Mary Burton

by The Lightkeepers Woman

  Alanna remembered Caleb’s terse response to her letter. I want nothing from you or your father. We are finished. The fire that had driven her hundreds of miles from home burned anew. “I intend to deliver it to him myself.”

  The creases in his leathery face deepened as his eyes narrowed. “Ain’t this desire of yours to see him a little late?”

  So, Caleb had told Sloan who she was. Defensive, Alanna raised her chin. “There are things you don’t know.”

  Mr. Sloan shook his head as he appraised her. “You’re trouble.”

  “If you think your unwillingness to help will chase me away, you are very wrong. One way or the other, Mr. Sloan, I’m going to see the captain.”

  “Suit yourself, but you’ll get no help from me or anyone else in this village.” He turned and walked away.

  Alanna rose, her napkin clutched in her hand. “Mr. Sloan!”

  “You won’t find anyone to take you.”

  “I’ve no intention of causing trouble for the captain.”

  He waved away her words.

  Frustrated, she glanced toward the bar where five seamen openly stared at her. In a voice loud enough for all to hear, she said, “I need someone to take me to the barrier. And I’m willing to pay.”

  Realizing she’d addressed them, the sailors dropped their gazes into their tankards.

  “None of them will do it,” Sloan said from behind the bar.

  “I just want to give him this box, then I will leave him in peace.”

  “Leave the captain alone,” a sailor shouted.

  “Aye, he’s a fine man who don’t need the likes of you messing up his life,” another sailor said.

  She stared at the roomful of grim faces. “I mean him no harm.”

  “Go away,” several sailors shouted. Shocked by their anger she turned to Sloan. “I just want to give him this box.”

  Sloan shook his head. “Since the captain’s been manning the lighthouse, he’s saved a lot of lives. Everyone in this town can claim a friend or relative who’s been rescued by the captain. That’s all anyone in Easton cares about. I can tell you now no one will take you to the captain.”

  She opened her mouth, ready to argue, when she caught sight of a seaman moving away from the bar toward her.

  The man was a weather-beaten old salt who wore loose-fitting pants, a stained shirt and pea jacket that smelled of fish. He’d tied his long gray hair at the nape of his neck with a piece of frayed rope and sported a bristly beard that reached halfway down his chest. “You really looking to go to the outer banks?”

  Alanna hesitated. Rougher than Mr. Smoots, the man looked like a pirate and likely had the morals of one. She wouldn’t have considered his offer if she weren’t in such a hurry to return to Richmond. “Yes.”

  Sloan’s scowl darkened. “Get back to the hole you crawled out of, Crowley. The lady don’t need your help.”

  Alanna bristled. “Don’t listen to Mr. Sloan. I do need to book passage to Barrier Island.”

  The seaman set his half-full tankard of ale on her table and sat down. “Let’s talk then.”

  Sloan cursed. “Don’t be a fool, lady. This ain’t the kind of man you want to deal with.”

  Alanna took her seat. “Thank you, Mr. Sloan, but I can take care of myself. You may go now.”

  Sloan stared at her. “You is as hardheaded as Caleb says. Fine, go with Crowley. You two deserve each other.”

  Alanna’s heart pinched. Caleb had said she was hardheaded? She wanted to ask Mr. Sloan what Caleb had said about her, but pride wouldn’t allow it. Working the tightness from her throat, she shifted her gaze to Mr. Crowley. “Can you take me to the outer banks, Mr….”

  The old man stared at her as he sipped his ale. “Ain’t no Mister. Just Crowley.”

  “Alanna Patterson.” She was grateful her voice sounded steady.

  “I’ll take you across the sound, if you’re paying.”

  Alanna tightened her hand around her reticule next to her plate. “I’m offering two bits.”

  Foam from his ale clung to his mustache and beard. “Make it five dollars.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Five dollars! I don’t have that kind of money!”

  Crowley eyed her rich cape trimmed with a thick brocade border. “Fine. Find someone else.” He started to rise.

