Chapter Twelve
Martin could barely contain his excitement as the miles of pines, mangroves, and coastline passed before his eyes as the train chugged toward Miami. The railcar was moving at a reasonable clip, but to him, it was as if it was standing still.
In less than an hour they’d arrive at the Florida East Coast Railway depot, and from there, he was going to head straight to the Regal Sol to see if Josephine was at work. If she wasn’t, he’d go to the cottages next in the hope that they would have time to talk and sort out the issues between them.
Then he’d have to head over to the local Pinkerton office so that he and Nita could brief their superior on the information they’d been able to gather in Palm Beach. Unfortunately, despite some promising leads, the trail of Sin Sombra had disappeared into the shadows much like the man himself. He was hoping that they could find the trail again once they returned to Miami since rumor had it that a huge shipment of illegal liquor would soon be arriving from Cuba.
“Do you think there’s some truth to that rumor about the contraband coming in?” Nita asked as she flipped through the small leather journal where she kept her notes on the case.
Martin shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s the only semi-credible lead we’ve got. Plus, it fits the pattern of what we’ve seen Sin Sombra do in the past.”
Nita arched a manicured brow. “So we hit the ground running once we get to Miami?”
He hesitated. That hadn’t been his game plan. In the last several weeks, he and Nita had spent a lot of time together on the case, and he knew she wanted more of his time and attention of a personal nature despite his telling her he had no interest.
Looking away, almost shamefaced, he said, “I need a little personal time before heading to the office.”
Nita pursed her lips, obviously discomfited. “Josephine?”
“I just need a few hours, that’s all,” he said.
Nita nodded. “Whatever you need, Martin. I mean that. Whatever you need.”
As he met her gaze, the meaning beneath the words was abundantly clear, only Martin had no interest in anyone but Josephine. Even though some might think him a fool for wanting her back, she made him feel things that no one else did. In Josephine, he had a true friend as well as someone who challenged him intellectually. As for physically…well, for two years he’d imagined what it would be like to be with her. The pleasure to be had from the feel of her creamy skin and lush curves against him. From the taste of her lips and the way her dark brown eyes melted like chocolate in the Miami sun with desire.
As upset as he was that another man had experienced that pleasure first, and that a child had been the result, he was man enough to forgive that. Man enough to raise another man’s child as his and hopefully create more of his own.
The woo-woo of the train horn sounding their arrival pulled him from his thoughts and made his heart beat more rapidly with anticipation. As the train stopped, he rose, grabbed his valise and Nita’s, and helped her down the steps and onto the train platform. They walked through the waiting room and breezeway out to where a number of carriages were waiting for patrons.
Luckily they had little time to wait before a carriage freed up and they were on their way to the Regal Sol…and Josephine.
True love is alive once again! But Josephine has just had quite a shock. Can she handle Martin’s arrival at such a delicate moment?
Josephine stared at her mother as if seeing her for the first time.
Ronaldo stared at Josephine, seeing his daughter for the first time.
Zara stared at Ronaldo, thinking he didn’t look all that different from the first time she’d seen him.
“Y-y-ou t-t-old me he was a soldier,” Josephine said after a long, uncomfortable moment.
Ronaldo seemed startled at first, but then he threw back his shoulders and puffed up his chest. “Not just a soldier. I was playing a general, if I recall.”
Shock at his prideful statement rendered Josephine silent, giving Ronaldo time to continue. Hands held out before him in pleading, he faced Zara and said, “Why didn’t you tell me that you were with child? That I had such a lovely daughter?”
Tears shimmered in Zara’s eyes, but she managed to hold them back. “I didn’t realize I was pregnant until you’d left, and then I didn’t know how to find you.”
Ronaldo held his hands wide in disbelief. “I am everywhere, mi amor.”
“Which is why I could not track you down, Ronaldo,” Zara insisted. “You would be one place one day and another the next.”
But her mother had known for weeks he would be coming to the Regal Sol, Josephine thought, surprise at the revelation being replaced by anger. But before she could lash out, Ronaldo reached out and cupped her mother’s cheek tenderly.
“I am here now, Zara. And I never stopped wondering where you were. Never stopped thinking about you and how it was between us.”
“I’m so sorry, Ronaldo,” Zara said as the tears finally slipped down her cheeks. Her mother faced her and said, “I’m so, so sorry, Josephine. I never meant to lie to you.”
But she had. Josephine couldn’t stand there another minute.
“I can’t…I-I have to go,” she said and raced off, leaving the two lovers to finish their reunion.
Martin hopped out of the carriage in front of the Regal Sol and sent Nita on to the Miami Pinkerton office.
He hurried to the concierge desk, but her supervisor told him Josephine had been given responsibility for making sure the hotel’s entertainment was in order that night. Thanking the man, Martin charged along the path to the rotunda, but the show had already concluded. He snuck into the wings off the stage and caught a glimpse of Zara and Alberta with one of the stage performers, but no sign of Josephine.
Hoping that she’d headed home, he raced back onto the path and nearly sprinted to the Valencia cottage. There was a light on inside, and his heart stopped for a beat as he imagined Josephine there, just beyond the wood of the door and glass of the windows.
His hand was almost trembling as he raised it and knocked on the door. A second later, it jerked open and the sharpness of the movement sent flakes of white paint drifting down again.
A good sign, he thought, and then a second later, she was flying through the door and into his arms.
More snow! It’s another miracle! True love will always win out, my friends.
