If I Wait For You

by Jane Goodger

  Though God above knew he wished he were the kind of man who could.

  It was with a heavy heart that West pushed open the door. By the time he was fully in, his expression had gone from a man tortured, to one simply weary beyond bearing. He’d thought work would drive thoughts of Sara from him, and the past week he’d driven himself like a madman in a futile attempt to purge her from his blood. With every beat of his heart, she was there, filling him with longing, with despair.

  Gardner walked into the foyer, stopping when he saw West there. The older brother smiled a greeting. Right before Gardner plowed a fist full against West’s face. West’s head snapped back and he nearly stumbled to the ground, so taken by surprise by the assault.

  “You bastard,” Gardner said, launching himself at West, swinging ineffective blows at his brother, who was now ably defending himself. “You lying bastard. You have to have everything, everything!” he yelled between blows, most of which glanced off West’s shoulders. One struck his stomach and he let out an oomph, still unwilling to fight back against this attack.

  “Hold on, Gard. What the hell are you talking about. Hey!” he shouted as Gardner flung another fist his way. West had enough of this and threw his body against Gardner, driving him heavily to the floor where Gardner thrashed in rage. “Calm down, you little shit,” West said harshly.

  His own blood dripped onto Gardner’s face, and Gardner jerked his head to the side to avoid it. West had his brother’s arms pinned in an iron grip and he lay fully on top of Gardner to stop him from doing any more damage.

  “Get the hell off me,” Gardner spat.

  “Not until you tell me why I’m dripping blood all over your nice white shirt.”

  “Sara told me everything. Told me you shared a cabin for six months, pretending to be man and wife.” The last came out as a sob, and Gardner swallowed to maintain control of himself. “All this time you pretended not to know her and you were, God, you were…”

  West heaved himself off of Gardner and sat on the cold marble floor next to him, arms resting on bent knees. “She’s still a virgin, Gardner.”

  His brother let out a bitter disbelieving laugh. “I’ve seen how you two look at each other. I told myself I was imagining things, but apparently I wasn’t. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  Gardner gave West a disgusted look at the alarm he heard in his older brother’s voice. “Mother kicked her from the house. With my blessing,” Gardner said, standing up. “I’m afraid it’s not in my plans to marry a murderess and a whore.”

  This time, it was West’s fist smashing into flesh and bone, and Gardner’s blood spurting. West stood, looming over Gardner who lay prone, defeated and bleeding on the floor. West already regretted the blow. Gardner was hurt and angry; he couldn’t mean what he’d just said. Still, it was rather satisfying to know Gardner’s lip would be just as fat as his own.

  “Oh my God.”

  West looked calmly at his mother, who’s eyes were wide with horror.

  “Have you killed him?”

  West glanced down at his brother, noticing for the first time that his face was covered with both their blood. “No,” West said blandly. “But he did his level best to kill me when I first arrived.”

  Gardner sat up, giving his mother a look both sheepish and tinged with belligerence. “He deserved a thrashing,” he said, sounding like a twelve-year-old.

  “Indeed,” Julia said imperiously.

  “Perhaps I did,” West said, offering a hand to Gardner, who pointedly ignored the gesture. “But Sara did not deserve what she got.”

  Pain flashed in Julia’s face, and West knew instantly his mother regretted her rash decision to throw Sara from the house. “She’s disappeared,” she said, worry clear in her voice.

  “So Gardner told me. Have you bothered to look for her?”

  “Of course I have,” Julia said, ignoring Gardner’s surprised look. “Oh, Gardner, she wasn’t gone two hours before I wished her back. She came to us, trusted us to understand.”

  “Mother,” Gardner cried with disbelief, “she lied to us. Repeatedly. Not only about her name, but about how she met West. My God, mother, Sara is a wanted woman—wanted for murdering her lover and her parents.”

  “You don’t believe she’s guilty any more than I do,” Julia said, fairly snorting.

