EIGHT
LADY of the LAKE
To hear them talking so much of Captain Wentworth, repeating his name so often . . . was a new sort of trial to Anne’s nerves.
—Jane Austen, Persuasion
The next couple of days, Hanna mostly stayed in the house. CJ had caught a terrible cold, and then (in the way of siblings) passed it on to his brother. It turned out to be a most welcome and timely illness, as it provided Hanna’s excuse for opting out the day that all of the adults of Uppercross were invited onto the Laconia with Derick. Charles suggested that Mary should stay with the kids, to which his wife responded with a See, what did I tell you? look in Hanna’s direction. Just yesterday, Mary had gone off about how her husband was conveniently missing whenever anything unpleasant was going on at home. Hanna assured the happy couple that she could handle her sick nephews, and Mary brightened on the spot.
Ella hardly spoke anymore without dropping Derick’s name. They went running together every morning, and it seemed like even Charles and Mary talked of little else. The only up side was that Ella had stopped asking Hanna to accompany her on those early-morning jogging sessions. It was a miserable sort of victory, but a victory all the same.
Dinner on the beach usually ended up as some sort of bonfire, and tonight was no exception. With the boys completely recovered from their respective illnesses, Hanna found herself plumb out of excuses this time. She supposed she could always fake a headache, but truthfully she was feeling a bit stir crazy and was tired of confining herself to the house. From the looks of the relationship developing between Derick and the rest of Uppercross, avoiding him would soon be an impossibility unless she kept to her room. Even the boys were crazy about him, CJ calling him “Captain Wentworth” and Walter mumbling something that sounded much too similar to a crude word for male anatomy as he tried to pronounce “Derick.”
Hanna spent only a few minutes agonizing over her hair and clothing for tonight’s barbecue. Derick already saw her at her worst the morning Mary passed out, and Hanna doubted that he would look at her much anyway, with someone like Ella in his line of sight.
On the beach, Hanna decided that taking care of the boys would be the best use of her attention. It was a good plan, but proved a bit difficult to execute. Walter was content to sit on his aunt’s lap and eat, but CJ shadowed Derick all night. This left Hanna with the awkward option of being caught looking in Derick’s direction, which she was, at least twice. At length she decided that CJ was not, after all, her responsibility, and focused her attention on Walter instead.
While her nephew picked at his food, Hanna found herself at liberty to people-watch. She assumed that the pretty girl next to Derick was the sister he was staying with. All those years ago, Hanna had known that Derick had a sister named Sophie and that they were quite close. If memory served, she had been married a only few years when Hanna and Derick were together. It might have seemed a bit strange that Hanna had never met Derick’s family—but as he had been away from home, about to start his first race when they met—it made sense. Likewise Maude was the only relation of Hanna’s with whom Derick was acquainted, for much the same reasons. Mary had still been home with their father when Hanna met Derick in Harbor. On top of that, their relationship lasted only a few months from start to finish.
Sophie had a willowy look about her, and her dark-haired husband was taller than anyone else in their company. He had to be several inches over six feet, as he towered over Derick’s six-foot-two. Both Sophie and her husband had open, smiling faces that gave Hanna a pang. If things had turned out differently, they would have been her family.
Did they know about the past?
Lost in her musings, Hanna hadn’t noticed the young man sitting alone on a piece of driftwood. His glazed-over eyes were locked on the fire, his hands laced loosely between his knees. Something about his slumped posture and faraway expression struck a chord with Hanna, and she found herself wondering what he could be thinking about.
When CJ lost interest in “Captain Wentworth” and began dancing around the fire like a savage, and when Walter began rubbing his eyes, Mary decreed that the dreaded hour of bedtime had arrived. CJ protested, of course. Walter, who had evidently had enough of Aunt Hanna, waddled over and attached himself to his mother instead. Hanna, seeing a perfect escape, tried coaxing him away from Mary, but he refused to be pried from his mother’s arms. With a sigh of resignation, Mary went inside to put the boys to bed. Without her nephews to command her attention, Hanna wandered over to the lonesome stranger by the fire, smiling a soft hello as she sat down.
