The Sailor And the Siren

by Reina Torres

  Swallowing the knot in her throat, Rosemary made a little curtsy. “Rosemary Tillman, ma’am. I work in the kitchen.”

  “Oh goodness,” she sighed with a happy sound, “no ma’am for me, please. I’m staving off that greeting as long as I possibly can.”

  “Yes, ma-” Rosemary stopped short, “Miss Owens. This is Andrew Brooks, our new cargo clerk.”

  “Oh!” Dollie’s eyes were bright as she moved forward. “I’ve heard of you, sir.”

  Andrew took her hand and gave it a gentle shake in greeting. “I hope that what you heard was good.”

  She gave him a shrewd look. “Curious sort of man, aren’t you?”

  Rosemary saw Andrew’s cheek rise a little, smiling perhaps.

  “A man would like to know how others see him,” he admitted to the singer.

  “And the man before me would be a good one if I believe all I hear from the girls. Even Edmund had some praise for you.”

  Rosemary moved a half step closer. Edmund had worked on the boat a little longer than Dollie and was a hard man to get to know. He kept to himself. Spoke rarely to others, and offered smiles even less.

  Andrew was nodding, his own posture relaxing. “He’s quite the chess player. He’s beat me every time.”

  “You play chess, do you?” Dollie was gazing at Andrew with interest, and as much as Rosemary knew she had no right to be jealous, she was. The singer was a gorgeous woman and vastly talented. Not to mention how celebrated she was. Watching her turn her beautiful smile on Andrew made all of the blood rush from Rosemary’s heart down to the pit of her stomach.

  Stepping closer, Dollie’s gaze moved over him from his feet and back up to his face. It was a look of evaluation and being a woman who was more of a force of nature than a regular mortal, she could blatantly stare at Andrew.

  “You are a curiosity, aren’t you?”

  Rosemary heard him clear his throat before he spoke.

  “I’m just a man, Miss Owens.”

  Her gaze roamed over his chest and arms again before lifting up to his face. “A handsome one at that, Mister Brooks.”

  When Dollie’s gaze moved on to look at her, Rosemary realized that she’d been holding her breath and let it out as quietly as she could.

  “I’ve seen you before.”

  Rosemary nodded. “Perhaps, Miss Owens. I work in the kitchen with Loretta, but I’ve brought you your meal a few times over the years.”

  Dollie started to walk toward her and instinctively, Rosemary took a step back. She wasn’t afraid of Dollie, not at all, but the performer seemed to exude energy like the rush of water surging from the banks of the Mississippi when a storm was upon them.

  Rosemary was about to take a second step back when she felt something touch her lower back.

  Looking down with a gasp, she saw Andrew’s arm behind her.

  The slight pressure on her back was his hand and the sudden realization warred with her instinct to step away. His warmth moved through the thin cotton of her gown and layers of underpinnings before seeping into her skin.

  When she finally collected her scattered thoughts, she realized that the light from the wall sconce was dark.

  Rosemary turned to look for the light and saw Dollie Owens a scant few inches before her.

  “Oh,” the word was but a whisper on her lips.

  “You’re a mystery, Miss Rosemary.”

  The words were confusing to the young woman. “I’m sorry, Miss Owens, I don’t understand.”

  Laughing, Dollie reached out and held Rosemary’s face in her hands.

  The sudden movement startled Rosemary into a still silence. All she could do was look at Miss Owens as the singer looked right back.

  “I just don’t understand.”

  Rosemary wasn’t sure if Miss Owens knew she’d just parroted Rosemary’s words almost verbatim.

  “There’s something I’m missing.”

  Her hands were warm, but her touch was soothing.

  Rosemary felt as though she was in the presence of someone who cared for her, but that seemed impossible. Until just a few moments before, Dollie didn’t even know her name.

  “Who are your parents?”

  “Were, Miss.” Rosemary fought back the tears that threatened to spill onto her lashes and cheeks. “My father isn’t known to me,” she hated the rush of heat that shot to her cheeks at the admission, “but my mother was Vera. Vera Tillman.”

