“How else do I explain betraying her?” He shook his head again. “She knew she was defeated, so she took our family Bible—her most prized possession—and extended it to me, saying, ‘Dinna forget where you came from, son. Dinna forget your Maker.’ I took the Bible and didn’t look back, but stepped forward into a new life.”
Silence filled the cabin as his words settled into my heart.
“Have you been happy?” I asked.
“Nay. And her haunted eyes visit me in my nightmares almost every night. If I could go back and make a different choice, I wouldn’t hesitate. I would choose her, even if it meant living with my father.” His voice was heavy as he said, “At least then I would be a free man by now, and I wouldn’t have a lifetime of regret to mock my every move.”
I didn’t know if he would turn me away, but I didn’t care. I lifted my hand and placed it over his.
His breath stilled as he met my gaze.
“We can’t change our past,” I said, “but we can change our future.”
“I wish it were that simple.” He slowly removed his hand from mine and began to eat.
I wished it was, too.
The past I wanted to change was the one my mother had chosen—but to change the future, I needed to know why we had two lives. I was trying my hardest to get the answers, though I wasn’t any closer to Nassau.
10
JULY 3, 1927
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA
It had been a few days since I had learned the truth about Marcus’s childhood and we’d discovered our shared love of reading. Something had shifted between us. There were no pretenses, no hidden agendas, nothing hindering us from knowing each other. I felt vulnerable—yet I knew he did, too. I trusted Marcus with my past, and he had trusted me with his. Even though I was a captive in his cabin, I had never felt safer.
The only thing I truly feared was that someone might notice my growing feelings for him.
It had also been a few days since Ruth had discovered Alice was living in our home. Ruth refused to speak to me but had agreed to come to my father’s first live broadcast.
That Sunday evening, Father drove our family’s green Chevrolet touring car while Mother sat in the front and I was in the back. Though it was past six, the sun was still bright and hot, but Father insisted upon keeping the top of the car up, in case of rain.
Sweat dripped down my back, and I tried to fan myself.
I hadn’t admitted it to my parents, but I’d never been more nervous to sing. There would be a small audience at the studio,though that didn’t bother me. It was the possibility of thousands of others listening by radio that made me the most uncomfortable. I didn’t want to disappoint Father or his producers or anyone who tuned in to the show.
What I longed for was the quiet of our home—or the unexpected refuge of the little cabin on theOcean Cursewhere there were no expectations beyond my ability to serve Marcus and Captain Zale.
We took Lyndale Avenue to Hennepin and pulled up at the new Nicollet Hotel less than ten minutes after leaving our house. The redbrick building was massive and covered an entire city block. It was a plain structure, with most of the expenses reserved for the inside.
Father parked, and the three of us got out of the Chevy. I watched Father for signs of nervousness as I tried to still my own. I fidgeted with my dress and my hat, but my mother’s calm hand made me stop.
We entered the lavish lobby and were greeted by two representatives from the WCCO radio staff who escorted us up the elevator to the thirteenth floor. Everything about the hotel was fresh and new, and the radio station was modern and impressive.
“We’ll be in here this evening, Reverend Baldwin,” the station manager said as he led us down a hallway and through a door with a black-and-white sign above that saidOn Air, though it wasn’t lit up.
The room was probably twenty by twenty and had checkered tan and white tiles on the floor. Cream-colored soundproof panels lined the walls, and two large windows had heavy white drapes. About a dozen wooden chairs were lined up against one wall in two rows, and I was surprised to discover that both of my brothers had already arrived along with several other guests, including Ruth and Lewis.
Lewis caught my eye and winked at me, while Ruth wouldn’t look up from her clasped hands.
My brothers, Andrew and Thomas, both rose when we enteredthe room. They were younger versions of Father in their well-tailored suits, both tall and handsome with strong features, light-colored hair, and muscular frames. Thomas carried himself with the confidence of a police officer, while Andrew played the part of a banker—though Ruth told me that he had left his job at the bank a year ago to bootleg illegal alcohol from Canada, something my parents would be appalled to know. Father’s staunch support of Prohibition had been the catalyst to his international fame. It was Andrew’s need to do his work in secrecy that kept the public from learning the truth—but how long until he was caught by the feds? If and when that day came, Father’s reputation would be ruined along with Andrew’s.
“Boys,” Mother said, her face lighting up at the sight of her grown sons.
They each gave her a kiss on the cheek and shook Father’s hand, then they turned to me. I had missed them while in Europe and accepted their brotherly hugs, one at a time.
“Look at you,” Andrew said as he pulled back and shook his head. “Paris was good to you, Carrie. Put some color in your cheeks.”
