Secrets of the Heart

by Vickie McDonough

  She patted his arm. “It’s just for a little while. Israel is keeping watch around here and has the field workers also keeping an eye open for the men. Hopefully if they come back, we’ll get some warning.”

  Adam noticed a picture of a ship and crossed the room. He stood, hands behind his back, and gazed at it. “That’s a fine schooner there.”

  Hannah stared at him for a moment. “How do you know it’s a schooner?”

  He pointed to the sails. “A schooner has two or more masts with sails fore and aft.”

  “I know what a schooner is, but how is it you know?”

  He turned to face her. “I’ve sailed on one before—with my father.”

  Hannah clutched his arm. “You remember your father? What’s his name?”

  Hope poured through his chest as he caught on to her meaning. He’d remembered something of his childhood. He closed his eyes—willing—struggling to grasp hold of the image of a tall man. . .just out of reach. A sharp pain speared his head, and he scowled.

  “Stop, Adam. The memories seem to return when you’re relaxed, not when you’re fighting for them.”

  She was right, but he was so close. He almost saw his father’s image, but his family name remained as elusive as his chances at winning Hannah’s heart.

  Nine

  Arms crossed against his chest, one foot resting over the other, Adam relaxed against a huge live oak. The warmth filling him wasn’t from finally being out in the bright sunshine, but it came from watching Hannah toss pebbles into the creek that flowed a good distance from the house. Four days had passed, and with no sign of the motley trio that had been searching for him, Hannah had relaxed her stance on keeping him hidden.

  Buster splashed in the shallow water, still limping, but getting better each day. He and the dog had made friends, much to his relief.

  Hannah cupped her hands into the water and splashed the dog. Adam smiled, surprised at how much he enjoyed her company. In the span of a few short days, they had become close friends. Whenever he was alone in the pit, his thoughts focused on two things: regaining his memory—and Hannah.

  His head itched and he reached up, vigorously scratching it. He looked longingly at the water, wondering if there was some way he could bend over enough to wash his hair. Hannah turned and waved at him. Jerking his hand from his head, he waved back, hoping she hadn’t seen his uncouth scratching. He lifted his shirt and took a whiff, shamed by his filthy appearance. He had crawled through the dirt, buried himself under hay on the barn floor, and gone days—maybe weeks—without a bath. How could Hannah stand to get within ten feet of him?

  She tossed him an I-know-something-you-don’t-know smile and walked over to a bag she’d brought with her. Adam watched her slip her hand in, remove something, and turn quickly around, hiding the item behind her back. She walked toward him, her perfect pink lips curled into a bright smile.

  “I have a surprise for you.” Her teasing expression melted away, and her eyes widened.

  “What?” He asked, looking over his shoulder to see if someone was behind him.

  “Uh. . .your eyes.”

  “What about them?” Adam grimaced, looking away, knowing his appearance was appalling. He’d gazed at his reflection in a mirror in the parlor several times the past few days. His injured eye had progressed through a colorful metamorphosis from red to purple and black and was now starting to turn a nauseating greenish-yellow. It gaped open slightly, and he could just barely see out of it. “Looks awful, doesn’t it?”

  “Uh. . .no. They’re so. . .blue.”

  “Blue?” That was one color he’d missed in the mirror.

  “Aye,” Hannah said, her face beet red. “And such a beautiful shade of blue.”

  “So, my eyes are blue. . .and black and green and purple.” He chuckled. “They’re more colorful than my vivid personality.”

  Hannah giggled, but her cheeks flamed, and she ducked her head. “It’s just that in the dimness of the secret room, I’d never noticed you had such blue eyes. They. . .um. . .always looked darker.”

  Adam grinned. It pleased him immensely that Hannah was so mesmerized with the color of his eyes. “I guess that’s understandable, especially since you’ve only seen one of them for the most part.”

  “Your eyes remind me of the Reed men. All of them have beautiful blue eyes.”

  His smile dimmed. He didn’t want Hannah admiring any other men’s features. Kicking a stone, he frowned. He despised the jealousy coursing through him. He’d been reading the Bible Hannah had left downstairs and knew that such a trait wasn’t pleasing to God.

  “Don’t you want to know what your surprise is?”

  Adam couldn’t imagine what she was holding behind her back. He hoped it was one of those delicious apple pastries she’d brought him the day before.

  She walked right up to him and looked him straight in the face. “It’s time you got rid of that shaggy stuff on your chin. You’re starting to look like Buster.” She giggled.

  Adam’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Hannah reached up and ruffled his whiskers. She pulled her hidden hand from behind her back and held up a razor, a horn bowl, and a bar of lathering soap. “So, is it a good surprise?”

