Soon she’d be gone from his life.
Neither spoke the remainder of the walk. When they emerged from the thicket, they followed a wide cart path several hundred yards before rounding a bend and seeing the village.
“The village isn’t like the city,” he said. “The village’s weather-beaten buildings likely will look humble to you,” he said. Many a survivor from a shipping accident had complained of the simple village and its lack of conveniences.
Rachel stopped and, shielding her eyes from the sun, studied the collection of buildings. “On the contrary, they are quite charming.”
He studied her, searching for signs of insincerity. But there were none.
On the north end of town stood the general store run by Ida. Next to it stood Mae Talbert’s pub. She ran a clean place and had six rooms—none were fancy but all were spit-’n’-polish clean. Down the main dirt street stood a small white church with its new wooden spire added only last fall.
Behind the building was the Sound. Piers jutted out from the sandy coastline into the waters. Today only a couple of boats bobbed from tethers tied to the docks. Most of the fisherman had left at dawn, ready to make up for the days lost during the last storm. It was the middle of the week so the children had been sent to board on the mainland
for school. None of the residents liked giving up their children, but any who wanted an education for their young ones had no choice.
The main street was quiet, but the few women who spotted them stopped and openly stared at Rachel. No doubt, Ida and Callie had told the town about her. Most shipwreck survivors were men, sailors and fisherman and the few women generally traveled with their husbands or family. The fact that Rachel had been alone and traveling on a freighter made her an oddity.
“Hello there, Ben,” called an older woman. Sara Crocket had just celebrated her eightieth year. She had been a young girl when the first lighthouse had been built on the island. She’d seen the tower partly destroyed in the ’49 storm and witnessed the current lighthouse’s construction ten years ago.
“Afternoon,” he said to Mrs. Crocket.
Rachel fussed with her hair, pulling wisps loose to cover her bruised eye.
“It barely shows,” he said.
Her gaze darted up to his. They were full of worry and shame.
If he could find the person who’d given her the bruise he’d have beaten him to a pulp. “Truly, it’s almost faded.”
Rachel stood a little straighter. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Crocket crossed the street, hobbling. The damp weather always made her hip ache.
Ben took Rachel’s arm. This time she didn’t flinch. Pleased, he guided her toward Mrs. Crocket to save the old woman a step. They met in the center of the quiet street. “Hear you caught yourself a mermaid,” she said, laughing. The sun had etched deep lines into her old narrow face and her thinning gray hair, always pulled back in a bun, had been silver for as long as he could remember.
“Not a mermaid,” he said easily. “Just a woman with the bad fortune to be sailing these waters in a storm. Mrs. Crocket, meet Rachel Davis.”
Mrs. Crocket studied Rachel, openly curious. “Davis, did you say? I don’t know any Davis in these parts but there is a Lyle Davis in Elizabeth City. Are you kin to him?”
He sensed Rachel’s reserve. “No, ma’am.”
“Where you hail from, girl?”
“North.”
“North!” Mrs. Crocket shook her head, her disgust clear. “Not too far
north
I hope. Folks ain’t so fond of the Yanks around here.” She winked at Ben. “Some folks still haven’t forgiven Ben for siding with the Federals, and he grew up here.”
Ben shrugged. He’d followed his conscious. The opinions of others didn’t matter.
Right now, Rachel held his interest.
He noted the way her smile reached her eyes as she looked at the old woman. “No, ma’am, not too far north.” She glanced into the woman’s basket. “Is that bread I smell? It smells divine. Did you bake it?”
The older woman grinned at the compliment. She was unaware that Rachel had changed the course of the conversation. Rachel had a knack for deflecting questions.
North.
It could mean Virginia or Canada, for all he knew. As the two women chatted about recipes, he wondered again where Rachel was from. The more she hid her past, the more compelled he was to find out more about it.
In a few short minutes Rachel had won over the older woman, who’d promised to bake her a loaf of bread tomorrow.
When they reached Ida’s store, he had to smile. “You’ve a way with people.”
She looked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I’d say you were genuinely interested in Mrs. Crocket’s cooking,”
She frowned. “I was.”
“You’ve never seen the inside of a kitchen, I’ll wager.”
“No, but I’ve read a few cookbooks. Some are so precise with their measurements, but she’s never measured anything in her life. Uses just her senses when she cooks. That’s very interesting to me.”
“You read a lot.”
“Not much lately.”
“Why not?”
“Lots of reasons.”