  Gardner persisted. “She was here in our house, eating our food, pretending to be some orphan.”

  “That was all my idea,” West put in.

  “I’m sure it was all your idea. It was quite an act you two put on, pretending to barely be acquainted.”

  West clenched his fists. “She chose you, Gardner.” The pain of that admission ripped through him, and silenced Gardner.

  Gardner’s shoulders sagged and he hung his head wearily. “She loves you. It was always you. I suspected it from the beginning. Every time your name was mentioned, she’d get all sad and distant. And every time we got one of your letters, she’d sit like a kid at Christmas listening to a story about Saint Nick. And I thought, this is one thing West can’t have. At first, I just wanted to make her forget you, to take her away from you. But then…”

  “You fell in love,” Julia finished.

  Gardner untucked his already-ruined shirt and wiped his bloodied mouth on it. “And West came back. And that, my good folks, is that.”

  “Don’t re-write what happened, Gard. Sara loved you. She chose you.”

  Gardner gave West a small mocking smile. “Not in the end, big brother. In the end, she chose you.”

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  “What the hell are you talking about,” West said, his voice low and dangerous.

  Gardner continued dabbing at his mouth with his handkerchief. “I think I would have forgiven her everything, if she’d been able to deny that she loved you. She couldn’t.”

  West studied the floor a long moment, trying to stop his heart from filling with happiness at his own brother’s misery. “And so you threw her from the only home she has?”

  “I did that,” Julia said miserably.

  “You’ve heard nothing? What about her brother, Zachary. Has either of you spoken with him?”

  “I’ve seen Zachary several times,” Gardner said with clear reluctance. “He’s asked about Sara. He thinks she’s still here and I didn’t tell him what happened.”

  “Why?”

  Gardner shot a guilty look to his mother. “Because I suppose I was ashamed. And I thought she would come back by now, or send word. I couldn’t face telling Mr. Dawes that I might have been responsible for his sister’s disappearance.”

  “Might have been responsible?”

  “Christ, West. I loved her and she betrayed me. I’m no saint.”

  “Perhaps it was you who betrayed her. And me,” West said softly.

  “I did nothing to you.” Despite his words, a flush stole up his lean cheeks.

  They both knew it was a lie. Gardner had set out to systematically steal Sara away from West, and had nearly succeeded.

  West turned away from his family and stalked up the stairs, announcing, “I’m going to go look for her once I get cleaned up.”

  The odor of rotted fish was strong along the wharf, where endless barrels of whale oil sat beneath an unseasonably hot spring sun. The Julia sat at her berth in the midst of being prepared for another journey. Spars were being replaced, sails repaired and made, barrels constructed, decks sanded with sharkskin. The few hands aboard the Julia were busy, and Zachary was among them, supervising the repair of tackle near the mainmast.

  “Mr. Dawes,” West called as he approached. “A word with you in my office.” Without waiting for a reply, West turned and headed to the familiar room. It still seemed more like home aboard this ship than the grand house on Court Street did. He looked around, curious about feeling melancholy about never again sailing her, this ship he thought he’d come to loath. No, not the ship, but the journey itself, the endl
ess days at sea, the foul weather, the death and stink of it all.

  “Sir?”

  “Have you heard from your sister, Mr. Dawes?”

  “Yes, sir. I received a note from Sara not two days ago. Do you mind telling me why she is staying with Judge Reynolds?”

  West’s brows snapped together. “Judge Reynolds? I had no idea. What does her note say?”

  “Only that I should not worry about her, that everything will be resolved and she is safe at the judge’s house. Did something happen that I should know about?”

  West rubbed at hand over a jaw that needed a shave. “I’ve been away for a week. Apparently Sara told my mother and brother the truth about who she is—and about her time on the Julia—and my lovely family threw her from the house. Until this moment, I didn’t know where she was.”

  Understanding dawned on Zachary’s face. “She must have turned herself in. Then why the hell is she still at the judge’s?”