  Alanna knew he was likely her last chance to see Caleb again. Clearly no one else in town was offering help and soon she’d be married and there’d be no going back. She dug out a rumpled bill from her purse. “I’ll pay you one dollar.”

  Crowley paused. “I can’t hear you.”

  Fearful others would hear she carried cash, she lowered her voice. “All right, two dollars. But it’s all I have left.”

  He sat back down. “Done.”

  Alanna pushed the dollar across the sticky table toward him. “I’ll give you the second dollar when we return.”

  She thought he might balk at the condition as he took the bill and sniffed it. Satisfied it wasn’t counterfeit, he tucked it in his pants pocket. “Deal. My boat’s called the Sea Witch. She’s moored on the docks alongside the other boats. Meet me there in the morning.”

  “I can’t wait that long. I must return to Virginia tomorrow.” Tension crept up Alanna’s spine, goading her to explain. “I have appointments I must keep.”

  In truth, Henry had forbidden her to talk about Caleb. If she weren’t back by Friday when Henry returned from his trip to New York, he would realize where she’d gone and follow. He’d be furious.

  Crowley shrugged. “Meet me at the docks in thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll be there.” After Crowley strode out of the tavern, Alanna wrapped the box in oilcloth and shoved it in a side pocket of her cape. She closed the flap to the pocket and fastened the single button closed.

  Soon, she’d be standing face-to-face with Caleb. Her stomach churning, she consoled herself with the idea that this time tomorrow it would all be over.

  “You ain’t planning on sailing with Crowley, is you?” Sloan’s sharp voice made her head snap up.

  Alanna bristled at his tone. “As I said before, it’s none of your business.”

  A hint of worry deepened the lines around Sloan’s eyes. “Even a woman like you don’t deserve the likes of Crowley.”

  Pride had her digging in her heels. Since her father’s suicide a year ago, she’d grown accustomed to taking care of herself. She’d faced down creditors, seen precious heirlooms sold and watched her world crumble. “Thank you for your advice. But I can take care of myself.”

  “Go home where you belong.”

  Unsettled, a part of her wanted to explain this journey was the hardest she’d ever undertaken. She’d lost weight, not slept well in weeks. She simply wanted to be free of the past and memories of Caleb once and for all.

  But she didn’t say any of those things. Sloan was right. She didn’t belong here. And the sooner she completed her task, the better. “I’ve come too far to turn back now.”

  Chapter Two

  Alanna walked the two blocks to the piers jutting into Currituck Sound’s restless waters. On the sandy shore, she watched shallow-bottom boats tied to the docks, bobbing like corks in the black-green water. Their sails were lashed to the masts, a sign that the fishermen expected bad weather.

  Never in a hundred years would she have pictured herself standing here waiting for a boat to take her to see Caleb.

  Her love for Caleb had been like a wildfire, brilliantly hot, overpowering and destructive. What they’d shared, no matter how delicious, was not meant to last.

  Yet, here she stood.

  Henry had been asking her for months to marry him, yet she continued to put him off. Finally, she’d accepted. She had a wonderful man in Henry. He’d remained at her side after her father’s suicide and had begun courting her when none of her old friends would receive her.

  Henry checked on her daily, he worried over her and made her feel safe. If she married him, he would see to
all the details. She’d never have to worry about money again and her life would return to what it once was—petted and secure.

  So why hadn’t she said yes?

  She turned to the sound. The bits of sunshine that had peeked through the clouds moments ago had vanished. Erratic winds swooped through the reeds trimming the shoreline, making them sway and bend. An osprey flapped its wings and landed in its nest atop a wind-stunted oak.

  The weather was closing in. She and Crowley would have to move fast if they were to make the journey before the storm hit.

  It seemed even the heavens were warning her to keep away from Caleb.

  “Best we get moving,” Crowley said as he brushed past her.

  Alanna watched the old man limp down the peer. He seemed confident enough about the weather and making the crossing. After all, if it were too dangerous he wouldn’t make the journey, right?

