Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Zachary walked along the rows of men rebuilding his engines. With the money he’d found, and with Maguire’s protection, his company had a glimmer of hope. His dream, barring no other catastrophe was plausible.
He thought of when Elizabeth had laid in his arms, nestling her head next to him, and then stroking his neck.
A spike of heat hit him low in the gut. He tried not to think of her perfect breasts, and a waist so slender he could span his hands around it and then smooth his hands downward to caress her rounded hips.
His pulse leaped, and he shifted to hide his physical reaction. He gazed down the long rows of machinery that swelled and elongated. He cursed. How she had the power to stir him. She was what every man dreamed of, a vision of incomparable beauty. How could he eradicate the need he had for her?
Fool. And he could bag Saturn and throw the fiery ball into the next universe.
No. He was not worthy of the ground she stood on. Despite him having the potential to be a very rich man, that day was a long way off. Years would elapse before he could provide for her in the way she was accustomed.
His nostrils flared. No way would he tolerate her married off to a dandified aristocrat like the sugar baron or some callous industrialist that would never give her love.
He needed to confront his demons, and let the past go.
But there were contradictions and paradoxes.
To try to let go was to hold more tightly.
The hunger he wished to uproot went so deeply to the center of him that it seemed to be him.
Unseen, Zachary halted behind a machine unable to move forward without revealing his presence. Chen, the confirmed bachelor, and Anhe were having a private moment. Never had Zachary seen Chen so poetically poleaxed about a woman.
Chen bowed to Anhe, presenting her with a bouquet of chrysanthemums. “They are a symbol of longevity and happy life,” he said.
Anhe lowered her eyes.
“Your servant.” Chen gave a bow, straightened. “What I want to say…” he hesitated, swallowed, and barely able to speak, said, “is that you are the light I encounter when I first open my eyes in the morning.”
Ever since the monk, now ex-monk, had been escorting Anhe to the sly matchmaker, Mrs. Merriweather, Chen had been in Anhe’s constant attendance.
Zachary had heard from a joyous Mrs. Li that Chen, per Chinese tradition, had proposed via a submitted letter to Mr. Li.
There was also the circumstance of researching birthdates, cities they were born to determine the numbers that declared the pair a perfect match.
A Chinese astrologist had been employed to foretell the perfect nuptial date to ensure a lifetime of happiness, success and prosperity.
Chen absolved the Li’s of Anhe’s required dowry for it would be a hardship for their family. Mr. Li had happily given his blessing.
Chen bowed deeply in front of the Lis and presented another gift. This act, Zachary assumed, was another Chinese tradition for he had seen it occur daily over the past week.
Zachary cleared his throat to let them know of his presence as he strolled past. Chen joined him.
“When were you going to announce the happy occasion?”
“Pardon?”
Chen often used confusion when embarrassed. Zachary moved to the middle of the plant. “If I had a dollar for every clever thing you’ve said, I’d be rich. Out with it.”
“In two months.”
“I see the Lis are very happy.”
“In all humility, why would they not?”
Laughing, Zachary clapped him on the back. “In all humility? What a departure. Congratulations.”
Zachary spied O’Reilly sporting a battered derby, shirtsleeves and a vest with enough pockets for a ferry token, keys, fob watch, and everything else imaginable.
His prized engineer staggered, hit the wall, and then collapsed.
Never had he seen the Irishman in such a state. Whiskey fumes spiraled the air.
Zachary crossed his arms observing the pathetic mess of his chief engineer. “What machinery have you bungled during your intoxicated sojourn?”
O’Reilly waved a feeble hand. “The asperity in your voice could file an iron beam.”
“You are drunker than a skunk.”
“No, sir. It’s the Irish flu.” He slumped, lying flat on the floor, his nose the color of burgundy, his eyes open to a skylight.
“What do you think, Chen?”
“Just like a table with three legs. No balance.”
Zachary crouched down. “What’s going on with you, O’Reilly?”