  “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  West put a hand up halting the younger man’s progress with the gesture. “I want to see your sister alone for now. I feel responsible for everything that has happened. Sara has not deserved much of what life has dealt her, least of all a man like me.”

  Zachary beamed a smile at his captain.

  “Wipe that blasted smile off your face, Mr. Dawes,” West said, but despite his growl, there was a hint of good humor in his tone.

  “Then you’re finally going to ask her?”

  West stopped and looked at his third mate. “If she’ll have me, Mr. Dawes. If she’ll have me.”

  Sara simply could not shake the feeling that something was very wrong about the way Judge Reynolds was “protecting” her. After their initial conversation, never again in the next six days did he mention her predicament. It was as if she were simply a welcomed houseguest. He went to work each day bidding her good-bye with a chaste kiss to her cheek, and returned to dine and lounge in the main parlor. He would read and smoke his pipe and ask about her day acting as if he were keenly interested in each mundane event she reported.

  Indeed, there was little she could do. The servants were unsure what to make of her, so Sara spent much of her time in her room embroidering a handkerchief she found there. The one time she’d asked if he’d heard from West, he’d patted her hand and said, “Give it time, my dear. Give it time.”

  Sara wasn’t entirely certain what the old man meant. Though he’d done nothing to make her feel ill at ease, each time she went to bed, she fought the urge to lock her door. As if he might come to her in the middle of the night. Nothing he had done would suggest such a thing, but she still felt unaccountably wary around him. Her instinct told her something was wrong with the way the judge was acting. It was almost as if he were pretending they were man and wife, and she prayed he would never try to take this fantasy further.

  She felt on edge and simply wanted everything to be resolved. Each time she brought up her case, he waved her away with a dismissive hand as if her fears were of no consequence. Although she was not a prisoner, she had the distinct feeling that she could not leave the house.

  She was in her room staring out the window when a maid came to her door. “Judge Reynolds would like to see you in his office, miss,” the maid said, then disappeared.

  This was odd, and she felt a small bit of anticipation that perhaps the judge had news of her case. Lifting her skirts, she ran down the stairs, skidding to a halt when she saw the painfully familiar back of Captain Mitchell. He turned, his eyes sweeping over her, as if to determine if she was well.

  She lifted her chin, trying to hide the elation she felt at seeing him. “Mr. Mitchell.”

  “Ah, here she is now, Mr. Mitchell. As you can see, she is perfectly fine.” The judge turned to her. “Mr. Mitchell seemed to be exceedingly concerned over your welfare and no amount of reassurance would convince him.” The judge’s tone was light, but Sara thought she detected a slight bit of anger.

  “Are you well, Sara?” West asked with a probing look.

  She nodded. “As well as I can be. I take it you know Gardner and your mother did not take my confession well.”

  “They regret their harsh treatment of you and would like you to come home.” He moved to her and took up one hand, staring down at her intently. “I want you to come home.”

  The judge cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that might be difficult until we can prove Miss Dawes’ innocence. I’m afraid I have found out nothing of import.”

  “There is a witness,” West said, and the judge looked at him sharply. “We’re quite convinced that one of the men involved, a Nathan Wright, may be involved or know who committed the crimes.

  “You know who one of the men are? My God, man, why have you kept quiet about it all this time?”

  “Because he escaped on a whaling ship and is unlikely to ever show his face in this part of the country again. Men jump ship all the time, sir, and with far less reason to than Mr. Wright.”

  “Then he cannot help,” the judge said thoughtfully.

  Sara looked worriedly from the judge to West. “Does that mean there is no hope that I will be fully cleared?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Judge Reynolds said.

  “Surely you do not intend to charge Sara with murder.” West brought his hand around her waist, as if he might abscond with her if the judge admitted he would charge her.

  “The evidence does not support a charge of murder, no,” he said finally. “Still, I would like Sara to remain here for her own protection.”

