Resurrecting Harry Page 4

  As Erich filled the order, Will continued his conversation. “Are you going to eat here, Stanley, or take it back to the station?”

  “I was planning on sitting right here, if that’s okay.”

  Will’s fingers tapped against the counter. He shifted his weight. “Of course. I need to run across the street for a few minutes. Can you keep an eye on the place for me?”

  “Not a problem.”

  Finally! A chance to interact with Bess.

  Erich watched Will cross the street, dodging between straggling shoppers and the occasional car meandering down Main street. He delivered the order to Stanley, and then turned back, picking up the coffee pot and setting his sights on the corner booth. “A refill, Mrs. Houdini?”

  A curt nod gave him permission, and he began to pour. She closed the book and gave him her full attention. “You won’t spill it on me, will you?”

  Like our very first meeting! His stomach lightened and spirits lifted. Maybe she did find him familiar. “Not if I can help it.”

  “It’d be a perfect distraction. Maybe give you another chance at my husband’s ring.”

  If the short, choppy lilt didn’t speak to her anger, her tone rang loud and clear. He leaned against the opposite seat of the booth and tried to explain. “It wasn’t my intention to steal it. Why would I even try while standing right in front of you? It’s ridiculous.”

  “My husband could steal your wallet while you were staring him dead in the eye. I know more than you might think about sleight of hand.” She straightened her back and lifted her chin, self-assured and defiant.

  God how he missed moments like these. Erich set the pot on the table and leaned against its edge. “Something tells me the great Houdini had a little more honor than to steal a man’s wallet.”

  Bess cocked her head to the right and smiled. She tried to hide it, but he could see she also enjoyed the developing tit-for-tat. “But what of you, Mr. Erich Welch? Are you a man of honor? Or should I have warned Will that you have light fingers?”

  She was teasing him now; her smile proved that. His guard fell, and he began to trust in the implicit soul-connection between them. “I may be clumsy or excitable. I often leap without thinking, but I’m not a thief.”

  Something darker wiped the hint of joy from her face. Her eyes shifted from him to the window. “I know all I care to about impetuous men.”

  Too much pain resided in her voice. Bess and Harry’s life and love should be something she celebrated, not mourned. Separation hurt. He missed her in the same way he’d miss his beating heart. More than a joy, he needed her to breathe, but the pain didn’t darken his memories or fill him with regret. Why did it do that to her? “You know what I think? Doing something impetuous might be just what you need. What do you say? Let me take you to dinner?”

  Her eyes crawled up and down his body, evaluating him. She was putting Harry’s lessons on reading people to good use. Erich’s pulse quickened, but then being near Bess always did that.

  She shook her head and laughed, mocking his joy. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  Because I love you, Bess. “I’m new in town and want to make friends.”

  “With an older woman and a widow to boot?” Back again was the doubtful cynic.

  “With a beautiful, spunky woman.”

  “Flattery may breed a fool, Mr. Welch, but I won’t be swindled.”

  “I have no intention—”

  Her waving hand cut him off. “I heard you tell Will you don’t even have a place to stay. You have more important concerns than a frivolous dinner with me.”

  His lip curled between his teeth. As much as he enjoyed playing cat and mouse, she’d checked him with reality. Even if she agreed to spend time with him, the few coins jingling in his pocket wouldn’t buy either of them more than a cup of coffee, let alone a meal for both.

  Erich was about to suggest a walk in the park – something they could do on his limited budget – but was interrupted by the sound of a rubber ball hitting the tile floor. It brushed against his leg, and he bent over and picked up the ball.

  A small boy with dark, disheveled hair and big brown eyes ran up, tugged on his pant leg and reached up to him. After returning the toy to its rightful owner, Erich patted the child’s shoulder. His mother mumbled a thank you as she bustled by them, guiding the child out of the diner.

  With the distraction out of the way, Erich tried to make headway with Bess, when the bell sounded again. Erich froze. He’d been caught doing the one thing he was warned against. Will’s voice filled the room. “I’m paying you to wash dishes, Erich.”

  “I was just taking care of your customer,” he replied, rounding the corner.

