Part X
Spot leaned in to kiss his female companion. She reached up to run her hands through his hair and down his bare back. Without breaking the kiss, Spot reached down and pulled the thin sheet over their heads. The girl giggled as she ran her slender hands through his dirty blonde hair again. She cooed and pulled him down on top of her, running her fingertips up and down his back. Spot's lips grazed her cheekbone. He moved his mouth down toward her ear and moaned softly. He took a deep breath and could smell the warm fragrance of her honey-coloured hair. He closed his eyes and took another breath full of the warm fragrance. Eyes still half closed, he reached for her face and touched her soft hair. His hand strayed down her neck to her shoulder. He bent forward and kissed the soft flesh at her collarbone. Closing his eyes again, the girl in his arms became someone else – someone more familiar. He sighed deeply, giving himself over to the image in his head. "Jo..." he whispered into her ear.
"What?!" the girl suddenly yelled, jolting him from his fantasy. She sat up abruptly, and pushed Spot off of her. "What did you call me?"
"Huh?" Spot asked, hazy as to what was happening.
"Jo!" she said, sounding annoyed, "You called me Jo!"
"No, I didn't. You must o' heard me wrong!"
"No, I think I heard you perfectly!" She pushed the sheets off of her angrily, and climbed out of the bed. After she stood, she picked her clothes up off of the floor and quickly began to dress herself.
"Naw, naw! Come on, Delores! It was just a mistake! It didn't mean nothin'!" Spot called to her from the bed. He patted the pillow, "Come back to bed, will ya?"
"Ha! That's funny! I most certainly will not!" Delores buttoned her blouse and began searching for her shoes. Sitting down on the nearby chair, she put one on and began to lace it. "I should have known better! My sister warned me. 'Delores, don't even think about getting entangled with Spot Conlon! He's sure to break your heart. He's no good.' But did I listen? No! I was foolish enough to think that I might mean something to you." She tied the laces on her right shoe and then stood up to leave. "But now, I see that I was wrong!" She reached for the doorknob and opened the door.
"Delores! Delores, baby, don't do this!" Spot scrambled out of the bed to try to stop her. He was able to get one foot on the floor, but the other got tangled in the bed sheet and immediately tripped him. "Delores – ow!" Spot hit the floor with a loud thud. "Shit!" Hurrying to his feet, he ran to the door to see Delores descending the stairs. "Delores!" he uttered one last plea. Seeing that she had no intend of stopping or turning around, he yelled out, "Fine then! Keep runnin! I don't need ya! I never needed ya! There's plenty of girls out there!" Some of the boys had come out of the room across the hall to investigate the commotion taking place at the staircase. They looked at Spot wide-eyed and inquisitive. "Whaddaya lookin' at?" Spot spat at them angrily. They didn't dare move or flinch, but continued to stand like statues, barely breathing and completely silent. Each fearing he might do something to further anger his leader. Spot mumbled obscenities under his breath, and then stormed off into his room slamming the door behind him.
~***~
"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, the Mantovanni Theatre is proud to present Miss Lily Fox! Unfortunately, tonight is Miss Fox's last performance. Please join us in bidding her a fond farewell and let her know how much she will be missed!"
Lily stepped out from behind the curtain wearing a long red dress. The spotlight focused on her. Its light caught the facets in the large stone in her engagement ring and it glinted and glimmered as much as the light in her eyes. She smiled at Henry, who was sitting in the front row, and made her way to the center of the stage. The music started and she began to sing a song that was an old favourite of her. She had been performing it since the very start of her career at the Mantovanni Theatre.
"If....... I........ ever fall in love again,
It'll be with someone just like you.
I don't say that I'm in love again
But on the day you came my way, I knew.
If I ever fall in love again,
This is just the way it ought to be,
But if it's really love again,
I'll leave to fate, I'd rather wait and see."
After the second verse was sung, the rest of the girls stepped out from behind the curtain They gathered around Lily and began to sing along with her.
"How can I know
When my head is saying no
And my heart's telling me that it's real?
Can it be wrong
If I burst into song
At the wonder of feeling the way
That I suddenly feel?
"If I ever fall in love again
I shall know exactly what to do.
And when I fall in love again
I know it must be someone just like you.
'The way that I suddenly feel!
"If I ever fall in love again
I shall know exactly what to do.
And when I fall in love again
I know it must be someone just like you."
After they sung the last refrain, the audience stood and cheered. Lily and her fellow performers joined hands and took their last bow together. It was then that Lily began to feel the pang in her stomach: the twisting twinge of overwhelming nostalgia. This was her last time standing on this stage with her fellow performers. The last time. This was the last time she would look out on an audience that stood to cheer and applaud her. The last time. Her mind flashed back to the first time she had stood where she stood now. She remember the stage fright and nervousness that make her stumble over her words, but she also remembered quivering with the excitement and lightheaded feeling of sheer joy that worked its way into her blood and made her crave the stage even more. She had informed Henry of her intentions to pursue serious acting after they were married, and he supported her wholeheartedly. But as wonderful as theatricals might be, it would never feel the same as it felt at that moment. It would never be so raw, so unashamedly glorifying, so light in manner. She had yet to leave, but that did not stop her from missing the theatre, her home, more than she could express. She looked out onto the audience again and saw Henry smiling at her. She waved and returned his smile. She then let her eyes wander to the right balcony, to the empty chair where Spot had been accustomed to sitting. Spot. She lowered her eyes to the floor as a feeling of regret and want overtook her. She would never see Spot again. She laughed to herself. "And the better I am for it," she thought to herself, "He's just a pigheaded, conceited kid. Nothing would have come of it anyway. He's gone, and you should be glad to be rid of him." She told herself these things over and over, but secretly knew that she truly did not believe them.
Lily raised her hands in the air to quiet the crowd. As she did, the audience's cheers and applause began to subside until finally the room was nearly silent. Smiling, Lily began to speak, "As you all know, this is my last performance.....And in honor of it, I've decided to do something a bit different. The next song that I am going to sing is very special to me because I wrote it. This is the first time I've ever sung it onstage, and since you have all been very kind to me throughout the years, there could be no one better to hear its debut." She signaled Malcolm, and soft piano music began to play.
Lily felt her heart began to pound and swell. She was to sing in her native French, something she had never done before. She had translated the lyrics to the song for no one. There were a complete mystery to all that were about to hear them, but to Lily, there were a pouring out of her heart, a spilling of her secret thoughts and desires. And though they could not understand, all of New York was about to see inside of her. She opened her mouth and let the words flow from her heart,
"Un jour il viendra.
Mon bel amour d'hier
L'amour reviendra
Par un jour de lumière.
Dans les heures qui viennent.
Ou bien l'année prochaine
Peu m'importe j'attends,
Car c'est l'homme que j'aime.
Et je l'attendrai mème plus longtemps.
Un jour il viendra,
Mon bel amour d'hier.
Et demain l'amour renaîtra.
Un beau jour de lumière.
Le bonheur suprème.
Et les nuits qui s'enchainent.
Une a une longtemps.
Dans les heures qui viennent.
Ou bien l'année prochaine.
Je l'attends. Un jour il viendra.
Mon bel amour d'hier.
L'amour reviendra
Par un jour de lumière. Si c'est un rêve.
Faites qu'il dure encore,
Oh mon rêve.
Faites qu'il dure encore. Un jour il viendra.
Mon bel amour d'hier.
L'amour reviendra
Par un jour de lumière. Si c'est un rêve.
Faites qu'il dure encore,
Oh mon rêve.
Faites qu'il dure encore,
Un jour." ~***~
Lily stood fully dressed at her vanity. She was placing her the last of jewelry and small belongings in a red velvet-lined box when she heard a light rapping at the door. Without looking up, she called out, "Come in!"
She heard the loud creaking of the door's hinges as it swung open. "Can I come in?" a familiar female voice asked softly. Lily looked up into the mirror in front of her to see who was standing in the door case and was met by an intense pair of blue-green eyes.
"Eva," Lily said without turning around. "Yes, come in, of course."
Eva smiled softly and stepped just inside the doorframe. "I've come to say, well to say goodbye, I suppose." She took a quick look around the empty room. "It looks like you're nearly finished packing. All ready to go?"
"Yes," Lily answered, "This is the last of it." She sighed. "I feel so disoriented. My entire life is in trunks!"
Eva laughed. "Where's the wedding going to be held again?"
"At Henry's family's country estate in Northfield, Vermont. After that, we plan to tour Europe for a few months. Henry's been offered a position in London, so after our vacation, we plan to find a home in there. The wedding's not for another three weeks, but they want me to come early to meet all of his family and to make what they keep calling 'last minute final preparations' for the wedding. I say that anything that takes place three weeks ahead of time does not qualify as last minute final preparations, but who's to argue when they are paying for everything?" Lily laughed, and Eva joined in.
When the laughter subsided, Eva looked around again as though she were uncomfortable. She cleared her throat several times, and then finally spoke. "Listen Lily," she said slowly, "I realized that we weren't the best of friends, and I know that I certainly had a hand in that...." Lily listened intently, in disbelief that such things were coming from the mouth of someone she thought had hated her. "......and I just want to say that I'm sorry for that. And...."
"There's more?" Lily thought to herself.
"And...I know it sounds a bit, well, brash of me to ask this, but what ever happened to Spot Conlon?"
Lily's eyes immediately went to the floor. She turned around to face Eva. "Well....." she said, clearing her throat a few times, "Things between Spot and I just didn't work out I suppose. I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
"Oh," Eva returned.
Lily gave her a half smile, and then turned back to finish packing the last of her things.
"You know," Eva continued, "I think that he really did love you. I know you're wondering how I, of all people, could possibly be informed enough to make this kind of observation. Yes, of course you are." She laughed nervously and shifted from one foot to another. She was obviously uncomfortable, Lily noted as she watched her fidget and wring her hands. "You see, Sarah, um, Sarah Jacobs and I have been close friends, since....since well, childhood. I moved to New Jersey when I was thirteen, and since I've been back, Sarah and I have become the best of friends again. And Jack, you know, Jack Kelly? He is one of Spot's best friends. Spot told him everything, and well, Jack would tell Sarah, of course. And well....yes...you know the rest. Anyway, from what Jack said, Spot really did love you."