  There was a look of shock on Dollie’s face and then a slow smile drew up the corners of her mouth. “Ah, that’s it. Now I know.”

  “You know…” Rosemary tried to shake her head but Dollie still held her face gently in her hands, “you know what?”

  With one final searching look, Dollie lowered her hands to her side and stepped back far enough to look Rosemary over from head to toe.

  “I can see her in you.”

  Something settled on her hand.

  Startled, she looked down and saw that she had wrapped her hand around Andrew’s arm and he was squeezing her hand in gentle reassurance. “Oh, sorry.” She tried to pull away, but he shook his head and held onto her hand with another soft squeeze.

  “You’re unsettled. Let me hold your hand.” His smile was hesitant. “If only for your comfort.”

  Or her discomfort, she argued with herself. Having him hold her hand for any amount of time would likely have her cheeks burning with a furious blush.

  His hand was so warm.

  Dollie Owens drew her attention back to her with a softly murmured admission.

  “I never knew that she’d had a child, but after she left the Siren, I lost touch with her.”

  Rosemary found herself holding tighter to his arm. “You knew my mother?”

  She saw a flicker of sadness on Dollie’s face.

  “Yes, when we were both young girls. I came to sing and Vera could have too. She was a lovely woman. Her voice,” she lowered her lashes and shook her head, “her voice was like an angel sent down from heaven.”

  “Then why didn’t she perform?”

  Rosemary turned to look at Andrew as the question had come from him.

  He turned and gave her a smile, nodding to ease her concern.

  When Rosemary turned back to look at Dollie she saw the sadness on the older woman’s face. “Your mother,” she sighed and seemed to pause to gather her thoughts, “she wasn’t allowed to perform because she wasn’t white.”

  Chapter Four

  After the shock that Rosemary had received, Dollie insisted that they take her indoors and give her some time to ponder the revelation. Andrew was in complete agreement with the idea. Rosemary was still unsteady on her feet as he walked her to the chair that Dollie pointed out once they’d entered her private rooms.

  When he had her seated, he pulled up a cushioned stool and sat down beside her.

  Her hand stayed on his arm, but it was shaking slightly.

  When Dollie came toward them she had a tray with a pitcher on it. As she leaned down to set the tray on a table, Rosemary started to rise.

  With Dollie’s reassurance, Andrew got her to sit back down.

  As Dollie poured a glass of water, Rosemary mumbled a bit.

  Andrew saw Dollie’s smiling eyes and covered Rosemary’s hand again. “You need to stay in your seat for a few moments. Let us take care of you.”

  Drawing up a matching chair to Rosemary’s, Dollie held out the glass. “Here, sweetheart. Take a sip.”

  Rosemary did as she was bid and handed the glass back to Dollie, mumbling her denial. “You shouldn’t have to serve me, Miss Owens.”

  “I’m helping the daughter of my friend, Rosemary. Settle your worries, sweet girl.”

  “This is all so confusing. I had no idea. Then to find out she was working on the Siren? No one ever told me.”

  Andrew shifted a little closer, ducking his head to try to see her eyes. When she turned to him, he smiled. “I was on a ship for years,” he explained. “Men came and went. The turno
ver of sailors was incredible. Too many for me to remember more than a handful of their names unless they made some kind of impression on me.”

  She nodded.

  “What,” she swallowed and turned back to Dollie, “what did she do onboard?”

  Dollie, to her credit, put the cup back in Rosemary’s hand and told her to sip slowly. “Vera was a saint. She was Eula’s maid.”

  Andrew could feel his brow furrowed just over his nose. “Eula?”

  The smile that Dollie turned on him was indulgent, as if he was a child. “The captain’s wife.”

  Turning back to Rosemary, Dollie shook her head. “So, you know why I think she was a saint.”

  Rosemary gave her a wan smile. “Mrs. Abraham is a strong-willed woman.”

