Unfinished (Historical Fiction) - By Harper Alibeck Page 0,39

smiled.

"Congratulations!" he said in strongly accented English.

"Not yet! She hasn't accepted." Both laughed, then the clerk sat and tapped out James' heart desire as two pieces of metal conveyed his soul's work.

Please say yes. Those words weren't in his message but he hoped she could read between the lines. Hoped she understood his exhaustion, his ambition, his untethered desire and his need for her. Letters helped, but nothing filled the Lilith-shaped hole in him. She was the final piece of his life's puzzle, and without her no whole would ever be quite right.

Let me love you enough.

And love me back.

My Dearest Rocky,

It is time to send for you, my dear, and for all my silly promises to come to truth. My work here has been hard. Much harder than anticipated. My men have dug more dirt than any man should have to, and moved more machines than ten locomotives, but at last we have done it. I have the mineral rights here and we tapped into a large saltpeter vein, so large that we will change the future of the market even as far as where the King of Siam lives, or where Captain Scott makes his journeys.

Rocky, it's true this time. I've made my fortune, and it's time for you to come and join me. I've secured a ticket for you on a steamer that will bring you into the port here. Please send telegram to confirm.

All my love,

James

No amount of re-reading made the words change. Lilith couldn't believe it. He'd done it. By God, he'd really done it. Like some sad story out of the racing papers, conjured up as pabulum for the masses to read and delude themselves, James' story read like a cheap serial. The poor boy from Southie had slept his way to capital investment, gone off to South America, and now he was worth millions.

Her Southie boy.

Marry him for his money? Deep-throated laughter burst from her, the sound incongruously strong and jolly, coming from a bony, slight-framed woman standing in the hallway of a Beacon Hill home. Servants trickled in as Lilith whooped with laughter, the sound increasingly joyful and hysterical, a balance both comforting and alarming for those witnessing the Miss in rare form.

Happy.

Skipping -- skipping! -- down the marble-lined hall, Lilith flitted into her father's office, nearly taunting him with the tan sheet that gave her freedom from his control. Her trust was all she'd had until now. James gave her more.

John Stone sat behind his desk, looking up only to pinpoint the source of the commotion. Lilith's eyes lighted on his with great satisfaction. These were words she never thought she would utter before her father:

"I am getting married." She spoke slowly, with great deliberation, careful to make certain he heard her the first time, savoring the impact she knew her words would have.

His eyes widened and brow lifted. "Married?"

"Yes."

"To whom?"

His composure unsettled her; surely an announcement that his spinster daughter would finally wed deserved more? "James Hillman."

He jumped to his feet. "Oh, surely you joke, Lilith!" A desperation in his eyes gave her what she sought.

Control.

"I am laughing, but I assure you this is no joke." She waved the telegram before him, letting it settle on a stack of papers he'd just been signing. "His proposal."

Stone read the message quickly, then shook his head. "Hillman and his crazy ideas. What was Escola thinking, funding his mining expedition?"

"Likely thinking -- now -- that he made one hell of an investment."

Her father frowned at the profanity, pursing his lips in distaste. "You would marry a clerk, of all people, and forfeit your trust?"

The denouement. "Yes. The money can revert back to the government of Canada for all I care. James has made his mark. He does not need my money. I leave for Chile tomorrow."

"To the government!" Ah, there was the emotion she'd expected sooner. Of course he reserved it for money. Not her.

Laughter from Lilith was his only answer as she scampered down the hall, rushing off to the telegram office to accept James' proposal. She was halfway down the first block when she realized she'd left the telegram, and James' return address, in her father's office. A quick reversal and she found her way up the steps and down the hall, passing several maids and kitchen girls with heads together, whispering feverishly.

Jack Reed stood next to her father, bent over and reading the telegram.

“Jack! When did you return?” Chortling, she reached for the paper. "I'll have that, thank you," she