Bloody hell! Kate thought. No one knows me. He sounds like he’s talking about some saint. What would all these people say if they knew the real Kate Blackwell? Sired by a thief and kidnapped before I was a year old What would they think if I showed them the bullet scars on my body?
She turned her head and looked at the man who had once tried to kill her. Kate’s eyes moved past him to linger on a figure in the shadows, wearing a veil to conceal her face. Over a distant clap of thunder, Kate heard the governor finish his speech and introduce her. She rose to her feet and looked out at the assembled guests.
When she spoke, her voice was firm and strong. Tve lived longer than any of you. As
youngsters today would say, ‘That’s no big deal.’ But I’m glad I made it to this age, because otherwise I wouldn’t be here with all you dear friends. I know some of you have traveled from distant countries to be with me tonight, and you must be tired from your journey. It wouldn’t be fair for me to expect everyone to have my
There was a roar of laughter, and they applauded her.
‘Thank you for making this such a memorable evening. I shall never forget it. For those of you who wish to retire, your rooms are ready. For the others, there will be dancing in the ballroom.” There was another clap of thunder. “I suggest we all move indoors before we get caught in one of our famous Maine storms.”
Now the dinner and dancing were over, the guests had retired and Kate was alone with her ghosts. She sat in the library, drifting back into the past, and she suddenly felt depressed. There’s no one left to call me Kate, she thought. They’ve all gone. Her world had shrunk. Wasn’t it Longfellow who said, “The leaves of memory make a mournful rustle in the dark”? She would be entering the dark soon, but not yet. I still have to do the most important thing of my life, Kate thought Be patient, David. I’ll be with you soon.
Novel Book: MASTER OF THE GAME
Copyright © 1982 by Sheldon Literary Trust