Read Online By the Light of the Silvery Moon by Tricia Goyer - Free Book Online
Authors: Tricia Goyer
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together.
No, it’s too soon to think of that.
He pushed that last hope from his mind.
It had been so long since a woman had taken interest in him, he had to remind himself that just because she offered her friendship didn’t mean she thought more of him than that. Why would she? Why would anyone?
Squinting into the lowering sun, they watched the children play. The rail cast shadows that lengthened, nearing the chairs where he and Amelia sat as the minutes ticked by. The long shadows of the boats, rigging, ropes, and rails became artistic creations splayed on the deck.
When was the last time he’d paused to look at such things? For too long he’d only been worried about his next meal or where to lay his head.
“So, I have to ask,” Amelia was saying. “I can tell by your accent you’re American. I won’t ask how you got to England.” Amelia looked over him and narrowed her gaze. “Not yet anyway.” She smiled. “Have you traveled around the States much? I have spoken to a few people who have visited, and it seems like a beautiful and expansive place.”
“Beautiful, yes, at least most places. I’ve been all over the States. My father’s … uh … work saw to that. I grew up in Maryland. I’ve been to Florida, California by train, and all the States the train took me through to get there.”
“Have you been to New York?” Amelia’s voice rose an octave.
“Yes.” He chuckled at the joy on her face. “Why?”
“Have you seen the Ziegfeld Follies?”
Quentin thought back. The last time he’d been in the city he’d only been a teen. He’d been more interested in the tall buildings and their construction than the musicals.
“No, why?”
“Oh, no reason really. Except that I love the music.” Enthusiasm bubbled out with her words. “Tin Pan Alley songs is what they call them.”
Quentin furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I haven’t really kept up with the latest music….”
“The name comes from music publishers set up in Manhattan. One of my aunt’s neighbors had a phonograph. He didn’t have money for meat from the butcher, but he always had the latest records. I would often go to sleep at night to the music drifting through the walls. He told me about the Ziegfeld Follies in New York, too. Famous stars sing there, and they have beautiful chorus girls called Ziegfeld girls. Once I fell asleep to the music and dreamt I was singing in the chorus.”
She smiled and hummed a tune. Her face lit up as she did, and he imagined taking her to a place like that. In his old life he could have seen to that. Now it was only an impossible dream.
As she continued humming—slightly out of key—Quentin vaguely recognized the tune. A few times over the last two years, he’d slipped into small pubs and had a chance to listen to a few songs before they’d kicked him out. The song she hummed must have been one of the popular ones. If he wasn’t mistaken, the lyrics said something about a moon.
“Manhattan. That’s pretty close to where the docks are in New York. Do you think you’ll get a chance to visit the follies while you’re there?”
“Oh no.” The words blurted from her lips. “I won’t stay in New York. I’m heading to New Haven, Connecticut. I have … uh … my cousin is there.”
“Your cousin. I see.” From the guilty look on her face, Quentin could tell there was more to her story, but he decided not to press.
“Besides,” she quickly added. “To go to such a show like that would cost a lot of money. Money that could be used to help people.”
Tingles ran up his neck, and memories of this morning crashed down upon him. For a little while he’d forgotten who he was and how he’d lived for the past two years. Her words reminded him again how she saw him, how she rescued him.
“I see.” He whistled under his breath. “So I’m not the only one who calls you my angel of mercy.”
Pink rose up her cheeks, and he could see that she liked his pet
No, it’s too soon to think of that.
He pushed that last hope from his mind.
It had been so long since a woman had taken interest in him, he had to remind himself that just because she offered her friendship didn’t mean she thought more of him than that. Why would she? Why would anyone?
Squinting into the lowering sun, they watched the children play. The rail cast shadows that lengthened, nearing the chairs where he and Amelia sat as the minutes ticked by. The long shadows of the boats, rigging, ropes, and rails became artistic creations splayed on the deck.
When was the last time he’d paused to look at such things? For too long he’d only been worried about his next meal or where to lay his head.
“So, I have to ask,” Amelia was saying. “I can tell by your accent you’re American. I won’t ask how you got to England.” Amelia looked over him and narrowed her gaze. “Not yet anyway.” She smiled. “Have you traveled around the States much? I have spoken to a few people who have visited, and it seems like a beautiful and expansive place.”
“Beautiful, yes, at least most places. I’ve been all over the States. My father’s … uh … work saw to that. I grew up in Maryland. I’ve been to Florida, California by train, and all the States the train took me through to get there.”
“Have you been to New York?” Amelia’s voice rose an octave.
“Yes.” He chuckled at the joy on her face. “Why?”
“Have you seen the Ziegfeld Follies?”
Quentin thought back. The last time he’d been in the city he’d only been a teen. He’d been more interested in the tall buildings and their construction than the musicals.
“No, why?”
“Oh, no reason really. Except that I love the music.” Enthusiasm bubbled out with her words. “Tin Pan Alley songs is what they call them.”
Quentin furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I haven’t really kept up with the latest music….”
“The name comes from music publishers set up in Manhattan. One of my aunt’s neighbors had a phonograph. He didn’t have money for meat from the butcher, but he always had the latest records. I would often go to sleep at night to the music drifting through the walls. He told me about the Ziegfeld Follies in New York, too. Famous stars sing there, and they have beautiful chorus girls called Ziegfeld girls. Once I fell asleep to the music and dreamt I was singing in the chorus.”
She smiled and hummed a tune. Her face lit up as she did, and he imagined taking her to a place like that. In his old life he could have seen to that. Now it was only an impossible dream.
As she continued humming—slightly out of key—Quentin vaguely recognized the tune. A few times over the last two years, he’d slipped into small pubs and had a chance to listen to a few songs before they’d kicked him out. The song she hummed must have been one of the popular ones. If he wasn’t mistaken, the lyrics said something about a moon.
“Manhattan. That’s pretty close to where the docks are in New York. Do you think you’ll get a chance to visit the follies while you’re there?”
“Oh no.” The words blurted from her lips. “I won’t stay in New York. I’m heading to New Haven, Connecticut. I have … uh … my cousin is there.”
“Your cousin. I see.” From the guilty look on her face, Quentin could tell there was more to her story, but he decided not to press.
“Besides,” she quickly added. “To go to such a show like that would cost a lot of money. Money that could be used to help people.”
Tingles ran up his neck, and memories of this morning crashed down upon him. For a little while he’d forgotten who he was and how he’d lived for the past two years. Her words reminded him again how she saw him, how she rescued him.
“I see.” He whistled under his breath. “So I’m not the only one who calls you my angel of mercy.”
Pink rose up her cheeks, and he could see that she liked his pet
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