He climbed the front steps to Ida’s mercantile and opened the door. Bells above the door jingled. “A beautiful woman like you reads, but doesn’t live her life.”
She stepped inside, ducking her head as she moved past him. “Books are a great escape.”
“From what?”
Rachel arched an eyebrow. “You are so full of questions.”
“Toss me one answer and I’ll stop.”
“So are we trading questions for questions now?”
He shrugged. “That was my offer.”
Her eyes sparked with curiosity. “Why did you leave the Navy?”
He’d heard that very same question dozens of times. Other than Ida and Callie, he’d never answered it.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Ah, you don’t want to
answer the question. You see? We all have subjects we don’t want to talk about.”
“All right,” Ben said. “But then you owe me an answer to a question.”
He was calling her bluff.
She took a step back. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I—I shouldn’t have pried.”
He lifted a shoulder. “A deal’s a deal.” And before she could silence him, he said, “I was court-martialed.”
S
tunned, Rachel blinked, not sure what to say. Ben Mitchell seemed like the last man on this earth that the Navy would court-martial. He was solid and strong; a man who lived by a code of honor regardless of the dangers. He’d proved as much to her when he’d boarded the
Anna St. Claire
to rescue her. “Why would they court-martial you?”
Even white teeth flashed when he smiled. “Ah, that is another question. You owe me an answer now. Who hit you, Rachel?”
Before she could respond, Ida came out of the back room. “Are you two going to stand out in the wind all day or are you going to come inside where it’s warm?”
“In just a minute, Ida,” Ben said, his gaze
never wavering from Rachel’s. “Rachel owes me an answer.”
Ida sensed she’d intruded, retreated back into the shop and closed the door. However, Rachel could see that she hovered close, frowning, her arms folded over her chest.
“We can’t keep Ida waiting,” Rachel said. She didn’t want Ida overhearing their conversation. The woman suspected she had secrets as it was.
“Watch me.”
Ben’s persistence didn’t surprise her. She loathed answering any questions about a past she only wanted to forget, but her own curiosity about Ben had started this game. “Peter hit me.”
His gaze narrowed. “Peter who?”
Like him, she’d given an honest answer that didn’t begin to satisfy. “I’ve answered your question. We are even.”
Frustration sparked in his eyes. “Who the devil is Peter?”
Her own curiosity about Ben had gotten her into this corner. She’d not be so foolish again. “No more questions and no more answers. I am done with this game.”
He grabbed her arm. “It’s no game. Was Peter your husband?”
She jerked away from him. “My husband is
dead!” She opened the shop door and slammed it closed behind her.
Ben was a smart man. In just days he’d touched painfully close to the truth. If she weren’t careful, he’d discover everything.
Ida stood behind the store counter, her hands planted on her hips, her expression stern. “You two have an argument?”
Rachel moved toward the counter, grateful to have a little distance from Ben. “No, no, we were just talking.”
Ben opened and closed the door. He stood with his back to the door, his arms folded over his chest. She could feel the energy radiating from him.
Ida’s gaze traveled between the two of them. Her lips flattened as she took in Ben’s dark gaze and Rachel’s flushed cheeks. “Everything all right?”
“It’s fine, Ida,” Ben said. “Just fine.” He moved down the center isle.
Ida lifted a brow. Clearly she didn’t believe him but she seemed to sense this wasn’t the time to push. “Rachel, you look better. Your coloring looks good,” Ida said. “Ben must be taking good care of you.”
She could feel him standing behind her, but she didn’t dare turn around to look at him. “He’s been kind.”
“You drink plenty of Yaupon tea?”
Rachel managed a faltering smile. “I think I’ve drank enough of that tea to fill a lake.”
Ida’s gaze narrowed. “Your bruise is almost gone.”
Self-conscious, Rachel raised her hand to her eye. She prayed once the bruise was gone, the questions would stop. She didn’t want anyone to know what a miserable failure her life had become. “Yes, it’s almost gone.”
Ida’s expression softened a fraction. A silent understanding passed between the women.
“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Rachel. Remember that.”
Rachel straightened her shoulders. “I know.”
Ben stood to Rachel’s right. His arms crossed, he leaned against the counter. He absorbed every detail.
The front bells of the store jingled and Callie breezed inside. Her face was flushed from the chilly weather. She whisked a black scarf from her head and pulled off her brown overcoat.
“Rachel! I heard you were in town. I’m so glad you came. I went to see you yesterday, but Ben said you were sleeping. He was quite a pit bull—very protective.”
“Seems I slept quite a long time.”
