Saving Marina

by Lauri Robinson

  “I was trying to see who you were with.”

  “While being wide-open for anyone else to see.”

  “I’m dressed in black,” she pointed out needlessly.

  “Your hood had fallen down and your hair shone brighter than the moon on water.”

  Marina crossed the room to replace the poker. Arguing with him was worse than arguing with her brothers. Truly not worth the breath it took. “What were you doing out there?”

  “That is no business of yours,” he said, turning back to the door. “Lock this behind me and don’t leave this house again.”

  “You can’t—”

  “I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave.”

  Marina spun toward Uncle William’s voice coming from the hallway.

  “Me, too,” John said, poking his head around William’s shoulder.

  She should be happy both of them were awake and would have heard any intruders, but that didn’t excuse her carelessness in the first place.

  Richard pulled open the door. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said, looking directly at her. “Lock the door and then go to bed.”

  The darkness swallowed him up before the door closed, and she turned to her uncle and John, waiting for one of them to ask where he was going. Neither man spoke as William crossed the room and locked the door.

  “You heard the captain,” he said. “Go to bed.”

  Marina sat down on the closest chair. “I need to remove my boots,” she said. “They are covered in mud.”

  John pulled another chair away from the table and carried it to the door. “I’ll stay here until Richard returns.”

  It was clear neither of them were going to speculate where Richard had gone, but they were set on preventing her from following again, which irritated her more. Unless, of course, they already knew. “Where is he going?” she asked, while unfastening her boots.

  Neither man answered.

  “Do either of you know?” When silence was her only answer, she asked, “Don’t you want to know? What if—”

  “If he’d wanted us to know, he would have told us,” Uncle William said. “He knows what he’s doing. Rest assured of that, child.”

  She wouldn’t rest assured of anything. “What if he’s arrested?”

  “It’ll take bolder men than those living in either Salem Village or Towne to arrest him,” Uncle William said. “Now do as he said. Off to bed with you.”

  Fully aware she’d get nowhere in questioning her uncle, Marina set her wet shoes near the kitchen fireplace and hung her cloak on the spoon hook for the bottom to dry. Before going upstairs, she poured a glass of milk for Grace to drink if she awoke during the night. In truth, she was waiting, hoping...for what? She had no idea. But she was worried about Richard. He may be big and strong, but her brothers had been, too.

  “Good night, Marina,” her uncle said.

  She nodded his way and at John and left the room.

  In her room she undressed and donned a nightgown, but rather than crawl between the covers next to Gracie, she went to the chair in the corner. Where could he have gone? He didn’t seem frightened, but he was in a hurry. She squeezed her eyes shut. Where were her visions when she needed them?

  Pictures formed, and they made her heart race, but they were of Richard laughing, teasing Gracie and kneeling before her and whispering her name.

  She wrenched open her eyes and rubbed at her temples before trying to force a different vision of where he’d gone and why. It was to no avail, and she finally gave up.

  Feeling deflated, she recited a nighttime prayer embedded from her childhood, which gave thanks for the day and asked for blessings upon the morrow. Witch or not, there were parts of her old life she couldn’t relinquish. Call it stubbornness, call it hope, it made no difference.

  She was tempted to once again ask why she’d been inflicted with such a curse. Why her. She’d already done that numerous times in the past and now understood her mission, but she wanted to know why she’d been turned into a witch.

  If others knew the turmoil of truly being a witch, there’d be no fear. Witches had no power to inflict ill will upon others. The curses were all on the witches themselves and, unfortunately, those closest to them.

  She’d already lost everything—her family, her home—and now would again. That was why she wanted answers. Why did she have to be so cursed? Why did she have to lose those she’d come to love a second time? Uncle William needed her. So did Gracie.

  A heavy sigh pressed upon her lungs. No, they didn’t need her. They had Richard now, and he would take care of both of them. John, too. He hadn’t said he would, but he would. He was too honorable not to, and as much as it shouldn’t, that saddened her.

  That had to be the witch in her again. No one should feel sad knowing their loved ones would be well taken care of.

  Anger began to rise over her sadness. Nothing had prepared her for such an existence. No yellow bird had sat upon her shoulder. No red cats had appeared in her barnyard and no black man had forced her to sign a book. Yet from the moment she’d awakened in Arlyce Hanson’s home, she’d felt different inside. Cold. Dead.

  She’d been shocked and confused when people first claimed she was a witch but couldn’t deny their claims that she’d been dead. She had died, along with her entire family. She’d wanted to be dead again at that time, which very well would have happened if Arlyce hadn’t taken her back to her parents’ house and if Captain Farleigh hadn’t arrived shortly afterward, insistent upon bringing her here, to Uncle William.

  Marina pressed her fingertips against her eyes to ease the burning. Leaving the only home she’d ever known had been hard, but being persecuted by people she’d known her entire life had been beyond frightening. The few who’d survived the Indian attack were certain the savages would return to kill her a second time and were willing to save the Indians the trip.

