The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (19 page)

Detective Gantly waved her back down to her chair.  “Please, Miss Kennedy, sit down.”

“You make me sound like some kind of laboratory specimen, some bizarre creature to be analyzed and catalogued.  Who I am is none of your business.”

They locked gazes, hers firm, his searching.  “Please, Miss Kennedy,” he said, softening his voice.  “Please do not take offense where none was intended.  Please sit down.”

Eve should have left, but she didn’t want to.  She slowly lowered herself down. 

Gantly scooted his chair back, ran a hand along his jaw and crossed one knee over the other.  “Miss Kennedy, I am telling you in confidence that I have been charged with following you to learn who you are, where you came from and what you are out to accomplish.  I did not want this assignment, Miss Kennedy.  In truth, I asked to be removed from it.  I did not want to be a puppet, with my strings jerked and pulled by Mr. Albert Harringshaw, who is forcing me to follow some lost female around the city.”

Eve felt the insult like a slap on the cheek.  She shifted in her seat, ready to blast him back.  “Then why, pray tell, did you take the assignment, Detective Sergeant?”

“I had no choice in the matter, Miss Kennedy.  Inspector Byrnes himself so ordered it.  I am sure you have heard of Inspector Byrnes, the head of the New York City Police Detective Department?”

Eve had never heard of him, but she thought it best to lie.  “Of course I’ve heard of Inspector Byrnes.”

“So you see, I have grown very fond of eating and staying warm in winter.  So here I am.”

Eve put on her best smirk.  “Well, I’m sorry I’m such an inconvenience,” she said.   She shot up again and whirled toward the entrance.

Gantly sighed and got up.  “Please, Miss Kennedy, wait…”

But she had marched to the door, yanked it open and exited. 

Gantly dropped some coins on the table and hurried out after her.

Eve walked briskly in a light rain, irritated at herself for over-reacting to Patrick’s insult, if that’s what it was.  It wasn’t like her to be so dramatic and emotional.  But then she was in a very vulnerable position, in a strange world, with no friends or family to turn to and no one she could trust.  She didn’t want this Detective sniffing around and following her every step.  She already felt as though she was in everyone’s crosshairs.

And yet, she felt deflated by his declaration that he was forced to follow her.  For a few moments, she had felt playful and free.  She had felt as if he might be someone she could trust.  And he was oh, so attractive. 

She heard Patrick call her from behind.  A blast of cold wind slung little flecks of snow and rain into Eve’s face.  Seeing a tailor shop, she ducked into the protection of its doorway.  Patrick came fast, a firm hand pressed down on the crown of his hat.  He slipped in beside her and jammed his hands into his coat pockets, seeking words.

Eve’s eyes were locked ahead, refusing to look at him.

“Miss Kennedy, you did not let me finish.”

Eve watched carriages pass.  She saw two sturdy horses pulling a delivery wagon with the name PYLES MOVING AND STORAGE written on it in bold black letters.  She saw jets of white vapor puffing from the horses’ nostrils.  She saw women hurrying along the streets, some ducking into doorways like she’d done.  A lumbering dray rattled along the street with rows of tied-down beer barrels.

“Miss Kennedy, as a policeman, I get certain feelings about things.  I have learned to trust those feelings.  It helps to keep me alive.”

“Good for you,” Eve said.

“I get the feeling you are in some kind of trouble, Miss Kennedy.  I get the feeling you are quite alone in this very big city and you might need some help.  Frankly, Mr. Albert Harringshaw will not be your helper.  You are living in a house of vipers.  Miss Price is a shrewd and spiteful woman, who would do anything to hold on to Mr. Harringshaw and his generous allowance to her.  I will not comment on Mr. Harringshaw, other than to say I don’t believe he can be trusted when it comes to a woman’s honor.  Now, I have already said too much.”

“And
you
can be trusted?” Eve asked, still staring ahead, watching the frenetic snowflakes swirl, land and melt on the cobblestone street.

“I can be of help, and you
can
trust me, if you are honest with me.”

She turned to him with a frosty stare, but the sharp blue of his eyes and the strong handsome face, with those partially opened lips, simply enchanted her.  His was a face she’d never seen before, holding a contradiction of expressions:  hard and tender, challenging and playful, mysterious and revealing—revealing what was surely an attraction to her.  She must have revealed the same to him because she was in fact “wowed” and “bow wowed” by him, but also caught between fear and desire.  Eve cleared her throat before speaking.

