by Cate Masters
When she leaned closer, he backed further.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“I have to go.” Pale pink light rimmed the horizon. Liam would be knocking at his door to rouse him.
She reached for him. “Now? Can’t you stay a little longer?”
“Why? Haven’t you tired of toying with me yet?” Though he’d meant it to insult her, he tensed while awaiting her response. The horizon brightened, and its pinkish orange glow suffused through the window.
She released a breath. “You knew my stay here was only temporary. I think you were the one toying with me.”
Certainly, he had begun intending to. Her pretty face, her bold spirit that dared him to challenge her, enticed him. Yet all the while, she’d surprised him at every turn. Matched his challenges, surpassed his expectations. Made him yearn for more.
Soon, she would be gone.
“When are you leaving?”
“I’m awaiting word from my brother. I expect he’ll book my passage on the next available ship.”
“I see.” The disappointment in his tone surprised even him. He wanted her to go, didn’t he? She threatened his peace of mind. His way of life.
Her head lifted from the bed as her eyes searched his in the half-light.
“Livvie.” Emotions struggled against one another–lust, affection, sorrow, regret. He wiped his hand across his mouth. Better to say nothing than to make promises that would return to haunt him in all their obstinate forms.
“I must be off.” Rising, he stepped lightly to the window. Mr. Crowell’s snores had grown lighter, so he must be close to waking. To be caught inside the house would cause an uproar that would come back upon him like a fifty foot wave.
“I’ll see you out.” She crept from the bed.
He waved at her to stay. She shoo’d him on after opening a drawer.
The door knob made no noise as he turned it, so he eased the door open. She clutched the back of his shirt, matching his steps so the footfalls sounded as one set shuffling down the hall, and then the steps.
She took his hand, tugging him down the hall to the back door. Opening it, he paused against its creak. When she pushed it open quickly, they darted outside. He stepped off the back stair, turning at her touch.
“What?” he whispered.
She slipped her arms around his neck. “This.” Pressing her lips to his, her body fell against him, their heights evened by the single stair.
Their kiss was slow and delicious, making Sam forget his duties. Birds called in the trees, as yellow and orange clouds brightened the sky.
Finally, he lifted his lips from hers
She clung to him. “Sam.”
Although he tried to let his thoughts drift, to revel in the pleasant sensation giving no consideration to what was to come, his conscience wrestled with his emotions. “Hmm?”
She leaned away to look at him, her hands soft on his cheeks. “You could have taken me tonight, willingly. But you didn’t.”
He couldn’t divine whether her voice held more disappointment or wonder. Definitely too much seriousness, so he forced a light air. “If you had been ill all over me, you’d have bruised my ego irreparably.”
“I don’t think that’s the reason.”
Before he could concoct a better excuse, she took hold of his head. “You are a good man. A wonderful man.”
“No, Livvie. If that’s what you see, you’re looking at the wrong man. I’m a sinner. A simple wrecker. That’s all I aim to be.” The simpler his life, the better. His initial intention in coming here, yet here he was, complicating things.
Ducking her head, she pressed papers into his hand. “Here.”
“What’s this?” One look told him: her story. He’d meant to ask again, but he hadn’t found the right time.
“Just some pages of my story. But I’ll want your honest opinion.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Come back tonight.” She kissed his cheek, jaw and ear.
He drew his lips across her ear. “We sail to Havana today. I won’t be back until tomorrow, maybe the day after.”
Easing away, she searched his face, her fingers splayed along his cheeks.
He studied her expression while it changed from sadness to disbelief to something like frustration. He opened his mouth, ready to tell her he’d see her soon, as soon as he returned. It was what she wanted to hear, he thought. What he wanted to say. But promises were sticky as honey, and sweetness soon separated from them, leaving only blandness and boredom. He could not be held to his word, except for his word to The Florida. His livelihood and lifestyle–it held no place for a woman.