  “Mrs. Houdini’s coffee is just fine. Mr. Hanson is waiting for you at the hardware store. I just bought a cot. I figured until you can save up a paycheck or two, you might be just as comfortable sleeping in the store room. I’d have brought it back myself, but the clerk had to get it down off the top shelf. Go on. Pick it up.”

  And just that quick, one problem was solved. Not having to pay for a room would give him more assets in his pursuit of Bess. Most would have found Will’s offer of a place to lay his head strange, but Erich knew it wasn’t out of the norm. Harry’s soul was littered with memories of the man taking in and nurturing abandoned kittens and helping the less fortunate. Will considered Erich just another stray. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

  The gruff man’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Thank me by doing the job I hired you to do.”

  Erich returned the pot to the warmer. The clank of glass hitting the metal reminded him some things are fragile and need a gentle hand, like forging a relationship with Bess. Pushing too hard and too fast would only cause any chance of success to shatter. He was a stranger in her eyes and needed to remember that.

  As he untied his apron, he heard Will say to Bess, “I asked them about your furnace. The guy they recommended is out of town for a week.”

  “Oh dear,” she replied. “I really didn’t want to take Gail up on her offer. She and Martin have done too much for me already, but I’m running out of options.”

  That god-forsaken furnace. And Gail Cooper? If there were two things Harry could count on it was that old thing breaking down, and that wolf in sheep’s clothing taking advantage of the situation, but he knew an opening when he saw it. “I know my way around a furnace, Mrs. Houdini. If you’d like, I can take a look at it.”

  She sized him up with curiosity. The scrutiny might have offended some, but it filled him with pride. She remembered Harry’s lessons about the cheats and liars and wasn’t going to walk down any blind path. “That’s just what I need, for you to blow up my house.”

  Even with her refusal, he couldn’t help but laugh. She may be dead serious, but then she didn’t know it was really Harry she refused and chastised. “The house I used to own had a dinosaur of a fuel oil furnace, Mrs. Houdini. I spent more hours than I care to mention repairing it. And look. Not one burn or scar.”

  He offered his hands as evidence. Bess continued to stare at him without speaking, weighing his offer and considering her choices. After a long pause, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Welch, I just don’t think so.”

  “They’re waiting for you across the street,” Will reminded him once again.

  Erich thought better of defying his new boss for a third time, so with a short nod, he stepped away. Once outside, failure crept around him like a heavy blanket. Harry had experienced hardships, but winning over Bess had been simple back then. Sure, she had been tenacious, but never so crass. Their love had a way of pitting them as a team against the world. No wonder she raged skepticism against strangers. Without him, she must feel so alone.

  Still, her fire warmed him, even if she meant it to burn.

  Erich worked the problem over in his mind. Changing tactics, a skill he’d fine tuned throughout his life, now came easily. He’d have to first focus on Will. Keeping his job was paramount in order t
o have any connection to Bess, no matter how slight.

  At the hardware store, he pulled open the door as he turned back toward the diner, wondering if Bess would even be there when he got back. The small boy with the red ball caught Erich’s eye.

  The toddler bounced his prized possession against the brick building, catching the toy as it rolled back, repeating the game over again. The door handle slipped from Erich’s hand. The tot’s exuberance demanded his full attention, something he hadn’t allowed himself to give while in Bess’s presence. Erich recalled countless memories of nieces and nephews and brothers and sisters. Only the innocent could enjoy something so simple.

  Again the ball ricocheted off the walk and against the building, but this time it skipped by the child and into the street. As the boy followed, Erich scanned the area for his mother to warn. Not finding her, he retraced his steps.

  The child, oblivious to everything around him, chased his toy. Erich’s stomach knotted as the worse-case-scenario played in his mind. He called out, “Stop! Don’t move!”

  Ignoring his scream, the toddler continued his quest. A horn sounded. A quick look up confirmed a car was barreling straight for the little one, who had picked up the ball and was now heading back toward the safety of the sidewalk. Without a doubt, the horrific scene in Erich’s head was going to become a tragic reality.