“And if you help me, Detective Sergeant Gantly, what do you want in return?”

He stared back at her, his eyes narrowing. 

“Mr. Harringshaw also thought you might be in some kind of trouble.  He asked me not only to follow and observe you, but also to protect you from any harm.  So I will protect you, Miss Kennedy, from any harm.”

Eve pushed down a rising, sexy thrill.  “You didn’t answer my question, sir.”

“If you ask me what I want in return, then I would ask you to trust me.  I would ask you to tell me the truth about yourself.  That is what I want in return.”

Eve turned away, feeling the air grow colder, and now there was only snow, dusting the tops of men’s silk hats and shoulders, and the tops of enclosed carriages.  Eve had to quickly change the course of the conversation.  She could never tell him the truth.  It was impossible.  An exciting new thought struck.  She turned to him.

“Detective Sergeant Gantly, will you help me?  Do you mean it?”

“I will, Miss Kennedy, if I can.  Just tell me how I can be of service.”

She decided to blurt it out.  “I need a diploma from a nursing school.  Any nursing school, as long as it is accredited.”

He looked at her, uncertainly, his mind working to understand. 

She held his stare.  “Surely, you know I am a nurse.”

He watched her, carefully.  “I have heard the rumor, yes.”

“I have lost my diploma and it will take too long to request another copy.  I can’t get work without one.  If I am to get out of that house of vipers, as you call it, then I need a job.  Can you help me get a diploma?  You seem to be a man who gets around, who knows the right people, and who knows how to get things done.”

He pushed the bill of his hat back on his head and let out a long, audible sigh. 

“Miss Kennedy, is it possible that I may have underestimated you?”

Eve lifted her chin, imperiously, the way she’d seen Albert Harringshaw do.  “I hope you have, sir.  And, if I may say it, I am, in a manner of speaking, a damsel in distress who very much needs your help.” 

He smiled as he considered her face, her eyes and her glistening mouth. 

Eve felt his eyes on her and, when she spoke, she saw her own misty white breath, and for a wonderful moment, they hovered there in a budding intimacy. 

“Will you help me, Detective Sergeant Gantly?”

He looked at her with solemn purpose and, with some difficulty, he pulled his eyes from hers.  He shoved his hands into his pockets again and looked skyward.

“Shall I find you a cab, Miss Kennedy?”

“Does that mean you won’t help me?” Eve asked, searching his face.

He gave her a look, and she didn’t know what that look meant.  He left her and went to the curb.  He waved down a Hansom and opened the door for her as she approached.  He took her hand and helped her inside.  His hand was big and broad but gentle.  He leaned in, taking her in, and Eve thought she saw a delicious desire in his eyes.  She was sure he saw desire in hers, because she was feeling it.

“I would prefer you don’t tell anyone about our meeting, Miss Kennedy, especially Mr. Harringshaw.  He will want to court you, you know.  That is his intention.  He would not take kindly to our little rendezvous.”

“Will you help me?” Eve asked, with some urgency in her voice.  “Will you find me a diploma so I won’t be indebted to Mr. Harringshaw and have to be courted by Mr. Harringshaw?”

Patrick gave her an inscrutable look, took her hand and pressed a folded piece of paper into her right gloved hand.  He closed the door and touched his bowler.  He knocked on the side of the cab and it lurched ahead.  Eve twisted around, watching Patrick until the cab turned the corner and started uptown.

Detective Sergeant Gantly watched the carriage retreat, merging into traffic and disappearing into blurring snow.  He stood there feeling a clash of emotion:  confusion, desire, and a stirring sexual excitement he hadn’t felt in a very long time.  Who was this Eve Kennedy that aroused him and made him edgy?  He would have to find out.  He wouldn’t rest until he did indeed find out who she was and where she came from.

He hailed a cab and started off after her.

CHAPTER 16

Eve instructed the driver to take her to the “Ladies Mile,” a shopping area on Fifth Avenue between 15th and 24th Streets.  According to ads in the newspaper, it boasted some of the best ladies’ shops in Manhattan, as well as the finest jewelers, furriers, florists and haberdashers.  She had to buy her own clothes and return the ones she’d borrowed from Helen Price.  This might help anchor her in this time and place, or at least help her establish her own identity.

