by Jo Ann Brown
“Maybe later,” Susanna said before he could reply. “Cap has changed his coat once already this evening.”
The children looked puzzled. Drake, however, understood her warning not to jostle the children too much when they had just eaten.
When the youngsters began to whine, he knelt and said, “I have a good idea. How would you like to visit The Kestrel?” They looked at him, baffled, until he added, “My ship.”
“Go boat?” asked Moll, her eyes wide with sudden fear.
He grinned at her but looked past her to meet Susanna’s eyes. “No little boat. I don’t want to hear any more talk about a little boat now. Let’s talk about the big ship. We can walk out on the pier and climb aboard it.”
Moll’s lower lip stopped trembling, and she began to smile.
“What do you say?” he asked, looking up at Susanna. “Would you like to visit The Kestrel?” He was astonished how much he wanted her to accept his offer to visit his world, so she would see why he loved his life upon the sea.
She glanced from him to the eager children. “If we would not be in the way...”
“No need to worry about that. Nor do you need to worry about getting in a jolly boat. You can walk out on the pier and avoid the waves.”
Smiling gratefully, she said, “I am glad to hear that.”
“Go ship, Susu!” shouted Gil. The other children repeated it, jumping up and down.
“Go ship, Susu?” Drake asked as he came to his feet and took her hand again.
She smiled at them. “How can I say no? Yes, we will go to visit the ship.”
“Now?” asked Lulu.
“Soon,” Drake replied. “Now you need to finish your supper.”
As the children rushed to the table, chattering like excited magpies, he continued to hold Susanna’s hand. She did not pull it away while they made plans with the children. It was, he had to admit, the perfect beginning to the evening.
* * *
Smiling at the children who were gathered in a half circle by her feet, Susanna hoped her anxiety and anticipation did not show on her face. She clasped her hands on her lap as she sat on the small nursery chair.
Drake stood behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she was grateful for his understanding that she felt as if she stood on the sea cliffs and was about to step off. If the children could give them a good clue, they might be able to find the truth. She tried not to think about what would happen then.
“Moll,” she said, “you were telling Lulu this morning about the little boat you were in when Cap found you.”
All the children but Lulu cringed at the memories of that day.
Moll nodded, then stuck her thumb in her mouth.
“You said a lady put you in the boat.”
All the children but Lulu nodded. Lulu looked around, clearly fascinated that everyone else seemed to be playing a game, and she wanted to discover the rules.
“Did you know the lady?”
All the children shook their heads. Lulu shook hers belatedly, but Susanna was certain she was copying the others.
“Was she young or old?” Drake asked as he came around her chair to kneel beside her.
“Old!” shouted Bertie and Gil at the same time.
His smile faded when Susanna asked how old, and the children spouted back answers from twenty to a hundred. She looked at him and shrugged. The children’s perceptions could not be trusted.
As if to prove her point, she asked them what color hair the lady had. Two said brown, one said green, and Lulu suggested it might have been purple. Giving each a kiss on the cheek, she bade them a good night.
“So much for that,” Drake murmured as they went toward the stairs. “For all we know, they may be talking about a lad instead of a lady.”
“True.” She ran her fingers lightly down the banister. “Thank you for inviting them to visit your ship, and thank you for keeping me from dreading the waves.”
“It is a shame you feel that way, when you love looking at the sea.”
“Visiting the ship might be just the thing to help Lulu remember.”
“Or maybe it will help one of the others. We still have to hope that we can find out where they really belong.”
They belong here. With us, she almost said, but halted herself. “Have faith, right?”
When he did not reply, she saw he was looking down the stairs. She did, as well. Her siblings and Elisabeth, who would soon count among them, were waiting at the bottom.
“We wondered where you had gotten to,” said Arthur, his tone stern.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Susanna said, “Drake wanted to invite the children to visit his ship.” She saw her brothers exchange a quick glance when she used Drake’s given name. She decided saying nothing of it was the best plan.
Caroline smiled broadly. “What a lovely idea! I am sure they are very excited.”
“You have no idea.” At Drake’s droll answer, her sister laughed and the tension washed away.
Susanna turned to Raymond while they walked into the dining room. “If you don’t mind, I would like to drop some donation boxes at the parsonage when we go to the harbor.”
“You may want to keep them here a little bit longer.” He grimaced. “The parsonage is a bit pungent at the moment.”
“Pungent?”
“Someone put a bucket of fish in a back closet that is seldom used. The stench began slowly, but by today it was intolerable. I sent Toby to Elisabeth at the shop, and then I searched the parsonage from top to bottom. That is when I found the rotting fish.”
Drake asked quietly, “Do you know who would play a hoax on you, Parson Trelawney?”
“Call me Raymond, if you would.” He did not pause as he added, “And, no, I do not know anyone who would do that. I cannot recall the last time I opened that back closet.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Susanna asked. “Mrs. Hitchens—”
“I have many volunteers from the village already, but thank you. Some of the fishermen’s wives have assured me they have old family recipes for getting rid of the stench of rotten fish.”