He clenched his teeth to keep from betraying himself, and slid his hands down her back to her waist, holding her a moment longer so he could take her all in. With a quick kiss, he said goodbye, and then strode down the side path to Duvall Street. The rising sun cast a long shadow before him when he walked seaward.
Chapter Fifteen
The Florida caught a tail wind and reached Havana as the sun set.
Captain Howe stood at the rail. “Set anchor. We’ve arrived too late. We’ll make port in the morning.” He looked toward the mahogany-planked wharf lining the port, where Spanish man-of-war ships were moored beside smaller boats. Too crowded to navigate safely past sundown, incoming vessels were barred until the next day.
Liam settled beside Sam on the deck. “Too bad we left so late.”
Sam worked a nautical knot. “We can make an early start tomorrow.”
“But tonight we’re deprived of Havana’s beauties and excellent spirits.”
“All the less for Millie to be angry about after we return.”
“Millie will be touched by yer concern.” Liam’s smile faded. “I suspect she’s not at home embroidering while I’m gone.”
Sam was relieved the conversation centered on Liam’s love life and not his own. “She’s popular. Free to do whatever she chooses.”
Liam held his hands on his knees. “As am I.”
Sam wouldn’t point out that Millie was one of a handful of available women in Key West. “She does take to you, though.”
“Most of the time.” Liam knit his brows and stared off at nothing in particular.
“She’s not beholden to you. You always said you preferred it so, correct?”
“I have. Now I’m considering other options.”
His friend’s admission took Sam by surprise. “Such as?”
Liam slid his gaze to Sam. “I’m not getting any younger, my boy. A man likes to put down roots when the time is right.”
“You’re joking.” His friend had celebrated his forty-second birthday over the summer by out-drinking every man in the grogery and had been the first to report to The Florida the next day. While in Key West, he favored Millie’s companionship. In Havana, he lathered his charms on every willing woman. He’d always spoken of marriage as a condition of weak-minded men.
Liam stood. “Where’s Cook and our supper?”
Sam stared open-mouthed, unsure of what to make of the sudden change of topic and mood.
“I’ll go see.” Liam strode toward the entrance to the lower hold and disappeared below. He returned some time later to announce dinner and went below again.
Sam stowed the ropes away and pushed himself up. He walked downstairs, filled his plate with fish and ate alongside the crew. He talked and joked as usual, all the while feeling he stood outside himself, watching his own actions. Not until he settled on deck atop his bedroll and lay beneath the stars did the strange sensation leave him.
The four stars of the Southern Cross spread wide above him. A navigation point for sailors, the constellation indicated their location. Nonetheless, Sam felt lost in the vast interior of himself, devoid of definitive markers except those jagged edges imprinted by his past. Experiences best forgotten, unless their memory served as warning to avoid similar pitfalls.
Sam was not a praying man. He felt no need to attend Sunday services. Not whil
e he could look out his window at the great expanse of shifting sea and skies, consumed by such a calm that could only come from the great beyond. Not while he could sail to another island, untouched by humans, to sense the stillness beyond the rush of water or the calling of birds. Beyond the great stillness came the hum of the universe in its intricate motions, like the workings of an immense clock moving in its own particular rhythm. The silence beneath which was layered the murmur of the heavens, the hushed whisperings of another realm, a realm unknown, yet familiar. He had never spoke such thoughts to anyone, but the insistent longing to share it with Livvie now surprised him. To open himself up in that way would be to invite another catastrophe of the heart.
Havana’s lights reflected on the water. As the sky darkened, the glow rose toward the heavens, full of music, laughter and the everyday sounds of people’s lives. Sounds that tonight, echoed through the hollow ache inside him for hours.
* * * *
Clouds cut the heat of the day, worsened by the paved stone streets. Sam walked beside Liam along the narrow street, too narrow for pedestrians, cargo-laden mules and those odd-looking carriages called volantes. The wreckers were obliged to duck into the large carriage way constructed in a building to allow a volante to pass. The driver raised his whip to the horse’s flank repeatedly.
