The prospect of traveling all the way to Pittsburgh to help a virtual stranger look for a birth certificate was absurd. Patrick had a stack of new clients, and his mother still needed him.
“Take the box to the nearest Catholic school and ask the nuns to help,” he said. “They’ll keep your confidence.”
Liam’s shoulders slumped, but only for a moment before straightening back up. “Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that. Hey, thanks anyway. You did a good job for my uncle, and I’m grateful.”
Liam headed down the alley, hands stuffed in his pockets.
Unbidden, the drawing of Hansel and Gretel in Gwen’s dining room rose in Patrick’s mind. It had been thirty years since her brother’s kidnapping, and it still nagged at her. If Patrick could prove who Liam Malone was, one way or the other, Gwen would want to know. He could never repay her for the serum that saved his mother’s life, but maybe he could grant her deepest wish by finding out what happened to Willy Blackstone.
“Wait!” he shouted down the alley, but Liam had already disappeared into a sea of pedestrians and lumbering wagons on Mulberry Street. Patrick ran a few blocks, constantly scanning the crowds until he spotted Liam heading toward the streetcar stop.
“Liam, wait!” he shouted again, for Liam was about to board the streetcar, and Patrick doubled his speed. He was breathless by the time he got to Liam’s side. “I changed my mind. Let’s leave for Pittsburgh as soon as we can.”
This might be the only thing he could ever do for Gwen, and he wouldn’t hesitate again.
Gwen was writing invitations for Friday’s soiree when the perfect thought struck. She would invite Patrick! She hadn’t realized he was so sensitive about how they’d been meeting on his fire escape, and having him attend one of her weekly gatherings would let him know that she was proud to be seen with him.
She’d always assumed she would someday marry another Blackstone College professor. It wasn’t that she objected to men in other lines of work. She simply thought it would be easiest to marry someone who already belonged here.
That was before she met Patrick. An involuntary thrill triggered inside her when she thought of his face, rough with affection as he gazed at her. Patrick was everything a woman could want in a man. Kind and giving and intelligent, but also a man of raw strength and a rock-solid foundation. She remembered the first night they’d kissed, when he spoke of the vows he would someday make to his wife. “They will be carved in stone to last for all time,” he had said.
The doorbell interrupted the quiet of the evening. When she opened the front door to see Patrick standing on her front porch, it felt like her dreams had magically brought him to her.
“Hello, Mrs. K.”
She beamed in reply. “Good evening, Patrick.”
“Can I come inside? I had an interesting conversation with Liam Malone today.”
The haze of infatuation vanished, and her hand tightened around the doorknob. In the past few weeks, she’d managed to consign the disquieting man to the back of her mind. Uncle Oscar’s detectives hadn’t finished their report on Liam Malone, but she had already decided his physical resemblance to her father was a mere coincidence.
She sat on the padded chair beside the fireplace while Patrick sat on the hearth, only inches away, cradling her hand as he spoke. She felt sick as he relayed the conversation he had with Liam Malone, who claimed there were rumors and unanswered questions about his early years that might point to the chance that he could be Willy Blackstone.
Her gaze strayed to the Hansel and Gretel painting in the dining nook. Liam Malone was so crass and aggressive. Boorish. Not at all like she expected her older brother to be.
But she had to know.
“I’m going to Pittsburgh with him to search for proof,” Patrick said. “It may take a few days, but if he’s your brother, I’ll find out.”
Her heart swelled in her chest. “You would really do that for me?”
“I would do anything in the world for you.”
The breath left her lungs in a rush. How long had it been since she could lean on a man she could implicitly trust?
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Patrick continued, without shame or embarrassment. “That means there’s no mountain I won’t climb. No wall I’m not willing to blast through on your behalf.”
A spark of pure joy burst to life. “Oh, Patrick . . . I feel the same. I know there may be a few stumbling blocks ahead for us—”
He stopped her with a kiss, then grinned at her. “You’re tiny enough for me to pick up and carry over them.”
She laughed in delight as he stood and lifted her from the chair, twirling her as effortlessly as though she were a loaf of bread. This was what she’d always wanted in a man. A protector. A man she could trust with her deepest secrets, her heart, her soul.
He set her on the ground, and she clung to him tightly. “God bless you, Patrick. You’re taking a piece of my heart with you to Pittsburgh, but I’ve never felt so safe trusting it to anyone before.”
He clasped her so tightly that she felt the pounding of his heart. He would come through for her. Finally, finally she had a man she could lean on.
18
When Gwen received a summons to join her family on Uncle Oscar’s yacht for a Sunday afternoon sail, she decided to decline. She wanted to spend that time with Patrick before he headed off for Pittsburgh. But when she called Oscar’s house to decline the invitation, she got her marching orders.
“I insist the entire family attend,” Oscar said. “We will be discussing bank business, and your presence is mandatory.”
Nothing in the world was more tedious than bank business, but Oscar was adamant, and since the college’s funding still teetered on the edge of destruction, Gwen dared not disobey.
The sun was shining as she arrived at the marina. Everything felt brighter this morning. She was young and in love. The sky was a cloudless blue. Patrick was going to Pittsburgh to find her an answer about Liam Malone, one way or the other.
Gwen climbed the steeply angled gangway to board the Black Rose, her uncle’s grand yacht that had a staff of eight deckhands, four stewards, two cooks, and a captain. The crew kept the teakwood deck polished to a high shine, and the brass fittings gleamed in the sunlight. Belowdecks were staterooms for eighteen people, a cardroom, a dining room, and a bowling alley.
Once aboard, Gwen surveyed the family already assembled on deck. A few of her cousins played shuffleboard on the rear deck, and Oscar’s wife sat in a deck chair like it was a throne. Poppy Blackstone was Oscar’s second wife and younger than Gwen. Having a male child was desperately important to her uncle. When his first wife died after thirty years of marriage, having given birth to only a single daughter, Oscar wasted no time seeking out a young and healthy bride. Rumor had it that before he married her, he ordered Poppy to visit a specialist to ensure she was capable of bearing children. Poppy had conceived seven months ago, and now she swanned around like she was carrying the child of Zeus, constantly cradling her expanding waistline.
Gwen took the seat beside her. “Do you know why we’ve all been summoned?” Aside from funding the college, she had no interest in bank business, and ordering the entire family to a meeting was odd.