Prize of My Heart (23 page)

Brogan quickly blinked the mist from his eyes. Indeed, his enemies were gone, but oh, what he wouldn’t give to confront Abigail one last time. As for Stephen Huntley, he’d never met the man, had never set eyes upon his face. Did Drew favor him in looks? Seemed foolish now, but Brogan had always been of the opinion that he and the boy shared a strong likeness.

He raked his fingers through his recently shorn hair. “From the first, Abigail played me false. My captaincy was not earned by merit but planned for my demise. Yet what I find most contemptible is that she used an innocent child. Her own flesh and blood. Do I tell Drew the man he calls papa bears no relation to him at all? Do I break his heart when he is so thrilled to discover he is not an orphan? Do I tell him his true parents never wanted him and died in shame? Of course I cannot! And if you’ve spoken with Mr. Huntley, then you know well enough I have no authority to make any decision concerning Drew. The ground has been hauled out from under me, Mr. Smith, and I’ve nothing solid left to stand upon.”

Jabez hung the lantern on the nearest wall hook and bent to retrieve the discarded Bible. “Ye can stand upon this,” he declared with all the conviction of his powerful voice.

Brogan dragged himself from his pit of inner turmoil to set his gaze upon his old friend. “Very well, Mr. Smith, ask that Book, what shall I do? Shall I go forward with a shrug of my shoulders as though events of these past weeks never occurred? Forget I ever believed I had a son and came to Duxboro? Come morning, shall we sail off to trade with southern markets or venture to Russia for Huntley’s manila hemp? When I was a child I ran to the sea to escape the horror and loneliness I faced on land. Perhaps that is my lot in life.”

He could flee, but this time there would be no escape. He loved Lorena Huntley with an ardor he had never known and could hardly contain. And he loved Drew still, like his own. In his heart that had not changed. Yet every time he would look upon the son that was not his, Brogan would be reminded of the indignity his wife and Stephen Huntley had wrought on his life. How could he be a husband to a woman who pitied him, so much so Lorena felt she could not be candid for want of protecting him? Was it love or sympathy she felt?

She deserved better.

“The
Yankee Heart
sails on the morrow,” Brogan announced. “I will speak with Lorena and her father in the morning, and then we shall leave the Huntley family in peace, to continue on as they should have been before I intruded in their lives.”

“Don’t be so hasty to make a decision tonight.” Jabez unhooked his lantern and prepared to exit. “Trust God to steer ye on the right course. Ye can start by having a glance outside yer windows. Seems someone’s been trying to send ye a signal.”

Curious, Brogan peered between the curtains dressing the stern windows. From across the still, black waters of Duxboro Bay he saw Huntley’s fitting dock aglow with a row of small twinkling lights.

Lorena breathed in the clean night air. Only the gentlest of breezes blew off the bay, while deep in the Cowyard waters Brogan’s lovely merchantman sat illuminated by the reflection of her watch lights.

She admired the ship from her father’s wharf, where Lorena had lit every lantern she and Temperance could gather. They burned brightly all about her, a visible symbol of the hope that glowed in her heart and called to the
Yankee Heart
.

Lorena prayed silently as she waited . . . and waited . . . and waited.

She grew drowsy, and several times her bleary eyes focused on what she thought to be movement. But, no. Each time it turned out to be nothing but her imagination. Nothing until a tiny speck of illumination appeared. Lorena blinked, uncertain, then saw a light bob on the water. Several minutes later she could actually discern a shape. As she continued watching, that shape took form as a boat, and very soon she could see a man sitting at the oars, rowing toward her.

Stars twinkled from the heavens, and Lorena lifted a smile to them in expression of her thankfulness.

As Brogan beached the boat, Lorena ran down the wharf to greet him. He carried a lantern, its light looming brighter the closer he got, until she could distinguish him clearly. The grass crunched beneath his Hessians.

She sensed reserve in his posture and yearned to run to him, but remembering what her father had told her, Lorena slowed. She halted her steps. She would wait for Brogan to reach her.

He came to stand before her, and knowing he’d have no patience for idle talk, Lorena got straight to the point. “I love you. Your future is here with Drew and me. He is not my natural child either, yet I could not love him more had I birthed him myself.”

“I do love you, Lorena. That has not changed or diminished,” he insisted. “Neither has my love for the lad. I want you, but Abigail and your uncle Stephen have stripped me of my dignity, my accomplishments . . . my very soul. I’ve nothing left to offer. I no longer feel worthy of your love.”

His voice sounded so somber, so devoid of hope, Lorena shuddered.

“Nothing could be further from the truth, Brogan. You are worthy to be called Drew’s father. And I truly believe you need to be his papa as much as he wants you to be.”

He did not deny or affirm her words but said nothing.

