Chapter 19
Brooklyn, January, 1903
"Can I come with you tonight?"
Julia's thin eyebrows raised in question as they reflected back to Kate from the small vanity mirror she sat in front of. Their eyes met in the reflection momentarily, Julia's gaze probing while Kate uncomfortably shifted on the bed behind her, eventually lowering her stare to her hands in her lap.
"You don't already have plans?" Julia asked carefully.
Kate distractedly stared at the back of Julia's head, watching her friend continue to pin each section of beautiful blonde hair into place with a precision and ease that had never come naturally to the younger, wild-haired girl. Perfecting her appearance was not something Kate had ever really felt a necessary skill to spend time honing. She rarely wore makeup, and the only thing she ever managed to do with her hair was fight to keep it out of her face. The clothes she picked were always practical and as comfortable as she could get away with.
She supposed women's beauty habits were important to most people. Having spent almost all her formative years in close contact with Julia, she knew some women even enjoyed the aspect of "getting all dolled up". But Kate had few memories of watching her own mother doing such things, and even fewer where the fiery Italian woman had taken the time to impart some sort of feminine wisdom to her eldest daughter. Kate had learned from an early age that it was often best to not engage with Effie Moore if she could help it. Because though her mother held a beauty and poise that could enchant even the hardest of hearts, her moods were frighteningly volatile. And, for reasons beyond Kate's understanding, it was she, and never her younger sisters, who seemed to bear the brunt of Effie's terrifying wrath.
"Katherine?"
Kate shook herself somewhat as she noticed Julia peering worriedly over her shoulder at her. She offered her friend a half-hearted smile in return before saying, "No. No plans tonight."
Julia narrowed her eyes for several moments, seeming to process what Kate had said. But much to Kate's chagrin, the blonde girl sighed heavily, turning fully around to face her. Julia clasped her hands together matter-of-factly in her lap, tilting her head slightly as a serious look settled on her pretty face.
"Sunshine, don't you think I've known you long enough to be able to tell when something's bothering you?"
Kate didn't answer, instead biting her bottom lip and waiting for the inevitable question to come from her friend's lips—the one she had been artfully avoiding for the past month.
Julia raised her eyebrows. "Not to mention the sudden increase in frequency that you've been staying here with me—almost every night for the past three weeks."
"I thought you didn't mind me staying with you," Kate defensively countered, crossing her arms over her chest, and dropping her gaze from the knowing blue eyes that stared assuredly into hers.
"Nice deflection," Julia replied with a smirk. "But I think you know what I'm getting at. What's going on with you and Conlon?"
Kate sighed exasperatedly, letting her head fall into her hands. Even though Julia had given her weeks of space on the matter, she had known that this discussion was bound to happen—that it was all but inescapable at this point. The problem, however, was not that Kate had been holding that much information back. It was more that she—Katherine Moore—had no clue what the hell was going on either.
All she could say was that something had changed. Something had altered within she and Spot Conlon's relationship. And it had become undeniably apparent that neither she nor Spot were adjusting particularly well to the unexpected shift.
Kate lifted her gaze back to her friend's. "I honestly have no idea."
"Mhm," Julia intoned, looking somewhat bemused. "Well, you seemed to have quite a few motivations to pour your drink over his head two weeks ago when we were all at Sonny's after my shift."
Kate felt her cheeks flush at the embarrassing memory but maintained her defensive air. "He was being an ass."
"And you were being so charming yourself?" Julia challenged. "Getting completely intoxicated, arguing with the bartender over some philosophical nonsense, and then turning on Spot when he attempted to calm you down? Yes, what an ass."
"So now he's suddenly a saint?" Kate argued, throwing her hands in the air frustratedly.
But Julia only rolled her eyes at the comment. "I think at this point you can concede you've been acting somewhat rashly toward him lately. I can detail several other examples that come to mind if you'd like."
Kate sighed, feeling overwhelmed by Julia's call-out—mostly because it was nothing other than the truth. She had been irrational in almost all her dealings with Spot Conlon as of late.
Honestly, in some instances she had been downright cruel in the face of his care for her.
She knew her vices better than anyone—her penchant for over-indulging in alcohol to the point of blacking out, the infrequent trips she made to Chinatown for a pipe of opium if the mood struck her just right.
Her need for high-risk distractions.
Picking fights with men three times her size, walking the streets alone at night. Even balancing along rooftop eaves for the thrill of laughing in the face of death—
Her inherent need to push the limits of everything around her, regardless of what the consequences might be.
It was what she had always done—the only medicine that seemed to keep the ever-swirling chaos and pain at bay. The best way she had learned to exist within the callous world around her.