  He darted off the curb and leapt to grab the boy. Both tumbled toward the opposite walk. Panicked screams erupted in his ears. Pain flashed through his side. Spitting dirt from his mouth, Erich gripped the boy tighter. “Thank Heavens!” he muttered just as a woman ripped the child from his arms.

  “What are you doing to my baby!” the frantic mother cried.

  “He darted into—”

  “Are you okay, Joey?” She wept, cradling the toddler to his chest. “How dare you!” Her anger fell on Erich as if he had hurt the child or attempted to grab him for some nefarious reason.

  He pushed himself to a sitting position, ready to defend himself, but Bess jumped between the two of them. She stretched her muscles taut, trying to look larger and more imposing than her five-foot-two-inch frame. “Him? How dare you? That child is just a toddler, and you weren’t watching him! Mr. Welch just saved your son and you have the nerve to accost him?”

  “I-I-I-” The reality of the situation hit the woman. Anger dissolved to guilt as she broke down into sobs.

  Now Bess loomed over him, offering a hand. “You’re a hero, Mr. Welch.”

  Behind her, onlookers gathered, including Will. Impressing Bess hadn’t entered his mind, but her smile — that made him feel like the most special man in the world. He accepted her help and basked in her admiration. He wanted to lose himself in it, or capitalize on Bess having dropped her walls, but the sobs of the woman cradling her little boy kept his focus where it belonged. “Ma’am. It’s okay. He’s safe. That’s what’s important.”

  She picked her head up and looked at Erich through strings of tear-soaked brown hair. “It was my fault for turning away. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

  Erich could see Bess’s anger crack, if only just a bit as she flipped her attention to the young mother. “You hold him tight, Miss. Children are precious.” Bess then looked back to him. “Thank Heavens for you.”

  Erich braced his throbbing side and tried to mask his pain. “Any man would do the same, Angel.”

  “Everyone else couldn’t be bothered,” Will said, stepping up to them. “You were the only one to notice and anticipate—”

  Erich shook off the adulation and put a hand against the boy’s back while wrapping an arm around his sobbing mother. “It’s all right, Ma’am. All that matters is he’s okay.”

  A stream of thank-yous poured from the woman’s mouth. Not knowing what else to say, he retreated and started walking up the block.

  “Where you going?” Will asked.

  “The hardware store, to pick up the cot.”

  “Nonsense!” Will answered. “You go inside and have a cup of coffee. Catch your breath. I’ll go get the cot.”

  With a nod, Erich started for the diner. Taking slow, deep breaths, he tried to control the fire burning in his side. Suddenly, Bess stood in front of him.

  “I’ve been thinking about your offer,” she said, her eyes planted on his. “And I’ve decided to accept. If you’re still willing, can you come by after work and look at my furnace?”

  “Sure thing, Angel.” Finally, his inroad! He’d be jumping for joy if not for the pain ripping him in two. Erich hobbled through the door and into the kitchen. Bracing against the sink, he pulled the shirt tales from his pants and noticed the blood stains. Lifting the fabric away, he saw that one of the stitches had split open, causing blood to ooze from the wound.

  He picked up a white towel, wet one of the ends and pressed it to his stomach, swallowing the scream that pushed at his throat. The pain didn’t crush his spirit, though. Tonight he’d be in his home, with his wife. If the cost for that was a single ripped stitch, he’d pay without question.

  Chapter Five

  “Damn it!” A loud clank reverberated through the dingy basement as the wrench slipped from Erich’s hands. A high-sulfur odor overpowered him. Holding his breath, he reached around the large metal box, hit the reset button and scratched the wooden stick-match against the floor. When the flame jumped to the furnace’s pilot, a sigh escaped his lips.

  Even being home again could not temper Erich’s regret. Harry hated the furnace, knew it was on its last leg, yet never took the time to install a newer model. How surreal to be in his house, doing the same things he did in his past existence, but to still be a stranger to the one person who mattered the most. Once he won Bess’s heart, he hoped this new reality would feel less like a dream.

