Bentley’s sharp gaze softened as she looked out over the foamy whitecaps. The tumultuous bed of water matched the green eyes to perfection. “Maybe not the same, but dern close to it. But never mind an old lady, what about you? You feel the same way about your man?”
“I never said I had a man,” she replied cautiously, her back instinctively stiffening. In the last six days she had shared many secrets with Bentley, but that wasn’t one of them. This was the third time in two days that the subject had been broached. So far, she had managed to avoid a direct answer. This time, however, she had a feeling Bentley wasn’t going to back down.
“Didn’t have to tell me. I know love when I see it sparkle in someone’s eyes. I know pain when I see it there too. I see both in yours.” She squinted at the bright sun, her eyes disappearing behind folds of flesh as she patted Hope’s arm. “Might as well tell me about him, dearie. Got four more days on this godforsaken boat. It’d give us something to talk about.”
“There’s nothing to say,” she replied tightly, pulling away from the suddenly insistent touch.
“Bah!” The old woman waved the argument away with a swipe of her crooked hand. “You never want to talk about anything but me. Don’t think I’ve ever known a woman who talked so little! The only information I’ve gotten from you is what I’ve forcibly yanked through your teeth. And don’t say you’d bore me,” she snapped, taking the words out of Hope’s mouth. “Boring is trying to stay awake at the Ladies’ Guild, or,” she held up a hand so that a wrinkled thumb and forefinger were only a thread apart, “stitching itty-bitty squares into a wall-sized quilt. Men are never boring. Besides,” the green eyes twinkled with a mischief normally reserved for twelve-year-olds, “I love a love story. Start with his name.”
Of course, she couldn’t tell Bentley about what had happened between herself and Drake, no matter how badly she needed to talk. So, Hope changed the subject. Or, more correctly, she tried. “Speaking of names... you never did tell me where you got yours.”
“And I’m not going to. Not now. We’ve got more important things to discuss.” The bushy brows rose high in her crinkled forehead. “His name?”
“His name,” Hope repeated with a sigh. “Ready for that stroll yet, Bentley?”
“No. I want his name. Unless you forgot it.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” she replied defensively. She caught the slip, but it was too late. The old woman’s eyes were shimmering with victory, and it was easy to see Bentley wasn’t about to back down until Hope told her the whole sordid story.
Leaning her elbows atop the rail, Hope clasped her hands tightly together, and diverted her attention to the golden rays of sunlight dancing on the glassy surface of the water. Sun-ripened gold, she thought. The exact shade of Drake’s hair.
“Aren’t you tired, Bentley?” she said abruptly. “You’ve been sick, and you really do need your rest.”
“Make up your mind, dearie. Do you want to run me ragged strolling the deck or do you want me to sleep? Can’t do both at once.”
Hope pursed her lips and refused to answer.
Bentley scowled, cleared her throat, tapped her cane, then said, “Aren’t you curious to know why I’m going to Virginia? Would have thought you’d ask by now.”
“Of course I’m curious.”
“Then why didn’t you ask?”
A blush kissed Hope’s cheeks. The old woman chuckled merrily. She seemed to take great pleasure in shocking people, Hope thought. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
“Bah! Probably the southerner in you. Don’t worry, you’ll get over it. You’ll learn soon enough that when you get to be my age, you can be as rude as the devil.” She smiled sweetly, her wrinkled features lighting up with pleasure. “One of the nice things about being old. There aren’t many—nice things, I mean—so I enjoy the ones I’ve got. So?” she huffed, adjusting her weight on the cane. “You going to ask me or am I going to have to be rude and tell you?”
Hope responded like an obedient child.“ All right, Bentley,” she said, as she pulled a flickering strand of her hair from her eyes. “Why are you going to Virginia?”
“To meet my great-nephew’s intended. Fiancée,” she mocked, the word sounding like a cuss on her tongue. “That’s what he calls her, but where I come from, in intended’s an intended.”