It was all the encouragement Lorena needed. “This challenge you face . . . it’s not a matter of what you believe has been stolen from you. It’s to do with your thinking and in the way you perceive things should have been. It is hopeless thinking that prevents you from seeing the whole picture. Self-pity has blinded you.”

Brogan’s careworn face contorted into a painfully bitter sneer. “Self-pity?”

She certainly had his attention now. Lorena had prepared herself for just such a response.

“You had it all planned,” she said. “But, as you’ve admitted even to yourself, the way you intended to get Drew back was wrong. Surrender your plan, Brogan. Surrender your dreams to God, and let Him show you His plan for your life.”

He scoffed. “I see what you’re trying to do, Lorena. You think to fill me with silly hope, because you feel sorry for me, but all the sympathy in the world won’t alter the past. The truth remains. I came here to deceive you. I know the plan for my life. I have never belonged anywhere . . . except on the sea. And the only thing I have ever received of the Almighty is indifference.”

Lorena shook her head. “Think back, Brogan, and you’ll see how untrue that statement is. God has had His hand on your life. Even when you refused to acknowledge Him, He was there. You told me the story, remember, of how Mr. Smith found you as he was off-loading cargo in Boston Harbor? Two huge wharves with the capacity to handle about five hundred ships, countless sailors and dock workers passing by every minute, and it just so happens that you caught the eye of a rare man with Christ in his heart, who reached out to help you. Do you think it was coincidence? Had anyone ever offered to help you before Mr. Smith came along? It was God’s grace, I say. Abigail and Uncle Stephen meant to see you killed, yet you were protected during the war. A few inches more and that splinter from the cannon shot of a British corvette would have struck you in the chest instead of your shoulder.”

At his look of confusion, Lorena explained, “Drew told me the story. Brogan, you not only survived but returned a hero to your country and made your fortune. Best of all, you were brought into the life of a child who desperately needed someone looking out for him. I believe God ordained that you should be Drew’s guardian in the same way Mr. Smith has been yours. For who better than you to understand the love an unwanted child would need? God has seen the good treasure of your heart, even though you’ve made mistakes. He has taken what others meant for evil and turned it around to your advantage.”

Though Brogan reacted with no more than a hard, thoughtful stare, something in his eyes told Lorena he was struggling with a way to overcome his prideful nature, a way to turn his cheek from the wrongs he’d been dealt and still maintain his self-respect as a man.

“Angst and anger fester inside me with no one alive on whom I can vent my wrath,” he admitted. “They will not give me peace.”

“There is a cure. It’s called forgiveness. If you can receive God’s mercy for the mistakes you’ve made and forgive others for the hurts they’ve inflicted on you—”

“Forgive! How am I to forgive?”

Moving closer, Lorena touched her fingertips to the front of Brogan’s full white shirt, and when he didn’t resist, she pressed her palm over his heart. She felt it beating and knew he needed encouragement to take that heroic step. To forgive.

“My father is of the opinion, and I agree, that revealing Drew’s natural parentage would serve no good purpose. You have earned the right to be his father. You dreamed of a son, and now God wants to bless you with a family. There is no one to stand in the way of our happiness. We can go on with our lives as planned. Marry, and raise other sons and daughters besides. Abigail and Uncle Stephen cannot stop us, unless you remain unwilling to lay aside the past.”

He searched her face as though willing himself to believe. “You make it sound so simple,” he said.

“Simple? Certainly not. Only a courageous man could be so forgiving.”

At her challenge a mischievous gleam sparked in his eyes. “Ask any of my men. You’ll not find a braver soul anywhere in New England.”

“Oh, I’ve no need to ask,” she acknowledged dutifully, “as I am quite certain it is the truth.”

“And not to boast, for that would be a sin, but in all truth I do make an exceptional papa.”

“Indeed. Save for my own father, I have never met a man more loving and patient. So, you see, you stand in excellent company.”

Brogan’s nod was one of immense satisfaction. “Did I hear you mention something about more sons and daughters? Are you saying, Lorena, you accept my proposal of marriage?”

Lorena felt a warm blush of happiness rise to her cheeks. “Yes, I will marry you, Captain Brogan Talvis. Gladly.”

His grin widened to a full-fledged smile, but as his gaze continued to bore deep into hers, his expression sobered. He lowered his face to hers, and Lorena closed her eyes, feeling the touch of his breath and then his lips as he pressed them upon hers and kissed her.

When at length he released her, Lorena feared her bones had turned to dust. She stood shakily, her senses clouded by love.

Brogan sighed. “How easily you make me forget everything except that which is most important.”

“Pray tell, what is most important to you, sir?”

Lorena placed her hand in Brogan’s offered palm, and he clasped it tightly. He raised her fingers to his lips, all the while holding her in the warmth of his gaze.