Liam aimed a disapproving glare at the driver. “I’m thankful not to be a horse on this island.”
“Or any other,” Sam joked. He’d never been much of a horseman, but the constant lashings the volante rig horses received at the hands of the drivers made him flinch.
When it rolled away, they stepped behind it.
“Jasper said we missed the lottery by a day,” Liam said.
“Mmm. Too bad.” The monthly Havana lottery incited a frenzy among its citizens. Sam was not sorry to have missed the excitement.
“Shall we join the nightly promenade to the Governor’s palace? Perhaps we can find some pretty Havana girls who’ll let us join their parade.”
“If you’d like.”
Liam cast an appraising eye on Sam. “Yer enthusiasm for Cuba has waned, I fear.”
“Not at all. I said we can go if you like.”
Grumbling, Liam waved away the argument.
Already, music floated through the streets.
Fearing the verbal backlash sure to follow, Sam said, “We can cut through this way to be ahead of them.”
Liam held back when Sam veered down a side street.
“Well come on. You don’t want the Captain-General to have all the beautiful girls, do you?” If nothing else, a pretty girl’s smile would divert Liam’s attention from Sam.
Liam followed begrudgingly until they reached the intersecting street. The crowd came into view, laughing and singing as they marched or rode. His tentative grin opened into a full-fledged smile as females of every age passed.
Liam fell into step beside a woman who batted her eyes, ducking her chin in an alluring fashion. Sam filed in behind, glad to be rid of Liam’s glare.
A merchant led a mule-drawn wagon loaded with sea shells at the end of the promenade. Sam stepped out of the crowd to wait for it. He picked up a basket constructed entirely of shells. The man called out its price, a bit steeper than Sam had anticipated. The thought of Livvie’s face as he presented it to her made him dig out the coins, handing them to the merchant. Navigating through the dips and swells of the moving crowd, he made his way to his former position behind Liam. The parade came to a stop outside the palace.
Laughing, Liam sang off-key, clapping, his face close to the woman’s. He glanced at Sam, his gaze flicking to the basket at Sam’s hip. Sam jerked his head toward the quay where the schooner was docked. Liam turned his back to him until the music ended.
Sam stepped to his side. “It’s nearly sunset. We can’t be late.”
Frowning, Liam bowed to kiss the woman’s hand, and lingered there.
“We must go now.” Sam nodded to the woman, forcing a curt smile.
“Hold up now, I’m coming.” Liam jogged to his side. “I’d have liked a bit more time with that one.”
Sam grunted in agreement, though he’d felt no sentiment resembling his friend’s on this trip. Women had smiled at him in that certain way, several very beautiful women, in fact, yet he had no desire to accept their unspoken invitations. Their warmth only made him think more of Livvie.
As much as he wanted to break away from her, his heart strings pulled him back double. She was headstrong as a mule. Such a temperament was necessary for life in the Keys, where sharp-toothed dangers lurked in shallow waters or crawled on poisonous pincers along branches, where people needed strong backs to stand against tide and wind.
Love–he knew nothing of it, really. All affairs of the heart appeared transient, shifting like the tides from one shore to another. Women themselves were transient, as changeable as the tide. And less predictable.
The basket would make a nice keepsake. The vision of her boarding a ship made him realize: she was leaving. Soon. The realization made him feel hollow as the sails, holding nothing more substantial than air.
“Feeling all right, Samuel?” Liam slapped his back.
“Nothing a drink wouldn’t heal. You did gather everything on your list, didn’t you?”
“Aye, I have all I need. Same as always.”
Sam wondered if that were true, but thought better of asking. Liam would laugh at him, call him a lovesick fool. And he might be right.