It took him a second to register the greeting, and when he looked up at Hanna it was as if he’d forgotten where he was. He had rumpled, pitch black hair and a rather nice shade of blue eyes. His build was stocky, and a layer of dark scruff covered his jaw. Now that she was closer, Hanna saw that he had a small book in his hands. As Hanna sat, he acknowledged her with a nod but did not speak.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she began. “I’m Hanna.”
“Benny,” he answered in an emotionless voice.
“Are you friends with”—she couldn’t bring herself to say his name—”the Crofts?”
“Adam is my brother.”
So that was the connection. Aside from hair color there didn’t seem to be much family resemblance, but perhaps their features were more similar close up.
“You’re related to the Musgroves?” The tone of Benny’s inquiry indicated that he really didn’t care one way or the other who Hanna was. He was just being polite.
“Yeah, Mary’s my sister.”
A lull blanketed them both, and then Hanna’s attention turned to the book in Benny’s hands.
“What are you reading?”
“Morbid poetry,” he answered with a hint of sarcasm. “It’s what I live for.”
Hanna had the distinct impression that the words were not his own. “May I?” she asked hesitantly, holding a hand out.
Benny shrugged and placed the worn volume in her hands.
“The Lady of the Lake,” Hanna read aloud. “It looks like you’ve gotten your money’s worth out of it. What is your favorite part?”
To her surprise, Benny didn’t take the book back, but starting reciting it while he gazed into the fire:
“Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain,
Thou art gone, and forever . . .”
Benny didn’t offer any other explanation, so Hanna said, “That was beautiful. I’ve never heard it.”
“It’s by Sir Walter Scott—a classic. You can borrow it if you like.”
“Thank you,” Hanna said, surprised. “I’ll have to read up so I’m a bit more educated next time we meet.”
Benny glanced at her, nodded, and returned his eyes to the fire. Hanna chose her next words carefully. “Do you ever read anything else? Like fiction, maybe?”
“Let me guess: an overdose of angst is not good for me.” He laughed without humor.
“I think an overdose of anything is not good,” Hanna countered, “including optimism.”
Benny’s lips slowly turned up in a reluctant smile as he studied her. “I’ll admit that’s a new one.”
Hanna grinned at him, thinking he looked distinctly lighter now than when she’d sat down. “So, Benny, what do you do?” Benny gave her a look, and she clarified. “For work, I mean.”
“Nothing at the moment. I’m a crab fisherman, but it’s off season. I don’t go back out until October.”
“Do you enjoy that?”
A wry smile twisted his mouth. “Do I enjoy living on a hunk of metal for four months of the year with sweaty men who smell like Funnyuns and B.O.?”
A burst of laughter escaped Hanna before she could stop it, and several people, including Derick, looked in her direction. Having a sudden audience was worth the sacrifice though—Benny actually smiled at her reaction.
“I’
ll take that as a no,” Hanna said.
Benny lifted a shoulder. “I like the fishing.”
“Is crab fishing hard to do?”
An incredulous expression lit Benny’s face, the barest shadow of a smile.
“That sounded girlie, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Hanna had the good grace to laugh at herself. “Sorry. I don’t know much about crab or fishing. The only frame of reference I have is watching Deadliest Catch with my brother-in-law.”
Benny didn’t answer, and Hanna figured his mind had been retrieved by his prior thoughts. Then he said, “It’s pretty accurate, maybe with a little less drama. Most of those reality shows are scripted.”
“I’ve always thought that too!” Hanna said. She’d never come across anyone who agreed with her.
Half grinning at her reaction, Benny’s eyes rested on Hanna for a moment before sliding back to look at nothing. A glance around told Hanna that the barbecue was nearing its end, food being packed up and trash gathered.
