. . . .” he murmured, then jerked his head up to glower at Alice. “They are soon to discover what a mistake it was to come to this land of opportunity. The peasants? They will soon find out that only drudgery awaits them. Yes. They are afraid now, having left the only way of life behind them that they have known since the day they were born. But wait until they reach the town of Hawkinsville and meet up with Nathan Hawkins. Then they will really have just cause to be afraid and walk as though defeated. Because they will be. Only the union can give them hope. Only I can intervene and see that the wrongs are made right.”

Once again his thoughts returned to Maria. He was glad that she wasn't a part of this train carrying these people to a life of impoverishment. At least Maria and her brother had been paid passage by their father, instead of by the likes of Nathan Hawkins.

“So you found out that what we all suspected was true?” Alice asked, flicking ashes from her cigarette
into an ashtray. “Everyone aboard that ship did have their passage paid by Nathan Hawkins? They are all headed to work as slave labor for this man's coal mines?”

“It appears so, Alice,” he grumbled. “It appears so.”

“That's so horrible, Michael,” Alice said, mashing her cigarette out, then opened the journal and began to study it.

Again Michael pondered over having discovered Maria and Alberto as part of this ship's passengers. He had thought the ship had been taken to Italy only at Nathan Hawkins's expense. It was Nathan Hawkins's ship.

Michael had only lucked out himself by having played the role so well of a buyer for a winery, saying that all other ships had been booked completely, and that he had a deadline to meet, convincing the ship's captain to let him travel along with him this one time. He smiled to himself, remembering even having been given the private cabin of the bastard Nathan Hawkins, since Hawkins hadn't taken this voyage himself.

Michael knew that if Hawkins ever found out the true identity of the man who had used his cabin in every way possible, the craggy face of Hawkins would grow even paler than Hawkins's eyes, which always appeared empty… unfeeling.

Damn. Michael so hated himself for not having found out the destination of Maria and Alberto. When he had asked Maria, she hadn't remembered, and when she had suggested she search in her violin case where she had the name written on train tickets, Michael had thought it hadn't been necessary, having thought they would have plenty of time to discuss this later. But as
time went on, their moments together had been spent talking about other things besides where the journey would end for the both of them.

And then there was Alberto. Alberto had refused to even talk with Michael, let alone discuss such congenial and simple matters of life that Michael would have so liked to have shared with him. No. Alberto had been close-mouthed. He had mainly been there to protect Maria, whom he had hovered over as though he was the husband of the beautiful female at his side.

Damn. He had to quit thinking about Maria. She was no longer a part of his existence. His main concern now was for the welfare of this new group of immigrants and what the success of his findings could mean to the success of the unions in Southern Illinois.

“This private car of this train,” he said, looking around him, seeing the plushness of the seats, the velveteen-covered bed at the far end, and the fringe-trimmed curtains at the windows.

“Did you say something, Michael?” Alice asked, eyes wide.

“I feel a sense of guilt, knowing I am traveling in such luxury, and the immigrants having to travel in such crowded, smelly quarters as the car they have been directed into. Is it even fair that I have the money to use to rent such a private car as this?”

“God, Michael. You carry the burden of the poor on your shoulders. Must you always?”

“I was just as poor once,” he mumbled, pushing himself up from the chair. He walked to Alice's side, bending to turn the pages in the journal. He suddenly smelled the aroma of her perfume as it circled upward and into his nose. Why hadn't he noticed it before?
Wasn't it even the perfume he had brought back, to her from France? He cleared his throat nervously, pointing to an entry.

“Do you see this?” he said. “This was entered on a day that two bodies were thrown over the ship's side. These two women died from consumption. They left behind two families in need of mother and wife. Their journey started on the mournful side, wouldn't you say? And I have many more of these same entries. This ship is a death ship. And even the ones who do make it to America too soon find that they wish they had been the ones tossed into the hungry claws of the sea when they find what is awaiting them.”

“Did you speak with many of these people?”

“Those who were not too afraid to speak to a stranger.”

“And each spoke of Nathan Hawkins?”

“They had only the deepest respect for the man who had paid their passage.”

Alice rose from the chair, taking Michael's hand in hers, guiding him toward the bed. “Michael, you must relax. You must let me massage your neck and back muscles. I have never seen you so tied up in such bleak thoughts before. Let me help to ease this all from your mind.”