“You’re traveling all the way to Virginia to meet one woman? A stranger? It seems like a long way to go to meet someone. Why don’t they come to you? After all you’re older and—”
“Feeble,” the old woman supplied when Hope hesitated. “Got to learn to be more direct, dearie. If you mean feeble, say feeble. Now, where was I?” She tapped her cane as though to jog her memory and the tip clicked on the polished planks. “Oh, yes. I came from New York, only stopped in Boston—for all of three hours. I was planning to stay there, but my plans changed. It wasn’t my idea to traipse to Virginia. Un-uh. But my great-nephew insisted. Said this was the woman of his dreams—aren’t they all?—and that I had to meet her. He also said she wanted nothing to do with him.” She leaned toward Hope and whispered slyly, “He thinks I can talk some sense into her. I still haven’t figured out why. What can an old lady like me say to change a young girl’s mind?”
“I don’t know, but your great-nephew sounds very persuasive,” Hope muttered.
“Persuasive’s his middle name, along with stubborn, arrogant, and dern mule-headed. Never met a young man as headstrong and determined as him.”
“But you love him all the same,” Hope teased.
“Course I do. I’m here, aren’t I?” She paused, eying Hope appreciatively. “I should introduce you to him sometime. Together, you’d make quite the team. Like me and George. Can’t say I’d mind having you in the family, either. Fresh blood, especially yours, would do wonders for Cousin Judd’s heart, and it’d give the Ladies’ Guild something to talk about for weeks!”
“Please,” she replied with forced lightness, “I’m not in the market for a husband. Although I’m sure your great-nephew is very nice, I—” only want one man, she finished to herself. A picture of Drake—his hair enticingly rumpled, an endearing, lopsided grin on his lips—flashed through her mind. With a deep breath, she pushed the thought away. The breathtaking image was stubborn, however, and it refused to go quickly.
Hope should have known better. Bentley wasn’t fooled for a minute. Again, the cane tip-tapped on the beck. “Back to him again, are we? Didn’t think it would take too long. His name wouldn’t happen to be Drake would it?” Hope’s cheeks drained of color as she gripped the rail. Bentley just smiled. “Don’t look at me like that, dearie, you talk in your sleep. And at the most ungodly hours. I may be old, but I’m certainly not deaf.”
“What—um—what else did I say?” Please, God, let her say “nothing”!
“About Drake or the fire?”
Hope, in the process of swallowing hard, started to choke. Bentley gave a few clipped shots between her shoulder blades, stopping when Hope started to cough.
“I—cough—talked about—cough, cough—the fire? Damn! What else –cough did I say?”
“Catch your breath, dearie, you’re whiter than those sails up there. My, but they are high. Couldn’t get me to climb that skimpy rope if you pointed a cannon at my ankles and swore you’d light it.”
Hope caught her breath in record time. “What did I say, Bentley?” she gasped.
“Can’t remember it all.” She shook her gray head. “I’m old, don’t forget. My memory’s not what it used to be.” She paused thoughtfully and the cane started to tap-tap-tap. “Let’s see. You talked about this Drake, a lot. Said he was blond. Said he was tanned. Said things a lady doesn’t repeat—though I liked listening to them just fine, even if it was two o’clock in the morning.”
“And the fire?” Hope pressed flatly. “What did I say about the fire?”
“Which one?”
“Oh, God.”
The crooked fingers patted Hope’s hand, loosen
ing her fingers from their stranglehold on the sea-sickened teak rail. “It’s not like you could hide it, Hope. That scar on your back is an open invitation for questions.”
Hope leaned weakly against the rail, head down. She’d tried hard to keep her back away from Bentley’s prying eyes. Obviously, not hard enough. “Is there anything you don’t know about me?”
“Don’t think so. Like I said, you talked a lot.” She gave Hope’s fingers a squeeze, then pulled back. “There’s no harm in me knowing,” she said in what, for Bentley, was a gentle tone. “The harm’s in you keeping all those feelings bottled up inside you. Dern unhealthy, that is, and they won’t stay there for long. They’ll come out eventually—just when you thought they went away.”
“I haven’t bottled up anything,” Hope wished her voice sounded more confident, less unsure. “I’ve dealt with the fire, the loss of—do you know about that, too?” Bentley nodded and Hope continued, “The loss of my family, and my scars.”