  “Well goodness,” Dollie sat back in her chair, collapsing as if she was exhausted, “how do you remain so sweet? I know Mrs. Abraham has been rude to you.”

  Rosemary sat up in her chair, leaning on her forearms. “How do you know?”

  Dollie leaned forward in the same posture. “Because I have eyes, my dear. You’re beautiful.”

  Bless Rosemary for her heart, even if her eyes were biased… against her.

  “I’m passable,” Rosemary explained to them both. “My eyes are a little small. My nose has a bit of a bump if you look at me from the side.” She turned her face away from him and directed her words to Dollie. “And she says if I eat much more I’ll need to take out my skirts and end up looking more like a squash than a girl.”

  “Who said that to you?”

  Andrew heard the constrained concern in Dollie’s voice and found himself liking the woman more and more.

  “Come now, Rosemary. Tell me.”

  Her gaze lowered and Andrew could feel anger well up inside of him.

  “Was it Missus Abraham? Did she tell you those things?”

  It took Rosemary a moment to look at him, and for each of those seconds he felt his back teeth grind together.

  How could a woman be so cruel to another?

  “Rosemary?”

  She looked at him then.

  There was shock etched into her expression, but in her eyes there was a bright spark of something he hoped was happiness.

  “My apologies,” he explained, “I didn’t mean to take a liberty.”

  She shook her head and a blush warmed her cheeks. “No more than the joy I feel hearing you say my name.”

  He was suddenly very aware of Dollie as she sat there in their little group.

  He could almost feel her curious eyes lock onto him.

  “Well,” Dollie lightly clapped her hands together, “I refuse to let grumpy ol’ Eula ruin this moment. So, let’s get to the most important question, shall we?”

  Rosemary seemed as happy as he was with the distraction. Thrilled, even.

  “Do you sing like your mama?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she thought through her answer. “I don’t know. I remember her singing to me when I was little, but when I sing it just sounds like me.” She shrugged and felt like she shrank a bit under Dollie’s curious gaze. “I guess it is a bit hard to heard myself from outside of my head.”

  And the thought that she’d never hear her mother sing again suddenly made her so very sad.

  Dollie refilled the cup in Rosemary’s hands. “Take a sip, dear.”

  Rosemary settled the glass in one hand and looked into it.

  “I don’t even really remember how I came to the Siren. I remember the funeral, bits and pieces, and mama had such a pretty coffin, all shiny with metal bits and pieces. And I remember Loretta being there, holding my hand even though I was a little bit of a thing. And then all I remember is waking up in a trundle bed beside Loretta’s and before it was light we were in the kitchen making breakfast.”

  Rosemary took a hesitant sip of the water.

  “It was around that time that I met the captain, I think. Loretta would let me outside to play as long as I kept close to the kitchens. I had a doll that I kept with me in my pocket, a little thing made out of a stocking and some yarn. I was sitting outside, feeling the wind in my hair when someone sat down beside me in this brilliant red coat. I thought he must be a king and I told him so.” She laughed softly at the memory. “He talked to me, telling me that the Siren was going to be my home. And I think I cried. It was probably the first time since my mother passed and I couldn’t get the tears to stop.

  “He took me to the railing and held onto the back of my dress and told me to lean out through the railings and let me tears fall into the water. That’s what the captain said to do… let the river take my pain away until my tears were dried up because I let the river have it to wash away.”

  Rosemary slowly closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, letting it out as slowly as she’d taken it in. When she opened her eyes, Andrew could see her tears glittering on her lashes.

  “Sometimes when I’m alone I’ll sneak out to the edge of the deck by the cargo hold and let out my tears, letting them fall into the river so my mama knows I still think about her.”

  Dollie sniffled and Andrew reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing his handkerchief.

  The elegant woman snatched the square of fabric from his fingertips and pressed it to her cheeks.

  Rosemary looked up at Dollie with a question in her eyes.

  “What is it, dear?”