As the cab trotted through Madison Square, through a now gentle snowfall, Eve saw a mixture of stately homes, grand theaters and luxurious hotels.  The entire area reminded her of the Paris she’d seen on her honeymoon with Blake. 

Eve had purposely not opened her gloved hand until she was well away from Detective Sergeant Gantly, wanting to savor the delicious moment of attraction and desire, and the warm feeling of trust.  Was it a personal note?  Eve smiled at the thought. For the first time since she’d landed in 1885, she felt that maybe she’d finally found a friend, someone she could trust and rely on.

She slowly unclasped her hand.  It was not a personal note, but a folded bill.  She smoothed it.  It was a $10 bill issued by the Seaboard National Bank of the City of New York.

Eve gazed rapt and moved.  This was a lot of money, maybe an entire week’s salary, for the detective sergeant. 

Easing back into the seat as the cab was jostled through heavy traffic, she felt her longing and admiration for him swell.  She couldn’t accept the money, of course, but it was a kind, generous and supportive act.  She would return it to him as soon as they met again. 

Her heart fluttered.  Would she see him again?  What if he began following her, and not observing?  What if Albert Harringshaw found out about their meeting and decided to fire the detective?  He was a jealous and possessive man, after all, who wanted total control over his lovers. 

Detective Sergeant Gantly knew what was going on in that house.  Were Dr. Eckland and the Detective on speaking terms?  Eve sat up.  She could only pray that Gantly would somehow obtain a diploma for her, after which she’d present it to Dr. Eckland and ask his help in finding a job.  Then she could continue her search for Evelyn Sharland.

It had stopped snowing by the time the cab turned onto Fifth Avenue and the Ladies Mile.  Eve was entranced by block after block of gleaming ladies’ stores, the sidewalks crowded with lavishly dressed women, their grand carriages waiting for them at the curb.

Women hovered around the big display windows, pointing, gesturing and speculating, their servants waiting, attending.  Eve tapped the roof and the driver edged the cab to the curb.  She paid and stepped out onto the sidewalk, quickly merging with other women as they strolled the sidewalks, pausing to gaze into the windows. 

Then the sun broke through fast moving clouds and glittered the windows, and Eve wondered if this was the first mass of department stores in the United States.  Again she thought how she’d love to take a Selfie here.  That one would go viral.

She entered Lord and Taylor, hoping to buy two dresses, some underwear, gloves and hats.  In the crowded store, buzzing with conversation, she moved through to the dress goods and ribbon department.  Eve drew up to a thin, officious salesman in his 30s who had a florid nose and a florid mustache.  When she asked him where the dresses were, she was met by a stony stare.

A finely dressed, middle-aged woman, with a no-nonsense manner and gold-rimmed eyeglasses, pushed in and approached the salesman.

“Show me some elephant’s breath cashmere,” she said, in a very upper class accent that sounded so affected, Eve almost laughed.

When the salesman retreated to fetch the material, Eve screwed up her courage and asked the woman what she had just ordered.

“It is a shade of woolen goods, of course,” the woman answered, rather curtly.

Eve stood back and watched as a nervous woman inquired about where she could find an imported jersey, another woman asked for a Moliere waistcoat, an ostrich feather fan and ten yards of plum-colored velveteen.  Still another fashionable young woman asked for some crinolettes.

Feeling dizzy and out of her element, Eve wandered over to the glass display cases, where she tried on some bonnets and hats.  She didn’t know what looked fashionable or even if any looked right for her.

Back outside in the heavy stream of sidewalk traffic, Eve decided she’d have to solicit Millie’s or some other woman’s help on how to shop.  It was an intense, creative and baffling world she obviously knew nothing about.

Eve decided to spend the rest of her day looking for Evelyn Sharland, and that meant visiting Gouverneur Hospital in the Financial District.  Dr. Eckland had said they treated tubercular patients there and maybe Eve would get lucky and find Evelyn.  Eve sought directions to the hospital from a kindly older man, who looked like Uncle Sam in a high silk hat.

Ten minutes later, she stepped onto the crowded, elevated EL Train, which was pulled by a steam locomotive.  Eve held on to a thin pole as the train rattled, puffed and smoked its way downtown like some antiquated thrill ride.