My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas Read online

  There was only one way to find out.

  Grasping the palm branch with both hands, she leaned forward as she prayed for a safe and preferably soft landing. Pushing off with knees that shook, Madeline closed her eyes and felt the ledge disappear from beneath her. So did her self-control as she cried out.

  A moment later, she collided with the trunk of the palm tree just beneath the crown of fronds. Hanging on tight, Madeline dug her fingers into the trunk and contemplated her next move.

  She was eye level with the second-floor windows, but as far as she could tell there was no one inside who might have seen her. Inching her way down the tree was an option, but Madeline’s fingers refused to cooperate when she ordered them to move.

  So she was stuck, arms shaking and her legs quaking. How long she could remain in this position was a mystery, as was what she could do to remedy the situation.

  She lifted her gaze to the swaying green fronds above her and the blue sky beyond. Lord, please send help was the only prayer she could think of at the moment.

  “Hello, Madeline.”

  Jonah Cahill’s voice was unmistakable. Madeline froze.

  “H–h–hello, Jonah,” she managed.

  “Come down, Madeline,” he said, his voice oddly patient.

  “Well, now,” she responded as calmly as she could as a bee began circling her nose. “That’s a bit of a problem.”

  “Just let go. I will catch you.”

  “No.” Her hand was cramping and the bee buzzed past her ear, but both were preferable to facing Jonah Cahill right now.

  The chain she wore around her neck had come lose from her bodice and now hung free, the key on the end of it blowing in the stiff breeze. “I can’t.”

  “You have to,” he insisted.

  “Just go away. Please?” Again the bee buzzed past, this time alighting on her nose. Madeline swiped at it, losing her grip.

  The world turned upside down and then righted again. The next thing she saw was Jonah Cahill’s face.

  “Again, hello, Madeline.”

  If she hadn’t been equally embarrassed and irritated that Jonah Cahill had not only witnessed her fall but also provided a safe landing for her, Madeline might have thanked him. Rather, she scrambled out of his arms and hurried to adjust her clothing and tuck her necklace back into her bodice.

  Her head still felt as if it were spinning, and her knees threatened to buckle. Though she took longer putting the pins back into her hair than necessary, she found Jonah still staring at her when she was done. “Truly, I am fine,” she said. “Please just go.”

  “Not until you explain how you got up in that tree,” Jonah demanded.

  Madeline straightened her spine and prepared to ignore him. One look into the Pinkerton agent’s eyes, and she changed her mind.

  “All right,” she said, “but can we go elsewhere to have this discussion?”

  He shook his head. “I cannot think of a single reason why I shouldn’t march you up to that front door and tell the owner of this home exactly what just happened.”

  Several responses occurred to her. Finally she shrugged. “You’re right. There are none.”

  Jonah shook his head. “So no arguments from the reporter?”

  “None,” she said, calling his bluff. “Let’s go. Of course, you would then have to explain why you were following me earlier. Perhaps my employer wouldn’t be so happy to hear me tell that story. You know, the one where you were seen hauling me out of the confectioner’s store and into the alley.”

  “And I doubt anyone at the Picayune would care,” Jonah said. “And I had valid questions that did not need to be overheard.”

  So Jonah thought the employer she mentioned was the newspaper? Then she would not correct him.

  “Just as I have now.” She nodded toward the kitchen window where Gretchen and the scullery maid were openly watching. “So how do you want to do this? Either we can go to the front door and you can have your say or we can find a place where the two of us can have an uninterrupted conversation that does not involve an alley or prying eyes and listening ears.”

  “Fine,” Jonah said. “Let’s go. I know just the place.”

  He led her across the street and past the spot where he’d been speaking with the stranger a few minutes ago. “Donovan,” he called as he stepped onto a path that led toward a gated garden.

  “Hey there, I wondered where you went,” a ginger-haired man called as he rounded the corner. “Oh, I see you’ve got company.”

  “Borrowing the rose garden for a minute,” Jonah told him. “Thought I better let you know.”

  “Hello, I’m…”

  Madeline let the remainder of her words go unsaid. Jonah knew her name, but if any of the locals got wind of the fact that she was calling herself something different to the mistress of the house, things wouldn’t turn out so well.

  Jonah opened the black iron gate and ushered her inside. Here the scent of roses was much stronger than in Madame’s parlor. Around the edges of the formally laid-out space were climbing roses that spiraled over the fence and wound through it. Bricks the same color as the home formed the path beneath their feet.

  “This is beautiful,” she whispered, unaware Jonah had heard her until he turned back and nodded.

  “Mrs. Brown has spared no expense,” he told her.

  “So I see.”

  Next came sweeping sections of rosebushes of different colors and sizes, some trailing on trellises and others situated around them. Here and there spaces had been left for benches made of the same black iron.

  Jonah guided her past a dolphin-shaped birdbath filled with water and dotted with multicolored rose petals toward the center of the garden. Madeline heard water splashing, and then they turned the corner.