"Well," Lily replied in a low tone, "He certainly had a strange way of showing it."
"That's because he's Spot. You know, he nearly killed a guy from Queens trying to defend you honor."
Lily sighed and closed her eyes as images from that unforgettable night filled her mind. She remembered Spot telling her that he couldn't come that night – that he had business to take care of. She laughed. It was horrible: horrible that he was violent and that he beat up kids in the street. But in a way, she thought it so very dashing and heroic. Her mind replayed that night: opening her eyes to see Spot standing above her, so unexpected. His cut lip, his black eye......the bruise on his side, the scratches on his back. She could taste the blood in her mouth again, his blood, with its sharp metallic taste washing into her mouth each time she had kissed him that night. Each time she kissed him. She heard his voice in her head, "Ain't nothin' hurts....."
"Spot hasn't had the easiest life, you know," Eva continued, "Well, none of them have, but Spot......His father used to beat him and his mother when he was little. His mother was able to get out.....she left one day without telling anyone, leaving Spot to suffer all of his father's anger. So, he ran away and ended up in the Refuge for pick-pocketing. The other kids there were all bigger than him and they beat the hell out of the poor kid for fun. All that abuse for so long.....I think that made Spot the way he is. I think, somehow, that he can't express himself or behave like normal people can because of that."
Lily remembered the marks on his back, the scars she used to run her fingers over late at night when he slept and she couldn't. She had guess that they were from fighting or maybe from rough housing with his boys, but she never could have imagined their true source. All of his secrets – all of the things he'd kept from her and never dared tell her. She often found herself becoming angry with Spot for never opening up and trusting her enough to tell her anything about himself. Now, knowing the truth, she felt petty and ashamed. Perhaps she'd acted wrongly towards him...but then, how could she have known? He had told her nothing. She'd shared the most intimate things imaginable with him, and he'd offered her nothing in return. It was his fault, and all of the pity in the world could not let her forget that or what he'd done in the last days of their acquaintance.
"So, when you think of him...or rather, if you think of him, please just keep that in mind. Try to forgive him maybe." Eva shrugged. "I've got to be going now. But, Lily, I'm very happy for you, and I know that you'll be happy with Henry."
Lily said nothing. She stared straight ahead, and slowly reached up and pulled the veil from her hat over her face. "Yes, I'm sure I will," she said softly, "Thank you." Eva turned to go. "Eva!" Lily called out after her. Eva stopped and turned around. "Will you please tell Mr. Mantovanni that I am ready to go?"
~***~
The loud whistles of the trains pierced the air as dense steam engulfed the platform on which the small party gathered. Lily stood with Henry at her side and Faye before her. She held Faye's gloved hands in her own and tried her best not to cry as she looked into Faye's golden-green eyes that were already forming tears. .
"Oh Faye!" she said, still clutching her dearest friend's hands into her own, "What will I do without you?"
"I don't know!" Faye exclaimed, sniffling, "What will I do without you?"
"Do you have your ticket for Northfield?" Lily asked Faye.
"Yes," Faye responded, "and I'm so looking forward to coming to the wedding. Three weeks! I shall have missed you so much by then!"
"Now, don't you two worry," Henry said, "It's only a short time until you'll both be together again. And after that, she is welcome to visit us as much as she likes. We'll book her passage on the finest luxury liners they're making these days so that she can visit you once a month if that's what you'd like. "
Lily offered Henry a sad smile of gratitude and mouthed the words "thank you" to him. "Oh, think of it, Faye!" she gushed, "England! Us bashing around London!" The train attendant bellowed a call to board the train. She gazed in the direction of the attendant and then back to Faye. It was then that she lost her composure completely. She let the tears slide down her cheek as she fell into Faye's arms and embraced her. "Faye," she said, "I can't believe that I'm leaving!"
"Oh me neither," said Faye returning the embrace.
"You must do as Henry says! You must come and visit us often!" Lily exclaimed. The train's whistle began to blow. "Oh, I will write you every chance I get!"
"You'd better," returned Faye.
Henry put his arm around Lily's waist. "It's time to go now, Josie," he said gently.
"I'm going to miss you so much!" Lily embraced Faye one last time and kissed both of her cheeks.
"I'll miss you too! Goodbye!" Faye cried, "Goodbye!" Lily allowed herself to be led away from her friend and reluctantly boarded the train, looking over her shoulder and waving to Faye the entire time. When they were aboard the train, Lily rushed to her seat and climbed over to the window. She opened it and continued waving to Faye. As the train pulled off, she continued to wave and did not stop until Faye and the train station were nothing more than tiny specks on the horizon.
~***~
Spot had stood outside staring at the Mantovanni for nearly a half hour, considering whether or not he wanted to go in. He'd walked away twice only to return to the same spot in which he'd been standing. After several more minutes of arguing with himself, he'd given up and decided to just go in.
Climbing the stairs, he headed for his usual chair in the right balcony. He sat down and waited out the fifteen minutes before it began in silence. When the curtain rose and the band started to play, Spot leaned forward in his chair to rest his arms on the railing in front of him. He watched the first act, a visiting group of comic performers, attentively, but they were not who he had come to see. After the comedians were finished and the curtain had fallen, Spot waited in eager anticipation for the act he knew would shortly be following.
When the curtain rose again and the band began to play a lively number, Spot watched carefully as ten girls in colourful dresses sashayed out. He searched the stage, investigating each girl's face. Where was she? Was that her behind the redhead? No. Maybe she was – no. Spot wrinkled his brow in frustration and confusion. Suddenly, he remembered. Jo didn't dance with the other Bellas anymore. She had her own solo act. Spot sat back in his chair with relief and crossed his arms over his chest. He unenthusiastically and halfheartedly watched the rest of the girls perform out of the corner of his eye.
Perhaps he could see Jo after the show. Did he really want to? His head tried to decline, but his heart whispered a longing "yes" to him. How could he see her? He could wait outside by the backstage door and hope that she would come out of it. No, he could be waiting there for hours. Maybe a time limit – yes that's it! He would wait there for forty-five minutes, and if she had not come out after forty-five minutes, then he would take it as a sign that he was not meant to see her. But what would he say to her? Would she even speak to him? He tapped his foot subconsciously in time with the music as he formulated a plan in his head.
As the curtain fell once more, Spot felt his stomach fill with nervous butterflies. Jo was next, and his heart leapt a little at the thought of it. What was the matter with him? This was nothing special. After all, he had seen her perform a million times. He dismissed his nervousness, but soon found himself perched on the end of his chair when he saw the curtain begin to rise again.
When a female figure appeared on the stage, Spot wrinkled his brown in confusion. This was not Jo – this girl had blonde hair and was taller than Jo. Well, he thought to himself, maybe this is something special – maybe Jo's going to do a song with this girl – yes, maybe she's just waiting for her cue to come onto the stage. Spot watched the stage intently, waiting for any sign of her. He sat through the blonde's first song, and then watched as she did another, with no sign of Jo. Where was she? Jo had never missed a performance before. Was she sick? Had something happened to her? Slowly disappointment and worry filled and overtook his mind.
Outside of the backstage door, Spot leaned against the brick wall of the neighbouring building and smoked a cigarette as he waited. He was finishing a second when the door opened and a tall red-haired, freckle faced girl walked out. Spot recognized her immediately as one of Lily's fellow dancers, but he couldn't remember her name. He thought that perhaps he had even seen her around with one of his boys. Yes, he thought so. But what the hell was her bloody name? As he searched his mind desperately, the girls confident stride was taking her farther and farther away from him. Finally he simply yelled out, "Miss!" and hoped she know he was talking to her.
To his relief, the girl turned around to look at him. "Yes?" she asked.
"Um, good mornin' miss," Spot said, tipping his hat to her, "I was wonderin' if you might be able to tell me why Lily Fox was not on the stage today?"
The red head smiled. "You're Spot Conlon, aren't you?" she said in a distinct Brooklyn tongue.
Spot looked surprised. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's me. How'd ya know?"
She smiled again. "Well, word gets around.....I'm Maggie." She looked around, deliberately avoiding Spot's eyes as she said, "I, um, hate to be the one to tell you this, but Lily doesn't work here anymore."
"Whaddaya mean? Did she get another job or somethin'?" Spot asked, his voice showing subtle strains of concern.
"No," Maggie said softly, "she didn't get another job. She actually, well, she's getting married, Spot..........to Henry Brannick. Have you heard of him? No? Well, yes, that's why she's not here anymore......... I'm sorry."
Spot swallowed hard and tried to act calm. He shrugged, "Ah, it's nothin'. Hey, I'm sorry to bother ya. I gotta be goin' now." With that, he quickly walked past the girl. He walked quickly, his gait growing faster and faster, pushing past people that stood in his path. When he was a block away, he ducked into an empty alleyway. He slumped against a brick wall, and took off his cap to run his hands through his light streaked hair. Putting his cap back on, he spied some rotten planks of board out of the corner of his eye. He walked over to them and drove his right fist through one of them. Facing the brick wall again, he leaned against it once more, burying his face in his arms. Married. Jo was getting married.
"He some richie, no doubt," he muttered to himself. "Hell, that's what she wanted anyway." He turned around, pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it. As he took rapid drags from it, he tried to sort out his feelings. He didn't feel completely sad, nor was he utterly furious. He was somewhat stunned, but the news did not come as a shock. He expected that it would happen. He just hadn't expected it so soon. After more careful deliberation, he decided that he felt nothing – he simply felt empty. Maybe there was nothing to feel, nothing to say or do. Or perhaps, he could not feel. He laughed at the irony of it all. He couldn't feel. No. How could he? He'd left his heart outside the backstage door of the theatre for all of New York to trample upon.