“With me? In heaven there is no beer; that’s why we Irish drink ours here.” He hiccuped. “Drink is the curse of the land. It makes you fight with your neighbor. It makes you shoot at your landlord, and it makes you miss him.”
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with a landlord since you are living with the Fitzgeralds.”
“I’m Irish and Catholic,” he wailed. “My picture is in the dictionary next to the word guilt.”
Zachary pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why the guilt?”
Scrubbing his hands over his face, O’Reilly said, “Fiona and I had a fight. A bad one. She doesn’t want to see me ever again.”
Zachary let out a loud breath. He couldn’t blame the Irishman. Wasn’t he in the same turmoil as O’Reilly? “I doubt that. She’s in love with you.”
“She’s out of love with me. It is only a matter of time before that Mick of a brother of hers comes to kill me, and I’ll welcome it.”
“Her Mick of a brother is standing over you now.”
O’Reilly looked up to where Maguire’s gigantic figure shadowed him. O’Reilly crossed himself. “Make it quick, for I cannot live without Fiona.”
“Why in the devil am I getting involved with this?” said Maguire between gritted teeth. “Get up like a man.”
Zachary rose and, with Chen, created a protective barrier between Maguire and O’Reilly. “We want no trouble,” said Zachary.
“The devil there’s trouble. I come home and find my sister crying.
I’ll kill the bastard and punish him for every tear.
Then she attacked me! Can you imagine? My sister pounced on me.
My ears are bleeding from her shouts. So now, I’ve come to fetch the brute because Fiona told me it was all her fault.
” He pushed through Zachary, picked up O’Reilly and threw the big man over his shoulder like he was thistledown.
“Phew! You smell like Dewey’s Bar at the waterfront before they clean out the latrines. ”
“Fiona? She wants to keep me? I feel a fluttering in my belly.”
Maguire started shouting. “I don’t understand women. Personally, I think Fiona is thick as two short planks, but she’s my sister, and I’ll move heaven and earth for anything she wants.”
“Bless you,” said O’Reilly. “May the Lord keep you in His hand and never close His fist…too tight.”
“I should kill you, instead, for all the bother,” said Maguire.
O’Reilly vomited down the thug’s back. “I guess that was the fluttering in my stomach.”
“Christ Almighty,” swore Maguire.
“What if Fiona heard you say the Lord’s name in vain? May you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent.”
“And now you’re giving me penances?” Maguire cocked his head, dropping his shoulder and allowing O’Reilly to slip a bit.
“Careful, Lad. I’m going to be the father of a dozen of your nieces and nephews. Think of an army of O’Reilly’s crawling over your lap.”
Maguire dropped him.
O’Reilly rubbed his head. “What did you do that for?”
“You better be offering for her hand in marriage first.”
“I was getting to that, you dolt. I’m asking for your blessing.”
Maguire picked him up again. “Argh! What I do for my sister.”
“So does that mean you accept me as your ever-loving brother-in-law?” asked O’Reilly.
Maguire grunted.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” O’Reilly cranked his face upwards to Zach and Chen, his eyes thoughtful, giving a hint of becoming poetic for the Irish are disposed to prose.
“She’s an angel with wings. Her kindness and peace are the soft flowering of the soul, and strength of character to remain ever in bloom. ”
Maguire did a double take over his shoulder. “Are we talking about the same person?”
“Oh, there are times when she has a bit of a temper, but I love her for it.”
“You’re both crazy. Perhaps this match will take her temper off me.”
Zach chuckled and, to his astonishment, the grim-faced Chen cracked a smile.
Maguire may be the dreaded Irishman, striking fear in the hearts of policeman, politicians, and the populace of New York…
he was also Fiona’s younger brother. According to Elizabeth, he did not hold a candle to his sister’s temper.
On occasion, and when inspired, Fiona who had raised the family when their parents died, lambasted him with her tongue, cutting him to shreds.