“Good.” She glanced at Drake as Caroline urged him to sit between them at the mahogany table in the smaller dining room.
His mouth was in a straight line when he drew out her sister’s chair and then hers. As if he spoke them aloud, she knew his thoughts. He wondered if the incident at the parsonage was related to the others. Young Toby lived there with her brother, so if someone truly was eager to hurt the children, the boy was an easy target. When he was with Elisabeth at the shop, there were probably too many people coming in and out.
But why would anyone want to hurt six darling children?
Chapter Twelve
A soft sound woke Susanna. It had been a restless night as the questions plaguing her played endlessly through her mind. As she went through the incidents over and over, she began to wonder if the children were the only targets. The fires in town and the one at Cothaire’s stable had no impact on the youngsters, save for the delays in renovating the nursery. And then there was the damage inflicted on Drake’s ship. That could have begun even before the children were rescued.
So her mind went around and around, keeping her from sleeping until long after the moon set. Even asleep, she dreamed of chasing someone and never catching him or her.
The soft sound came again.
Susanna opened her eyes, seeing the gray light of the hour before dawn coming around the bed curtains, which were too far apart. Who had opened them?
Turning onto her back, she almost yelped in shock when she saw three children sitting at the foot of her bed, watching her. Bertie was flanked by Lulu and Moll. None of them spoke as they waited for her to say something.
At first, vexation swelled within her. She squashed it. The children had not meant to make her upset by surprising her. They had no idea how little sleep she had gotten.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“Long time,” Bertie said. “Long, long time.”
She smiled as she pushed herself up to sit against the pillows. By now, she should know better than to ask such a question. A long time for Bertie could be hours or minutes.
When Lulu yawned, quickly followed by the other two, she held out her arms. They crawled up the bed and under the covers beside her.
“Why don’t you sleep awhile longer?” she suggested. “It is still very early.”
Bertie nestled down beside her. “Mama let me pillow with her, too.”
“Tell me about your mama,” she whispered as she tucked the covers around him. “What does she look like?”
He closed his eyes, and a dreamy smile lifted his lips. “Pretty. My mama pretty.”
“My mama pretty,” murmured Moll as she snuggled on Susanna’s other side.
Stretching out her arm, Susanna drew both twins closer to her. In another few nights, they would be moving to the refurbished night nursery. There would be no more delightful opportunities to cuddle together before the day began.
“Does your mama have yellow hair or black or red?” Susanna asked. If they could get a description of the missing mothers, they might have a better chance of finding the children’s families.
“Mama pretty.” Bertie added nothing more before he fell asleep.
Moll’s eyes were closed, her thumb in her mouth. Beside her, Lulu raised a hand to Susanna’s face and smiled. “Pretty. My mama pretty.”
For just a moment, Susanna let herself savor the idea that these adorable children were hers. But she was not Lulu’s mother. She was the woman who had been left to sit alone in church during the first reading of the banns for a wedding that never happened.
She closed her eyes and leaned back into the pillows. As the children’s soft, slow breaths grazed her cheeks, she ceded herself to the fantasy she had evaded for almost five years. The fantasy of her and the man she loved and the children they were blessed with, living in joy and growing old together in the house that Papa had built on the far side of the harbor. It was to have been a wedding present for her and Franklin, and it had a beautiful stone terrace where they could have watched the sun set beyond Land’s End.
But as, in her mind, she walked out onto that terrace and into her husband’s arms, for the first time, it was not Franklin Chenowith holding her. She raised her eyes to look into the loving face of the man she had married. The loving face of Drake Nesbitt. His head lowered to kiss her...
With a gasp, she forced her eyes open and sent the traitorous fantasy back where it could not tease her with what she could not have. Oh, she could have a few of Drake’s kisses. The longing in his eyes when he looked at her lips told her that he would happily kiss her. Yet, how could she kiss him when she knew that he would soon be gone? He might never come back to Porthlowen.
She had to keep her heart safe, no matter what.
Lord, she prayed silently so she did not wake the children, help me remember what is important is making sure these children are safe. My own yearnings You know, because You know my heart. Help me keep them from getting in the way of doing what is right for the children.
Burrowing into her pillow again, she slid down beneath the covers. The children shifted, then nestled against her once more as she fell asleep, too. This time, her slumber was dreamless.
* * *
The shouts rang along the shore. Feet pounded on the deck over Drake’s head. Coming out of his quarters, he pulled on his coat. His cravat was half tied, and he stuffed the ends into his waistcoat.
“Benton, where are you?” he called as he came up to the main deck and saw his crew clustered near the starboard rail.
“Here.” His first mate pushed through the rest of the crew as more shouts and sharp curses sounded from the beach.