  Uncle William hadn’t heard about the massacre before she’d arrived. Her letter to him didn’t arrive until months later, but Captain Farleigh heard about it as soon as his ship docked, and he’d wasted no time in collecting her and setting sail south. He didn’t believe she was a witch, and neither did Uncle William. He proclaimed she’d triumphed over evil and would do so again.

  Those were the words that made her deeply examine what had happened to her, and that led her to scrutinize rather than simply read the scriptures that had become her salvation. More and more dreams came true after that. Little ones at first, like forgotten recipes or where Uncle William had left something, but then smallpox entered the village and the dreams told her the epidemic would be widespread. She’d tried to warn people. Told them to stay home to stop the epidemic from spreading, but they’d claimed she was trying to stop them from going to church, something good Puritans never missed, no matter how ill they were.

  Turning in the direction of the open window, fury arose inside her. She was a witch all right and wished she had the ability to cast spells. She’d set one upon Richard. The changes inside her had gotten stronger since he’d arrived, and her thoughts were no longer her own. Too many of them had been focused on him today. Rightfully so. He’d opposed her from the moment he’d arrived. Why, then, was she so worried about him?

  She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. When she’d woken up in Maine, her fate had been sealed, her very life no longer hers, and perhaps if she hadn’t been so stubborn in accepting it, things would be different now. There was nothing she could do about that. Until she’d rescued Gracie, held that tiny body in her arms, the possibilities of what she could do hadn’t been clear. The desire to carry out what had been asked of her hadn’t filled her until she’d seen the evil in Hickman’s eyes. That was when it all became clear. She’d gladly be put before the council, just as the scriptures proclaimed, and the words would come to her, just as God promised.

  He’d used her to reunite Richard and Gracie and, in that action, assured an escape for Uncle William and now John. He would not forsake her
now.

  Marina’s gaze returned to Gracie, and a smile formed. Neither would Richard. He’d let no harm come to his daughter ever again, and that filled her heart.

  Her eyelids grew heavy, and for the first time in a very, very long time, she didn’t fight sleep. The contentment filling her said there would be no violent and repulsive dreams tonight.

  When she opened her lids, the hazy light of dawn breaking danced upon the ceiling. Marina sighed at the sight before she slowly turned her head.

  Peaceful and serene, Gracie slept beside her.

  Tenderness filled Marina, until she remembered falling to sleep in the chair. She’d dreamed about being lifted out of the chair and laid upon the bed. She hadn’t struggled or fought, perhaps because she’d known the arms holding her had been too strong for her to overcome. In the next moment, Marina recalled the phantom in her dream. The arms that had carried her to the bed had been the same ones that had carried her out of the swamp.

  She pressed a hand to her chest, where her heart had started to pound. Needing to know if Richard truly had returned unscathed had her climbing out of the bed.

  Quiet and quick, she dressed and left the room. The early-morning light hadn’t completely lifted the cloak of darkness and the house was completely silent. Not even the floorboards beneath her feet creaked as she made her way downstairs. However, she didn’t need light or sound to perceive the presence of another, and the quickening of her heart told her exactly who was in the kitchen.

  He turned from where he stood near the fireplace as she entered the room. As angry as she’d been at him last night, she shouldn’t be excited to see him this morning. But she was. Very excited. Which made sense. The reason she’d gone after him last night was to keep him from being arrested or worse. Realizing she was justifying things to herself, she huffed out a breath and moved forward.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  She might be happy to see him, but she still wanted to know where he’d gone. However, she knew him well enough to know asking wouldn’t achieve any more success now than it had last night. “Good morning.”

  He waved toward the hearth. “I scraped the mud off your shoes.”

  She chose not to point out they’d gotten muddy because of him. “Thank you. That was kind of you.”

  “I am a kind person.”

  She huffed.

  He laughed.

  Withholding a grin, she sat down to put on her shoes. “Are you always this cheerful in the morning?”

  He walked to the window. “Of course. It’s a new day with new possibilities. Watching the sun rise is one of my favorite things.” Holding aside the curtain, he shook his head. “But that’s impossible to do here with all the trees.”

  She couldn’t stop how her heart skipped a beat. “In Maine the sun came up over the ocean. My father and I would stand on the front porch and watch it together.”

  “You must miss that.”

  “I do,” she admitted. “And him. Fathers are special people.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that,” he said, turning from the window. “I never knew my father.”

  A pang crossed her chest for his loss. “Nonetheless, you soon will know,” she said. “You are a father, and Grace loves you dearly.”

  “She barely knows me.”

  Marina grinned. “That is the wonderful thing about families. You don’t need to know them in order to love them. I didn’t know Uncle William, hardly remembered him before coming to live here, but I love him dearly now.”

  He stared at her thoughtfully for several long minutes before a grin overtook his face. “I see you are no worse for wear after spending half the night in the chair.”

  Her heart practically beat itself right out of her chest and continued thumping wildly as he walked around the table. Marina spun in order to keep an eye on him. “Nor you for spending half the night in the swamp.”

  “I’ve spent nights in worse places.” He picked up the milk bucket and opened the door. “I’ll see to the morning chores.”

  Marina jumped to her feet and was out the door before he had a chance to close it. “Where did you go last night?”

  “There was a task that needed to be done.”