Of course, there had always been pushback from Julia regarding the worst of these behaviors. The number of times her friend's pretty face had been rife with worry were far too frequent to count. But even Julia had been at a loss of how to best curtail these episodes beyond allowing them to play themselves out under her watchful eye.
Spot, however, was far more resolute in his attempts to keep her out of harm's way.
Kate thought back to the numerous times he had circumvented her impulsive, somewhat perilous behavior before it had gotten the best of her. How he had pulled her from whatever conflict she was gearing up to incite. The way he engaged her between drinks, helping her to slow her rate of consumption so she wouldn't end up overdoing it. How he always had a more enticing list of activities to keep her from seeking out the numbing effects of whatever opium cocktail she could get her hands on.
The fact that he truly listened to her—never feeling offput by her strong beliefs. How he could support her need for independence and autonomy while still maintaining his own unquestionable, though far more subtle impact.
But, ever since their shared intimate moment in November, his genuine concern for her well-being seemed to spark a resentment that she couldn't fully explain—his kindness making her strangely rageful in response.
To the point that all she could think was how dare he. How dare he act as if what happened to her in anyway affected him. As if he actually wanted what was best for her.
As if he cared.
Kate's eyes again found Julia's incisive gaze, her thoughts muddled and her ego too bruised to admit her own folly.
"Just because he's better at keeping a cap on his emotions doesn't mean that he hasn't been doing the same things to me. In his way."
And beyond the obvious deflection of her statement, that was the truth. As erratic and boorish as she had been toward him, it was nothing compared to the sudden level of coldness and disdain he could display toward her at the drop of a hat. It was honestly distressing how quickly his beautiful eyes would turn to ice, his mouth twisting in arrogant disgust. And there was no mistaking it—he was feeling that way about her.
She still had trouble figuring out what it was exactly that would set him off on these multi-day brooding episodes—where even her silent presence was enough to make him want to pull his hair out in frustration. It was almost as if he had begun to hate her.
The thought made her stomach turn uncomfortably. In their time together, Spot Conlon had certainly never been the overly sentimental or sweet type. Nor, for that matter, had she. And, at the very least, he had almost always seemed to openly enjoy her company. But over the last two months, what once had been a steady flow of connection between the two had gradually turned into an infuriating guessing game.
Which one of them would walk away this time? Who would pull back first?
She knew she had been the one to set that specific precedent. After all, it was she who had let her insecurity and distrust get the best of her after that night in November. But it had been an almost instinctual response. She had awoken in a panic—her brain roaring that she had revealed too much of herself—body and mind alike. And her need to flee had been far more powerful than the rational, steady side of herself that usually took hold. So, she had left before dawn, after Spot had finally dozed off, without a word, or a note. Not even a kiss goodbye.
But she hadn't just stopped there. For some reason, the terrified fog in her brain had led her straight past Julia's tenement, through Brooklyn, and over the bridge into Manhattan, where she had secretly spent two sleepless nights in her parent's storeroom. She hadn't realized so much time had passed—really, she didn't even remember how she got there in the first place. All she recalled was suddenly hearing the sound of her mother and sisters entering the store from the front and meeting her father's widened gaze when he had unlocked the back entrance to inventory their stock.
His eyes—the same green as hers—seemed to sadly take her in. But just as he opened his mouth to give her a quiet greeting, her mother's voice rang out irritably from the other room.
"Edward, dear! Hurry along with the counting. We've got double the orders to fill today, remember?"
Her father's eyes closed momentarily as he called back, "Of course, darling. Be out as soon as possible."
He then turned back to Kate, walking swiftly over to his frazzled daughter before sturdily grasping her arms and pulling her to standing. "You must go, my girl. Quickly, out the back before your mother realizes."
He placed his hand gently along her lower back, leading her somewhat stiff body toward the exit. And upon opening the door to walk her into the back alleyway, he embraced her shortly, studying her wide, tired eyes for several silent seconds.
"You must keep praying and hoping, my girl, for your mother's nerves to improve. And until then, keep being as steady and strong as you've always been. God does not give us what we cannot handle. So, take care and be well, my love, and I'm sure we'll be together again as soon as it is possible."
And even though Kate remained silent and solemn at his words, he nodded toward her as if she had said farewell in kind and then gave her a little push toward the street before going back inside and locking the door behind him.
The interaction was not surprising—far from it. If anything, it was business as usual for the Moore's. The only difference this time was that Kate had not at all been conscious of how and why she was there in the first place. But with nothing else left to do, she meandered unsteadily back out into the Manhattan streets, and wearily headed back to Brooklyn.
"I think it's clear what's going on between the two of you."
