Page 55 of The Vanished

Geneva hadn’t wanted Honor to see them. And she’d also realized that she didn’t care for Jesse to notice them walking off together. She owed him no explanation, but she preferred to keep her meeting with Rory to herself. Until she knew where things stood, it paid to keep her cards close to her chest. After all, Jesse wasn’t exactly showing his hand just yet.

“I’m sorry, Genny,” Rory said as soon as they were away from the house. “I had no right to lose my temper with ye. It’s just that I feel so helpless.”

“I don’t blame you, Rory,” Geneva said. “But I’m not in a position to make any decisions just now.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Rory stopped walking and faced her in the gloaming, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his flat cap.

“I’ve had some time to think, and there are things I need to say to ye, lass. I know I should have said them before, but perhaps I needed to be certain in my own heart that I meant them. I love ye, Genny, and I will do whatever it takes. And if me becoming a Protestant will make things easier for ye, then I’ll do it. It took me some time to arrive at that conclusion, but what I came to realize is that I’m a spiritual man, not a devout one, so the trappings of religion are not a sticking point for me.”

Geneva opened her mouth to say that she loved him too, but found that she wasn’t ready to make such a declaration, nor would she have offered to convert to make things easier for him. Maybe that was because she simply couldn’t see past the next few weeks, or maybe it was an indication of her feelings for him. They weren’t strong enough to overcome adversity.

“Rory, I need time,” she said. “I know I keep saying that, but I’m simply not in a position to make any important decisions at the moment. Give me until the new year.”

He nodded, but she sensed rather than saw his disappointment. He had hoped she’d give him something to hold on to.

“I have something for ye,” he said. “I rang my mam and had her send it from Dublin.”

Rory pulled a small box from his pocket, and Geneva’s heart sank. She wasn’t ready to wear his ring yet. She stared at the box, and after several tense moments Rory opened it at last. Inside was a filigreed silver band, with two tiny hands holding a crowned heart at the center. Geneva had never seen anything like it but thought it quite beautiful, if a little disconcerting. It reminded her of the Jesus figurines she’d seen where the heart was on the outside of the body. She knew it was meant to represent Jesus’s love for all mankind, but the blood-red heart frightened her, maybe because instead of Jesus what she saw was Jack, whose chest had been ripped open by an exploding shell, his heart laid bare as he died.

“This is a claddagh ring,” Rory said when the silence had stretched for too long. “It can be given as an engagement ring or a wedding band, but really it’s just a sign of commitment. It’s to show ye how much ye mean to me and how serious I am about a future with ye. Ye don’t need to put it on if ye’re not ready. But hold on to it, and when ye come to a decision, ye can either slip it on or give it back. Just know that ye have a choice, and maybe the knowledge will help ye to feel less adrift.”

Geneva’s eyes filled with tears. That was the nicest thing he could have said to her. Choices were what she craved most, and to know that he was giving her one made her understand just how deeply he cared for her.

“I will treasure it,” she said and slipped the box into her own pocket. “And I will wear it proudly when the time comes.”

Rory pulled her close and kissed her. And for the first time in days, she felt content rather than scared or weighed down by grief. They spent a few more minutes in the shadows, lost in a warm embrace, but then Geneva had to go. It was time to change for dinner, smile, and make small talk with the man who’d come to usurp her life.

Geneva was jolted from her thoughts when they reached the outskirts of Barrow-in-Furness. It was a grim industrial town, crowded with unsmiling, rough-looking people clad in worn, drab garments. The road was choked with motorcars, delivery wagons, and lorries, and the stench of grease, manure, and coal soot filled her nostrils. Unaccustomed to navigating such congested streets, she grew flustered, and slammed on the brake when a lorry pulled out in front of her. The car behind her clipped the rear bumper and forced the Austin 7 into the side of a parked dray wagon. As far as Geneva could tell, no real damage had been done, but the accident prompted a barrage of shouted insults from the vehicles behind her and the owner of the wagon, who insisted she’d crippled his horse—language so vile, it brought her to tears. Her hands trembled as she tried to right the motor.

“Pull over,” Jesse said quietly.

She did, and he slid into the driver’s seat once she had shifted over.

Jesse patted her gloved hand. “You could do with a gin fizz. What do you think, Honor?”

“I think I need one too. I’m quite overcome,” Honor replied and raised a limp hand theatrically to her forehand.

“Ladies, say no more.” Jesse guided the car down the crowded street with a mastery that managed to impress Geneva in her panicked state.

She shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed into the leather upholstery. It felt nice to have someone take charge, and she was suddenly sure that she would be just fine with Jesse at the wheel.

THIRTY-FOUR

Jesse was as good as his word and took care of everything. He located a decent hotel at the center of town and ushered them to the bar. It was a bit early in the day, but no one was going to raise an eyebrow if three people who were obviously willing to spend some money wanted a drink. Jesse ordered whisky for himself and gin fizzes for Geneva and Honor. He warned Honor to make hers last because she wasn’t getting another. Geneva barely tasted the first fizz, but by the second she was able to slow down and enjoy the drink. The alcohol made her a bit queasy, but it also took the edge off, and not just from the stress of this one day, and she began to relax. By the time she finished her second glass, she had adopted a devil-may-care attitude and was ready to set off on their mission.

After consulting the bartender, Jesse led them to a surprisingly well-stocked record shop. Geneva and Honor had never heard of most of the musicians he asked about, but Jesse insisted they were the last scream in modern jazz. If nothing else, Geneva found herself charmed by the song titles, and Honor dissolved into giggles when Jesse requested “Yes! We Have No Bananas.” The shop owner, sensing a substantial purchase, was more than happy to play the selections on his gramophone so Jesse could decide which records to buy. As the jaunty melodies filled the shop, Geneva felt her hips sway and her feet begin to tap. One tune—something called “The Charleston”—was particularly lively, and both Geneva and Honor found it catchy. Jesse added it to the growing stack of records. They left with “You’d Be Surprised,” “Barney Google,” “California, Here I Come,” “April Showers,” and “Swingin’ Down the Lane,” the records neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

After the record shop, they stopped at a department store. It was a drab place staffed by sullen shopgirls and offering an uninspired selection of merchandise, but a helpful floor manager led them to an out-of-the-way corner of the women’s department. There stood a single rack of party dresses that glittered with sequins, beads, and diamantés. The girls examined each frock before settling on a black beaded sheath for Geneva and a violet drop-waist dress for Honor, its surface shimmering with beads and its fringed hem lending it a lively swish.

Honor was in absolute heaven, and she had even unearthed a pair of beaded headbands, one adorned with a colorful peacock feather that she immediately claimed for herself. Jesse, ever the good sport, waited patiently while they tried on their selections. He then paid for the purchases without complaint, since Geneva didn’t have enough money on her to cover the cost and the Bellamys did not have an account with the shop.

“I will pay you back as soon as we get home,” Geneva promised, but Jesse shrugged good-naturedly.

“No rush. And if you skip out on the bill, I know where you live,” he teased. “Shall we find a place to eat?”