  There in the center of the garden was the grandest fountain Madeline had ever seen in a private garden. The dolphin from the birdbath had been replicated here but on a much larger scale. Two other dolphins of similar size burst from the middle of the pool of water, each pointing in a different direction.

  Water rose up through the center of the fountain and caught the sunlight before splashing over the dolphins in a shower of rainbow-colored drops. The effect was breathtaking.

  Though Madeline knew she stood just a few yards away from one of Galveston’s busiest streets, she felt as though she had left the island entirely. As though there was no one else around for miles.

  Well, no one but her and the Pinkerton detective.

  That thought nearly ruined the moment, though she determined to ignore Jonah as long as possible. Finally, apparently tired of her gawking, he led her to a bench situated just out of the way of the splashing water and indicated that she should sit.

  “All right, Madeline,” Jonah said without joining her on the bench. “Before you say anything, I am going to talk. Then you may have your say.”

  “Jonah, truly you are being insufferable. I just—”

  “Not yet.”

  If he allowed himself, Jonah would have been seriously distracted by the image of Madeline Latour seated on that bench with roses all around her and sunlight illuminating her dark curls and angelic face. But he would not be distracted. Not by any of it.

  Though the woman seated before him was a beauty, she was also a nosy reporter who had caused him trouble in the past. Worse, she’d invaded his dreams ever since the day he saw her on the sidewalk in front of his grandfather’s house in New Orleans.

  The woman he almost married had become the woman he most wanted to avoid. And now here she was.

  “Madeline,” he said firmly. “You are possibly the most exasperating woman on this planet. I asked you to stop following me this morning, and this afternoon you fall out of a palm tree into my arms.”

  “To be fair,” she said, “I was not following you this morning, and I only landed in your arms because you insisted. And because the bee frightened me.”

  “The bee frightened you,” he echoed. “Of course. That explai
ns it.”

  “It is the truth.”

  “But what you haven’t explained is why you chose that particular tree to fall from. Either you were following me or you are working on a story.” Jonah paused. “Or both.”

  She rose to join him beside the fountain. “It might be neither.”

  Jonah stood his ground as he looked into her eyes. “I don’t believe you, Madeline.”

  “So I noticed.” Madeline leaned down to trace her fingers in the water. “And you know what?” She looked up at him. “I don’t blame you, given our history. So, I will admit I am working on a story. Beyond that, I do not owe you any explanation.”

  “But you do,” he said. “I owe an allegiance to the woman who lives in that home.”

  Madeline’s fingers stilled. “Why? And why are you here in Galveston? Are you investigating her too or just me and my family?”

  “I cannot say who or what I am investigating, except that I assure you it’s neither you nor your family. Have you considered that I might be visiting my family?”

  She gave him a look that told him exactly what she thought of that statement. “Someone is investigating.”

  “Someone from the Pinkertons?”

  Madeline nodded. “That is what my father was told.”

  Given the secretive nature of the company, Jonah wasn’t surprised that they were being investigated. Though he was never certain exactly what sort of business activities were conducted by Latour & Sons, he’d done his own investigation and found nothing untoward. For more than one hundred years, they helped those who could afford help, adhered to the laws of the land, and refused to betray any of the secrets they were charged with keeping.

  Jonah lowered himself to sit beside her on the ledge of the fountain. “I’m sorry, Madeline. I can tell you that is not my assignment.”

  “Thank you.” Madeline peered over at him with those beautiful brown eyes. “I could help with your investigation.”

  “Not if I cannot tell you what I am investigating.”

  “Then tell me about your family. How are Susanna and your mother?”

  Her question caught Jonah off guard. “You stay away from my family, understand?”

  “I mean no harm.” She paused. “Off the record, I promise.”

  “Nothing is ever off the record with you,” he said. “You’ve proved that.”

  “When are you going to accept my apology over the McRee case?”

  His temper sparked. “I accepted your apology a long time ago, Madeline.”

  She shook her head. “I never meant for any of that to happen. When I found out the judge blamed you that the witness was identified in the press, I—”

  “You got that witness’s name from me, so it was my fault for trusting you,” he said evenly. “That will not happen again. You don’t think of the consequences.”

  “That isn’t fair,” she said. “I do.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about what just happened. When you did whatever you did to end up in that palm tree, did you consider what might happen?”

  She looked away. “No,” she said softly.

  “That’s what I mean, Madeline. You are relentless when you’re working on a story, but you do not stop to think what you’re doing to other people in the process.”

  When she did not respond, Jonah continued. “Tell me what your connection is to Mrs. Smith.”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “You won’t,” he countered.

  She stood abruptly. “I’m not going to argue with you. For once I am thinking of the consequences. Goodbye, Jonah.”

  “Madeline, one question before you go?”

  “And what is that?” she asked as she barely paused.

  “When did you arrive on the island?”

  She shook her head. “Why?”

  “Humor me,” he responded as casually as he could manage.

  “It will be one week ago tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” he said as he decided she would be added to the list of people with a reason and the opportunity to dig holes on Cahill property.