  “You asked if I sing like my mama. And you heard her sing. The only way for me to know,” her lower lip trembled and Rosemary let out a quivering breath, “is for you to tell me.”

  Dollie’s face lit up like a lantern. “What a wonderful idea!”

  Getting up from her chair, Dollie moved across the room. When she stopped near the wall, Andrew realized that there had been an upright piano there the whole time.

  Lifting up the padded bench set before the piano, Dollie brought out a handful of papers and made her way back to Rosemary, holding it out toward the younger woman. “Here, take your pick.”

  Rosemary took the papers in her hands after she set down the glass she was holding. Andrew could easily tell what she’d been given. The lamplight in the room was bright enough that he could see through the backs of the paper.

  Shuffling the papers a few times she sheepishly raised her gaze to Dollie’s. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognize any of these.”

  “I can’t play like Edmund, but I can manage to play along on the piano if you’d like to try.”

  Rosemary’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t read music either. I just sing.”

  “That’s fine!” Dollie set the pages aside and took Rosemary by the hand, bringing her to her feet.

  Andrew rose along with them, taking a step to the side to let the two ladies have a moment.

  Dollie’s manner with Rosemary was one of genuine sympathy and a motherly sort of affection.

  He found himself eternally grateful for Dollie’s care and genuine concern for Rosemary’s feelings. Rosemary had experienced quite a few revelations in the last half hour. Andrew found himself watching her to see if she was showing signs that she was going to be overwhelmed.

  And yet, she was holding her own, earning more and more of his respect as she was taking more and more of the space in his heart and filling it up.

  “What song do you sing for your mother when you think of her?”

  Rosemary’s gaze turned inward, her features settling into a calm expression as she listened to her thoughts.

  As she opened her lips to speak, Andrew found himself focused on her alone.

  “Maybe not so much for my mama,” she began to explain, “but Loretta always says mamas wish for their children to have better than they had in life. So I think she wanted me to have more joy in my life than sorrow. So when I sing to her I think I want to let her know that I’m looking to joy in the future. I sing ‘Hard Times’.”

  Dollie brought Rosemary’s hands together and leaned closer. She pressed a tender kiss on her hand and then slowly stepped back. “Would you sing it
for me?”

  Andrew watched as Rosemary turned to look at him.

  Smiling at her, he nodded, encouraging her. He wanted to hear it too.

  Rosemary felt her heart thundering within her and the skin along her neck would be hot to the touch if she could have raised her hands from her sides, but she couldn’t.

  She could barely breathe.

  Singing to herself was a release. A prayer of sorts.

  And normally brought her joy.

  What would happen if she embarrassed herself, shamed her mother’s talent, in front of them?

  “Please?” Dollie’s voice was a sweet sound that made its way through the rush that she heard in her ears. And instead of waiting for her answer, Dollie began to sing.

  “Let us pause in life’s pleasures and…”

  “… count it’s many tears, while we all sup sorrow with the poor.”

  It would have been impossible for Rosemary to remain silent. Dollie’s voice had coxed hers out from her throat. Chills rushed over the skin of her arms.

  “There’s a song that will linger forever in our ears. Oh, hard times, come again no more.”

  The breath she pulled into her lungs filled up her soul as well, banishing the nerves that had almost kept her silent.

  “It’s the song, the sigh, of the weary…”

  an indrawn breath lifted weight from her shoulders and her eyes lifted to glance above her as if she could see the sky overhead,

  “… hard times, hard times, come again no more.

  Many days you have lingered around my cabin door.

  Oh, hard times… come again no more.”

  When she lowered her eyes, worried what she would see in Dollie’s eyes, Rosemary bit into her bottom lip and waited to hear her opinion.

  She would have tried to see the other woman’s reactions but there were tears in her eyes, more gathering by the minute as her emotions welled up within her heart.

  And then she was startled into a frozen silence as Dollie wrapped her arms around her and held her tight.

  As she was twisted from side to side, Rosemary felt her head begin to swim and the pressure that she hadn’t felt before was suddenly gone.