  Sara stiffened and West immediately stepped forward. “Protection from whom, sir? If no one but you and my family knows who Sara truly is, who can present a danger to her?”

  The judge seemed reluctant to agree with West, but finally concluded Sara would indeed be as safe with the Mitchells as with himself. “Sara can decide,” Judge Reynolds said, and Sara could tell he wanted her—almost desperately—to decide to stay with him. Her heart went out to the old man, who no doubt thought of her as a sort of granddaughter, or perhaps even a daughter, though there was no blood relation. Sara realized he might be using her to replace the affection he once reserved toward her mother, albeit in a more fatherly direction. Still, she could not say she would miss living in the Reynolds household. Though she had never truly been a prisoner, the air about the place was oppressive and restrictive. Sometimes Sara wondered if she would ever be able to leave. The way the judge had spoken at times was as if he planned for her to live with him forever. Sara had decided it was kindness that made him talk that way, but now his clear reluctance to let her go made her realize his feelings were far more complicated than those of a kind benefactor.

  “I appreciate your kindness, Judge Reynolds, but I think I would like to go home with West.” She looked up at West and smiled, all the love she felt shining clearly in her face. Judge Reynolds eyes narrowed before his expression cleared.

  “Of course. It is obvious you do not belong here with an old man.”

  “Oh, sir,” Sara said with feeling. “It is not that I do not belong here as much as I believe I belong somewhere else.”

  “With me,” West said with a possessiveness that made Sara’s heart sing.

  Sara felt as if everything in her world had suddenly turned right. For years she had been waiting for West, waiting for him without even realizing it. And now she would have him. It was so clear in his eyes, the love he felt for her, that she wondered if she’d been blind to his feelings or whether he’d managed to hide them from her all this time.

  Judge Reynolds smiled, a genuine, warm smile. “Are congratulations in order then?”

  “Indeed, sir, they are. But I haven’t asked the lady yet, so I’d better not jump to any errant conclusions. If you will excuse us, sir, I think I’d like to ask Sara a certain question. Good day and thank you for taking care of her.”

  Sara walked over to the judge and kissed his cheek. “Than
k you for helping me, judge. I shall never forget your kindness. I know it is your decision,” she said softly, so West could not hear her. “But I believe Zachary would be proud to have a father such as you. You are a good and kind man.”

  The old man’s eyes filled with tears and he lay a hand on her cheek. “You are so much like her,” he said roughly. “So much.”

  Sara forced a smile. “Good-bye, Judge Reynolds.”

  She walked toward West believing in her heart that her life had just begun.

  They walked side-by-side, not touching, past County Street’s elegant homes, Sara feeling like a caged bird finally let free, and West feeling as if he didn’t take her in his arms this minute, he would surely collapse.

  “So, Miss Dawes,” he said, placing a hand on her arm to stop her, “I would have your answer.”

  “First, Mr. Mitchell, I would have the question.” She tried to remain solemn, but a smile forced its way out turning quickly into a full-fledged idiotic grin.

  “Marry me, Sara.”

  She should have known he couldn’t actually ask, but rather demand. “Why?”

  He looked at her dumbly. “Why?”

  “You have asked me to marry you. Or rather ordered me to. And I would simply like to know why.”

  “Of course, you know.” He cleared his throat and scratched his jaw with a thumb. He took a deep breath, then placed his large hands on her shoulders. “Because I love you, Sara Dawes. Because if you do not, what is left of my poor ravaged heart will surely cease beating. Marry me. Will you?”

  Sara gave him a long steady look. “Yes, I believe I will.”

  He pulled her to him roughly, his lips near her ear. “Tell me why. Please, Sara, let me hear it.”

  “I’ve already told you.”

  “Again, Sara,” he said, giving her a gentle shake born from exasperation.

  “Oh, West. I love you so much. I always have.”

  Mindless that they might be seen, West kissed her with all the love he felt, reveling in the breathless sigh he heard escape from her sweet lips.