Forever Waiting (52 page)

Yvette’s squeal sliced through the hum of the crowd. “Johnny! It’s Johnny!”

Charmaine pivoted around, the name reverberating, sundering her every emotion. Miraculously, she beheld her husband hobbling down the gangplank, supported by Paul, who clutched his arm. He was there—thin, his face pale and drawn—but really there! Although his expression was pained, his eyes lit up when he saw her. Incredulous, she stood rooted to the spot, the entire boardwalk strangely hushed. Behind her she heard Loretta ask, “Is that John?” When he reached the pier, he smiled his familiar, crooked smile. “Will you have this prodigal husband back, my Charm?”

All her anxiety evaporated, and she ran to him. He pulled free of Paul and stepped forward. She fell into his open arms, his name on her lips. Tears of joy replaced those still moist on her cheeks, and she felt his arms quicken, his face buried in her hair, his embrace so fierce she could scarcely breathe. Then his head lifted, and his hand spanned her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks to wipe her tears away, his fingers cupping her head. He leaned forward to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting his lips in impassioned fervor. There they stood in broad daylight, unconcerned about friends and family, the ship’s crew, or the multitude watching them.

Frederic’s heart swelled, Michael’s throat contracted, and Loretta and Joshua hugged each other, each in exaltation. Charmaine uttered John’s name over and over again as she caressed his face and ran her fingers through his hair, categorizing his every feature, as if to confirm she was not dreaming.

John held her at arm’s length, perusing her from head to toe. “Well?” he queried. “Where is she?”

Although Charmaine frowned, Jeannette stepped forward, offering up the small bundle she lovingly held. “Here she is, Johnny. Here’s little Marie.”

John tenderly took his daughter into his arms, looking down at her in awe, chuckling softly when she wiggled, yawned, and cooed in contentment. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely, his gaze meeting Charmaine’s. “You did an exceptional job, my Charm.”

“We both did,” she replied.

She was suddenly aware of the many onlookers around her. John’s regard shifted to Michael, and Charmaine wondered why he was there. She noted the significant look that passed between them, and her eyes narrowed.

John smiled innocently. “What?” he asked.

“I know something is brewing,” Charmaine supplied. When John shrugged sheepishly, she said, “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

His crooked smile deepened, dimples visible now. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” she said, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. She’d find out sooner or later. She found Michael Andrews studying her intently. She couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking.

Mostly, he was pleased to know his daughter could read her husband so well. The couple obviously liked each other as much as they loved each other. God had smiled down upon their union.

“So, Father Michael,” she said, stepping over to him and clasping his hand, “what has brought you all the way to Charmantes?”

“John, actually,” he answered simply. “I’ve known him for five years. He’s a close friend.”

Charmaine’s astonishment made John laugh. “You see, Charmaine,” he said, “I’m not in league with the devil as you once believed.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the priest.

“John has been a generous benefactor to the St. Jude Refuge,” Michael expounded.

Charmaine’s expression grew incredulous. “My husband? The man who doesn’t believe in God?”

“But I do believe in good people and good causes, my Charm.”

Frederic interrupted the exchange. “Come, John,” he prodded with concern, “you’ve been on your feet long enough. It is time we get you home.”

Charmaine was amazed by the man’s display of affection.

“He was gravely ill, Charmaine,” he explained, “and is still recovering from a serious injury. He’s been advised not to exert himself.”

“I’m fine, Charmaine,” John reassured, seeing the worry on her face. “The worst is over, but Father is right. I would like to sit down.”

She nodded and took Marie from his arms. The babe slept on.

“Did you get him, Johnny?” Yvette asked. “Did you kill Dr. Blackford?”

The wharf fell silent until Frederic spoke. “He’s dead, Yvette.” Deciding it was best to get the story out and over with, he added, “When he attacked your brother with a knife, I shot and killed him. He’s no longer a threat to our family.”

“Good!” Yvette exclaimed.

Paul offered to arrange transportation from the livery, but as he turned to leave, Charmaine grabbed his arm, holding him there a moment longer. A hint of a smile reached his eyes, and she could see he was happy for her.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely, “for everything.”

