Soul Intent (27 page)

So Morgan decided to help Flora. He did owe her, after all, for her grudging assistance as he deposited the gold into Hermann Goering’s soul line collection. And the letter of commendation she had Mr. Goering sign certainly helped his career: Morgan was now firmly next in line for executive overseer. Unless Isabella Vida, the old witch, managed to outlive him.

Enough of work. Today he was here to see Flora purely on a social level. For over a year now he had been watching her, biding his time until she turned twenty. He encouraged her education, helped her find child care, and augmented her meager lifestyle with a good job. He even was liberal with her time off when Jamie got sick, as he supposed all babies were wont to do.

But most of all, he was there for Flora. Morgan was delighted with the ladies’ comments he overheard in the office. They all thought Flora was special, and they all encouraged him to court her.

At first he resisted the idea, mainly because he remembered how much Flora hated the work in Nuremberg. But after seeing her mature, and after falling under the spell of little Jamie, Morgan began catching himself dreaming about a life that included the three of them.

It was a good dream. Although Flora lost none of the passion that had filled her in Germany, she learned to harness it. Instead of losing her temper, he saw her become more determined. And instead of yelling at Jamie, he saw her laughing as she played with him. In Morgan’s imagination, he saw her passion driving him as he guided Soul Identity and their family with his wisdom and vision.

Archibald Morgan, the most eligible bachelor at Soul Identity, was in love. And although he had never mentioned it to her, he was sure Flora knew, and he was confident she approved.

That confidence was why he was here today. Three weeks ago he worked up the courage to invite Flora to a birthday dinner and dance at Worcester’s Lakeside Ballroom. After considering his request for five long days, she accepted.

The last two weeks in the office had made him giddy with anticipation. The ladies swarmed around Flora, helping her choose the right dress and giving her advice on makeup and perfume. The fellows in the office, even crusty old Alexei Ivanov from the depositary, dropped by to congratulate him. Morgan felt like he was walking on clouds.

And at long last today had come, and here he sat in the guest house rooms of the most desirable woman he knew. He reached into his pocket and patted the red velvet-covered ring box. Tonight would mark the ending of their office courtship and the beginning of their engagement.

Marriage would follow. Not too soon, because the office girls would need time to plan the event. But not too late, as Jamie wasn’t getting any younger, and Morgan had already detected some glimmers of character deficiencies that would only fester without a strong father figure in his life.

A knock on the front door woke him from his daydreams. He let Mrs. Beasley in and politely listened to her chatter. But his mind was on the evening ahead.

At last Flora was ready, and the two of them paused at the door for a final hug with Jamie. Morgan’s heart skipped a beat as he and Flora kissed Jamie’s cheeks simultaneously. And then they were off, Flora hanging onto his arm as they swept down the stairs, out the door, and into the back of the limousine.

“Please drive us to the Lakeside Ballroom, Mr. Hutchinson,” Morgan said to the driver once they were under way.

“Yes, sir.” The driver looked back in his mirror. “Ms. Drabarni, how are you this evening?”

Flora smiled. “I’m fine, Franklin.”

“And little Jamie?”

“Into all kinds of mischief.”

The driver chuckled as he pulled out of the Soul Identity gates. “As he should be, ma’am.”

Morgan and Flora chatted about Jamie on the drive down to the ballroom on the shores of LakeQuinsigamond. In less than an hour they arrived.

He climbed out of the limousine in time to assist Flora. He was thrilled when she continued to hold his hand as they walked toward the entrance.

“Mr. Morgan, thank you so much for taking me out on my birthday,” she said.

“The pleasure is all mine, Flora,” he said. He dared a slight caress of her wrist with his fingertips. “But you must call me Archibald while we are out of the office.”

“Archibald.” She pointed at the pavilion. “Will you take me dancing?”

“Of course,” he said, and after thirty minutes of whirling around the floor, they made their way into the restaurant. They sat on the outdoor terrace overlooking the lake. A waiter lit the candle on the table and gave him a hand-printed menu.

He peeked at Flora over the card. She was watching a couple walk along the shore in the late summer twilight. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was humming along with the music spilling out of the pavilion. A smile crossed her face, and he felt a wave of affection sweep over him. The evening could not be more perfect.

When the waiter returned, Morgan ordered for them both, then he chose to commence the serious conversation while they waited for its arrival.

He cleared his throat. “Flora, when we met three years ago in Germany, I would never have imagined we would be sitting here together.”

She turned to face him and smiled. “Neither would I,” she said softly.

“I have watched you grow from a girl into an enchanting lady.”

She raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.

“You and little Jamie have brought a breath of fresh air onto our second floor.”

“Jamie is my life. Especially now after Baba passed away,” she said. “How I wish she was still here!”

He patted her hand. “Is it hard raising Jamie on your own?”

“I’m making it.” This with her eyebrows lowered, just a little.

“You are making it, Flora,” he said. “And we are all glad to help you however we can.” He grabbed her hands with both of his.

Her fingers trailed over his palms. “You have been very good to us,” she said. “I don’t think we could have done it without you.”

“It has been my pleasure.” He leaned forward. “And it would be my pleasure to help even more.”

She looked up at him. “You’ve done so much already.”

The moment had come. He pulled one hand free from hers and reached into his jacket pocket. He grasped the ring box and took a deep breath. “Today is your twentieth birthday,” he said, “and first thing Monday morning I can walk you through the membership process.”

She tilted her head. “Membership process?”

“Soul Identity,” he explained. “Now you are twenty years old, you may join.”