Briefly, she explained about the two fires, her time in the gold mines, losing her family in Thirsty Gulch, her trek across the country, and, finally, about her “job” with Drake Frazier. She left out only the emotions that still rode hard between herself and the gunslinger, as well as the feverish nights they’d shared. She didn’t doubt Bentley would piece that part of the puzzle together on her own, however.
“What about this Drake? You say you’ve dealt with everything else, but have you dealt with losing him yet?”
Hope’s gaze widened. “I didn’t talk that much!”
“I know, I improvised,” Bentley shrugged and she leaned a bony elbow on the rail. “Doesn’t take a genius to know either you left him or he left you. Why else would you be on this ship, sleeping in my cabin? So who did the leaving?”
“I did. He’s—” Hope hesitated. Oh, what the hell, she knows about everything else. “Drake’s still in love with his former fiancée.”
“He told you that?” the fleshless lips sneered. “I’ll give him credit for honesty, but not a lick of it for intelligence.”
“He didn’t have to tell me anything,” she sighed. “I have eyes. I could see quite clearly how they looked at each other. I saw the way they touched, the way they smiled. He’s still in love with Angelique. Only a blind person couldn’t see it. It—it hurt too much to watch them, so finally I left. I know I can forget about him, eventually. Once I’m home again, I’m sure I’ll feel differently.”
“Poppycock!”
“What?”
“You heard me. Poppycock! I don’t believe a word of it.” The green eyes narrowed accusingly. “As if the land under foot has a thing to do with the way a body feels! Bah! Things aren’t that simple, Hope, though there are lots who wish they were.”
“I will get over him,” she defended tightly. Was she telling Bentley, or herself? Hope didn’t want to know. “I just—I need time away, time to put my life into perspective. These last few years have been hard, with one thing happening right after another. I never really had the time to think about any of it.” She gave a derisive little chuckle, turning her cheek up to the stinging breeze. “You know, sometimes I think that the only reason I was ever attracted to Drake Frazier in the first place was because he was something I couldn’t have. He was a ruthless, arrogant, conceited, good-for-nothing gunslinger, and I was... well, let’s just say that at the time I was very well aware of the things I could and couldn’t do. I guess I just decided to tempt fate.”
“And you believe that?”
“Of course I do. It’s the truth.”
“The truth, as I see it, is that a body can do whatever a body sets its sights to do. You set your sights to run away, and that’s exactly what you did. Very brave there, Hope.”
'I didn’t run away. I’m no coward.” The brown eyes sparkled with anger. “I just recognized my weaknesses and I—I conceded to them.”
The cane tapped the planks in a rhythm that matched the shaking gray head. As always, the brittle strands that loosened themselves from the bun at her nape whipped in the breeze. “Bah! You ran away, and I think you did it because your young man was trying to get close to you. And you don’t want to get close—to him or anybody else.” Hope opened her mouth to protest but Bentley cut her short. “Remember that night on the docks? Remember telling me you didn’t need anyone? You were quite precise about it.”
“Of course I remember, but I saw him with Angelique! It wasn’t me Drake was trying to get closer to, it was—”
“Bah!” The cane lifted, and came down on the deck with a resounding crash. More than one eye drifted toward them curiously. “He saved you from an infection that would have killed you. He dragged you across the country, by his side. He even offered you a phony job to keep you close. Yup, sounds to me like he hates you, all right.”
Hope’s jaw tightened. “He saved my life because there was nobody else to do the job. He dragged me all the way across the country because he felt bad for me. And he gave me a ‘job’ to make Angelique jealous.” Her balled-up fists were planted on her hips and her eyes sparkled with angry fire. “True love. Ain’t it grand?!”
“Lordy, but you don’t give your man credit for much! Did it ever occur to you that he didn’t tell you the whole story?” she asked, so softly, and so casually, that the question took Hope aback. “Maybe he had another reason you don’t even know about yet. Ever think of that?”
No, Hope thought, I never have. And I damn well won’t waste my time thinking of it that way now! She’d been over this situation a thousand times in her mind—day and night, backwards and forwards, inside and out—but the ending was always the same: Drake loved Angelique, and, as Charles had so gloatingly put it, there was nothing she could do to stop them.