~***~
Lily stood at the edge of a large boulder and watched a far away sailboat drift along the horizon line on a sea of serene blue-greens. The afternoon was fading into twilight; it would soon be dark and the turquoise hues of the water would deepen to rich bruised indigos and violets. She felt the spray of the salt water hit her skin and dress as another wave crashed into the rock upon which she stood. The wind whipped through her dark umber- coloured hair, freeing strands from her loosely twisted chignon. In her right hand, she held the expensively elegant hat she'd promptly removed upon nearing the water's edge, and in her left hand, she grasped an olive- tinted bottle closed tightly with a cork.
Gulls flew overhead, their lonesome cries filling the air. Lily closed her eyes and breathed in the salty ocean air. It was familiar smell...a familiar smell in a familiar place. Charleston. She'd missed it without ever knowing how much she had. But now, as she stood once again on its shore, her heart ached for lack of it. Opening her eyes, she tightened her grip on the bottle. Drawing her arm back, she swung it around and released. It soared above the waves and landed a distance out, falling with a "plunk" into the deep blue.
"What are you doing?" she heard a small voice ask.
Lily turned her head in the direction of the voice to see a small golden haired boy standing at the foot of the rock, looking up at her inquisitively. "I'm sending a message," she replied smiling. Gathering her skirts in her free hand, she climbed back down the boulder and stopped at the child's side.
"Who are you sending it to?" he asked innocently.
"I'm sending it to God," Lily replied.
The blonde boy's eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. "Does God live in the ocean?" he asked, his voice full of awe and wonder.
Lily cast another look out upon the water. "I don't know exactly where God lives," she replied, "But I'm certain that he could. God is everywhere."
"Oh, Phillip! There you are! You naughty little boy!" Lily watched as a sweet-faced young woman with bright eyes rushed to the boy and scooped him up in her arms. She kissed the child on the cheek before scolding him further. "I've been looking all over for you! Now, stop bothering this nice lady, and – Josie, is that you?"
Lily scrutinized the woman's face. Behind the sophistication of her dress and her elegantly swept back red-brown locks, she recognized her as her old schoolmate. "Annabel Bennett?"
"Yes, but it's Parker now. Oh, Josephine, I knew it was you. How are you?"
"I'm lovely. How have you been?"
"Quite well, indeed. This is Phillip," Annabel said, motioning to the child in her arms and beaming with motherly pride, "He's three."
"Yes," Lily said, reaching out and shaking the boy's tiny hand, "I believe that we have already met."
"How long have you been back?"
"Not long," Lily answered.
"Have you been by your aunt's old house yet?" the young mother asked.
"Her old house?" Lily responded, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
"You haven't heard?" Annabel said, gasping, "Oh, Josie, I thought you would have gotten word by now! You've been gone so long though...Come on. We'll take a little walk." Annabel linked her free arm with Lily's. "We've got so much catching up to do."
~***~
Twilight was falling upon the city. The lamps were being lit, illuminating the streets in the warm glow as Spot finished selling his last edition of the evening paper. He watched the dark come down around him and wondered why he always chose the same path back to the lodging house. It was a strange path to take: the long way around, the course that always brought him to stand in the same spot on the same street, staring at the Mantovanni. What was he looking for? What was he waiting for? The answer was nothing, of course. There was nothing there for him anymore. Yet, day after day, his steps took him to the same corner on the same street. And he paused to watch and wait.
Spot lingered only a few minutes that night. He'd just begun to take his first step to leave when a black coach pulled up to the theatre. He knew he should probably be going, but his curiosity bid him to stay. He watched as the coachman hopped down and walked around the far side to help his passenger out. He could only see feet moving under the coach, so he cocked his head to the side and waited for the coach to leave. He had not been waiting long when the coachman climbed back onto his perch. Spot heard him whistle to the horse and the slap of the reins on the horse's back. As it passed, he made out a lone female figure with a dark coat standing with her back to him. At her feet were trunks and baggage. She was still, unmoving as she gazed toward the door of the theatre. Could it be, Spot wondered. "Nah," he told himself, "Stop bein stupid. That ain't her."
He turned go, but something made him stop and cast one last look toward the girl. When he did, he was met by a pair of dark eyes that went right through him. Jo.
Spot felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. He swallowed hard and wondered if he could make a break for it and get away. No. It was too late now. He'd look like a coward if he turned to run. But somehow, he felt that he couldn't walk away. There was a force exuding from her that was magnetic. It caught him and drew him across the street.
When Spot was standing before her, he could not remember how he had gotten there. Had he walked, step after step to her? It seemed as though he had blinked one moment and in the next, she was in front of him. Words escaped him, but Lily rescued him from the uncomfortable silence. "Hello Spot Conlon," she said softly, her gaze still locked with his.
"Hello Jo," he returned. Working up his courage, he asked casually, "Mind if I ask what you're doin' here wit all that luggage?"
She laughed. Her small, clear laugh that sounded to Spot like the tinkling of bells, surged though him, making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I, um," she began, "I'm standing here waiting for the right moment to walk through those doors and ask to have my job back."
"But I though you were....... Maggie, she um......she told me that ya were getting married. I don't understand why you need this crap job if you're-"
Jo interrupted him. "There's something about you, Conlon. And I don't know what exactly it is, but you have this quality, this magnificent ability to make me want to tell you everything."
Spot jammed his hands into his pockets and narrow his eyes. He looked into her eyes, searching for the meaning behind her casual remark.
"And now, even after all that's happened, I still find myself wanting to tell you everything."
Spot stared at her, awaiting the next words to come from her lips.
Lily lowered her head. "I couldn't," she said, "I couldn't marry him. As I sat on the train, hour after hour, with nothing to do but think, I came to realize that marrying Henry would simply be wrong. I cannot lie – I was quite fond of him and found him utterly attractive and terribly dashing. He was everything that I had ever thought I wanted, and over time, I was certain that I could grow to love him. But that I was just it – I had to grow to love him. I didn't love him then, at that moment. And I could not convince myself that it would be right to marry someone that I had to grow to love. Henry deserves better. He deserves someone who love him - who will live and die for him. But I am not that person. Poor Henry, he was devastated. But he understood – he believes in free will and isn't a man to chain a woman to him because he can. So, at the next stop, I got off the train. Henry, always the gentleman, bade me goodbye, kissed me on the cheek, and gave me enough money for a train to wherever my heart desired.
"I sat in the train station for an eternity trying to figure out where exactly my heart desired to go. Finally after hours of thought, I was able to come up with two places – one where my heart wanted to go, and one where it needed to go. Half of a day later, I found myself on the shore in Charleston, standing where I had stood so very long ago. I stayed there for a while – just staring and feeling myself waver between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. I did this silly thing I used to do when I was younger and more foolish...I tossed a message in a bottle out into the ocean. And then I heard a voice asking me what I was doing. I turned to see the most beautiful little blonde haired child I have ever seen. He was almost like an angel. And it turns out he belongs to a friend of my from grade school. We had a nice long chat.
"As it turns out, my uncle ran into a bit of trouble with the law after he 'accidentally' killed the young husband trying to defend the honour of his new bride my uncle had taken an interest in. He's now in a state prison, serving a life sentence... fortunately for me. And, well, I suppose that little incident changed my father's mind about his daughter's integrity. He's written me letter after letter that I've not received until now since no one knew my whereabouts. No doubt they're apologies, but I've not yet opened them. I don't know if I am ready to see what's inside, if I'm ready to forgive him. Aunt Helaine, unfortunately, passed on last year. She only had one son, and since he, obviously disgraced her precious family name, she named only one sole heir to her entire estate in her will. Perhaps to compensate for all of the hell she made me endure. I, now, can list myself among the wealthy. She's left me not only her fortune, but both her house in Charleston and a country estate just outside of Lyon. The only stipulation is that I cannot inherit any of it until the paperwork is completed and all of the legal details are straightened. It's estimated to take another year or so. So, I will not receive anything until some time from now. Therefore, I came back here, still poor, and madly hoping to get my job back. Which brings us to here and now, and me standing before you." She paused. "So now I must pose a better question: What are you doing around here anyway?"
His gaze shifted to his feet. "Aw, well, ya know.....jus walkin' by, on my way back to the house." Spot looked up to find Lily's eyes staring through him again, and he knew he'd have to tell her the truth. "No, that's a lie. I come here every day. It's a good piece outta the way, but I keep finding m'self walking by. I guess......I guess, well," he sighed deeply, "I miss ya, Jo. I do. I can't help that. I jus- I just...." He took his cap off of his head, ran his hand through his hair, and then put it back on.
"You just what?" Lily questioned.
"I just...."Spot knew he'd have to answer. He knew he'd have to tell her the truth. God, why couldn't he speak?!? "I just........I love ya, Jo. I did some pretty stupid things, and I know that. An' I'm sorry. But I never stopped lovin' ya. And I just want – I just want you. More than anything."
"You want me?" Spot nodded. "I don't think so. I don't think you really want me. It's just the nostalgia speaking. It's made me beautiful and desirable to you now, but it'll soon wear off. Besides, you're Spot Conlon. Infamous lover and romancer of every girl in New York. You don't need me. Your bed's never been empty before, so why should it now?"
Spot laughed and shook his head. He kicked a rock lying on the ground. "That's where ya got me wrong. I ain't no lover." He laughed. "I've had a lot of girls, Jo. I have. But I never-"
"But-" Lily tried to interrupt.
"No, no," Spot continued, "I ain't gonna lie to ya, Jo, I've flitted around with more women than you'se can ever imagine. One here, one there, a night, a week, sometimes two. An a lot o'them did share my bed, I suppose. But I didn't love any of 'em. I slept with a few of them. Less than you probably heard. So there was a few before you. And then three after you to try to make you go away."
"Like that redhead?"
"Yeah, she's one o' em." Spot felt his cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. He hadn't thought that Lily had gotten a close enough look to remember that one.
