Love Inspired Historical November 2014

by Danica Favorite

  Lord, why did You lead me here? I was so sure Your hand pointed to Seattle. Then Clay came along. Is he an obstacle I’m meant to overcome or a change in the direction You wish me to go? You must have had some purpose in bringing me here. I must have some purpose!

  She sensed no words of comfort, no new direction. She opened her eyes, and her gaze lit on the books arranged so carefully on the shelves behind Mercer. Was that her answer? Perhaps she’d missed a treatise on occupations for indigent widows. Perhaps reading a novel would take her mind off her doubts. As the service broke up, she allowed Maddie to take Gillian for tea and went to see what she could find.

  Clay drew up a few minutes later as she was thumbing through an encyclopedia of science and culture.

  “Good afternoon, Allegra,” he greeted her with a bow.

  Allie sighed and slid the book back onto the shelf. “After all this time, are we not at Allie and Clay?”

  He grinned, and his stiff manner fell away to be replaced by a warmth that lifted her spirits. “Allie and Clay, is it? What happened to Allegra and Clayton?”

  She stood to face him, brushing down the gray of her skirts. “They were buried under the weight of Boston society. I hear no one mourned their passing.”

  “A shame,” he agreed. “But I quite like these new folks.”

  “Me, too,” she replied. “Most days.”

  He cocked his head. “Most days? Why not all of them?”

  She was tired of wallowing. “Everyone has an occasional moment of regret, sir. Now, why have you come to find me? I can’t be late to class. I understand the next lesson is tomorrow.”

  His formal bearing crept back over him as his shoulders straightened. “We’ll be anchoring off Point Tamar in an hour. Captain Windsor means to take a group ashore. I thought you might enjoy coming along.”

  Escape these walls and the thoughts that chased her around them? “I’d be delighted,” she assured him. “Let me find Maddie and get Gillian ready.”

  His arm shot out to stop her. “Gillian should stay aboard. There are too many ways she might get hurt.”

  His tone was brusque, as if he thought she’d argue. So now he didn’t even trust her to look out for her daughter?

  Anger flared. “In that case, sir,” she told him, drawing herself up, “perhaps I should stay aboard, as well. After all, how could someone like me manage a foreign shore?”

  He frowned at her, but she pushed past him for the stairs to the lower salon. If she was going to descend into misery, as least she could do so in private.

  *

  Clay blew out a breath as Allie disappeared down the stairs. He’d seen enough courtships in Boston and Seattle to know that his was not going well. But he was following all Catherine and Maddie’s advice.

  “Every woman appreciates solicitous attention,” Catherine had assured him. “Show her you are more than a backwoods lout.”

  Funny. He’d always thought he was more than that.

  “And offer her presents,” Maddie had insisted. “There’s nothing like flowers to turn a lady’s head.”

  “Where would you suggest I find flowers in the middle of the ocean?” Clay had teased.

  Maddie had grinned. “Oh, you’re an inventive lad, so you are. I’m sure you’ll find any number of things you can give our dear Allegra.”

  He’d tried. He’d offered her the choicest bits of food at the table, presented her with a poem hand-copied from memory and procured a book Roger Conant had refused to loan until now. He’d bestowed every solicitous attention he could think of aboard ship, but instead of warming to him, Allie had cooled.

  And all this stiff posturing felt unnatural. He wasn’t much enjoying pretending to be a person he’d thought he’d left behind. It was as if he’d squeezed into a coat two sizes too small.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he confessed to Catherine as they waited for the officers to lower the longboat from the hurricane deck for the trip ashore. “Are you certain this is what she wants?”

  “You must be patient,” Catherine assured him, the cool breeze not so much as ruffling her pale hair as she twirled a lacy parasol over her head. “She’ll come to see your stellar qualities.”

  Clay wasn’t sure how, when those qualities were crammed into a starched collar.

  Just then he caught sight of Allie walking toward him. Over her gray gown she wore that cloak he’d first seen her in, the quilted hood framing her creamy face. One gloved hand held firmly to Gillian’s as the little girl walked beside her in her plaid dress. He wanted to go to Allie, beg her forgiveness, promise never to act like a jackanapes again, in short to be the smitten beau she’d had trailing after her in Boston.