Chapter Sixteen
An hour before sunrise, The Florida followed its daily duty, sailing along the outlying reef. Sam leaned against the rail, his gaze aimed outward, while his thoughts raged inward. Sleep had eluded him again last night. Today his mood plummeted. Not even Liam’s humor could raise it, so his friend had taken leave of his sour company. Losing Barnaby had made Sam acutely aware of his helplessness against the forces of nature. Not the least of which was the intense churning Livvie stirred within him. She might have been Aphrodite herself, plucked from a shell like a perfect pearl instead of a shipwrecked girl caught in the foamy mouth of the sea.
Jasper stood with Isum at the bow, surveying the horizon.
Straightening, Isum strained against the rail. “A ship.”
Sam roused from his place to join them. The ship’s sails had been lowered. Likely it had run aground on the reef.
Captain Howe strode to the bow. “Aye. Set the rudder, Jahner. She may be in need of assistance.”
The Florida raced ahead, and then dropped anchor alongside the ship. Captain Howe hailed the ship’s captain, who invited him aboard. Howe returned looking dismayed. “We’re obliged to wait, men. The captain refuses our aid.”
“He’ll soon change his mind,” Liam said.
Hopefully sooner rather than later, Sam thought. He had a bad feeling about this job. Stubborn captains may have been a boon to masters of industry, but were a bane to wreckers. Their poor decisions sometimes cost more than time.
For two days, The Florida waited with five other wrecker schooners while the ship’s crew tried various methods to free it from the reef. On the third day, when the ship’s captain signaled, Captain Howe went aboard again. Returning this time, he yelled, “We’ve work to do, men. Look alive.”
The crew gathered around. “There’s cotton in the lower hold. We’ll salvage it first; much of it’s not yet underwater. I went below, heartened to see it’s accessible by stair.”
“Any other cargo?” Jasper asked.
“Corn and grain are below, to the aft,” Captain Howe said.
The men needed no further instructions. All flew into action like cogs of a well-maintained machine.
A stream of men converged on the ship from The Florida, while other wreckers drew nearer. The stairway to the lower hold wasn’t wide enough to allow to and fro movement, so the men moved in a group going below, and then climbing back up.
Carrying up the cotton, Sam joked to Liam, “I’ll almost feel guilty being paid for such easy wo
rk.”
The fair weather contributed to the rest of the crew’s high spirits. They brought bale after bale up from below to be offloaded to the schooner. When cotton filled the wrecker, it hoisted sail to Key West, and another wrecker maneuvered alongside the ship in its place.
“It hardly seems like work, eh?” Liam held his face up to the sun.
As The Florida came to shore, Isum jumped out, running to the warehouse to fetch the horse and wagon. The Conch’s long muscular legs made him the crew’s fastest runner.
After some minutes, the wagon came into view. Sam joined the others in readying the cargo for offloading. While the Conch backed the wagon toward the boat, the men formed a line to hand down cotton. Once the wagon could hold no more, Isum clicked to the horse. The wheels had sunk slightly into the sand, so five men pushed the back to boost it from its place. Sam walked alongside with Liam, the others following to the warehouse.
Liam announced the cargo of the ship to the warehouse caretaker. After the clerk noted it in the register, the men removed the cotton to the specified corner.
While Sam lifted a container from the wagon, a passing buggy caught his eye. Livvie rode in the back beside Mrs. Locke.
He stepped toward the carriage. “Hello.”
Turning, Livvie met his gaze, smiling. “Mr. Langhorne.” She touched the driver’s arm, and the buggy stopped.
Wiping his sleeve across his sweaty brow, Sam jogged to the buggy. “Good afternoon, Miss Collins, Mrs. Locke. What brings you here?”
“We grew concerned about the ship. Are its passengers all right?”
“Oh, yes. They should be arriving soon. Captain finally allowed us to assist him. We’re removing the cargo now in hopes we can budge her off the reef once she’s lighter. They can get underway again if there’s no damage.”
“What a relief for everyone. You, too, I imagine.”
He took heart when relief showed in Livvie’s face as well. For three days, he hadn’t called on her; she must have wondered why. In all that time, he hadn’t had a proper chance to read her pages, either. He needed solitude for that. The boat’s close quarters had provided none.