"Oh," she responded looking away. After a while, she asked, "Well did it work?"
"No."
"Well, time heals all wounds."
Spot wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "It won't."
"What are you saying?
"I'm saying, well, I'm sayin that I tried that. God, I tried that. I tried to stop. I did. I did everything I could think of to get ya outta my head, but it don't work worth nothin'."
Lily looked intently at him, her eyes burning his. "You don't know what you're asking," she muttered in a low tone, "You don't know what you're asking me to do! God! After everything, after all the accusations, the mistrust, the betrayal! You think you can just tell me that you love me and that you want me to come back to you and expect that I'll just coming running back that very moment?"
"I dunno. Yeah..........maybe." Spot shifted his weight from one foot to another, obviously uneasy.
"It's not that easy, Spot. It just isn't. I've spent, what? Four months? I've spent the last four months trying to make myself not care about you! Trying to forget that you ever existed, trying to erase you from my mind! Now, you come waltzing back into my life, claiming to love me and telling me how you need me. How you want me to attach myself to you again. Well, it's not that simple! I cannot just turn my entire life around and be devoted to you fully again. I don't know that I even want to, after everything that's happened. I'm not certain that I want to invest so much of myself into something that potentially won't last! I don't know that I want to chance suffering all of that pain again!"
Spot was silent. It wasn't going as he had planned. He had been certain that if she loved him as much as he loved her, there would be no question in her mind! She would throw herself into his open arms, and everything could go back to the way it was. That's what he had hoped would happen. But, then, she had never actually said that she loved him, had she?
"What if I said no," Lily suddenly asked, staring at Spot's worn and dirty shoes. She looked up into his gray-blue eyes that were now misted with confusion. "Did you think of that Spot? Did you? But, ha, I'm sorry, I forget – no one says no to Spot Conlon. Right? Well, what if I dared to say no? Hmm? What if I just said it?"
"Then I suppose there ain't nothin' I can do about it, is there? Say whatcha want Jo."
It was a long and painful silence for Spot until she finally spoke again. "Alright. I will. No." The word cut through him like sharpened daggers. His heart fell into his stomach and a gnawing pain began to grow in his chest.
"No?"
"Yes, that's right. No. "
"Well, then I suppose.......I suppose......oh fuck it. There ain't nothin' I can say or do to change your mind, is there?" Spot asked, somewhat helplessly. Lily shook her head. "Well, then, there ain't no sense in tryin.' I knows when I'se beat."
"You aren't beat. You're 18 years old. You've your entire life ahead of you," she paused to laugh and lower her voice, "You'll forget about me."
"You'll forget about me," she said again. Picking up two of her bags. She passed him on her way to the door, but looked over her should to utter a faint, almost inaudible, "Goodbye Spot Conlon."
Spot did not turn to face her, nor did her return her goodbye. He stood, unflinchingly still for several moments, trying to regain his composure. His fists clinched as he swallowed back the cries that tried to escape from his throat. Tears stung his eyes, but he held them back. He did not cry. He would not cry. He drew a ragged breath, and slowly began to move one foot forward, and then another. Each step took him farther away from a place he swore he'd never set eyes on again.
~***~
"Spot, you got a visitor."
Esco had appeared in Spot's doorway, and was nervously standing in it, fussing with his hat. Spot had drawn into his room, and refused to come out for anything except to sell and eat. The room was now tinted a blue dark with the hue of twilight's arrival. He laid on his bed on his stomach, his chin resting on his hands. He turned toward Esco and gave him a slow, resigned look. "Tell 'em to go away. I don't wanna see nobody," was his only response.
"You sure?" Esco pleaded.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Nobody"
"But Spot, you ain't come outta there for days. Will you just at least see her? She says her name is Delores."
"I said I don't want to see nobody. Not even her. Tell her to leave now, Esco. I'm warnin' ya." Spot's tone was threatening. Esco knew how dangerous it would be to cross him, but still he pushed on.
"Spot, you sure?" he asked hesitantly, ready to make a run for it should Spot launch a sudden physical or verbal attack.
Spot raised his head to give Esco a long look. "What the hell is wrong with him?" Spot thought, "Why's he so desperate for me to see that bitch Delores?" The fact that he had pressed so hard intrigued Spot. "Okay, fine..." he said, rising from his bed, "Why the hell not?" He trudged to the door and down the hall to the stairs, clad in only his long underwear, gray slacks and socks. His red suspenders hung loosely around his knees and his sandy brown hair was messy and disheveled. Spot had it in his mind that he was simply going to march down there and tell Delores to get lost and then return to his sulking with no time lost.
When he reached the door, he swung it open violently. "What the hell do ya want?" he spat out to the feminine figure he saw standing out on the sidewalk before him. When he eyes passed over her, however, what he saw was not the honey-haired Delores dressed in her usual gray frock. No. The woman standing before him was poised and elegantly attired in a cream dress with burgundy trim. On her delicate hands were silk gloves with pearl buttons. Her dark hair was swept back from her face in an elaborate twist, and she looked out at Spot from under a wide brimmed hat with eyes black as night and deep as the Pacific Ocean.
"Hello, Spot Conlon," she said.
"Delores, huh?" he asked her. "You ain't no Delores, Jo. How'd you know about her anyway."
Lily smiled and simply said in a knowing voice, "Oh, I know people who know people."
"I'm sure you do," responded Spot. He sighed and shrugged. "So, whaddya want, Jo? Huh? Why are you here?"
"Oh, I was in the neighborhood. I had a little business to take care of."
"Business, huh? Like what? What could you possibly have to take care of in these parts?" Spot questioned.
Lily's sly smile faded from her face. She cast her eyes downward and fiddled with the pearl button on one of her gloves. "It was quite urgent, you see...I had to, um, remedy a situation. For, I fear I have made a grave mistake, and I would like to see that mistake corrected." She stopped fiddling with her button and brought her gaze to meet Spot's. Her soft brown eyes looked deeply into his now steel-gray ones. "Spot," she asked softly, "What if I said yes?"
"What if?" he asked through offhandedly, looking away from her and instead focusing his eyes on a streetlamp in the distance.
"Look at me," she said quietly, and he obeyed. "Promise me," she said, her voice starting to slightly waver, "promise me that it will be different. That things will turn out better this time."
"That ain't mine to give," he responded, "I ain't God, ya know."
"I know." She sighed. "Well," she began again, "promise me that you want them to."
Spot didn't answer immediately. Then, he slowly walked down the steps of the lodging house down to Lily, and cupped her face in his hands. Looking into her eyes, his voice warm and solemn with the most sincere honesty, he bit his bottom lip and then said, "More than anything."
Lily sniffled and then a tear trickled down her face. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her glove and laughed at herself. "This is so absurd. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come back. I shouldn't be standing here throwing myself wholeheartedly back into your arms...."
"Are you throwin' yourself back into me arms?" Spot asked with a slight grin.
She sniffled again. "I suppose I am. Ha! This is crazy. Do you know that? Crazy!"
"Jo," he said softly, leaning in to kiss her.
Lily stopped him. "One thing," she said, "My name. Call me Josephine, just once. No one's said it such a long time."
Spot cocked his head to the side and grinned at her again. "Alright," he said and then brought his mouth to her ear to whisper, "Josephine. But you gotta tell me somethin' too."
"What's that?" she asked.
"Tell me dat you love me."
Lily smiled. "Is the night clear and the moon full? Or is it rainin'? Has the sky lost so much of itself that it could at any moment collapse upon our heads? I don't know. I can see none of it. Not a sliver. For my eyes belong only to you.....and I love you Spot Conlon."
"You know, that's real nice Jo. Where'd you get that line from?"
"Oh, I read it somewhere," she answered nonchalantly with a smile.
And under a newly-lit streetlamp, with trunks at their feet, and passersby walking by and looking on disapprovingly, Spot took Josephine into his arms and kissed her.
~***~
Mantovanni was more than happy return Jo's former position to her, but she agreed to come back only if one condition was met: she would still retain her solo act, but she insisted on being allowed to perform with the Bellas again.
She stood onstage, feeling as though she had never left. She and her fellow performers were dancing to a lively tune – the Maple Leaf Rag. It was a new song, something audiences were not accustomed to hearing in the vaudeville halls. Upon returning to New York, Malcolm, the pianist, played it for her. She had instantly fallen in love with and in no time, had choreographed a number to it and convinced Mantovanni to let them perform it.
She looked to her left and saw Faye smile at her as they joined hands. She became lost to the sounds of the music and the life swirling around her: the tapping of the girls' heels on the wooden stage, and the swish of their dresses as they danced.....she loved those sounds – the small, insignificant details that comforted her and made her feel alive. She looked down into the front row and was met by a pair of smiling gray-blue eyes. Spot had abandoned his favourite seat in the balcony for a stage front view. She smiled back at him and winked. As she did , she couldn't help but feel that then, even if it were for only that very moment, everything in the world was right .At the end of the number, Spot stood up from his chair. He pulled a flower from his coat and gently tossed it onto the stage. Josephine August stooped to pick up the flower, and held it to her heart. It was a lily – snow white, pure, and utterly perfect.
FIN
~***~
(-all songs from Sarah Brightman.)
