“What kind of game are you playing, Tallulah? I won’t be made a fool of.”
“You already are a fool, Neddie,” Mary said with devastating frankness, releasing Susan and confronting the ogre with unflinching courage. “She’s not going to marry you.”
“I’ll ruin your family. Your father will end up in jail....”
“If you have any sense at all you’ll come up with a believable excuse, if you don’t want to be the butt of jokes for the rest of your life,” Susan said, ripping the veil off her head and tossing it on the stone steps. The satin sleeves of her dress were too long, and she shoved them up to her elbows, ready to do battle. “And if you hurt my sister I’ll make you pay.”
“Oh, I’m terrified,” Neddie said with a smirk.
It was the last straw. She came up to him, eye to eye, poking him in the chest. “You should be, Neddie. I know things you couldn’t even begin to guess. I can see the future, and I have powers that would astonish you. And I have awful ways of taking revenge.”
“So you’re a witch, are you? It’s going to take more than that to convince me.”
“How about this?” The shoes were good for more than kicking Jack McGowan in the shins. They were also excellent for treading on the instep of unwanted fiancés. He let out a shriek of pain, she shoved him against the stone edifice, blew a kiss to Mary and took off, racing down the wide front steps, her wedding gown caught in her hands.
She didn’t bother with the door to Todd’s car, she simply leaped over the side. She didn’t waste time looking back to see whether Neddie was following her, she simply let out the clutch, ground the gears, and took off into the bright morning sunshine, tearing down the road.
It was after two o’clock by the time she reached New York. On the one hand traffic was astonishingly nonexistent—on a Saturday in 1949 there were no commuters, and the comparatively few vehicles on a Merritt Parkway that had obviously never heard of road rage.
On the other hand, the roads were narrow, windy, two-way and slow. And Todd’s car, for all its hotrod appeal, couldn’t make it much past fifty-five.
She had absolutely no idea what she’d find at 37th and 12th. It might not even be an address. She could only hope she’d find Jack What she’d say to him was another matter entirely, something she was leaving up to fate. She had taken it on faith that she needed to follow him. Somehow, sometime Susan Abbott had ceased to exist. She still remembered her own past, or was it the future. She still didn’t recognize or know Tallulah’s life.
But her heart and soul had become Lou. She was in love with Jack McGowan, and all she knew was she had to tell him.
He was meeting the mysterious Lizzie B. down by the docks. She should have realized that address would be on the Hudson River. She could see the ocean liners, the tramp steamers, the cargo ships lined up for what seemed like miles. She parked the car on the corner of 37th Street, scarcely wondering at the miracle of finding a parking spot in Manhattan with no trouble. She doubted life was idyllic enough to keep the roadster from being stolen, but that in itself might save her Cousin’s life. Maybe if Todd didn’t own a car, he wouldn’t go off that bridge and die.
She climbed out of the car, her long skirts in her hands, and started towards the corner. She had no purse, no identification, no money, no clothes but the satin wedding dress, which was hardly appropriate dockside apparel. She didn’t care. She had put herself in the hands of fate, willing to take chances. She was Lou now, and Lou was brave and adventurous. Careful Susan Abbott was long gone.
There was no sign of anyone. It was almost three-thirty, the time of the appointed meeting, and the only people she saw were the crew of the steamer busily getting ready for departure. She looked up at it for a moment, curious. It was big, sturdy, a little raffish. Just like Jack McGowan.
And then she looked at the name of the ship, knowing what she’d find. The Lizzie B.
No one stopped her as she made her way up the gangplank, though she garnered a few strange looks in her wedding finery. They were all too busy getting ready to leave. She finally collared a busy young sailor on the deck.
“I’m looking for Jack McGowan.”
He did a double take, then grinned. “I can show you his cabin, but I don’t know where he is at the moment. What did he do, leave you at the altar?”
“No one leaves me anywhere,” she said in a mock stern voice. “I’m his going-away present.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” the young man said. “And are you a surprise?”
“Mmm-hmm. If you see him before we sail, don’t tell him I’m here.”
“You got it.”
She followed him into the shadowy companionway, down two flights of metal stairs, her long skirts dragging. His cabin was small, with a porthole overlooking the river and a single narrow bunk. Room enough, she decided cheerfully.
“Good luck,” the young man said cheerfully. “I’m Cafferty, by the way. Second mate. I expect I’ll be seeing you on the trip.”
“Unless he decides to throw me overboard.” She kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bunk.
“I doubt it He just might not feel like leaving the cabin once he sees you. I know I wouldn’t.”
She grinned at him. He seemed very young and charmingly innocent. “You’re very sweet. Let’s just hope McGowan feels the same way.”
“He will.”