  He slid his hands over his thighs and then looked down. Soot smudges now covered the dirt and the tear in the knee, a remnant from his tumble in the street. Exactly what was he supposed to wear to work in the morning?

  With an idea in mind, he returned the tools to the rusty old box and carried it up the stairs. He found Bess hovering over a pot on the stove. “The furnace is fixed, Mrs. Houdini.”

  She met him with a warm smile. Relief loosened the muscles of her face and neck. She looked softer, more like his loving wife. “I don’t know how to thank you, but I hope a home-cooked meal will at least be a start. Dinner is nearly finished. Please stay and eat.”

  The invitation was more than he’d hoped for and made him second guess the request he’d set his mind on. Would he seem greedy? Without another option, he’d have to take the gamble. “I’d appreciate a good meal, thank you, but I was wondering if you’d allow me to use your shower. Between the soot from the furnace, the grease from the diner and the dirt from the incident in the street—”

  “Oh my. Of course. Just up the stairs, you’ll find a bathroom halfway down the hall and on the left. Clean up first, and then we’ll eat. Oh, and bring me back those clothes. I’ll wash and mend them. It’s the least a hero like you deserves.”

  A grin played across his lips. Praise from Bess thrilled him, but deep down it was also embarrassing. “I did what any man would, but I am grateful for the help. I’m just not sure I can accept it.”

  “Why?”

  Harry Houdini blush? Sure enough his cheeks were warming. “I don’t think you want me sitting around your house in the suit I was born in.”

  Her mouth dropped, and her eyes opened wider. A few seconds later, her words followed in a short, choppy cadence. “Well, then, when you go back to the diner you can change. I’ll pick them up next time I come into town.”

  “You don’t understand. The clothes on my back are all I own.” The whole thing might be funny, if it weren’t true. The levity of the situation drew another memory of the dire straits Harry had grown out of. By the time they’d finally found fame, he’d sworn to Bess and himself they’d never again know poverty, yet here he stood, depending on the kindness of others for his most basic necessities.
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br />   A dozen questions or more play across her face, but mere seconds later she announced her solution. “Hanging on the left side of the closet in my bedroom are some of Harry’s old clothes. Pick out two or three outfits.”

  He gave thanks and rounded the corner, climbing the steps. In the bathroom, he peeled the shirt from his body and looked at the incision. Red, swollen and mangled, some bruising now framed the cut’s puffy edges. He’d have to clean the area well and try a little harder to be mindful of it.

  It was all worth Bess’s change of heart, though. Cuts healed, and this one would too.

  On a hunch, he opened the medicine cabinet and found Harry’s razor still sitting on the bottom shelf. Next to it was a small tube of Burma Shave. Standing in front of the sink, he rubbed the cool shaving cream against his cheeks. His reflection was such a contrast from the man he used to be, and it twisted his stomach into knots. Every so often, he’d let his eyes drift close, refusing to accept the image staring back at him.

  Dark hair replaced with blond, blue eyes for his brown and that only scratched the surface. His face was thinner, longer and none of the pieces that made up his appearance seemed even close to real. No wonder Bess hadn’t been drawn to him or connected with him. He couldn’t even find a way to accept the face as his own.

  In the shower, warm water soothed his flesh and the aching muscles beneath. He rolled the bar of soap in his hands. Frothy foam bubbled from the bar, dingy from the dirt it pulled from his hands, and the unmistakable powdered scent filled his head. Some things hadn’t changed a bit: same sterile tub, scrubbed clean with Clorox bleach; same soft, white Ivory soap. He wished the smile he loved still graced Bess’s lips more often, and he ached to return to her loving embrace.

  Once out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and padded down the hall to the bedroom. Welcomed by the flowered scent of the perfume he bought Bess on each and every one of their anniversaries, it didn’t feel strange to open the closet and flip through the wardrobe. The pants and shirts still hung exactly as Harry left them before he and Bess left for their last trip: a series of performances that ended for him in Detroit, Michigan. Except for his stage clothes, they were nowhere to be seen. His trunk sat in the corner, covered with a thin layer of dust. Erich wondered if she’d packed the costumes in there.