  Then he noticed Reynolds walking at her side, her other hand on his arm.

  “I managed to convince Mrs. Howard to join us,” he bragged as if he’d negotiated a treaty with a warring nation. He gave his walking stick a twirl.

  “Mr. Reynolds assured me that he feels perfectly comfortable with Gillian’s safety,” Allie said with a lift of her chin as if she dared Clay to say otherwise.

  He would have liked to argue. He wasn’t sure the rocky shore was anyplace for a little girl. Mountains crowded close to the narrow shingle, their sides darkened by forests so thick even light didn’t penetrate. Part of the beach was shadowed by the ancient timbers of a massive sailing ship that must have wrecked upon the rocks. Allie would find it difficult to enjoy the rustic scenery if she had to spend every moment watching out for her daughter.

  So he decided to look out for Gillian himself.

  It couldn’t be that hard, he reasoned, keeping an eye on a four-year-old. He’d spent enough time with her aboard ship to know that Gillian wasn’t the most active of children.

  But he soon found that there were a hundred ways for an inquisitive little girl to get into trouble. Those fingers trailing over the side of the longboat as it flew across the water could attract sharks, if any dared these cold waters. And what if she fell in? She’d drown or freeze before the longboat could come back for her.

  “Come sit with me, Captain Howard,” he said, lifting her off Allie’s lap and depositing her on his own.

  Allie frowned at him. Reynolds smirked as if he thought Clay was playing nanny.

  The shore was even worse, for he quickly spotted dangers there. Gillian could trip over a rock on the pebbly beach, slip and fall into a tide pool. What if those shells she gathered were sharp and cut her? What if she wandered into the forest and was lost forever? He wanted to clutch her in his arms and never let go.

  “She isn’t made of glass, you know.”

  He turned from watching Gillian bend to pick up a shell to find Allie beside him. Her hands were on her hips, and that militant gleam was in her eyes.

  “No, but there’s so much she doesn’t understand,” he countered, gaze going back to the little girl. “If something happened to her, I’d never forgive myself.”

  Even as he watched, Gillian began tugging on one of the redbricklike stones that littered the beach. The rock came free, and she tumbled backward.

  His heart leaped into his throat, and he dashed to scoop her up. “Are you hurt, Gillian? Speak to me!”

  Gillian frowned. “Why?”

  Allie met him and held out her arms. “Here, let me.”

  Clay watched as she took her daughter, set her back on the ground and smoothed down the little girl’s dress. All the while, Allie talked to her about the rock, about the giant ship looming over them, about the wonders of God’s creation. Her tone and look assured her daughter everything was fine. Then she stepped back and watched as Gillian scurried away. Each step the little girl took up the beach, Clay felt himself tensing anew.

  “You have to give her room to grow, Clay,” Allie said beside him. “Believe me, I know that can be difficult. But would you plant a tree and cover it from the sun just to keep the birds from roosting in it? Would you lock a puppy in the cellar to make sure it never chased carriages?”


  Clay felt as if the air came slowly into his lungs, crisp and cold. “How do you know when it’s safe and when it’s not?”

  “You don’t,” she said, gaze on her daughter. “You do the best you can and pray.” She raised her voice. “Gillian! That’s far enough. Come and show your uncle what you found.”

  Gillian hurried back, fingers full of delicate little pebbles the color of amber. “Look, Uncle. Gold!”

  Clay smiled down at her. “Very impressive treasure, Captain Howard. Do you think you should bury it to keep it safe?”

  Gillian’s frown returned. “No.” She turned and went back to her search.

  “Even she knows you can’t hide something to keep it,” Allie murmured.

  Clay blew out a breath. “I’m no good at this, Allie. All I want to do is carry her around, show her the world, give her her dreams. I don’t much like playing the schoolteacher.”

