Chapter 21 #2
At the sight of her, a warm smile lit up his face. “Ach, here she is, my Zaira. We just received news that you and Bellamy got trapped at the bank while trying to stop bank robbers.”
She smiled wearily in return. “We hoped to prevent the robbery but were unsuccessful.”
He reined in beside her, hopped down, and scanned her, his brow furrowing, likely because of all of Bellamy’s blood. “Are you hurt?”
“No, but Bellamy was shot in the shoulder.”
The other men were halting and dismounting now too, listening to their conversation as she recounted the details of the previous night and then the encounter with Mr. Wright this morning.
“The doctor says Bellamy will recover just fine,” she said as she finished her tale.
Some of the worry eased from Da’s face. “We’ve been looking for you for hours.”
Her heart gave an extra thud at the prospect that she’d caused him the trouble. “I’m sorry, Da. I didn’t mean for all this to happen.”
“Since you’re sorry, lass, you know what to do.” He turned his cheek toward her and pointed at it.
She lifted up onto her toes and planted a kiss there. Then she smiled at him again, and he tweaked her nose, as he usually did. But this time, he didn’t smile in return. Instead, his eyes seemed sadder, burdened, and she’d been the cause of it.
Kiernan had exited the bank after them and now stepped beside her with his arm around Alannah’s back. He shared a look with Da, then spoke in a low tone so none of the other men could hear. “After she spent the night with him locked in a storage room, we’ll need to move up the wedding.”
“Oh aye,” Da said solemnly and in a hushed voice. “That we will. Right away, as soon as Bellamy is able.”
Dismay settled inside Zaira as Kiernan and Da continued to converse in whispers about this newest development between her and Bellamy.
The issue was that Bellamy didn’t want to marry her at all and would be even less inclined to marry her early. The whole situation was bound to cause everyone only more distress.
Guilt pricked her. Kiernan knew about her pretend relationship with Bellamy, so he would understand Bellamy’s objection to a hurried wedding, but her da would be surprised when Bellamy protested.
What if Bellamy decided to go through with marrying her because he felt obligated to preserve her reputation? As a man of honor and integrity, he wouldn’t want her to suffer and would sacrifice his own desires to do the right thing by her.
The truth was, she didn’t want Bellamy to marry her because he had to but only if he wanted her. However, he’d already made it clear she wasn’t the woman for him. That meant she couldn’t marry him, not when he would always regret their imperfect relationship.
But what could she do to get out of marrying Bellamy, especially without earning more of her da’s disappointment? Was there anything at all? Could she come up with a believable excuse?
Bellamy’s words from earlier lingered at the back of her mind. He’d told her that one of the qualities she was missing was honesty, and he was right. Somehow she’d turned into a downright deceptive person.
She hadn’t always been so dishonest. So why had lying become the first thing she considered doing whenever she was faced with a dilemma?
Was it because she cared more about what people thought of her and pleasing them than doing what was right and pleasing God?
“Miss Shanahan,” said a man breaking free from the others. It was Mr. Knapp, the owner of the Daily Republican. Had he been a part of the search parties too, or had he gathered with the men while on his way to work because he’d been curious about what was going on?
With spectacles perched on his nose, he approached with a kindly smile. “Kiernan found the manuscript in your saddlebag last night. I told him you were probably on your way to deliver it to me when you were delayed.” Mr. Knapp held it up and gave it a loving pat.
Da’s gaze shuffled back and forth between her and Mr. Knapp. “I’m still confused about this manuscript. Mr. Knapp told us that a K. S. Flanders is writing a weekly column for the newspaper but that you deliver the segments for the fellow.”
Zaira stared at the bundle of paper wrapped up in twine with Mr. Knapp’s name boldly on the cover page. She was glad Mr. Knapp had it and hopefully still had time to print it for this week’s episode. But how could she possibly explain all this to Da?
Should she make up a story about how she was friends with K. S. Flanders?
The trouble was, her da knew most important people in St. Louis. If he investigated the matter further, he would discover Mr. Flanders didn’t exist. Should she tell him Mr. Flanders lived in another town? That he wanted his true identity to remain a secret?
It’s not too late to work at being honest. Those were the words she’d told Bellamy earlier.
She’d just lectured him about how imperfect couples had to work on fixing things, but had she ever considered that she needed to fix herself first?