“God and family. I promise to let nothing come between us. I love you, Lorena. More than any obstacle, any test of life. I love you with my very soul.”

Then Brogan kissed her again, and Lorena knew in her heart he was letting her know he would forever remain faithful to that promise.

Duxboro, Massachusetts, 1817

B
rogan Talvis could not care less that he was slowly amassing a fortune from his partnership interest in the Huntley-Talvis merchant fleet. There were plans to construct more vessels. Warehouses and a counting house had been built at the wharf, but he gave them not a thought.

Neither did he care that he lived in an enormous manor house of Federal architecture, built to the east of his father-in-law’s estate, and set on five acres of Duxboro’s finest tree-studded soil. A brick wall overgrown with shrubbery fronted the property and contained its own special door, opening to a multilayered garden spanning two of those charmed acres. A brick path wove through the foliage and blooms and led to a lavish rose garden planted for the enjoyment of his wife.

When he heard an infant’s wail, he bounded up the manor’s grand staircase to the second floor with no thought to the luxury he lived in, caring only for the health of his young wife and what wonder he would find upon reaching the source of that squalling.

He took his steps two at a time. His son and father-in-law followed behind as Brogan dashed down the hallway to the closed double doors of the master bedroom. He would have thrown them open himself, but the latch turned and out stepped the midwife. Brogan saw only the blood on her apron. He could still hear a baby’s cry from inside.

“You may go in now, Captain, and meet your new son,” she said.

Drew plowed into the back of Brogan’s legs, where he came to an abrupt halt. “I have a brother?”

“Did I hear a son?” Nathaniel Huntley called as he joined them.

Brogan swept past the midwife and strode to the foot of his bed, taking in the scene.

The room was dimly lit and toasty warm. The newborn, thoroughly bundled and hidden from view in Mrs. Culliford’s arms, had quieted. In the bed, Lorena lay quiet and still amid a mound of quilts and blankets, and for a moment Brogan panicked.

Please, Lord
. Her face looked so very pale, her eyelids heavily closed. If anything were to happen to her, if she had been injured . . .

They had been married before family, friends, and crew on the main deck of the
Yankee Heart
, which was anchored in Duxboro Bay and had been festooned for the ceremony. Afterward, a wedding breakfast had been served at his father-in-law’s house, but before that, more decorations and refreshments awaited in the great cabin, including a tall white wedding cake, studded with gilded almonds and adorned with flowers and laurel.

It had transpired on a Tuesday morning, nearly two years ago. The most extraordinary day of his life. Until today.

“Lorena?” he rasped.

Her eyes sprang open, arresting him in their intensity and flooding him with relief, until the infant’s gurgle drew her attention away. He followed the stare of her beautiful brown eyes to Mrs. Culliford, who stood by the fire cooing to the curious thing in her arms.

She smiled and his breath caught in his throat. His vision blurred.

“Would you like to see your son?”

Tears pricked at his eyes. Brogan walked over to her side of the bed, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I need to be assured that you are well, my love.”

She lifted a hand out to him from under the coverings, and he clutched it like a lifeline.

“I’m quite well. And very happy.” She motioned to Mrs. Culliford to bring her the babe. She gazed up at Brogan, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears, then turned to Drew and Mr. Huntley, who stood in the doorway. “I hope you all know how very much I love you.”

“If it is one-tenth of the love and gratitude we have for you, Lorena, then we are blessed indeed,” Brogan responded on behalf of them all.

“Look, Captain,” Mrs. Culliford urged, stepping forward with the bundle. “Look at your son. He is exceptionally beautiful, I daresay.”

Brogan drank in the sight as she approached and laid the newborn on the bed beside Lorena, then loosened the blankets. He saw a tiny red face, an amazing face with a thick crop of hair, gingery brown like his mother’s. Brogan gazed at Lorena, astonished.

As Drew and Mr. Huntley moved closer, he touched one of the babe’s hands. Brogan spread the miniature fingers and they curled around one of his own. His breath caught in his throat.

A tear slid down his cheek. He looked again at the babe, then back at Lorena. “Thank you.”

His wife smiled sweetly, and Brogan used his free arm to embrace Drew. This beautiful boy of seven years was also his son.

At seven years, Brogan had been a dirty, scrawny orphan on the run with nowhere to go, living off the streets. As a man, he now possessed the means and wealth to assure his children would be afforded every opportunity he’d been denied. Not only that, but this incredible woman, his wife, had borne him a flesh-and-blood son. Though he’d not love this new child any more or less, it felt good to know his blood was bonded to a family. His family.

With thanks and glory to God, Brogan took stock of these and all his blessings, which at the moment seemed too numerous to count.

He took Lorena’s hand in his, unable to believe what treasure he beheld. A prize indeed.