  Determined, she picked up her valise and stepped onto the pier. Bracing her feet she accustomed herself to the movement. Water lapped against the moorings as she tiptoed down the dock, careful not to get her heels caught in the wide openings between the boards.

  The vibration of her footsteps had Mr. Crowley raising his head from the rope knot he was untwisting. He snorted. “Hurry up. We ain’t exactly got all day.”

  She stared at his vessel that was as weather-beaten as her pirate captain. Her sail was patched in a half-dozen places and water sloshed over the bottom. “Is there supposed to be water in your boat?”

  Crowley unfastened the rope from the dock. “The Sea Witch is an ocean-worthy gal and she’s never failed me.”

  Doubt had her lifting her gaze to the sound. A handful of whitecaps dotted the waters. “The water looks rough.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen worse.”

  She nibbled her bottom lip. “Would it be better if we waited an hour or two?”

  “Women. Couldn’t make up their minds if their lives depended on it. I thought you was in a rush? Look, if you don’t want to go that’s fine. But I’m not giving your dollar back.”

  Her gaze lifted to Caleb’s lighthouse on the north end of the outer banks. It seemed much, much closer. The guilt and anger she’d carefully kept locked away for two years pounded at her heart. She was so close. “I have to go.”

  “Then the water’s calm enough.” His eyes narrowed. “You bring the money?”

  “I’ll give it to you when we return.”

  “Fair enough.” He twisted his thin lips into a half smile. “Don’t worry, the Sea Witch will serve us well. Now if we are going to shove off we best do it now.”

  Now or never.

  Alanna handed her valise to Crowley who tossed it toward the bow of the boat. It landed in a puddle of water on its side. “Would you please right my bag? I don’t want my things getting wet.”

  He didn’t spare the bag a glance. “With these waves and wind, we’ll both be soaked by the time we reach the banks.”

  Alanna hesitated. Was anything to go right on this journey?

  “Move your fanny!” Crowley said.

  Sighing, Alanna lifted her hem. Careful not to snag her skirt, she climbed down the small ladder into the boat’s damp bottom. The dinghy wobbled from side to side as she clung to the ladder. It was one thing to look at the boat from the dock, quite another to stand in the leaky vessel. She doubted she’d have let go of the pier if Crowley hadn’t pulled her roughly onto a wooden plank seat.

  “Women and the sea is a bad mix,” he muttered.

  The rocking boat unsettled her stomach. She wished she’d thought to pack crackers or a piece of bread. It still wasn’t too late, she thought in a panic as she stared at the dock. She could leave this wretched place behind.

  The box buttoned tight in her cape pocket brushed her leg, a reminder of why she was here. “It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been on the water.”

  Crowley studied Alanna’s white-knuckle grip on the side of the boat. “You ain’t gonna panic or worse start crying is you?”

  She lifted her chin. “Of course not.”

  He studied her an extra beat as if he half expected her to cry. “God save us all.”

  The old seaman took his seat across from her, his back facing aft. His knees brushed hers and she could smell the strong scent of whiskey. Gripping the oars, he pushed away from the dock.

  Despite his age, Mr. Crowley was a strong rower and within minutes they were a hundred feet from shore. He paused long enough to raise the sails. The boat started moving at a fast clip.

  Frigid northeastern winds smelling of salt and sea teased the curls peeking out from her hat and flapped the folds of her cape and skirt. The water grew choppier, and she lost sight of the dock.

  Now that they were out of land’s reach, the lighthouse seemed miles away. A wave broke over the bow of the boat, spraying her face with seawater. Sputtering, she wiped her face clean. If the boat were to overturn, no one would be there to save her. She would simply vanish into the sea.

  “I hear twenty-three men died when the Intrepid went down in a storm. The survivors say the ship’s boiler blew without warning.”

  “Yes, it’s true.”

  He snorted. “A good captain goes down with his men and his ship.”