  “Is that what you’re trying to do?” Allie peered up at him with a frown, then her brow cleared. “You are. All this formality, these fine manners. You’re trying to prove you’re still a gentleman.”

  “And failing,” he admitted.

  “No!” She lay a hand on his arm. “A few manners are quite nice, but please don’t fall back into the patterns we knew in Boston. I made the choice to leave because I couldn’t bear to live in that superficial manner another minute.”

  Clay couldn’t help his smile. “Someone lock you in the cellar?”

  To his surprise, she nodded. “No light, no air. All in the name of keeping me safe. And all that little dark space did was make me a girl afraid of her own shadow.”

  Frank truly had done her a disservice. Yet how could Clay blame his brother? He had the same feelings, to hold her close, to keep her safe.

  “It’s hard to imagine you afraid,” he told her, “even back then. You ruled society.”

  “Our mothers ruled society,” Allie corrected him. “I was a tool to that end. The Lord showed me a better way, and He has confirmed it a dozen times over. I won’t go back to it, Clay, not for you, not for anyone.”

  Her conviction vibrated in her voice. How could he not applaud her? Yet he doubted many people would agree or even understand. He’d run away from such pressures, and still he struggled to understand how he fit in her new view of the world.

  For if he couldn’t protect her and Gillian, what place did he have at her side? Protection was the only thing he had to offer her.

  He could not forget their exchange over the next few days as the Continental exited the straits and steamed north. The coastline dwindled to a smudge on the starboard horizon. Each day dawned bright and clear. He packed away his suit to be used on Sundays and special occasions and kept his skin coat for the cool evenings. He still opened doors and pulled out chairs for Allie and the other women, but she always cast him a look as if questioning his motives.

  He couldn’t blame her. He questioned his own motives. Protecting her for Frank’s sake had seemed so noble. Courting her had seemed so perfect. But was he truly the right man for Allie, the man she needed by her side as she flew?

  He still wasn’t sure of his answer by the time Sunday came around again. They had finished listening to one of Mercer’s services, where the fellow read a sermon from a book, and gone out on deck to enjoy the sun. Clay found it a lot easier to praise his Master surrounded by the wonders of creation than holed up in the upper salon.

  The ocean stretched azure in all directions, rising to meet the blue of the sky. The only clouds were the sails of other ships in the distance, heading north, as well. The air smelled fresh and clean. Allie looked a part of the scene in her blue gown with its white trim. He reached for her hand and was pleased when she didn’t pull away. With Gillian on his hip in her rainbow-hued gown, they stood along the railing in companionable silence.

  Thank You, Lord, for this moment and all You’ve done for me.

  “What’s that ship?” Gillian asked, pointing.

  It seemed larger than the others, and the smoke puffing up between the masts proclaimed it a steamer.

  “I hope it’s a man-o’-war,” Maddie said as she joined them at the railing with a swish of her russet skirts. She grinned at Allie. “Full of handsome officers with coin to spare to take a lady about town.”

  “As our next stop is a decent-size town,” Clay told her with a smile, “you just might get your wish.”

  Others ventured over, pointing and questioning.

  “It’s a race,” one of the men declared. “She means to beat us to port.”

  “Our Continental will see her sunk first,” someone else predicted with a laugh.

  Clay couldn’t be so sure. There was something odd about the ship, the way it tacked as if moving to cut the Continental off from shore. He could see several of the officers above them on the hurricane deck, eyes trained on the horizon.

  The passengers stepped aside to allow Captain Windsor room at the railing. He held his spyglass to his eye, and Clay had a mind to ask him to share, when Catherine moved up beside them.

  “Here,” she said, pulling off a set of mother-of-pearl-inlaid opera glasses from where they hung on the bodice of her brown dress and handing them to Clay. “See what you make of our rival.”

  Though he felt a little silly using the ladylike glasses, Clay raised them to his eyes, the golden chain tickling his wrist as it fell. What he saw made his blood run cold.

  “It’s a man-o’-war, all right,” he said, lowering the glasses in time to see Maddie’s triumphant smile. “But I don’t think it’s one of ours.”