“You know,” the old woman said wistfully, “I miss George more than a tomcat misses his mate. And sometimes I think it wouldn’t hurt so bad if I’d never met him. But when I start thinking that way, I start thinking about all the good times, all the chuckles, all the problems. Best years of my life, those were. Wouldn’t trade them in for all the tea in Britain.”
“That’s different. George was your husband. You loved each other.” What would it be like to be Drake Frazier’s wife? Hope wondered fleetingly. She’d had a taste of it, a small one, and she thought that, if he offered her the kind of love Bentley had shared with George, she would be powerless to refuse it.
“It isn’t different,” the crackling voice scoffed. “You just see it that way. Tell me something, dearie. If you could wake up tomorrow, brandspankin’ new and an orphan from birth, would you do it? No, don’t answer yet, I just want you to think about it. Can’t miss a family you never had, can you? Course, you wouldn’t have had the pleasure of having known these people, either. No birthday parties, no late night stories, no nothing. Remember, you gotta take the good with the bad,” she added, studying Hope carefully. “Well? Would you do it?”
“That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed. “We’re talking about my parents, my brother, my friend. Of course I knew them.”
“Humor me,” Bentley snapped, the cane beating the deck impatiently. “Pretend you didn’t. Would you be so different today? Would you even be here today?”
Hope thought for a minute, then turned briskly away. The wind caught her cloak and made it flutter around her ankles. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” In fact, she hadn’t wanted to talk about it in the first place.
Bentley caught her arm, reeling her back in. For a feeble old woman, she was strong.
“Well, you’re gonna! Seems to me like you’ve shirked talking long enough. I’ll tackle you to the deck and sit on you if I have to, but I want an answer. And while you’re at it, think about how your parents would want you to feel.”
“What do you mean?” She pulled away from the old woman’s biting fingers, but she didn’t give in to the temptation to flee.
“Think they’d want their daughter moping around all the time, pining away for ‘em? Think they’d be p
roud of you running away from people for no good reason but that you’re scared they’ll hurt you? I could be wrong, but most parents I know want better for their kids. I think they’d want you to cut the self-pity and get on with the rest of your life.”
“And Drake Frazier is ‘the rest of my life’?” Hope asked skeptically.
“Could be. Way you’re going, though, you’ll never know.”
Hope turned away, raising her cheeks to the tangy salt spray. “I’m scarred,” she said suddenly. “You saw my back, you know.” She didn’t know why she said it, or why she’d said it to this particular person, but the words were off her tongue before she could stop them. Oddly enough, it felt good to voice the thoughts that constantly nagged at her.
“And I have a club foot,” the old woman huffed. “So what? I had myself four good husbands, and I’m taking applications for the fifth. Men don’t care about those things as much as we women like to think they do—but it does make a convenient excuse to think that way.”
Hope shook her head. Her hand strayed inside the parted cloak and she fingered the flannel, thinking of the man who had once worn it next to his flesh. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t saddle Drake. He’s so handsome, so virile, and I’m... well, I couldn’t even wear a dress that was cut low in the back. And the smell of charred wood sends me into a fit of hysteria—although I’m much better with that now.” She shook her head and the tangled chestnut mane fluttered at her back. “No, it wouldn’t be fair to him. He deserves better.”
“Fair?! Bah! You talking fair to him, or fair to you?”
“Both. I’d always feel like he stayed with me out of pity.” Her dark eyes misted with unshed tears and she quickly dashed them away. “I hate pity. I’ve had enough of it to last a lifetime and I don’t want anymore. Besides, he doesn’t love me, he loves—.
“Her. Right. You go on telling yourself that for as long as you want. Eventually, you’re bound to get as sick of hearing it as I am. Either that, or you’ll start believing it.” Bentley looked around the deck, smiling tightly at the captain as he sauntered past. “I’m tired. I’m going back to the room,” she said finally. Patting Hope on the hand, she added, “Think about what I said, dearie. And when you do, remember that the price love asks may be high, but there’s a dern good reason most people are willing to pay it over and over again.” Her eyes narrowed and quickly became lost in the folds of her wrinkled skin. “The ones who pay will know what they could’ve missed.”
California Caress Page 31