  “Only tasks of no good are completed in the dark of night,” she said to his back.

  “That’s true.” He stopped near the well. “I’ll bring in the milk and eggs when I’ve finished.”

  No one had ever irritated her as deeply as he did. Shooting him a glare, she dropped the water bucket into the well. “I’m perfectly capable of completing the chores.” When the bucket splashed into the water, she grasped the rope to pull it up. “What I need from you is the truth. Where did you go last night and with whom?”

  His grin was as mocking as storm clouds that never produced rain. If the water bucket had been already in her hands, she may have dumped it on him.

  “It’s frustrating, isn’t it?” He grasped the rope beneath her hold and hoisted up the water bucket. “When you want someone to tell you the truth and they don’t.”

  “I told you the truth.” Once he’d emptied the bucket into the one on the ground, she picked it up. “And I can do the chores myself.”

  The idea of tossing the water in his smug face crossed her mind again. He winked as he started for the barn. Her heart went wild again. Oh, he thought he was so smart, but she was, too. There was more than one way to cook a chicken, and she’d been cooking for years.

  Marina saw to Nellie while Richard completed several other chores and neither spoke a word. It didn’t bother her. She’d played the silent game with her brothers while growing up and had won. Men always gave in first.

  Chapter Ten

  All the while he saw to the chores, Richard kept one eye on Marina. Women couldn’t keep quiet if you paid them. She’d soon start asking questions again. Pirates could cut off his fingers one at a time and he still wouldn’t tell her or anyone else all the details about helping Oscar Pullman last night. It had been a gruesome deed, but he agreed with the man. Those who’d perished deserved to be buried properly. Leaving the other six hanging there had been hard, but he’d agreed with Oscar on that aspect, too. Taking two bodies was dangerous enough.

  He’d helped Pullman bury his daughter on the back side of his property, and together they’d buried John’s mother on her property. He’d yet to tell the young man but would have to this morning. Word was sure to spread quickly.

  The night had been interesting. Trekking through swamps, cutting down bodies and burying them, listening to Oscar Pullman. The man knew plenty about the chaos taking place and plenty about Marina. There was no man she was interested in, and that provided him with more joy than he’d been prepared for, and the other things Oscar had said put things in a different light. She’d had a tough time back in Maine. Far more than the trivial incident, as her uncle had suggested. Not having a family other than Earl and then Sarah and now Gracie left him pondering Marina harder and perhaps differently. She’d told him about the marauding Indians, and he now considered it remarkable that she’d lived through it. Learning others had ridiculed her for surviving had angered him, until he realized their loss had been his gain. If she hadn’t moved in with William, Gracie would have died.

  There was still more, though. She was still hiding something from him.

  She’d stopped milking but pretended to remain engrossed in the task. He could be a patient man when the need arose and showed it by taking his time brushing down the horse. The sneaking peeks she kept casting his way had him biting his lips together. What he’d told her last night was true. She was brave enough to be dangerous. Then again, she was already dangerous.

  To him, anyway.

  No woman had ever taken up residency in his mind the way she had.

  Her blond hair was a literal mass of wild curls. Long ringlets hung down her back, twisting among themselves. Once again the idea she fit the image of an angel more than that of a witch flitted through his thoughts.


  Chasing aside either notion, he left the stall and walked over to stand beside her. “Are you waiting for me to carry the milk?”

  He saw her shoulders quiver slightly. “No.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” he asked. “You finished milking some time ago.”

  She spun around and stood all in one swift movement; however, one foot caught on a stool leg and she stumbled.

  Richard grabbed for her, snagging an arm with one hand and her waist with the other. He was instantly reminded of carrying her last night, both out of the swamp and then to bed. It was the latter time that had stuck with him. She’d been wearing nothing but a thin gown, and he’d felt her curves and the smoothness of her skin. She was pure perfection. Like a sea vessel built for sailing, Marina had been built for pleasure. A man’s pleasure, and he wanted to be that man.

  Understanding the dangers of that, he pulled her upright and, until their eyes met, had every intention of letting her loose. The stool that had been tottering beneath her skirt tumbled onto his foot, but not even the sting of that deflected his thoughts. Those sea-blue eyes of hers had captured his full attention, and the honeysuckle scent that had filled his nose last night was there again, making waves in his already flooding bloodstream.

  The desire to kiss her hit so hard and fast there was no time to contemplate not doing so. Never taking his eyes off hers until their faces were so close his vision blurred, he captured her lips beneath his.

  * * *

  In a faraway recess of her mind, Marina questioned what was happening, but most of her didn’t. It was exactly what she desired. The fascinating touch of his mouth pressed against hers. She’d watched her brothers kissing their wives and had asked Nessa about it while imagining what it would be like. Her sister-in-law had said she’d like it, that it would light up her insides like the sun during the day and the moon at night.

  That was exactly what was happening. Her very soul was being lit up in ways she didn’t understand. It was enchanting and mystical and peaceful. So wonderfully peaceful. When his hands grasped her cheeks, making the connection stronger, more powerful, her hands found their way to his arms, where she held on tightly while being swept into a magical place full of rainbows and stars. There was no other way to describe it.