Callie hung her coat and scarf on a peg. “No
wonder. I was on the beach this morning with Timothy and we were looking at the wreck. To think you were trapped inside.” She shuddered. “Awful. I doubt that I could have been so brave.”
“I am not so brave.”
Callie smoothed back a loose strand of black hair. Her eyes shone with youthful appreciation. “Ah, but you are. Bruised and battered as you were and to keep your wits about you in a half-sunken ship—that is so very brave.”
Ida cleared her throat. “Have you come for your dress?”
“Yes,” Rachel said.
Callie laughed. “We can’t have you running around the island in Timothy’s clothes. We may be rural out this way but we do have some standards.”
Rachel smoothed her hands over the rough wool pants. She felt all the more awkward in the young lightkeeper’s clothes.
Ida cleared her throat at her daughter’s boldness.
However, Callie didn’t seem to notice. She moved toward a collection of dresses hung on a rack to the left of the counter. “We have some lovely dresses in,” Callie said.
“I just need
my
dress,” Rachel said.
Ida nodded. “I’ll get it.” She disappeared through the curtained door behind the counter.
Callie held up a deep blue sapphire dress. The fabric caught the sunlight just right. It had a high collar and white piping on the bodice and cuffs. She held it up in front of Rachel. “Ben, see how the color complements her eyes?”
His gaze pinned Rachel. “Aye, it suits her just fine.”
“This dress was salvaged off a Spanish frigate this past winter. It looks a bit large for you, but that can easily be fixed. Cecilia Wharton is an excellent seamstress and she can have the dress altered in a week.” Her face lit up. “She’s making my wedding dress. I just had my last fitting this morning. Can you believe it? Timothy and I will be married in a couple of days!”
Rachel stared into the young girl’s eyes so full of hope and excitement. Once she’d looked like that. “Good wishes to you both.”
Callie draped the dress over the counter. The dress was lovely. Oh, to be rid of the black.
For an instant Rachel was drawn in by Callie’s excitement. Without realizing it, she crossed the room and touched the fabric. It was beautiful. And very, very tempting. “It’s lovely.”
Callie grinned. “You should always wear bright colors, Rachel. You’re too young to wear black.”
“She’s in mourning,” Ben said.
Rachel dropped the fabric. The momentary excitement vanished. He was watching her closely. “Ben’s right. It wouldn’t be proper for me to wear the blue.”
And the black was a perfect reminder of the mistakes she’d vowed never to make again.
“But you deserve something lovely,” Callie persisted.
Rachel smiled at the young girl. “Even if I could wear the dress, my money is in my reticule at the bottom of the sea with the
Anna St. Claire.
I cannot afford the material.”
Rachel felt no shame. Poverty was a small price to pay for her freedom.
Ida reappeared with Rachel’s dress. The wool dress had been cleaned and pressed and looked almost as good as new. And it was very black and very austere, just as Callie had said.
“Black may be proper,” Callie said, “but it doesn’t suit you at all. It’ll wash your fair complexion right out.”
A year ago Rachel would have worried about her complexion. Now she was grateful just to have a warm, practical dress. “I’ll survive.”
“The woman knows what she wants,” Ida said. “Stop pushing her, Callie.”
“But, Mama, the dress costs us nothing. And no one around here is showing any interest in it. It’s a shame to let it go to waste.”
“Callie,” Rachel said. “No.”
“You should try it on,” Ben said.
Color rose in Rachel’s face. She’d made her decision and didn’t appreciate Ben’s interfering. “I thank you all for your kindness, but there’s no point. I can’t wear the dress now, and even if I could, I can’t afford it.”
“I will pay for it,” Ben said.
Rachel shook her head. Ben wasn’t just offering her the dress. He was challenging her story. He suspected she wasn’t in mourning. “No.”
“How long to alter the dress?” Ben said to Callie.
Ida groaned.
Callie’s eyes lit up. “If I nudge the seamstress, a couple of days.”
Rachel’s heart hammered in her chest. Ben was backing her into a corner. “I don’t have the time. I really must be leaving the peninsula as soon as is possible.”
Ida nodded. “Sloan operates a ferry. He’s left for today but he’ll make a run tomorrow. You can leave at daybreak.”
The news didn’t excite Rachel as she’d thought it would. “Good.”
Ben kept his feelings hidden. “What would it hurt to try the dress on?”
Rachel could forgive Callie’s enthusiasm. She was young. Ben’s motives were calculated. He challenged her story. “Accepting a gift from a man,
Mr. Mitchell,
suggests an understanding between them. There could be no understanding between us.”