His smile grew dynamic. “You’re welcome. Now—no more tears!”

Rebecca tore her burning eyes from Paul and Charmaine, hurried down the gangplank, and headed home. Since the afternoon John and Frederic had boarded the ship, Paul hadn’t said two words to her. Now she knew why. It didn’t matter if John was dead or alive. He would always love Charmaine. She must forget him.

The Duvoisins ambled down the pier toward the road. Charmaine had completely forgotten about Loretta and Joshua, but found them smiling at her. She went to them with John’s arm looped through hers and Michael Andrews flanking him on the right.

“John, this is Loretta and Joshua Harrington,” she stated proudly, “Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, this is my husband.”

“Ah, yes,” John grinned devilishly, “Joshua—the Prophet. I’m sorry I didn’t remember you in Richmond, but you weren’t wearing your robes—”

“John!” Charmaine admonished, her eyes shooting from Joshua to Father Michael, who was snickering behind a raised hand. “I’ve told the Harringtons you’re not as incorrigible as they’ve heard. Must you prove me wrong?”

“Actually, I’m worse,” John replied. Catching her frown, he turned serious. “No, my Charm, I’d never do that.” He took Joshua’s hand. “Thank you for bringing your wife to Charmantes and looking after Charmaine in my absence.” He turned to Loretta and gave her his most charming smile. “Mrs. Harrington.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Loretta nodded dubiously before speaking to Charmaine. “Let me take Marie so you can help your husband to the carriage.”

The twins accompanied their father, bantering effervescently. “Papa,” Jeannette exclaimed, “you don’t have your cane!”

“I lost it somewhere along the way,” he commented, his arms encircling their shoulders. “But I don’t think I need it any longer. Not with the two of you to lean on and all the excitement behind us.”

“You and Johnny are not the only ones with exciting news!” Yvette cut in. “Wait until you hear what happened to us!”

“Let me help John into the carriage. After that, you’ll have my ear all the way home.”

The brougham came to a standstill at the end of the wharf. John waved off the hands that offered help and, with some difficulty, pulled himself up and in. He exhaled with a grimace, which he tried to conceal by asking to hold Marie. Charmaine obliged. Then she and Michael climbed aboard, she settling next to John and Michael sitting opposite them.

As the coach pulled away, she grabbed hold of John’s arm and hugged it, her eyes devouring every line of his face. He was studying his sleeping daughter again, marveling over her delicate features.

Michael’s heart once again expanded with gladness as he watched them, the interior of the vehicle bathed in a very tangible love.

“I’m dreaming,” she whispered, drawing John’s eyes from Marie. “I know I’m dreaming.”

“No, my Charm,” he smiled, “I’m really here.”

“But I had a premonition—the night Marie was born—that you had died!”

He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I did die,” he whispered. “But your mother sent me back to you.”

She gaped at him. “
My mother?”

“Yes.” John nodded, regarding his slumbering daughter again. “Your mother, Marie … She was my savior long before I met you, my Charm. Only I didn’t learn she was your mother until last August.
She
was the one who helped me through that terrible time before and after Pierre’s birth, and
she
introduced me to Michael.”

“Sweet Lord!” Charmaine gasped, goose bumps rising on her flesh.

“What is it?”

“It was
you
,” she whispered. “My mother once told me, ‘the greater the wealth, the deeper the pain.’ I didn’t understand what she meant, had no idea of whom she was speaking. But after Pierre’s death, her presence was so strong. I felt her there beside me in the chapel. And then the next day, during the funeral, those words kept coming back to me. For days they went through my mind. Now I’m certain she was talking about you, John— you and your pain!”

John remembered telling Marie his father’s fortune had ruined his life, firmly believing Colette had forfeited their love for it. He looked from his wife to Michael. “It appears she brought us together, Charmaine.” He shook his head with the weight of it. “If I had known of your mother’s life with John Ryan, I swear I would have put a stop to it. But she never burdened me with her troubles. She was only concerned for mine. I didn’t even know her surname or that she had died. I was in New York when it happened. And I certainly didn’t make the connection between you, John Ryan, or her.” When he spoke again, there was anger in his voice. “I promise you now, Charmaine, he will be punished.”