*One day he'll return
One day he'll return
My dear love from yesterday
Love will return
On a day of light
In the hours that come
Or in the coming year
I don't care if I have to wait
Because it is the man I love
And I'll be waiting for him even longer
One day he'll return
My dear love from yesterday
And tomorrow love will be reborn
One fine light day
The supreme happiness
And the nights that follow each other
One after the other for a long time
In the hours that will come
Or in the coming year
I'll be waiting for you
One day he'll return
My dear love from yesterday
Love will return
On a day of light
If it's a dream
Make it still last
Oh, my dream
Make it still last
One day he'll return
My dear love from yesterday
Love will return
On a day of light If it's a dream
Make it still last
Oh, my dream
Make it still last
One day
Spot leaned in to kiss his female companion. She reached up to run her hands through his hair and down his bare back. Without breaking the kiss, Spot reached down and pulled the thin sheet over their heads. The girl giggled as she ran her slender hands through his dirty blonde hair again. She cooed and pulled him down on top of her, running her fingertips up and down his back. Spot's lips grazed her cheekbone. He moved his mouth down toward her ear and moaned softly. He took a deep breath and could smell the warm fragrance of her honey-coloured hair. He closed his eyes and took another breath full of the warm fragrance. Eyes still half closed, he reached for her face and touched her soft hair. His hand strayed down her neck to her shoulder. He bent forward and kissed the soft flesh at her collarbone. Closing his eyes again, the girl in his arms became someone else – someone more familiar. He sighed deeply, giving himself over to the image in his head. "Jo..." he whispered into her ear.
"What?!" the girl suddenly yelled, jolting him from his fantasy. She sat up abruptly, and pushed Spot off of her. "What did you call me?"
"Huh?" Spot asked, hazy as to what was happening.
"Jo!" she said, sounding annoyed, "You called me Jo!"
"No, I didn't. You must o' heard me wrong!"
"No, I think I heard you perfectly!" She pushed the sheets off of her angrily, and climbed out of the bed. After she stood, she picked her clothes up off of the floor and quickly began to dress herself.
"Naw, naw! Come on, Delores! It was just a mistake! It didn't mean nothin'!" Spot called to her from the bed. He patted the pillow, "Come back to bed, will ya?"
"Ha! That's funny! I most certainly will not!" Delores buttoned her blouse and began searching for her shoes. Sitting down on the nearby chair, she put one on and began to lace it. "I should have known better! My sister warned me. 'Delores, don't even think about getting entangled with Spot Conlon! He's sure to break your heart. He's no good.' But did I listen? No! I was foolish enough to think that I might mean something to you." She tied the laces on her right shoe and then stood up to leave. "But now, I see that I was wrong!" She reached for the doorknob and opened the door.
"Delores! Delores, baby, don't do this!" Spot scrambled out of the bed to try to stop her. He was able to get one foot on the floor, but the other got tangled in the bed sheet and immediately tripped him. "Delores – ow!" Spot hit the floor with a loud thud. "Shit!" Hurrying to his feet, he ran to the door to see Delores descending the stairs. "Delores!" he uttered one last plea. Seeing that she had no intend of stopping or turning around, he yelled out, "Fine then! Keep runnin! I don't need ya! I never needed ya! There's plenty of girls out there!" Some of the boys had come out of the room across the hall to investigate the commotion taking place at the staircase. They looked at Spot wide-eyed and inquisitive. "Whaddaya lookin' at?" Spot spat at them angrily. They didn't dare move or flinch, but continued to stand like statues, barely breathing and completely silent. Each fearing he might do something to further anger his leader. Spot mumbled obscenities under his breath, and then stormed off into his room slamming the door behind him.
~***~
"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, the Mantovanni Theatre is proud to present Miss Lily Fox! Unfortunately, tonight is Miss Fox's last performance. Please join us in bidding her a fond farewell and let her know how much she will be missed!"
Lily stepped out from behind the curtain wearing a long red dress. The spotlight focused on her. Its light caught the facets in the large stone in her engagement ring and it glinted and glimmered as much as the light in her eyes. She smiled at Henry, who was sitting in the front row, and made her way to the center of the stage. The music started and she began to sing a song that was an old favourite of her. She had been performing it since the very start of her career at the Mantovanni Theatre.
"If....... I........ ever fall in love again,
It'll be with someone just like you.
I don't say that I'm in love again
But on the day you came my way, I knew.
If I ever fall in love again,
This is just the way it ought to be,
But if it's really love again,
I'll leave to fate, I'd rather wait and see."
After the second verse was sung, the rest of the girls stepped out from behind the curtain They gathered around Lily and began to sing along with her.
"How can I know
When my head is saying no
And my heart's telling me that it's real?
Can it be wrong
If I burst into song
At the wonder of feeling the way
That I suddenly feel?
"If I ever fall in love again
I shall know exactly what to do.
And when I fall in love again
I know it must be someone just like you.
'The way that I suddenly feel!
"If I ever fall in love again
I shall know exactly what to do.
And when I fall in love again
I know it must be someone just like you."
After they sung the last refrain, the audience stood and cheered. Lily and her fellow performers joined hands and took their last bow together. It was then that Lily began to feel the pang in her stomach: the twisting twinge of overwhelming nostalgia. This was her last time standing on this stage with her fellow performers. The last time. This was the last time she would look out on an audience that stood to cheer and applaud her. The last time. Her mind flashed back to the first time she had stood where she stood now. She remember the stage fright and nervousness that make her stumble over her words, but she also remembered quivering with the excitement and lightheaded feeling of sheer joy that worked its way into her blood and made her crave the stage even more. She had informed Henry of her intentions to pursue serious acting after they were married, and he supported her wholeheartedly. But as wonderful as theatricals might be, it would never feel the same as it felt at that moment. It would never be so raw, so unashamedly glorifying, so light in manner. She had yet to leave, but that did not stop her from missing the theatre, her home, more than she could express. She looked out onto the audience again and saw Henry smiling at her. She waved and returned his smile. She then let her eyes wander to the right balcony, to the empty chair where Spot had been accustomed to sitting. Spot. She lowered her eyes to the floor as a feeling of regret and want overtook her. She would never see Spot again. She laughed to herself. "And the better I am for it," she thought to herself, "He's just a pigheaded, conceited kid. Nothing would have come of it anyway. He's gone, and you should be glad to be rid of him." She told herself these things over and over, but secretly knew that she truly did not believe them.
Lily raised her hands in the air to quiet the crowd. As she did, the audience's cheers and applause began to subside until finally the room was nearly silent. Smiling, Lily began to speak, "As you all know, this is my last performance.....And in honor of it, I've decided to do something a bit different. The next song that I am going to sing is very special to me because I wrote it. This is the first time I've ever sung it onstage, and since you have all been very kind to me throughout the years, there could be no one better to hear its debut." She signaled Malcolm, and soft piano music began to play.
Lily felt her heart began to pound and swell. She was to sing in her native French, something she had never done before. She had translated the lyrics to the song for no one. There were a complete mystery to all that were about to hear them, but to Lily, there were a pouring out of her heart, a spilling of her secret thoughts and desires. And though they could not understand, all of New York was about to see inside of her. She opened her mouth and let the words flow from her heart,
"Un jour il viendra.
Mon bel amour d'hier
L'amour reviendra
Par un jour de lumière.
Dans les heures qui viennent.
Ou bien l'année prochaine
Peu m'importe j'attends,
Car c'est l'homme que j'aime.
Et je l'attendrai mème plus longtemps.
Un jour il viendra,
Mon bel amour d'hier.
Et demain l'amour renaîtra.
Un beau jour de lumière.
Le bonheur suprème.
Et les nuits qui s'enchainent.
Une a une longtemps.
Dans les heures qui viennent.
Ou bien l'année prochaine.
Je l'attends. Un jour il viendra.
Mon bel amour d'hier.
L'amour reviendra
Par un jour de lumière. Si c'est un rêve.
Faites qu'il dure encore,
Oh mon rêve.
Faites qu'il dure encore. Un jour il viendra.
Mon bel amour d'hier.
L'amour reviendra
Par un jour de lumière. Si c'est un rêve.
Faites qu'il dure encore,
Oh mon rêve.
Faites qu'il dure encore,
Un jour." ~***~
Lily stood fully dressed at her vanity. She was placing her the last of jewelry and small belongings in a red velvet-lined box when she heard a light rapping at the door. Without looking up, she called out, "Come in!"
She heard the loud creaking of the door's hinges as it swung open. "Can I come in?" a familiar female voice asked softly. Lily looked up into the mirror in front of her to see who was standing in the door case and was met by an intense pair of blue-green eyes.
"Eva," Lily said without turning around. "Yes, come in, of course."
Eva smiled softly and stepped just inside the doorframe. "I've come to say, well to say goodbye, I suppose." She took a quick look around the empty room. "It looks like you're nearly finished packing. All ready to go?"
"Yes," Lily answered, "This is the last of it." She sighed. "I feel so disoriented. My entire life is in trunks!"
Eva laughed. "Where's the wedding going to be held again?"
"At Henry's family's country estate in Northfield, Vermont. After that, we plan to tour Europe for a few months. Henry's been offered a position in London, so after our vacation, we plan to find a home in there. The wedding's not for another three weeks, but they want me to come early to meet all of his family and to make what they keep calling 'last minute final preparations' for the wedding. I say that anything that takes place three weeks ahead of time does not qualify as last minute final preparations, but who's to argue when they are paying for everything?" Lily laughed, and Eva joined in.
When the laughter subsided, Eva looked around again as though she were uncomfortable. She cleared her throat several times, and then finally spoke. "Listen Lily," she said slowly, "I realized that we weren't the best of friends, and I know that I certainly had a hand in that...." Lily listened intently, in disbelief that such things were coming from the mouth of someone she thought had hated her. "......and I just want to say that I'm sorry for that. And...."
"There's more?" Lily thought to herself.
"And...I know it sounds a bit, well, brash of me to ask this, but what ever happened to Spot Conlon?"
Lily's eyes immediately went to the floor. She turned around to face Eva. "Well....." she said, clearing her throat a few times, "Things between Spot and I just didn't work out I suppose. I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
"Oh," Eva returned.
Lily gave her a half smile, and then turned back to finish packing the last of her things.
"You know," Eva continued, "I think that he really did love you. I know you're wondering how I, of all people, could possibly be informed enough to make this kind of observation. Yes, of course you are." She laughed nervously and shifted from one foot to another. She was obviously uncomfortable, Lily noted as she watched her fidget and wring her hands. "You see, Sarah, um, Sarah Jacobs and I have been close friends, since....since well, childhood. I moved to New Jersey when I was thirteen, and since I've been back, Sarah and I have become the best of friends again. And Jack, you know, Jack Kelly? He is one of Spot's best friends. Spot told him everything, and well, Jack would tell Sarah, of course. And well....yes...you know the rest. Anyway, from what Jack said, Spot really did love you."