Josephine held on to Martin tightly, almost unable to believe that he was finally there. The tears of sadness and frustration she had shed on the way home from the Regal Sol were now replaced with tears of joy.
“I am so glad you are home,” she said and kissed the side of his face.
“I am glad to be home, my darling.” He cradled her cheeks and wiped away the trail of tears. “You’ve been crying.”
“Happy tears now that you’re here,” she said, taking hold of his hand and urging him into the cottage.
“Did something happen? Did that cad hurt you?” he said, his growing anger visible on the tight lines of his handsome face.
“No, Rake didn’t do anything. It was my mother who upset me. And my father,” she explained and guided him to a chair at the kitchen table. Needing something to do, she set about preparing tea while she told him what had happened just a short time earlier.
Martin had been silent, but as she placed a cup of tea before him, he said, “Maybe she just wanted to protect you.”
Josephine slammed her cup on the table a little more forcefully, causing it to rattle and the tea to spill. “Maybe I don’t need protecting.”
Martin laid a gentle hand over hers. “I know you don’t. If I’ve been overprotective, it wasn’t to smother you, Josephine. It’s because you’re so important to me.”
“You’re important to me too, Martin, but we need to allow people to grow, and if they make a mistake—” She stopped short, aware she was heading onto dangerous ground.
Martin squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We all make mistakes. I erred in trying to keep you from what was happening with the investigation. There were things I could have shared with you without compromising my obligations.”
Josephine smiled and twined her fingers with his. “I made a big mistake, Martin. I let misguided anger drive me into doing something…irresponsible, and I hurt you. I hope you can forgive me for that.”
A full-lipped smile erupted on Martin’s face. He brought her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss on it. “I can, Josephine. And I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive your mother. She loves you so, and I’m sure she never meant to hurt you.”
She thought of her mother and Ronaldo staring at each other. Seeing each other after more than twenty years apart. What could they have been feeling, and how hard might it have been?
As hard as it was right now to have Martin here after so long. Caring, patient—yes, always patient—and kind Martin, willing to forgive her, to give her another chance.
She wanted that so badly, but she also needed to be honest with her fiancé. She took his hand into both of hers and held it tightly. “I know my mother didn’t mean to hurt me, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I hope you can believe that.”
With a quirk of his lips and dip of his head, he said, “I want to believe it, Josephine. I truly do. It hasn’t been easy to forget what happened, and I know we have to rebuild the trust that we once had.”
She did know, which was why she had to tell him everything that was in her heart. “In the weeks you’ve been gone, I’ve felt so alone. You were always there for me.”
“And I’m here for you now, Josephine. If there’s anything you want to tell me…”
“I need you to know that since that night, I haven’t been unfaithful to you, Martin. But Rake and I have come to know each other well. He’s become a close friend, and we have spent some time together. I had to tell you that. I want you to trust me again.”
He frowned at the mention of Rake, but then simply said, “I want that also, Josephine. So tell me how you are. How are your classes?”
She smiled that he had remembered, but was also sad at the same time. “Getting a job as a tutor may be hard right now. But I’ve been writing.”
“In your journal?” He smiled. “You must have dozens of them filled by now.”
“Well, yes, but”—she took a deep breath before continuing—“stories too. Romantic ones like—”
He grinned and said excitedly, “I suppose just like Miss Austen. I know she is a favorite of yours.”
“Yes, just like Miss Austen’s,” she replied and waited expectantly, unsure of what Martin would think about her spending her time so frivolously. He was such a hard worker, and his job was so important and serious.
“It’s not an easy thing to write a novel, I imagine,” he said, and there was no doubting that his interest was real.
“No, it’s not easy. It’s taken me a lot of hard work,” she admitted.
He smiled and nodded. “Well then, it is truly wonderful that you’ve accomplished that, Josephine.”
“Really?” her heart soared, confidence imbuing her at his encouraging words. “Because I—I think I’d like to be a writer.”
“Well, I’d say you already are.”
She breathed a sigh of relief at his support and said, “I just finished a novel and sent it off to some publishers up North.”
“I am so happy for you, my darling, but why didn’t you tell me before? I hope you know you can confide in me about anything, don’t you?”
“I guess I was worried that you would say I was setting my hopes too high. That I wasn’t being practical; I was just dreaming.”
He shook his head and reached out to caress her face. “That’s one of the things I love the most about you.” Martin leaned in and touched his lips to hers, and the minutes fell away as they kissed.
When they finally broke apart, Martin asked, “How are you feeling? How has it been at work for you?” And for the next hour or so, they chatted about all that had happened in the many weeks since Martin had left for Palm Beach. As the time wore on, the lantern that Josephine had set on the kitchen table grew slowly lower, warning them that it was time for Martin to go.
“I’ll be by tomorrow, my darling,” he said as they stood together at the door.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” she said, rising on tiptoes to kiss him.
And as she did so, the light in the lantern sputtered and blew out for a moment before jumping to life again, brighter and stronger than before. Highlighting the flakes of peeling paint drifting down around them in the warm glow of the light.
They broke apart, and Josephine noted the big white flakes on Martin’s shoulders. She brushed them away, smiling, as Martin reached up and plucked a fat flake from her hair.
Martin peered up toward the source of the paint flecks. “We really need to fix that ceiling.”
Josephine chuckled. “Not ever.”
Aw, the lovebirds have found their way back to one another at long last! Sniff, sniff. This was truly the most romantic night ever, and maybe, just maybe, the path of true love was finally a smooth one.