“Ah.” She pulled her hands free and ran her fingers around the base of the candlestick. “Archibald…” She looked up with a solemn expression on her face. “I’m not going to join.”

He was afraid this might happen. “Flora, you have a great job at Soul Identity. You live on campus in our guest house. You are friends with all the ladies in the office. How can you not want to join?”

“I love the people—but not the organization.” Her eyes narrowed. “I just can’t bear the thought of joining the group that fought to protect the memories of the people who killed my father.”

He sat back, astonished at the strength of the vehemence in her voice, surprised it was undiminished after three years.

She sighed and reached for his hand. “This is the one area where you and I do not agree.”

He gave a wry smile. “I have been hoping for you to come around and see my side.”

“And I have hoped the same of you.” She leaned forward and smiled. “But this is only a small difference of opinion between us, Archibald. There are many things we have in common. Many joys we share.”

“That is true.” With great reluctance he pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket and abandoned the ring box. He forced his lips to lift in a nonchalant smile. And he said, with barely a tremor in his voice, “If you refuse to join us, what will you do for work?”

“I have a job.”

He shook his head. “Once Soul Identity employees turn twenty, they either have to join or quit.”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “It is not my policy, but an ancient one. We will not have employees who will not believe.”

She bit her lower lip. “Do you think you could bend this policy for me? At least until Jamie reaches school age?”

He pretended to think for a minute before he shook his head. “I cannot risk it, Flora. You know the politics—my career would be in jeopardy.”

She withdrew her hands and looked at him in the eye. “It’s that important to you, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Your career.”

He looked away at the lake for a long minute. He reluctantly met her eyes and nodded.

“Then I had better find a new job as soon as possible,” she said crisply. “I have no time to waste on frivolous meals.” She stood up. “Take me home, Mr. Morgan.”

“Please, Flora,” he said, “let us first enjoy our dinner, and then Mr. Hutchinson can drive us home.” Maybe by the end of the meal he could talk some sense into her and not let her throw her life away.

She pursed her lips. “Enjoy your dinner alone. I’ll be waiting in the car with Franklin.” She stomped off the terrace and back toward the pavilion, past the couple along the lake shore.

He carefully folded his napkin, stood up, and followed her. And along the shore of Lake Quinsigamond, Archibald Morgan, most eligible bachelor at Soul Identity, pulled the ring box out of his pocket and hurled it deep into the water.

forty-six

Present Day

Dubnik Mine, Slovakia

“My actions seem silly and immature sixty years later,” Madame Flora said to Archie.

He sat with his head bowed. “I was a fool.”

“And I was too hotheaded,” she said. “I’m truly sorry, Archibald.”

He looked up at her. “I am too, Flora.”

The fire had died down. Madame Flora got up and stood close to the glowing embers. “You want to know what was in that journal,” she said to Archie. “It was my story. I wanted Goering’s future carrier to read that instead of his hateful memories.”

He stared at her for a minute without speaking. Then he chuckled. “Yesterday I would have scolded you for breaking the sanctity of the depositary. But today…” his voice trailed off.

“What will you do today?” she asked softly.

He looked up. “Today I just want to know the rest of your story.”

She nodded and turned to me. “Bring your copy—I’m ready.”

“Let me get it,” I said.

Val and I walked over to the van. “She’s actually going to tell Mr. Morgan,” Val whispered, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them. “I wonder how he’ll take it.”

“I wonder how the twins will take it,” I whispered back. I tried to imagine finding out that my great-grandfather was one of the richest people in the world. I opened the back of the van and dug for my bag. I pulled out the journal copy Archie had made and the translation Val and I had completed.

Madame Flora took the copied journal pages from me while Sue hung a battery-powered reading light on a pole over the old lady’s chair.

Archie handed her his reading glasses. “Just in case.”

“Thank you.” She put on the glasses and looked at the pages for a few minutes while we waited. Then she spoke to Rose and Marie. “Girls, I wrote this in Nuremberg, during the trial. You should pay attention—maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Yes, Grandma,” they said.

Madame Flora turned to Archie. “Let me read you everything before you ask any questions.”

She cleared her throat. “I wrote this in an alphabet once common in Istria. It’s called the Glagolitic script. My father taught it to me when I was a little girl. We used it for writing secret notes to each other, when we didn’t want my mother reading them.”

She pointed at the cover. “This says Flora Drabarni, 1946.” She flipped to the next page. “The language is Romany, and I’ll have to translate as I go. Bear with me.”

Archie glanced at me. “You figured this out?” he asked.

“With Val’s help. It’s only a few pages,” I said.

He nodded. “I am glad I left it for you.”

Hopefully he’d still feel that way after he heard what it contained.

Madame Flora read us the fairy tale about the princess, her fairy godmother, the wolf, and the knight captain. When she was done, the princess’s final dream hanging in the air, nobody spoke for a minute. She handed me the pages, and we all watched the fire’s fading embers.

Finally Flora looked up at Archie. “There’s a reason you felt so connected to Jamie. He’s your son.” She nodded toward the twins. “Rose and Marie are his granddaughters.”

Archie stood up and walked over to her. He knelt down on the cold, hard ground at her feet and took her hand in both of his. He raised it to his lips and held it there. “Over the years I have had some very detailed and explicit dreams of us in Nuremberg,” he murmured. “But I never once dared to think those dreams actually could be true.”

Madame Flora reached out with her other hand and caressed Archie’s white hair. Then she leaned forward and wrapped her arm around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. Archie let go of her hand and embraced her.