"Well," Lily replied in a low tone, "He certainly had a strange way of showing it."
"That's because he's Spot. You know, he nearly killed a guy from Queens trying to defend you honor."
Lily sighed and closed her eyes as images from that unforgettable night filled her mind. She remembered Spot telling her that he couldn't come that night – that he had business to take care of. She laughed. It was horrible: horrible that he was violent and that he beat up kids in the street. But in a way, she thought it so very dashing and heroic. Her mind replayed that night: opening her eyes to see Spot standing above her, so unexpected. His cut lip, his black eye......the bruise on his side, the scratches on his back. She could taste the blood in her mouth again, his blood, with its sharp metallic taste washing into her mouth each time she had kissed him that night. Each time she kissed him. She heard his voice in her head, "Ain't nothin' hurts....."
"Spot hasn't had the easiest life, you know," Eva continued, "Well, none of them have, but Spot......His father used to beat him and his mother when he was little. His mother was able to get out.....she left one day without telling anyone, leaving Spot to suffer all of his father's anger. So, he ran away and ended up in the Refuge for pick-pocketing. The other kids there were all bigger than him and they beat the hell out of the poor kid for fun. All that abuse for so long.....I think that made Spot the way he is. I think, somehow, that he can't express himself or behave like normal people can because of that."
Lily remembered the marks on his back, the scars she used to run her fingers over late at night when he slept and she couldn't. She had guess that they were from fighting or maybe from rough housing with his boys, but she never could have imagined their true source. All of his secrets – all of the things he'd kept from her and never dared tell her. She often found herself becoming angry with Spot for never opening up and trusting her enough to tell her anything about himself. Now, knowing the truth, she felt petty and ashamed. Perhaps she'd acted wrongly towards him...but then, how could she have known? He had told her nothing. She'd shared the most intimate things imaginable with him, and he'd offered her nothing in return. It was his fault, and all of the pity in the world could not let her forget that or what he'd done in the last days of their acquaintance.
"So, when you think of him...or rather, if you think of him, please just keep that in mind. Try to forgive him maybe." Eva shrugged. "I've got to be going now. But, Lily, I'm very happy for you, and I know that you'll be happy with Henry."
Lily said nothing. She stared straight ahead, and slowly reached up and pulled the veil from her hat over her face. "Yes, I'm sure I will," she said softly, "Thank you." Eva turned to go. "Eva!" Lily called out after her. Eva stopped and turned around. "Will you please tell Mr. Mantovanni that I am ready to go?"
~***~
The loud whistles of the trains pierced the air as dense steam engulfed the platform on which the small party gathered. Lily stood with Henry at her side and Faye before her. She held Faye's gloved hands in her own and tried her best not to cry as she looked into Faye's golden-green eyes that were already forming tears. .
"Oh Faye!" she said, still clutching her dearest friend's hands into her own, "What will I do without you?"
"I don't know!" Faye exclaimed, sniffling, "What will I do without you?"
"Do you have your ticket for Northfield?" Lily asked Faye.
"Yes," Faye responded, "and I'm so looking forward to coming to the wedding. Three weeks! I shall have missed you so much by then!"
"Now, don't you two worry," Henry said, "It's only a short time until you'll both be together again. And after that, she is welcome to visit us as much as she likes. We'll book her passage on the finest luxury liners they're making these days so that she can visit you once a month if that's what you'd like. "
Lily offered Henry a sad smile of gratitude and mouthed the words "thank you" to him. "Oh, think of it, Faye!" she gushed, "England! Us bashing around London!" The train attendant bellowed a call to board the train. She gazed in the direction of the attendant and then back to Faye. It was then that she lost her composure completely. She let the tears slide down her cheek as she fell into Faye's arms and embraced her. "Faye," she said, "I can't believe that I'm leaving!"
"Oh me neither," said Faye returning the embrace.
"You must do as Henry says! You must come and visit us often!" Lily exclaimed. The train's whistle began to blow. "Oh, I will write you every chance I get!"
"You'd better," returned Faye.
Henry put his arm around Lily's waist. "It's time to go now, Josie," he said gently.
"I'm going to miss you so much!" Lily embraced Faye one last time and kissed both of her cheeks.
"I'll miss you too! Goodbye!" Faye cried, "Goodbye!" Lily allowed herself to be led away from her friend and reluctantly boarded the train, looking over her shoulder and waving to Faye the entire time. When they were aboard the train, Lily rushed to her seat and climbed over to the window. She opened it and continued waving to Faye. As the train pulled off, she continued to wave and did not stop until Faye and the train station were nothing more than tiny specks on the horizon.
~***~
Spot had stood outside staring at the Mantovanni for nearly a half hour, considering whether or not he wanted to go in. He'd walked away twice only to return to the same spot in which he'd been standing. After several more minutes of arguing with himself, he'd given up and decided to just go in.
Climbing the stairs, he headed for his usual chair in the right balcony. He sat down and waited out the fifteen minutes before it began in silence. When the curtain rose and the band started to play, Spot leaned forward in his chair to rest his arms on the railing in front of him. He watched the first act, a visiting group of comic performers, attentively, but they were not who he had come to see. After the comedians were finished and the curtain had fallen, Spot waited in eager anticipation for the act he knew would shortly be following.
When the curtain rose again and the band began to play a lively number, Spot watched carefully as ten girls in colourful dresses sashayed out. He searched the stage, investigating each girl's face. Where was she? Was that her behind the redhead? No. Maybe she was – no. Spot wrinkled his brow in frustration and confusion. Suddenly, he remembered. Jo didn't dance with the other Bellas anymore. She had her own solo act. Spot sat back in his chair with relief and crossed his arms over his chest. He unenthusiastically and halfheartedly watched the rest of the girls perform out of the corner of his eye.
Perhaps he could see Jo after the show. Did he really want to? His head tried to decline, but his heart whispered a longing "yes" to him. How could he see her? He could wait outside by the backstage door and hope that she would come out of it. No, he could be waiting there for hours. Maybe a time limit – yes that's it! He would wait there for forty-five minutes, and if she had not come out after forty-five minutes, then he would take it as a sign that he was not meant to see her. But what would he say to her? Would she even speak to him? He tapped his foot subconsciously in time with the music as he formulated a plan in his head.
As the curtain fell once more, Spot felt his stomach fill with nervous butterflies. Jo was next, and his heart leapt a little at the thought of it. What was the matter with him? This was nothing special. After all, he had seen her perform a million times. He dismissed his nervousness, but soon found himself perched on the end of his chair when he saw the curtain begin to rise again.
When a female figure appeared on the stage, Spot wrinkled his brown in confusion. This was not Jo – this girl had blonde hair and was taller than Jo. Well, he thought to himself, maybe this is something special – maybe Jo's going to do a song with this girl – yes, maybe she's just waiting for her cue to come onto the stage. Spot watched the stage intently, waiting for any sign of her. He sat through the blonde's first song, and then watched as she did another, with no sign of Jo. Where was she? Jo had never missed a performance before. Was she sick? Had something happened to her? Slowly disappointment and worry filled and overtook his mind.
Outside of the backstage door, Spot leaned against the brick wall of the neighbouring building and smoked a cigarette as he waited. He was finishing a second when the door opened and a tall red-haired, freckle faced girl walked out. Spot recognized her immediately as one of Lily's fellow dancers, but he couldn't remember her name. He thought that perhaps he had even seen her around with one of his boys. Yes, he thought so. But what the hell was her bloody name? As he searched his mind desperately, the girls confident stride was taking her farther and farther away from him. Finally he simply yelled out, "Miss!" and hoped she know he was talking to her.
To his relief, the girl turned around to look at him. "Yes?" she asked.
"Um, good mornin' miss," Spot said, tipping his hat to her, "I was wonderin' if you might be able to tell me why Lily Fox was not on the stage today?"
The red head smiled. "You're Spot Conlon, aren't you?" she said in a distinct Brooklyn tongue.
Spot looked surprised. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's me. How'd ya know?"
She smiled again. "Well, word gets around.....I'm Maggie." She looked around, deliberately avoiding Spot's eyes as she said, "I, um, hate to be the one to tell you this, but Lily doesn't work here anymore."
"Whaddaya mean? Did she get another job or somethin'?" Spot asked, his voice showing subtle strains of concern.
"No," Maggie said softly, "she didn't get another job. She actually, well, she's getting married, Spot..........to Henry Brannick. Have you heard of him? No? Well, yes, that's why she's not here anymore......... I'm sorry."
Spot swallowed hard and tried to act calm. He shrugged, "Ah, it's nothin'. Hey, I'm sorry to bother ya. I gotta be goin' now." With that, he quickly walked past the girl. He walked quickly, his gait growing faster and faster, pushing past people that stood in his path. When he was a block away, he ducked into an empty alleyway. He slumped against a brick wall, and took off his cap to run his hands through his light streaked hair. Putting his cap back on, he spied some rotten planks of board out of the corner of his eye. He walked over to them and drove his right fist through one of them. Facing the brick wall again, he leaned against it once more, burying his face in his arms. Married. Jo was getting married.
"He some richie, no doubt," he muttered to himself. "Hell, that's what she wanted anyway." He turned around, pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it. As he took rapid drags from it, he tried to sort out his feelings. He didn't feel completely sad, nor was he utterly furious. He was somewhat stunned, but the news did not come as a shock. He expected that it would happen. He just hadn't expected it so soon. After more careful deliberation, he decided that he felt nothing – he simply felt empty. Maybe there was nothing to feel, nothing to say or do. Or perhaps, he could not feel. He laughed at the irony of it all. He couldn't feel. No. How could he? He'd left his heart outside the backstage door of the theatre for all of New York to trample upon.