That perhaps she was overdue in repenting for using dishonesty?
Zaira expelled a tight breath. Being truthful was the right path, even if it was harder. She knew that from all the lessons she’d been taught over the years from her parents and from the nuns at school.
But was she ready to face the disappointment from her da and mam? She’d tried to avoid it for so long, but maybe she had to finally stop trying to make them happy with her choices, stop living in fear of their disapproval, and stop worrying about embarrassing her family.
Instead, she had to accept herself and who she really was. Maybe if she did that, her parents would eventually learn to accept her for who she really was too.
Could she do this? Could she be honest about her secret writing life? But what other choice did she have except for making up even more elaborate lies and causing the situation to be even worse?
She met Alannah’s gaze.
The dear woman’s eyes were filled with compassion, and she reached over and took Zaira’s hand in hers and squeezed it.
Alannah had kept the writing a secret, clearly hadn’t even told Kiernan—although from the way he was studying her, he was likely figuring it out.
Even now, something in Alannah’s expression conveyed that the secret was still safe, that she wouldn’t be the one to expose it.
“Da, Mr. Knapp.” Zaira’s throat grew suddenly tight. “I have something to tell you.”
Mr. Knapp’s eyes were kind behind his spectacles. Did he already suspect the truth?
Da’s brows, on the other hand, only furrowed more deeply.
“You should know.” Zaira cleared her throat. “I am K. S. Flanders.”
Everyone and everything seemed to go as silent as if she’d just shouted the news from the rooftop. Both Da and Kiernan stared at her with unblinking eyes. Mr. Knapp glanced between her da and her, perhaps waiting to see what Da’s reaction would be before making a comment.
She’d finally done it. She’d brought more scandal to the Shanahan name than all her other siblings combined. Everything within her wanted to shrivel up and disappear into the gravel of the alley.
Alannah, still holding her hand, pressed it gently. Her pretty features were tight with earnestness, encouraging her to say everything that needed to be said.
Zaira swallowed the fear threatening to suffocate her. She’d started down this difficult path of telling the truth, and she couldn’t stop now. She could only hope and pray that Da and Kiernan would be as understanding as Alannah, even as understanding as Bellamy.
She straightened her shoulders, then pushed forward with the rest of what she needed to say. “I’ve been writing and publishing weekly stories with the Daily Republican under a pseudonym: K. S. Flanders.”
Again, no one spoke. But the growing disappointment on Da’s face was easy to read.
She turned to Mr. Knapp. “I’m sorry for not being honest with you about my real identity.”
He just offered a small smile. “I have worked with other authors who’ve done the same.”
“Thank you.” She faced her da and brother. “I’m sorry—”
“Not now, Zaira.” Kiernan looked around at all the other men who were watching their family drama unfold. “We’ll discuss the matter later when we’re home.”
Da extended a hand toward Mr. Knapp. “I’ll take the manuscript.”
Mr. Knapp’s eyes seemed to ask what she wanted him to do.
She wished she could blurt out that her da couldn’t stop her, that she was old enough to make her own decisions. As much as she longed to be bolder and not worry about Da’s reaction, she couldn’t make herself protest.
Da reached for the manuscript and practically wrenched it from Mr. Knapp’s hands. Then he walked to the rubbish container beside the rear bank door, tossed the bundle of papers inside, and glared at her. “You’ll have some explaining to do, lass.”
She could only stare at the container. She’d suspected Da would be displeased with her unladylike pursuit and her sneaking around. But she hadn’t expected he would disregard her writing that rapidly and with such finality. Were all her dreams and hopes and plans just garbage to him?
A pulse of anger shot through her. If he could toss away something this important to her, then why had she cared about pleasing him for so long? Why not just walk over, pull out the manuscript, and hand it right back to Mr. Knapp?
Her fingers twitched with the desire to do so.
The rear door of the bank swung open, and one of the bank workers poked his head out and glanced around until he spotted her. “Miss Shanahan, Bellamy has regained consciousness, and he’s asking for you.”
The interruption was the perfect timing to avoid saying anything else to her da, especially something she might regret later.
She didn’t waste another moment and made her way toward the rear entrance. Even if Bellamy didn’t want her for a wife, he was still asking for her. That had to count for something, didn’t it?