Drake saw a group of fishermen, maybe twenty in all, clustered where their boats usually floated at high tide. None of the boats were visible.
“What is going on over there?” he asked.
“Something is amiss with the fishermen,” Benton said.
“I can see that. Any clue what?”
He shook his head. “Nothing I can tell from here.”
Making a quick decision, Drake said, “Very well. Get the crew back to their tasks. Then you and I will go find out what is going on.”
“Aye, Captain.” Benton trotted across the deck.
Drake finished tying his cravat and watched the fishermen. They were gesturing with emphatic arms. Some motions seemed to be aimed at The Kestrel, though he could not figure out why.
As soon as Benton returned, they left the ship and strode along the beach.
Even before they reached the fishermen, he could see their nets had been slashed to pieces. Three of the boats had planks torn from their sides, and the rest looked as if someone had struck them with an ax.
Beside him, Benton murmured a prayer for God’s help in finding and punishing whoever had inflicted such damage.
Truly wishing he could be as certain as Benton that God would turn His attention to the matter, Drake continued along the sand. He was not surprised to see Raymond Trelawney among the men. Someone must have alerted Susanna’s brother.
“Good morning, Parson,” he said before nodding in the direction of the fishermen.
All he received from the fishermen were glowers, but Raymond said, “I am glad you are here, Captain Nesbitt. I know The Kestrel has suffered damage caused by unknown hands. You can see what has happened here. Whether or not it was caused by the same person may be something you can determine for us by looking at the mess left behind.”
“My ship has had holes drilled into her. This damage is far more extensive. What I can do is ask my men who were on watch last night if they saw anyone coming along the strand, though they would have reported it immediately if they had.”
A man muttered something under his breath, and the parson stepped forward. “If you have something to say, Oates, say it so we all can hear.”
“I will.” The man jutted his chin toward Drake. “I said that The Kestrel’s crew was the only one in the harbor last night.”
“Along with whoever did this,” Benton said stoutly.
Drake put a hand on his first mate’s arm before he could drive one of his clenched fists into the fisherman’s face. Starting a brawl would make matters worse. That the fishermen believed his crew had a hand in the destruction showed that, despite an outward welcome in church, his crew remained unwelcome in Porthlowen.
“Are you sure of that? No one saw any strangers.” Oates glanced at his fellow fishermen. Many of them nodded, but others waited to see which way the wind was blowing before they committed themselves.
“That means it had to be someone from Porthlowen.” Drake folded his arms in front of him. “Someone who has a reason to be angry at you. That is not me nor my crew. We have no quarrel with you. In fact, we will gladly leave your harbor to you once we fix the damage done to The Kestrel.”
“Course you would defend’m.”
Refusing to give in to his yearning to shout back that the fishermen had lost their minds, he said in the calmest voice he could manage, “If you will not take my word, then ask yourselves why my crew would wreck your gear.”
The men who had said nothing looked at one another, then at Oates and his cronies.
Oates hesitated, then said, “Maybe they were bored. Maybe they wanted to do some mischief. Maybe—”
“We don’t need maybes. We need facts.” Drake swept the group with his gaze. The crowd had grown. A few women had come down to the water, as well as Peggy fr
om the village shop, and the blacksmith and Morel, his assistant.
He focused on the fishermen. They were, despite their bluster, afraid. Not of the person who had wrecked their boats and nets, but of how they were going to provide for their families until repairs could be made or replacements found. He could not offer them sympathy. These proud Cornishmen would see that as pity.
“What facts do we have?” the parson asked.
“My boat is worthless now! That is a fact,” shouted one man from the center of the group.
“We know,” Drake replied as if the fisherman had not spoken, “that someone is causing havoc in Porthlowen. It started out as a few mischief fires, but it has gotten worse. The earl’s stable burned, holes drilled in my ship, a wheel sawn nearly through on a cart carrying the babies who were pulled from the sea, and—”
The parson’s hand halted him as he was about to mention the rotten fish left at the parsonage. As soon as he mentioned the children, appalled gasps erupted. Questions came at him and the parson from every side. Was anyone hurt? Who did they think was behind these crimes? The first was easy to answer, but not the last.
Drake watched the faces in the crowd. People were looking at each other in suspicion.
Raymond must have noticed, too, because he said, “It is important we keep our trust in each other and work together to stop this. Don’t let fear tear us apart.” He held up his hands. “Let us pray for a quick deliverance from this misguided soul who aims to bring tumult to us.”
Bowing his head along with the others, Drake listened to the parson’s prayer for God’s guidance to keep cool heads. He added a few of his own to keep the children and Susanna’s family safe, hoping his prayer would be lifted up along with the parson’s.
“Amen,” he said along with the crowd, who then began to disperse, comforted by the prayer.
The fishermen, now silent, began collecting the broken pieces of boats and equipment before the rising tide could pull them out of the cove. Benton headed back to The Kestrel to supervise the work there.