  From the moment she discovered his family home was built on the ashes of the old Lafitte residence, Madeline had professed a curiosity about the pirate. She’d worked through elaborate theories by which the man hadn’t died young but rather lived to a ripe old age. Jonah had been supportive of her claims but never thought much would come of her investigations into the facts.

  He watched Madeline make her exit, her back straight and her pace brisk. Under other circumstances, a woman with her combination of beauty and intelligence would have caught his attention and made him want to spend more time getting to know her.

  But this was Madeline Latour. She had long ago caught his attention and had not yet let it go.

  Madeline picked up her pace as the iron gate slammed shut behind her. When she reached the sidewalk, she found Jonah’s friend there.

  “Leaving so soon?” he asked. “I’m Detective Donovan.”

  “Another Pinkerton?” she said with a sigh.

  “Guilty.” He offered a smile. “I tried not to listen, but I could tell you weren’t happy with my colleague. Cahill is good at what he does, but he can be a little rough around the edges. I hope you’ll accept my apology on his behalf.”

  “I hope he doesn’t hear you saying that,” she said. “I doubt Jonah would agree.”

  “That he’s rough around the edges?” he said as he leaned against the fence.

  “No, that an apology is deserved.”

  Madeline offered a smile and a wave and then hurried down the street. At the corner she turned, daring to look back to see if Jonah was following. He wasn’t, although he had once again stopped beside Detective Donovan in front of the Brown home.

  Madeline turned down the alley and quickly found the back gate to Madame’s rented property. Casting a quick glance at the palm tree, she cringed and then hurried inside. Gretchen was waiting for her in the kitchen.

  “Madame has asked for you more than once. Where did you go?” she demanded.

  “You closed the window, Gretchen,” she said. “How did you expect me to get back inside?”

  The maid gave her a half grin. “It must have slipped,” she said.

  “Of course,” Madeline said with a heavy measure of sarcasm. “Please let Madame know I will be waiting for her in the parlor.”

  “She’s already there,” Gretchen said as she turned and walked away.

  Madeline hurried up the back steps to her room and retrieved her writing materials and then pulled the topmost journal off the stack. A few minutes later, she stood outside the parlor door.

  “Do come in, child,” Madame said sweetly.

  Pasting on a smile, Madeline stepped inside. She found Madame Smith seated in her favorite chair beside the window that faced Broadway Avenue. Her hair had been freshly coiled into an iron-gray bun on the back of her head, and she was dressed in an afternoon gown of pale green.

  Once again, Madeline was struck by the older woman’s beauty. It was easy to see how she had once been the toast of New Orleans. Easier still to understand why the enigmatic pirate Lafitte would fall in love with her.

  If only Madeline could find evidence of that love. She was determined to investigate further, and yet she knew Madame would reveal her secrets in her own way, in her own time.

  A fresh bouquet of pink roses sat on the table beside her. Madeline focused on them instead of her employer as she took a seat. With care, she laid out the tools of her work: first the notebook and then the ink and pen.

  “Gretchen said you wished to see me, Madame?”

  The older woman regarded her impassively. Slowly a smile arose. “She also said you had returned, but that was some twenty minutes or more ago.”

  “Yes, I had returned, but I had to go out again,” Madeline said. “I’m terribly sorry for causing you to wait. What is it you need? Perhaps another story recorded for the journals?”

  “Where did you go, Miss Winst
on?”

  “Go?” Madeline said, stalling for time. “Well, I went out to have a quick meeting with a friend.”

  “I see.” She studied her bejeweled hand and then returned her attention to Madeline. “I did not realize you had friends in Galveston.”

  “Nor did I, but I saw my friend this morning while I was shopping. Apparently, my friend is in Galveston on business.”

  Madeline hated being so evasive. Her employer did not deserve half truths, and yet there was no reason for her to be concerned. Unlike the charge the Pinkerton made about her, Madeline was indeed thinking of the consequences of her actions this time.

  Madame’s eyes were bright, and her expression appeared curious. “Was your meeting successful, then?”

  “I am not sure,” she said. “I hope so, but one never knows.”

  “That is true,” she said. “But the setting for the meeting must have been lovely.”

  Madeline frowned. “It was. How did you know?”

  She motioned for Madeline to approach and then reached over to pluck something from her hair. “This was my clue,” she said as she held out a deep red rose petal. “And since the only place in the city where this type of red rose is blooming right now is in my neighbor Mrs. Brown’s garden, I must assume you found the setting quite pleasing.”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “It was truly magical.”

  “As I recall, it is,” she said. “So please be seated again. I’ve a bit of my own business to discuss with you.”

  “Of course,” she said as she complied.

  “Do you recall that I told you I had hired some assistance in our hunt?” At Madeline’s nod, she continued. “I’ve had a preliminary discussion with my expert today. He has requested to view the journals we have been working on.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Of course. May I ask what he thinks he will find in the journals?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Madame said. “He did not tell me other than to say that perhaps there is some insight to be gained in them. Thus, if you could please make them ready for him to view tomorrow. I told him to call here after ten.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Would you like to add anything to them today?”