Kate cringed as she was harshly brought back to the present by Julia's pragmatic comment. She dejectedly met her friend's soft gaze before muttering, "Yeah, I think so too. Obviously, this thing has run its course between us. I guess it was bound to happen eventually, so now's as good a time as any for it to end."
But instead of the sympathetic comfort Kate was expecting in response, Julia stared at her with a look of humored exasperation.
"What?" Kate asked after several moments of silence passed under Julia's unwavering stare. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Julia simply shook her head, a soft smile still on her lips. "Do you want to end things with him?"
But Kate was reticent to fully commit to a statement like that. She thought for a moment, finally deciding to just be as upfront with her friend as possible. "I don't want to be with someone who doesn't want to be with me. And it's become completely apparent over the last month or so that…" she struggled with her words momentarily before finally exclaiming, "Well, he can't stand me, Julia! And you and I both knew it would happen eventually. I mean, look at who he is—who he normally chooses as bedmates—and then look at me, and tell me if he and I make any sense at all."
Julia's eyes widened. "Well, first of all, I don't recall claiming to know anything that would eventually happen between you and Spot Conlon. I'm not a fortune-teller—I can't see into the future. And as far as who he's usually with," she paused, a chuckle escaping her lips. "Perhaps you're missing the more important pattern going on there, sunshine."
"I think I've managed to crack the case," Kate cut in sarcastically. "All those girls, including you, are so much prettier and softer and more refined than I am. They are proper and feminine and not difficult. Or crazy."
Kate's eyes avoided Julia's as she thought back to she and Spot's latest tiff—an explosion that had been triggered by the string of personal questions Kate had posed to Spot two days prior.
For quite some time, she had silently been mulling over how odd it was that he had never—in all the time they had spent together—told her anything about his family. That there had even been a multitude of occasions where he had curtly denied her requests for information on the topic. And she had finally told him as much that night.
They had just climbed up the steps to the lodging house attic to settle in for the night, Spot shrugging off his suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt before his blue eyes landed questioningly on her still form.
"Can I talk to you about something?" Kate asked after he quirked his head at her in confusion.
He shrugged nonchalantly, though she noted how his eyes reflected suspicion. "Watcha got for me?"
"I feel like I don't really know that much about who you are," Kate said after a moment, staring carefully toward him. "Beyond this—what anyone in Brooklyn knows."
She stretched her arm out for emphasis, looking hesitantly toward him for a response. But he only shrugged, shaking off the implication. "You know more than most, but less than some. Besides, there ain't really that much to tell."
"Ok," Kate said, feeling encouraged by his even answer. "Well let's trade a few questions then and remedy it."
But any agreeableness that had been present in his tone and stance before was suddenly gone following her query. He turned slowly to her, his face deadpanning, his eyes cold. "I'm not in the mood for games right now, Kate."
"Why can't you tell me anything about your family?" she pressed, feeling confused by his sudden irritability.
"Because it's none of your goddamn business," he said, his voice dangerously on edge.
It was a warning, and perhaps she should have known to heed it, but she couldn't help her exasperation. "I've told you almost everything about my family—the good and the bad. But every time I've asked you the simplest questions about yours, all the sudden you're not in the mood for talking anymore? That's bullshit."
His jaw set in anger, his eyes icier than ever. "Just because you can't keep your trap shut about how fucked up your family is, doesn't mean I'm obligated to tell you a fuckin' thing about mine. It don't concern you."
"I want to know. I'm with you, and I think I at least deserve to know the very basics of who you are," Kate urged honestly.
And that was the last straw. Before she even realized what had happened, he had backed her against the far wall, his face twisted with an ire she had never seen before, his teeth clenched and his voice raspy with rage. "And who the fuck are you to think that you deserve to know somethin' about me? You're just one of dozens a' girls, doll. So, what the fuck makes you so special? If anything, you're more fuckin' trouble than your worth. A headache I could do without. So, fuck off why doncha?"
Kate felt familiar tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she shook the memory away, realizing suddenly that Julia had started talking again. "Or is it that Spot never felt the need to be exclusive with any of those girls, live with them, worry over them, spend his daylight hours in public with them—but he felt the want to do all those things with you?"
Kate maintained her evasive stare, biting her bottom lip for several moments before murmuring, "Well then why has everything been so…unpleasant between us lately? Why does it feel like something's changed?"
"Because it has," Julia answered simply with a smile, but Kate only gave her a lost look, causing Julia to sigh. "Sometimes I forget how young you are—and how foolish and stubborn both of you can be about matters of the heart. It's an unfortunate consequence of having your trust betrayed far too many times, I'm afraid."