“It looks like the party is winding down. I’ll see you later?” Hanna ventured.
“See you later,” Benny repeated before standing and walking over to Adam. He looked only slightly more awake than when Hanna sat down beside him, but it was something.
All around on the sand there were empty cups and half-eaten plates of food dotting the beach. Hanna started gathering the trash and dumping it into a large aluminum bin. From the corner of her eye she saw someone approach, and when she looked up she was surprised to see Derick’s sister before her.
“I didn’t get a chance to meet you,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Sophie Croft.”
“Hanna Elliot,” she responded, returning the gesture.
With her sleek auburn hair and almond-shaped green eyes, Sophie had an almost feline look about her. Hanna couldn’t help noticing that Sophie had pale skin dotted with tiny golden freckles, like her brother.
“I wanted to thank you for talking to my brother-in-law, Benny,” Sophie began, bending to retrieve an empty soda can and pitching it into the bin. “He usually goes off by himself like that, and people just ignore him.”
“He looked lonely,” Hanna said with a shrug.
Sophie gave Hanna a long, calculating look that was not unkind. “He’s been going through a hard time for a while.”
“I gathered as much,” Hanna answered, straightening and looking around for more trash. The beach looked pretty clean, and the rest of the party had already headed back to the houses. “Looks like we’re done.”
“Do you mind if I walk with you?” Sophie asked, and Hanna sensed there was something particular she wanted to say.
“Not at all.”
After a moment of silence, Sophie said, “Did Benny mention Phoebe?”
“No, we mostly talked about poetry.”
Rolling her eyes, Sophie said, “I’ve been trying to get him off that stuff forever.”
Hanna couldn’t help smiling. “He might have mentioned that.”
“Phoebe was his fiancée. They only dated a couple months before getting engaged, and then she got in an accident while Benny was gone.”
Hanna really didn’t want to pry, but she couldn’t stifle the curiosity. “How awful . . . I’m guessing she didn’t make it?”
Sophie shook her head. “The doctors were optimistic at first, but when weeks passed without any change in her condition, they said that she wasn’t likely to wake up. And if she did, she would have no brain function. After six months her parents finally pulled the plug.”
Having no words, Hanna was relieved when Sophie continued.
“Benny blames himself for her death, even though there was nothing he could have done if he’d been there. He stayed by her for months though, reading to her, talking to her, sleeping beside her—positive she could hear him and that his voice would bring her back.”
Hanna took that in, felt a twinge of empathy for him.
“Their whole courtship was super fast,” Sophie went on. “While Benny was home during off-season he met Phoebe, and they got engaged just before he went back out. She planned the wedding while he was gone. They were meant to be married right when he got home, but the accident was just a month before.”
The only thing Hanna could think to say was, “That’s heartbreaking.”
“It is . . .” Sophie allowed, but Hanna could tell there was more.
“But?”
Smiling at her assumption, Sophie said, “But it’s been over a year, and Benny isn’t getting any better.”
Hanna chewed on her lip, wishing she had the perfect solution.
“Tonight is the first time in forever that I saw Benny smile. I wanted to thank you for that.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Hanna said, embarrassed. She could feel the heat in her cheeks.
“You did, Hanna. More than you know.” Sophie’s eyes were so bright, her face so open and sincere, that Hanna couldn’t let the compliment go unanswered.
“I’m glad I could help,” she said in a small voice.
A chuckle answered her, as if Sophie knew how hard it was for Hanna to accept praise. “I hope to see you again soon, Hanna.”
“Me too,” she answered, feeling stupid when she realized it sounded like she wanted to see herself again.
Waving, Sophie turned and moved off toward Kelynch, leaving Hanna with an odd mixture of emotions: lighter because she’d helped someone in need, nervous because she’d just had a conversation with Derick’s sister, and disappointed—because Sophie seemed to have no idea at all who she’d been talking to.