She took a deep breath. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

The remark shook him. He knew from Paul that Ryan had been incarcerated on Charmantes in early December. “What has happened?” he asked in dismay.

She related the story of Benito St. Giovanni and John Ryan’s escape. More than once, John swore under his breath, his scowl deepening as he contemplated the danger in which Charmaine, his daughter, and the twins had been placed. But the finale brought a twinkle to his eye, and he couldn’t resist saying, “Good thing I taught Yvette how to swim.”

“That’s exactly what Yvette said,” Charmaine replied, “but my father could have killed her.” She bowed her head. “The Good Lord’s mercy spared her.”

“He wasn’t your father, Charmaine,” he said, perceiving her guilt and knowing it was time to bury the lie. “You mustn’t blame yourself.”

She looked up in surprise. “How do you know that?”

John was equally astonished. Obviously, she knew a portion of the truth.
But how?

“Charmaine,” Michael whispered softly, cautiously, “I’m your father.”

Charmaine’s expression bordered on the mortified, but John squeezed her hand, encouraging her to listen compassionately.

“I loved your mother deeply,” Michael affirmed, clearing his throat. “I didn’t know she was carrying my child, Charmaine. I didn’t know the truth about you until nine months ago.”

His confession came hard.

“She just left one day. When she returned to St. Jude, you were already a little girl. I thought you were John Ryan’s little girl.” He pulled a letter from his pocket and offered it to her. “It’s from your mother.”

Charmaine took it, studied the neat, familiar handwriting on the envelope.

“Marie gave it to John years before she died,” Michael continued.

“She asked me to pass it on to Michael should anything happen to her,” John interjected. “But I didn’t learn about her death until this past spring.”

“Even then,” the priest continued, “John didn’t make the connection between you and Marie because I never mentioned your name. I went to the Harringtons the week of Paul’s celebration. That is when I found out where you were—when I realized John must know you. But it wasn’t until he came to me for information on your island priest that all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.”

There was a long silence, Charmaine speechless, John and Michael giving her time to absorb the incredible story.

“I loved her, Charmaine,” he reverently proclaimed, “and I would have left the priesthood if I had known she was with child. But she didn’t want me to do that, and she guarded her secret until she wrote that.” He nodded toward the letter Charmaine still held in her hands. “She sacrificed her own happiness for me … ”

Michael lowered his head, and Charmaine knew he was fighting back tears. She reached across the carriage and took his hand. “All these years, I believed my mother never knew a moment of happiness. I’m glad to discover I was wrong—you loved her dearly. I know she loved you.”

He looked up, his eyes sparkling, and no further words were necessary. Hands clasped, they basked in the miraculous revelation they were family.

The baby stirred and John gazed down at the wriggling infant. “Would you like to hold your granddaughter?” he asked.

When Michael nodded, Charmaine scooped Marie from John’s lap and passed the little bundle to him. He snuggled her in the crook of his arm and his tears fell freely. Charmaine grasped John’s arm with both hands and laid her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes in a prayer of thanksgiving, certain she would be weeping tears of joy for many days to come.

They were nearly home when Marie began to cry, refusing even the comfort of her mother’s arms. “She’s hungry,” Charmaine explained, and then more softly for John’s ears, “She fell asleep before she had her fill and needs to be nursed.”

He tilted his head and whispered, “Can I watch?”

She blushed scarlet, her eyes flying to her father, hoping he had not heard. He was only smiling tenderly at her, and she turned to John, pleased to find that wonderful, familiar deviltry dancing in his eyes.

“If you’d like,” she answered sweetly, that lopsided smile now dominating his handsome face, his brow raised in astonishment over her bold response.

As the carriage rolled through the front gates, Michael sat in awe of the majestic mansion and its grounds. The coach drew up to the portico steps. Charmaine placed the fidgeting Marie in John’s arms and alighted, holding up a hand to wave off any assistance. Marie started wailing immediately, but Charmaine was there to take her back.

George emerged from the house, laughing heartily when he caught sight of John climbing from the carriage. “How are you, weary traveler?” he called, rushing forward and eyeing Michael who had also alighted.