"Well, I wouldn't know the first thing about his supposed past betrayals because he doesn't ever divulge anything remotely personal," Kate said with a fair amount of hurt in her voice. "And it still doesn't explain why we've been at each other's throats."
"Because, you daft girl, your feelings have deepened for one another. And neither of you knows how to handle it." Kate's eyebrows shot up before Julia sighed and continued. "I'm fairly certain that he loves you, Katherine. Any normal person with a pair of eyes can see it."
And Kate couldn't help the laugh that all but exploded from her mouth. "Right, and pigs can fly! You're absolutely insane. Spot Conlon doesn't love me, Julia. Not even close. Have you lost your mind?"
"He loves you," Julia said even more emphatically. "And you clearly have feelings for him. If only you'd get out of your own ways about it."
"He doesn't. That can't be true," Kate said, more to herself than Julia this time. "It just—it can't. He doesn't even want to talk to me right now. Not that I'm all that interested in talking to him either. Ass."
"Idiots," Julia said rolling her eyes. "Self-destructive, smug, insecure idiots. It's no wonder you're so right for each other—not that either of you will admit it in this lifetime. Complete fools—the both of you."
Brooklyn, December, 1903
Kate felt a comforting warmth take hold of her body, even as she watched Julia's form—sitting perfectly picturesque at her vanity—begin to fade away. It was a feeling so inviting that she found herself letting the dark edges of the scene take over, submerging her fully into something new—something that held no echo of past emotions and events having long ago played themselves out. She leaned into the dull noises and pinpricks of feeling slowly ebbing their way into her awareness, not understanding them but fighting for their presence, nonetheless.
Then she saw the light.
Her eyes opened to slits as she attempted to place herself—identify the setting, the people, and anything else that might help her understand her current state. She had just been speaking to Julia in the room they shared, but now, it appeared she was somewhere else. Somewhere completely different. For some reason, Kate knew that, wherever it was, there was no looming sense of danger hanging above her, no foreboding sickness in her gut. It was quiet, perhaps even peaceful.
And she felt strangely…safe.
Her thoughts were more like molasses—slowly moving from one side of her skull to the other, and then back again. But gradually, she summoned the wherewithal to begin taking account of her extremities—aching and stiff, but surprisingly warm. She breathed in deeply, familiar, calming smells that she could not place filling her senses, causing her to open her eyes a little wider.
Some of the sounds, colors, and sensations began to take shape and meaning. The intermittent crackling paired with the glowing red and golden tinted lights, belonging to a fireplace to the left of her body. The warm, soothing sensation pulsing through her limbs most likely was connected to the multitude of blankets wrapped about her body. And the feeling of safety…?
Her eyes opened fully as she turned her head slightly to the right, seeing the golden hair glinting slightly from the flickering flames. Long dark lashes closed against tan skin, a handsome face even clear in the half-darkness. Kate noted arms tightly wrapped around her torso beneath the blankets, his body fully flush against the back of hers.
Where had Spot come from? Where were they now? He had been so angry with her—so disgusted by her presence moments before. Or was it days? How much time had passed since she and Julia had spoken?
She felt him stir slightly, tightening his grip against her, his nose nuzzling into the side of her neck.
"Please don't leave me. Not like that, ever again."
His murmur was barely audible, his eyes still shut as the words made their way out of his lips, making Kate wonder if he was even aware he had said them.
"I don't…I don't remember…" Kate closed her eyes momentarily, trying to bring up any of the events that had led to this moment between them now. But she remained foggy on all the details, whispering in confusion, "You want me…to stay?"
His eyes opened slowly, the intensity in their blue depths nearly taking Kate's breath away.
"I want you."
"Why?" she asked, completely bewildered by the assuredness in his statement, while also finding herself more and more tired the longer she tried to keep her eyes open.
"Because you're…exquisite, Kate. Everything you touch…all of it…you make it extraordinary." His eyes bore into hers with a blaze of emotions she wasn't sure she was fully understanding. "Even me. And…I love you."
She felt light-headed, overwhelmed, unsure if she was dreaming or awake in the minutes following his admission. She narrowed her eyes, skeptical of the very reality she was within. "I—I don't understand. You didn't—you don't love me."
He seemed to take in the confusion on her face with ample understanding, pulsing her against him gently before saying. "You need to rest. You've had a bad go of it, and you need some sleep."
Kate's eyes were so heavy, but her insecurity surrounding which situation—which time or place—she currently resided in, made her reticent to close them fully. She stared anxiously toward him, but he offered her a soft smile in response. "I'm not goin' anywhere. And every time you wake up, I'll tell you the same thing."
"What?' she murmured, her eyes slowly closing on their own accord.
"I love you, Kate."