Page 164 of Once an Angel
Groaning, the steamer jolted into motion. Doreen screeched a protest. As the island melted into the horizon, Emily's nails dug into the rail.
"We won't meet today, Mr. Connor," she whispered. "Not today. Not ever." He would never have the chance to laugh in her face for daring to believe he might want her in his life.
But as the steamer chugged into its tidy rhythm, Doreen's moan of despair careened into a whoop of joy. Emily's gaze followed the stretch of her outflung arm.
Barney's tiny boat cut through the waves. Emily's breath caught in her throat. She took two dazed steps toward the rail and watched as Doreen and Barney struggled to hoist the boat up the side.
Before Barney could climb out, Doreen was poking him in the ribs. "What did he say? Didn't you bring him back with you?" She craned her scrawny neck to peer into the boat as if her brother might be hiding someone under the narrow seat. "Is he coming? Is he sending a fancy boat for us?"
Barney slowly raised his head, his eyes flat peridots in his sallow face. "He ain't there. Ain't no one
there but a pack o' bleedin' savages and some old 'ermit named Pooka livin' in a hut. There ain't no
fancy 'ouse and there ain't no fancy gentleman either."
"It can't be. He has to be there. Our Miss Amelia said so.
Barney's gaze came to rest on Emily with pure malevolence. "You 'eard me. 'E ain't there."
Doreen's shoulders slumped. "Miss Amelia was afraid of this. She didn't even tell him we were bringing the brat in the letter she sent."
"Then 'e must o' found out some other way and moved on. Wouldn't you?"
A bolt of raw pain shot through Emily, shocking her with its intensity. She hated Doreen. She hated Barney. She hated the whole world. But most of all she hated the tiny corner of her heart that had
dared to hope.
Tears sheened her vision. She threw back her head and burst into laughter, speaking for the first time in that long, sullen afternoon. "I'm sure Miss Winters will be receiving an explanation very soon. 'Dear Miss Winters, I regret to inform you my present situation is not suited for the care of a child. Enclosed within
is my generous offering of three pounds and five shillings for the continuance of her education, her board, her dowry, and an extra halfpenny to buy her a sweetmeat.' "
Barney and Doreen gaped at her; their pointed jaws dropped to their throats.
"Christ, the two of you are so pathetic! You trot halfway around the world at the bidding of some grasping, senile old woman on an idiot's mission. You with your hideous bonnet and you with your
short, ugly suit. You're both clowns! We're all clowns in Miss Amelia Winters's bloody traveling circus!"
Emily spun around. She was gulping back tears now and she would be damned to eternal hell before those two leeches would see her cry.
She heard them whispering behind her and wondered if she had gone too far. She doubted if any of
Miss Winters's genteel pupils had ever dared address the prickly Miss Dobbins in such a manner.
The creak of a plank warned Emily. She turned around. Barney and Doreen slunk toward her, shoulders hunched like two alley cats. Emily cast a frantic glance at the bridge. The captain was draped over the wheel, snoring with his eyes open.
"You were poor Miss Amelia's last hope," Doreen said, her voice as oddly flat as her eyes.
"Ungrateful little witch," Barney muttered.
Emily pressed herself to the rail. The rough wood dug into her back. "Stay away from me. I'm warning you."
"Why?" Doreen taunted. "Is the great and mighty Mr. Connor going to swoop down from the sky to
save you? He don't want you. Nobody does."
The words should have lost their power to sting. But Emily discovered they hadn't. Silently cursing the weight of her heavy skirts, she gauged her chances of dashing past them on the narrow deck.
Barney cocked his head. "What was it Miss Amelia said about bringin' 'er back?"