  How many times had she heard others in Richmond utter the same thing? Ironically, Caleb’s reputation would have fared better at the inquest if he had died with his men. But Caleb had been blown free of the Intrepid when the boiler exploded. In the maritime world he’d done the unpardonable—he’d survived when his men had died.

  And then her father had supplied the reports that stated Caleb had refused maintenance on the Intrepid’s boiler so he could leave port three days earlier. His fatal error had killed twenty-three men.

  She’d been so ill those weeks after the accident. Weakened and exhausted, she’d broken their engagement in a fit of grief and fear. Her father and friends had told her over and over that she’d made the right decision. As her health improved and she grew stronger she’d started to question the events surrounding the accident. Caleb had always seemed so careful when it came to his ship.

  Her father had discounted her doubts and then without warning he had shot and killed himself in his study. The devastating loss had left her in a state of shock for months. When she finally let go of her grief, she came face-to-face with the reality—her father’s business wasn’t simply in trouble—it was gone. She was penniless.

  “What are you to him?” Crowley said.

  “An old friend,” she lied, hoping he’d leave her to her thoughts.

  Crowley grunted as his narrowed gaze skimmed slowly over her. “You and he were friends? Lovers maybe, but not friends.”

  The old man was right. Alanna and Caleb had loved each other; they had laughed together; and yes, they had been lovers, but they’d never been friends. So caught up were they in their attraction to each other, they rarely discussed anything other than the most superficial.

  Perhaps if they’d been better friends, he’d have told her more about his business. In the months after the disaster, she replayed their conversations over and over. She’d searched for any clue that might have helped her understand why he’d set sail without repairing the boiler. Dear Lord, if money had been his problem, she would have sold her jewelry for him. But as hard as she thought back, all she could remember were comments he’d made about her hair, her wit or her pretty clothes.

  Crowley asked other questions about Caleb, but Alanna offered vague answers, unwilling to talk any more than was necessary. Soon the two lapsed into silence.

  As she watched another wave crash over the bow of the boat, her mind drifted to the Caleb she’d known and loved. She’d been drawn to him the instant she’d first seen him firing orders at the men in the shipyard. For the first time in her life, she disobeyed her father and strode out onto the Patterson’s Shipping docks, determined to meet him.

  They’d been drawn to each other like lightning to water. From the outset, the p
assion that had burned between them seemed eternal.

  The roar of thunder brought Alanna back to the present. The memories receded but as always they never quite went away.

  She’d tried to rebuild her life and suddenly wondered if Caleb had done the same. It tore at her to think of him with another woman. He could well be a father by now. “Mr. Crowley, has the captain married?”

  “No.”

  A small part of Alanna’s heart eased. “Because of the Intrepid?”

  Crowley’s hands tightened around the oars as he dug the paddles deeper into the water. “That’s part of it.”

  “Have you seen him lately?”

  For a moment he didn’t speak, his full attention on the water. “Been a few months.”

  “Does he look well?” She hated her curiosity.

  He stared at her as if she’d asked a foolish question. “As well as can be expected.”

  “Does he spend most of his time at the lighthouse?”

  “He’s a regular hermit.”

  Lightning sliced through the clouds. The old man shifted his full attention to the sky that had grown suddenly very dark. Fat rain droplets mingled with the wind and the boat started to pitch.

  Alanna’s lips tasted of sea salt. She glanced down at her cold feet and realized the water had risen up to her shoelaces. “The boat is sinking!”

  Caleb stared out the lightkeeper’s cottage window, relieved to see the thunderclouds rolling over the horizon. An unexpected restlessness had been building in his bones for days. Normally, he’d have attributed the sensation to the onslaught of bad weather. Reading the weather was an extra sense for him, as much a part of him as sight and touch.

  But since Sloan had delivered Alanna’s package last month, his well-ordered world had tipped out of balance.

  Caleb’s heart had raced as he’d held the package wrapped in brown paper. With his fingertip, he traced A. Patterson emblazoned in the upper left corner.

  “Who is she?” Sloan had asked.

  Caleb’s lips twisted into a grim smile. “How do you know it’s a woman?”