~***~
Lily stood at the edge of a large boulder and watched a far away sailboat drift along the horizon line on a sea of serene blue-greens. The afternoon was fading into twilight; it would soon be dark and the turquoise hues of the water would deepen to rich bruised indigos and violets. She felt the spray of the salt water hit her skin and dress as another wave crashed into the rock upon which she stood. The wind whipped through her dark umber- coloured hair, freeing strands from her loosely twisted chignon. In her right hand, she held the expensively elegant hat she'd promptly removed upon nearing the water's edge, and in her left hand, she grasped an olive- tinted bottle closed tightly with a cork.
Gulls flew overhead, their lonesome cries filling the air. Lily closed her eyes and breathed in the salty ocean air. It was familiar smell...a familiar smell in a familiar place. Charleston. She'd missed it without ever knowing how much she had. But now, as she stood once again on its shore, her heart ached for lack of it. Opening her eyes, she tightened her grip on the bottle. Drawing her arm back, she swung it around and released. It soared above the waves and landed a distance out, falling with a "plunk" into the deep blue.
"What are you doing?" she heard a small voice ask.
Lily turned her head in the direction of the voice to see a small golden haired boy standing at the foot of the rock, looking up at her inquisitively. "I'm sending a message," she replied smiling. Gathering her skirts in her free hand, she climbed back down the boulder and stopped at the child's side.
"Who are you sending it to?" he asked innocently.
"I'm sending it to God," Lily replied.
The blonde boy's eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. "Does God live in the ocean?" he asked, his voice full of awe and wonder.
Lily cast another look out upon the water. "I don't know exactly where God lives," she replied, "But I'm certain that he could. God is everywhere."
"Oh, Phillip! There you are! You naughty little boy!" Lily watched as a sweet-faced young woman with bright eyes rushed to the boy and scooped him up in her arms. She kissed the child on the cheek before scolding him further. "I've been looking all over for you! Now, stop bothering this nice lady, and – Josie, is that you?"
Lily scrutinized the woman's face. Behind the sophistication of her dress and her elegantly swept back red-brown locks, she recognized her as her old schoolmate. "Annabel Bennett?"
"Yes, but it's Parker now. Oh, Josephine, I knew it was you. How are you?"
"I'm lovely. How have you been?"
"Quite well, indeed. This is Phillip," Annabel said, motioning to the child in her arms and beaming with motherly pride, "He's three."
"Yes," Lily said, reaching out and shaking the boy's tiny hand, "I believe that we have already met."
"How long have you been back?"
"Not long," Lily answered.
"Have you been by your aunt's old house yet?" the young mother asked.
"Her old house?" Lily responded, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
"You haven't heard?" Annabel said, gasping, "Oh, Josie, I thought you would have gotten word by now! You've been gone so long though...Come on. We'll take a little walk." Annabel linked her free arm with Lily's. "We've got so much catching up to do."
~***~
Twilight was falling upon the city. The lamps were being lit, illuminating the streets in the warm glow as Spot finished selling his last edition of the evening paper. He watched the dark come down around him and wondered why he always chose the same path back to the lodging house. It was a strange path to take: the long way around, the course that always brought him to stand in the same spot on the same street, staring at the Mantovanni. What was he looking for? What was he waiting for? The answer was nothing, of course. There was nothing there for him anymore. Yet, day after day, his steps took him to the same corner on the same street. And he paused to watch and wait.
Spot lingered only a few minutes that night. He'd just begun to take his first step to leave when a black coach pulled up to the theatre. He knew he should probably be going, but his curiosity bid him to stay. He watched as the coachman hopped down and walked around the far side to help his passenger out. He could only see feet moving under the coach, so he cocked his head to the side and waited for the coach to leave. He had not been waiting long when the coachman climbed back onto his perch. Spot heard him whistle to the horse and the slap of the reins on the horse's back. As it passed, he made out a lone female figure with a dark coat standing with her back to him. At her feet were trunks and baggage. She was still, unmoving as she gazed toward the door of the theatre. Could it be, Spot wondered. "Nah," he told himself, "Stop bein stupid. That ain't her."
He turned go, but something made him stop and cast one last look toward the girl. When he did, he was met by a pair of dark eyes that went right through him. Jo.
Spot felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. He swallowed hard and wondered if he could make a break for it and get away. No. It was too late now. He'd look like a coward if he turned to run. But somehow, he felt that he couldn't walk away. There was a force exuding from her that was magnetic. It caught him and drew him across the street.
When Spot was standing before her, he could not remember how he had gotten there. Had he walked, step after step to her? It seemed as though he had blinked one moment and in the next, she was in front of him. Words escaped him, but Lily rescued him from the uncomfortable silence. "Hello Spot Conlon," she said softly, her gaze still locked with his.
"Hello Jo," he returned. Working up his courage, he asked casually, "Mind if I ask what you're doin' here wit all that luggage?"
She laughed. Her small, clear laugh that sounded to Spot like the tinkling of bells, surged though him, making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I, um," she began, "I'm standing here waiting for the right moment to walk through those doors and ask to have my job back."
"But I though you were....... Maggie, she um......she told me that ya were getting married. I don't understand why you need this crap job if you're-"
Jo interrupted him. "There's something about you, Conlon. And I don't know what exactly it is, but you have this quality, this magnificent ability to make me want to tell you everything."
Spot jammed his hands into his pockets and narrow his eyes. He looked into her eyes, searching for the meaning behind her casual remark.
"And now, even after all that's happened, I still find myself wanting to tell you everything."
Spot stared at her, awaiting the next words to come from her lips.
Lily lowered her head. "I couldn't," she said, "I couldn't marry him. As I sat on the train, hour after hour, with nothing to do but think, I came to realize that marrying Henry would simply be wrong. I cannot lie – I was quite fond of him and found him utterly attractive and terribly dashing. He was everything that I had ever thought I wanted, and over time, I was certain that I could grow to love him. But that I was just it – I had to grow to love him. I didn't love him then, at that moment. And I could not convince myself that it would be right to marry someone that I had to grow to love. Henry deserves better. He deserves someone who love him - who will live and die for him. But I am not that person. Poor Henry, he was devastated. But he understood – he believes in free will and isn't a man to chain a woman to him because he can. So, at the next stop, I got off the train. Henry, always the gentleman, bade me goodbye, kissed me on the cheek, and gave me enough money for a train to wherever my heart desired.
"I sat in the train station for an eternity trying to figure out where exactly my heart desired to go. Finally after hours of thought, I was able to come up with two places – one where my heart wanted to go, and one where it needed to go. Half of a day later, I found myself on the shore in Charleston, standing where I had stood so very long ago. I stayed there for a while – just staring and feeling myself waver between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. I did this silly thing I used to do when I was younger and more foolish...I tossed a message in a bottle out into the ocean. And then I heard a voice asking me what I was doing. I turned to see the most beautiful little blonde haired child I have ever seen. He was almost like an angel. And it turns out he belongs to a friend of my from grade school. We had a nice long chat.
"As it turns out, my uncle ran into a bit of trouble with the law after he 'accidentally' killed the young husband trying to defend the honour of his new bride my uncle had taken an interest in. He's now in a state prison, serving a life sentence... fortunately for me. And, well, I suppose that little incident changed my father's mind about his daughter's integrity. He's written me letter after letter that I've not received until now since no one knew my whereabouts. No doubt they're apologies, but I've not yet opened them. I don't know if I am ready to see what's inside, if I'm ready to forgive him. Aunt Helaine, unfortunately, passed on last year. She only had one son, and since he, obviously disgraced her precious family name, she named only one sole heir to her entire estate in her will. Perhaps to compensate for all of the hell she made me endure. I, now, can list myself among the wealthy. She's left me not only her fortune, but both her house in Charleston and a country estate just outside of Lyon. The only stipulation is that I cannot inherit any of it until the paperwork is completed and all of the legal details are straightened. It's estimated to take another year or so. So, I will not receive anything until some time from now. Therefore, I came back here, still poor, and madly hoping to get my job back. Which brings us to here and now, and me standing before you." She paused. "So now I must pose a better question: What are you doing around here anyway?"
His gaze shifted to his feet. "Aw, well, ya know.....jus walkin' by, on my way back to the house." Spot looked up to find Lily's eyes staring through him again, and he knew he'd have to tell her the truth. "No, that's a lie. I come here every day. It's a good piece outta the way, but I keep finding m'self walking by. I guess......I guess, well," he sighed deeply, "I miss ya, Jo. I do. I can't help that. I jus- I just...." He took his cap off of his head, ran his hand through his hair, and then put it back on.
"You just what?" Lily questioned.
"I just...."Spot knew he'd have to answer. He knew he'd have to tell her the truth. God, why couldn't he speak?!? "I just........I love ya, Jo. I did some pretty stupid things, and I know that. An' I'm sorry. But I never stopped lovin' ya. And I just want – I just want you. More than anything."
"You want me?" Spot nodded. "I don't think so. I don't think you really want me. It's just the nostalgia speaking. It's made me beautiful and desirable to you now, but it'll soon wear off. Besides, you're Spot Conlon. Infamous lover and romancer of every girl in New York. You don't need me. Your bed's never been empty before, so why should it now?"
Spot laughed and shook his head. He kicked a rock lying on the ground. "That's where ya got me wrong. I ain't no lover." He laughed. "I've had a lot of girls, Jo. I have. But I never-"
"But-" Lily tried to interrupt.
"No, no," Spot continued, "I ain't gonna lie to ya, Jo, I've flitted around with more women than you'se can ever imagine. One here, one there, a night, a week, sometimes two. An a lot o'them did share my bed, I suppose. But I didn't love any of 'em. I slept with a few of them. Less than you probably heard. So there was a few before you. And then three after you to try to make you go away."
"Like that redhead?"
"Yeah, she's one o' em." Spot felt his cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. He hadn't thought that Lily had gotten a close enough look to remember that one.