  “Spanish,” Captain Windsor agreed, and Maddie’s smile faded. “They’re in a spat with Chile. Nearly every port is under blockade. Thankfully, Lota is not.”

  “What does he mean, Clay?” Allie murmured, stepping closer.

  “It means we’re caught in the middle,” Clay replied. He couldn’t stop himself from putting an arm about her waist. As if she realized the significance of the gesture meant to protect her, her eyes widened.

  Captain Windsor snapped his spyglass shut and turned to call up to his burley first officer. “Full steam, Mr. Weinhardt, and all hands on deck. I want to beat her to the port before she attempts to board us. I will not surrender my ship or its cargo to His Spanish Majesty.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Allie clung to Clay as the deck burst into action. Sailors ran for their posts; ladies dashed to the railing or hurried to their staterooms as if to hide. She met Maddie’s gaze over Gillian’s head and knew that for once her friend had no idea what to do.

  Clay did. He handed the opera glasses to Gillian and lifted her higher in his arms. “Keep your eyes on that ship, Captain Howard. Maddie and Catherine, watch for the port ahead. Call out every few minutes.”

  “Aye,” Maddie agreed, turning her face toward the bow. With a nod, Catherine followed her.

  “What would you have me do?” Allie asked.

  Clay met her gaze, and she saw concern under the ready smile. “You have the most important job, Allie. Pray.”

  Pray? But praying seemed so small. Didn’t he have more faith in her abilities than that? She wanted to work, to fight. Spain bore America no love; she’d seen reports in the newspapers of missionaries captured, civilians imprisoned. What would she do if they separated her from Gillian?

  Be careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

  The remembered verse humbled her. Clay was right. Prayer was how she’d made it through the last few months. Prayer would keep them safe now.

  Allie took a deep breath and prayed, eyes closed and hands clasped. She prayed for strength for the crew and passengers, for good fortune to reach safe harbor. She prayed for wisdom for the captain and those who helped him. And she prayed for protection over those she loved: Gillian, Maddie, Catherine.

  And Clay.

  Her eyes popped open, and she stared at the man beside her. He was all alert,
eyes intent on the horizon, arms bracing Gillian. As her late husband’s brother, he warranted her solicitous concern. But the emotion rising up inside her was far more than that.

  Lord, please. I can’t fall in love with him again. The woman I was was never enough for him. The woman you’ve made me will never conform to his vision of a wife.

  Clay must have noticed her gaze on him, for he turned his head. His smile hitched up, and that dimple winked at her from his cheek. She wanted to hold that look to her heart.

  “He’s still there,” Gillian reported.

  Immediately, his gaze returned to their enemy. “She, Captain Howard,” he told Gillian. “Ships are always ladies, though not necessarily well-behaved ones like you.”

  Gillian lowered the glasses with a frown. “Why?”

  “The headland is in sight!” Catherine called back from the bow.

  Allie sucked in a breath and reached to remove the glasses from around Gillian’s neck. “Let Mama have a look.”

  She wasn’t sure what she’d see, perhaps faces grinning in evil delight at their predicament. But even through the glasses, the Spanish ship seemed far away. Surely the Continental could beat her to port. Please, Lord, help us!

  “Report,” Clay ordered her.

  Allie squinted through the glasses, trying to make out anything that might be meaningful. “She’s poured on all sail as well as her steam. I don’t see any signal flags hailing us. Wait.” She focused on movement at the front of the ship. “There’s a puff of smoke coming from the bow. And another.” She lowered the glasses and frowned at Clay. “Does she have more than one engine?”

  Clay shifted Gillian closer. “No. Those are some of her guns. She’s warning us to stop.”

  But the Continental didn’t stop. Clay and Allie no longer needed the opera glasses. They could see the ship swooping toward them, the proud colors of Spain flying from the highest mast. Maddie and Catherine took turns calling out progress: when they sighted the mouth of the harbor, when they could see the village inside. Allie felt herself tensing each time a cry was raised. Her fingers gripped the wooden railing, clinging to it as she clung to hope. Clay’s hand came down on hers, firm and warm.