Michael unsnapped the tie from his shirt, then slipped his suit jacket and shirt off, revealing his massive chest that was heavily covered with curly blonde chest hairs. He sighed deeply as he stretched out onto the softness of the bed. “Yes. I'm sure you're right,” he said, turning to lie on his stomach.

He closed his eyes and let Alice's fingers begin to knead and rub his flesh, already feeling it loosening
beneath her touch. When her lips exchanged places with her fingers, he tensed for a moment, then flipped onto his back and yanked her down atop him, crushing his lips against hers. She wasn't Maria but she was with him, ready, willing to help possibly erase Maria and all the mounting problems from his mind.

His fingers went to her blouse and reached beneath it. In no way did this woman's breasts compare with those of Maria. Maria's had been so large, so firm, so inviting to the touch from both his lips and hands.. But as the need for a woman … any woman … built inside him … he grabbed Alice's breasts and began brutally to squeeze them.

“Oh, Michael,” Alice moaned, reaching down to unbutton his breeches with trembling fingers. “It's been too long. I almost went wild without you. Darling, please . .. don't… leave again for a long time. These trips? They just mean loneliness for me. …”

Michael pushed her gently away from him. “Undress, Alice,” he said thickly, kicking his shoes off, then slipping his breeches and undergarment down. He watched her hungrily as she removed the combs from her hair, letting her hair cascade in red waves around her shoulders.

Michael felt the familiar heat rising in his loins. The last time he had experienced these feelings, Maria had been the cause. Oh, Maria. My Maria, he thought sadly to himself, then reached his arms outward as Alice stepped from the last of her garments.

When Alice was beside him on the bed, he rolled over and climbed atop her, not wasting any time as he thrust his manhood inside her and began working anxiously in and out. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes,
moaning, and when the spasms began, he whispered the wrong name. …

Alice kicked and scratched, screaming. “Get off me you bastard,” she shouted. “Do you hear? I hate you, Michael Hopper. I hate you.”

Michael scooted to sit upright next to her, furrowing his heavy blonde brows. “Damn it,” he growled. “What did I do?”

Alice began gathering her clothes, stomping angrily around the room. She glared toward him. “You don't know?” she whispered between clenched teeth, stop-ping to study him, not even knowing him any longer. He had changed. The voyage … someone on that voyage … had changed him. Someone named .. . Maria….

“What the hell are you talking about?” Michael asked, stammering.

“Who is this . .. Maria .. . Michael.. . ?” Alice asked, stammering.

He turned, swallowing hard, paling. “What did you say .. . ?” he gasped.

“Who is this Maria whose name you just whispered when we were … making love … ?”

“God. Oh, God. Did 1… do .. . that. .. ?” he blurted. He turned his back to her, hanging his head. He began to knead his brow, now knowing that he had to find Maria. He would look for her .. . even until his death, if need be. …

Placing her nose against the pane of glass next to her, Maria watched the land race by outside the train window. It seemed to her the further they traveled, the flatter the land became.

Illinois. She had just heard the whispers of those behind her that this land had been given the name of Illinois. The “Prairie State.” And this land was where her Papa had settled. In only a matter of hours she would be able to rush into his arms, feel once again the security that those arms had always represented to her since the day of her birth.

As she continued to watch, she gazed upon a great sea of grass, an endless expanse that flashed and rippled in the wind in soft wine colors. It was a land where there seemed to be nothing but grass meeting sky, except where small towns would suddenly appear alongside the railroad tracks and in streamside groves.

“How much further now, Alberto?” she asked, turning her wide, dark eyes to her brother.

He was absorbed in a deck of cards that he had managed to steal from one of the card sharks aboard the ship. He was placing them on his lap, studying them, then stacking them back together once again to shuffle them.

Maria's brow furrowed, not liking this new pastime of her brother's. She could see a future of possible trouble for him if he persisted with such a thing. Hadn't it gotten him in enough trouble aboard the ship? Hadn't he yet learned that it was the devil's game?

“I'm sure it won't be long now,” he murmured, pushing his hat back from his forehead, looking annoyed for having been disturbed.

Maria's eyes wavered. “Alberto, those cards. What you are doing is nonsense. Why don't you put them away? When we reach Papa's house, you will have more to do than play that silly card game.”

“Don't start bossing me around, Maria,” he scowled. “Sisters are to be seen, not heard. Didn't you know that? Especially a twin sister.”