"Oh," she responded looking away. After a while, she asked, "Well did it work?"
"No."
"Well, time heals all wounds."
Spot wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "It won't."
"What are you saying?
"I'm saying, well, I'm sayin that I tried that. God, I tried that. I tried to stop. I did. I did everything I could think of to get ya outta my head, but it don't work worth nothin'."
Lily looked intently at him, her eyes burning his. "You don't know what you're asking," she muttered in a low tone, "You don't know what you're asking me to do! God! After everything, after all the accusations, the mistrust, the betrayal! You think you can just tell me that you love me and that you want me to come back to you and expect that I'll just coming running back that very moment?"
"I dunno. Yeah..........maybe." Spot shifted his weight from one foot to another, obviously uneasy.
"It's not that easy, Spot. It just isn't. I've spent, what? Four months? I've spent the last four months trying to make myself not care about you! Trying to forget that you ever existed, trying to erase you from my mind! Now, you come waltzing back into my life, claiming to love me and telling me how you need me. How you want me to attach myself to you again. Well, it's not that simple! I cannot just turn my entire life around and be devoted to you fully again. I don't know that I even want to, after everything that's happened. I'm not certain that I want to invest so much of myself into something that potentially won't last! I don't know that I want to chance suffering all of that pain again!"
Spot was silent. It wasn't going as he had planned. He had been certain that if she loved him as much as he loved her, there would be no question in her mind! She would throw herself into his open arms, and everything could go back to the way it was. That's what he had hoped would happen. But, then, she had never actually said that she loved him, had she?
"What if I said no," Lily suddenly asked, staring at Spot's worn and dirty shoes. She looked up into his gray-blue eyes that were now misted with confusion. "Did you think of that Spot? Did you? But, ha, I'm sorry, I forget – no one says no to Spot Conlon. Right? Well, what if I dared to say no? Hmm? What if I just said it?"
"Then I suppose there ain't nothin' I can do about it, is there? Say whatcha want Jo."
It was a long and painful silence for Spot until she finally spoke again. "Alright. I will. No." The word cut through him like sharpened daggers. His heart fell into his stomach and a gnawing pain began to grow in his chest.
"No?"
"Yes, that's right. No. "
"Well, then I suppose.......I suppose......oh fuck it. There ain't nothin' I can say or do to change your mind, is there?" Spot asked, somewhat helplessly. Lily shook her head. "Well, then, there ain't no sense in tryin.' I knows when I'se beat."
"You aren't beat. You're 18 years old. You've your entire life ahead of you," she paused to laugh and lower her voice, "You'll forget about me."
"You'll forget about me," she said again. Picking up two of her bags. She passed him on her way to the door, but looked over her should to utter a faint, almost inaudible, "Goodbye Spot Conlon."
Spot did not turn to face her, nor did her return her goodbye. He stood, unflinchingly still for several moments, trying to regain his composure. His fists clinched as he swallowed back the cries that tried to escape from his throat. Tears stung his eyes, but he held them back. He did not cry. He would not cry. He drew a ragged breath, and slowly began to move one foot forward, and then another. Each step took him farther away from a place he swore he'd never set eyes on again.
~***~
"Spot, you got a visitor."
Esco had appeared in Spot's doorway, and was nervously standing in it, fussing with his hat. Spot had drawn into his room, and refused to come out for anything except to sell and eat. The room was now tinted a blue dark with the hue of twilight's arrival. He laid on his bed on his stomach, his chin resting on his hands. He turned toward Esco and gave him a slow, resigned look. "Tell 'em to go away. I don't wanna see nobody," was his only response.
"You sure?" Esco pleaded.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Nobody"
"But Spot, you ain't come outta there for days. Will you just at least see her? She says her name is Delores."
"I said I don't want to see nobody. Not even her. Tell her to leave now, Esco. I'm warnin' ya." Spot's tone was threatening. Esco knew how dangerous it would be to cross him, but still he pushed on.
"Spot, you sure?" he asked hesitantly, ready to make a run for it should Spot launch a sudden physical or verbal attack.
Spot raised his head to give Esco a long look. "What the hell is wrong with him?" Spot thought, "Why's he so desperate for me to see that bitch Delores?" The fact that he had pressed so hard intrigued Spot. "Okay, fine..." he said, rising from his bed, "Why the hell not?" He trudged to the door and down the hall to the stairs, clad in only his long underwear, gray slacks and socks. His red suspenders hung loosely around his knees and his sandy brown hair was messy and disheveled. Spot had it in his mind that he was simply going to march down there and tell Delores to get lost and then return to his sulking with no time lost.
When he reached the door, he swung it open violently. "What the hell do ya want?" he spat out to the feminine figure he saw standing out on the sidewalk before him. When he eyes passed over her, however, what he saw was not the honey-haired Delores dressed in her usual gray frock. No. The woman standing before him was poised and elegantly attired in a cream dress with burgundy trim. On her delicate hands were silk gloves with pearl buttons. Her dark hair was swept back from her face in an elaborate twist, and she looked out at Spot from under a wide brimmed hat with eyes black as night and deep as the Pacific Ocean.
"Hello, Spot Conlon," she said.
"Delores, huh?" he asked her. "You ain't no Delores, Jo. How'd you know about her anyway."
Lily smiled and simply said in a knowing voice, "Oh, I know people who know people."
"I'm sure you do," responded Spot. He sighed and shrugged. "So, whaddya want, Jo? Huh? Why are you here?"
"Oh, I was in the neighborhood. I had a little business to take care of."
"Business, huh? Like what? What could you possibly have to take care of in these parts?" Spot questioned.
Lily's sly smile faded from her face. She cast her eyes downward and fiddled with the pearl button on one of her gloves. "It was quite urgent, you see...I had to, um, remedy a situation. For, I fear I have made a grave mistake, and I would like to see that mistake corrected." She stopped fiddling with her button and brought her gaze to meet Spot's. Her soft brown eyes looked deeply into his now steel-gray ones. "Spot," she asked softly, "What if I said yes?"
"What if?" he asked through offhandedly, looking away from her and instead focusing his eyes on a streetlamp in the distance.
"Look at me," she said quietly, and he obeyed. "Promise me," she said, her voice starting to slightly waver, "promise me that it will be different. That things will turn out better this time."
"That ain't mine to give," he responded, "I ain't God, ya know."
"I know." She sighed. "Well," she began again, "promise me that you want them to."
Spot didn't answer immediately. Then, he slowly walked down the steps of the lodging house down to Lily, and cupped her face in his hands. Looking into her eyes, his voice warm and solemn with the most sincere honesty, he bit his bottom lip and then said, "More than anything."
Lily sniffled and then a tear trickled down her face. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her glove and laughed at herself. "This is so absurd. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come back. I shouldn't be standing here throwing myself wholeheartedly back into your arms...."
"Are you throwin' yourself back into me arms?" Spot asked with a slight grin.
She sniffled again. "I suppose I am. Ha! This is crazy. Do you know that? Crazy!"
"Jo," he said softly, leaning in to kiss her.
Lily stopped him. "One thing," she said, "My name. Call me Josephine, just once. No one's said it such a long time."
Spot cocked his head to the side and grinned at her again. "Alright," he said and then brought his mouth to her ear to whisper, "Josephine. But you gotta tell me somethin' too."
"What's that?" she asked.
"Tell me dat you love me."
Lily smiled. "Is the night clear and the moon full? Or is it rainin'? Has the sky lost so much of itself that it could at any moment collapse upon our heads? I don't know. I can see none of it. Not a sliver. For my eyes belong only to you.....and I love you Spot Conlon."
"You know, that's real nice Jo. Where'd you get that line from?"
"Oh, I read it somewhere," she answered nonchalantly with a smile.
And under a newly-lit streetlamp, with trunks at their feet, and passersby walking by and looking on disapprovingly, Spot took Josephine into his arms and kissed her.
~***~
Mantovanni was more than happy return Jo's former position to her, but she agreed to come back only if one condition was met: she would still retain her solo act, but she insisted on being allowed to perform with the Bellas again.
She stood onstage, feeling as though she had never left. She and her fellow performers were dancing to a lively tune – the Maple Leaf Rag. It was a new song, something audiences were not accustomed to hearing in the vaudeville halls. Upon returning to New York, Malcolm, the pianist, played it for her. She had instantly fallen in love with and in no time, had choreographed a number to it and convinced Mantovanni to let them perform it.
She looked to her left and saw Faye smile at her as they joined hands. She became lost to the sounds of the music and the life swirling around her: the tapping of the girls' heels on the wooden stage, and the swish of their dresses as they danced.....she loved those sounds – the small, insignificant details that comforted her and made her feel alive. She looked down into the front row and was met by a pair of smiling gray-blue eyes. Spot had abandoned his favourite seat in the balcony for a stage front view. She smiled back at him and winked. As she did , she couldn't help but feel that then, even if it were for only that very moment, everything in the world was right .At the end of the number, Spot stood up from his chair. He pulled a flower from his coat and gently tossed it onto the stage. Josephine August stooped to pick up the flower, and held it to her heart. It was a lily – snow white, pure, and utterly perfect.
FIN
~***~
(-all songs from Sarah Brightman.)
*One day he'll return
One day he'll return
My dear love from yesterday
Love will return
On a day of light
In the hours that come
Or in the coming year
I don't care if I have to wait
Because it is the man I love
And I'll be waiting for him even longer
One day he'll return
My dear love from yesterday
And tomorrow love will be reborn
One fine light day
The supreme happiness
And the nights that follow each other
One after the other for a long time
In the hours that will come
Or in the coming year
I'll be waiting for you
One day he'll return
My dear love from yesterday
Love will return
On a day of light
If it's a dream
Make it still last
Oh, my dream
Make it still last
One day he'll return
My dear love from yesterday
Love will return
On a day of light If it's a dream
Make it still last
Oh, my dream
Make it still last
One day