NINE
SOMEONE LIKE YOU
He had a heart for . . . any pleasing young woman who came in his way, excepting Anne Elliot.
—Jane Austen, Persuasion
The next day, Derick didn’t get up early to go running with Ella. She had mentioned a fitness clothing store that she wanted to visit, and they agreed to sleep in and then go browsing instead. After showering and dressing for the day, Derick emerged from his room to find Sophie making breakfast. The gloriously greasy smell of bacon permeated the kitchen, making Derick’s mouth water. Pouring himself a tall glass of milk, he sat down on a bar stool.
“Morning,” Sophie greeted him. “Hungry?”
“Not really, but for bacon I’ll make an exception.”
Grimacing at her brother, Sophie cracked several eggs into a bowl and attacked them with a wire whisk. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Going downtown with Ella.”
The lack of Sophie’s response piqued Derick’s curiosity. The only time his sister kept her opinion to herself was when it wasn’t favorable.
“What?” he prompted.
“What-what?” she asked, all innocence.
“Just let me have it, Soph. I know you have an opinion, you always do.”
Sophie arched an eyebrow at him, then dumped the eggs into a frying pan. “Nothing,” she said. “She’s nice . . .”
Derick’s patience was rewarded. He had to wait a only moment before Sophie continued.
“And energetic, and bubbly, and young. And kind of . . . empty.”
“Empty?” Derick grinned, nibbling on a slice of crisp bacon. “You’re going to have to build on that, sis.”
“You know how most of an iceberg is below the surface of the water? I feel like with Ella, there’s nothing below the surface. Like she’s stuffed with cotton or something equally weightless.”
“First she’s empty, now she’s a stuffed animal?”
“Like Raggedy Ann,” Sophie clarified.
Even though Derick didn’t like the criticism, he couldn’t help chuckling at his sister’s analogy.
“Anyway,” Sophie said, waving the spatula in the air before stirring the eggs, “I think you should hold out for someone . . . more.”
Derick grabbed another piece of bacon and bit off the end. “We’re just friends, Soph.”
“Derick Wentworth, didn’t anyone ever
tell you not to lie with your mouth full?”
Derick almost choked on said mouthful. Chasing it down with the last of his milk, he said, “I’m not lying. Nothing has happened between us. She’s just . . . an exercise buddy.”
Adam, answering the call of sizzling bacon, came into the kitchen. His sense of smell might have been devoted to the food, but his hearing was just fine. “Come on, dude. No guy in his right mind would think of Ella Musgrove as a buddy.” Piling a plate with eggs and bacon for himself, Adam sat down next to Derick, completely oblivious to the look his wife was giving him.
After a couple bites he looked up. “What?”
Sophie raised an eyebrow.
“Aw, come on, honey—I meant a single guy!”
Sophie removed two slices of bacon from her husband’s plate. “Save some for Benny,” she told him saucily. “Speaking of which, why don’t you go get him up?”
Adam bowed his head in submission and went to do as he was told.
“He’s right, though,” Sophie said. “So don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re friends. Friends don’t wear hoochie shorts, Derick.”
Derick bristled. “She takes care of herself. Is that a bad thing?”
“Look, she’s great. I just think you need to be careful. I don’t see you with someone like Ella.”
“Who do you see me with, Sophie?” He might as well humor her. His sister never rested until her sentiments were made known.
“I don’t know . . . what about . . . Hanna, maybe?”
Suddenly Derick wanted to be somewhere else—anywhere else. Of course, Sophie wasn’t privy to his history with her person of choice. Sophie had been a young bride herself at the time, and though she was aware that there was someone, she didn’t know who. The proposal had been so impulsive, the subsequent rejection so swift, that Derick didn’t have time to tell Sophie about it. Almost like it never happened, he thought. There and gone, like a deceptively sweet dream.
“Thanks for breakfast, sis,” he told Sophie, gathering his things and trying not to sprint back to his room and through the back door. “See you later.”
Persuaded Page 5