In her mind and heart, her union with Peter was dissolved, but legally she would be shackled to him until death parted them.
“When you come out of mourning, you will need clothes.”
Rachel prayed for patience. “My dress is all that
I
need.”
Ben didn’t miss her meaning.
“Try it on,” Callie urged.
“I can’t.” Rachel handed the dress back to Ida.
“I can’t.”
Her frustration had quickly soured to anger.
Respect sparked in Ida’s eyes.
“Wrap it up,” Ben said, his tone softening. “And whatever frippery goes with it, Ida.”
“Mama has the loveliest chemise,” Callie said.
“Callie, I’ll let you take care of the details,” Ben said.
The fact that Ben and Callie discussed her intimate apparel didn’t even faze Rachel. She was too
angry to care. “You two aren’t listening to me. I won’t accept it.”
Callie hummed as she collected all manner of stockings, bows, shoes and stockings. “Well, then, Ben is going to look mighty silly decked out in this dress. Blue is not his color.”
The humor was lost on Rachel. Callie and Ben were backing her into a corner and she didn’t like it.
“Listen, to me!” Rachel said.
“I think you’d wear our smallest lady’s under-garments.”
“I don’t want the dress or anything else! My money is at the bottom of the ocean and I won’t take charity.”
Callie and Ben stared at her, surprise etched on their faces. Ida smiled approvingly.
“I won’t be invisible any longer or let others make the decisions in my life!” Rachel scooped up her black dress and ran outside. Tears of frustration burned her eyes.
She hurried down the boardwalk and toward a narrow path unsure of where she was going. Soon she reached a small beach that ringed the Sound. A collection of piers jutted into the smooth waters. She stopped.
Her stomach tumbled at the sight of the Sound. Lord, but she hated the water.
She walked along the narrow beach until she reached an overturned dinghy. She sat on the edge of the boat, the black dress balled in her lap. Tears pooled in her eyes as she stared out over the glassy water.
She laid her head in her lap. The thick black wool itched her skin.
Her life was a mess.
She’d behaved like a lunatic. Callie was only trying to help. Yet she’d balked like a caged animal and run screaming from the store. No doubt they’d be quite happy to be rid of her now.
And Ben was too perceptive. It was a matter of time before he figured out her secrets.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but she was aware the instant Ben came up beside her. His shadow blocked the sun from her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pushed the dress.”
She looked up. The sun shone behind him, accentuating his broad shoulders. Peter had never apologized to her. Neither had her father. In fact, she didn’t know men did such things.
The power of “I’m sorry” amazed her. The words washed away her anger instantly. “You and Callie were only trying to help.”
He sat beside her on the edge of the boat. He
clasped his calloused hands in front of him. “I was pushy and overbearing. I suppose an overbearing attitude is a holdover from the Navy. I’m used to giving commands and having them obeyed.” His shoulder brushed against hers. “You were very clear about what you wanted. I just wasn’t listening. Ida gave Callie and I quite a lecture.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away. “I’m normally not so ungrateful. There was a time when I was a happy woman.”
He lifted the hem of the black dress. Absently he rubbed it between his fingers. “Tell me about Peter.” No command this time.
His question caught her off guard. She wiped another tear from her cheek and faced him. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”
“I’m not playing.” He took her left hand in his, absently rubbing her ring finger. The indent left by her wedding ring had vanished. “Tell me why you are running.”
Wind whipped her hair as she stared into his steady gaze. Power, strength and gentleness radiated from him. He’d been so good to her. And she sensed he was a decent man. He’d keep her secret. But it was a burden he didn’t deserve.
“No,” she said.
He frowned.
“You can trust me, Rachel,” he said softly. “Talk to me. Tell me what is bothering you, who you are afraid of. I can help.”
Oh, Lord, but she wanted to tell him everything. “Ben, there are some problems no amount of talking or wishing can fix.”
Ben stared at her a long moment, his face full of questions. He clearly didn’t like it when he couldn’t control a situation.
Finally he dragged in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as if he’d come to a decision. “The living is hard here, and we don’t have many fancy things, but the water and the ocean are natural barriers to the outside world. If you’re looking for a place to start over or hide, Rachel, this place is it.”
A place to start over.
The words tumbled in Rachel’s head. “I need to keep moving.”
“You’re a beautiful woman. You will stick out when you arrive on the mainland. I’ve no doubt the sailors on the
Anna St. Claire
took note of you.”