  Still reeling from her touch, he smiled and nodded. Hannah grabbed his shirtsleeve, dragging him toward the creek. He followed along compliantly, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. I’m as willing as a calf being led to the slaughtering block.

  “Sit down on that boulder and hold on to the razor. I’ll get the soap good and wet.”

  Adam sat down, rubbing his whiskers. It would feel good to be clean-shaven again. He tried to think if he preferred a beard or not. Nothing came to mind, only the inky darkness that persisted whenever he tried to remember. He sighed in frustration, humbled by being so dependent on a snippet of a woman. Looking down at his calloused hands, he wondered what kind of work had earned him those battle scars. How could a man simply forget everything about himself?

  At the sound of Hannah’s approach, he looked up. Her hands were covered with a mound of sudsy lather. Her twinkling eyes and mischievous grin set his crazy heart racing again.

  “It’s difficult to decide where to put this. Your whole body could do with a good scrubbing.”

  Adam’s ears warmed at her comment. He grappled for a response, but none came.

  Totally oblivious to how her words embarrassed him, Hannah walked up to him and smiled. Without hesitation, gentle hands smoothed the lather around his cheeks and under his chin. His eyes closed, savoring the moment. He could get used to this treatment quite easily. His eyes popped back open when he felt Hannah tugging on the razor in his hand. When he didn’t let go, she looked at him, blue eyes wide open, brows raised in a question. Such beautiful eyes. He loved the way the indigo ring encircled the lighter shade around her pupil.

  Adam gripped the razor tighter. “I can shave myself,” he said, a bit gruffer than he meant to be. He didn’t want Hannah to think he was totally helpless.

  “So you can.” Relinquishing her soapy hold on the razor, Hannah turned and headed back toward the creek. She stooped down, rinsed her hands, and filled a cup with water. Adam watched her, feeling remorse over his brusqueness.

  He flipped the razor open and slid the sharp blade along his jaw and down to his chin, the bristly sound bringing with it a memory he couldn’t quite grasp hold of. Hannah returned to his side with the tin cup filled with water, and he dipped in the razor and took another swipe. After several minutes of scraping and dipping, he had a freshly shaved face again. He ambled over to the creek and stiffly stooped down. Careful to not twist his midsection, he dipped the razor in the creek. He dried the razor on his trousers, flipped it shut, and scooped up a handful of water, rinsing the lather residue off his face.

  He stood at Hannah’s approach. She handed him a dishcloth, and he dried his face, conscious of Hannah’s appraising gaze.

  “You look much nicer without all that hair on you
r face.” She took the edge of the cloth and reached up, wiping his lip and the bottom of his chin. “Blood. You cut yourself a little bit.” Hannah stuck the towel in his face as if to prove her point.

  He snatched the towel and dabbed at his lip. He must have gotten a bit too close to his wound.

  Hannah stepped back a few steps, putting her hands on her hips and looked up at his head. Her mouth twitched, and she looked as if she were chewing on the inside of her cheek. Golden brows furrowed and then rose as a blaze ignited in her eyes.

  Adam sighed, realizing she had just formulated another one of her plans. “What now?” he asked, though not completely sure if he wanted to know the answer.

  “Don’t think I haven’t seen you scratching your head. I would imagine you’d like to wash it?”

  “I’d love to, but I don’t see how I can since I can’t bend over yet.”

  Taking the razor from him and stuffing it in her pocket, Hannah grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward the boulder. “I have an idea,” she said. “Sit yourself down on this rock. No, wait!”

  Hannah ran over to her buggy, put the shaving supplies in the back, and yanked off the old quilt that lay on the seat. Adam watched with skepticism as she spread out the blanket on the large, flat boulder, which jutted out over the water.

  “Lie down here with your head toward the water.”

  “You’re planning on washing my hair?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, ma’am, you are not.” Adam stood his ground, glaring at her. Enough was enough.

  “Surely you’re not afraid to have your hair washed, are you?” Hannah turned and looked directly at him.

  Adam followed the track of her gaze. Jerking his hand down to his side, he realized he was scratching his head again. Against his will, his mouth turned up in an embarrassed grin.

  “Hannah, it just doesn’t seem proper for you to wash my hair.”

  “It ain’t proper.” Chesny stood just inside the tree line, hands on her hips, her lips twisted to the side. “And if’n she do, I’ll tan her backside.”

  Hannah flung her hands out to her sides. “It’s just hair. I washed Michael’s a time or two when he broke his hand. Adam’s not in any shape to be washing it himself.” She spun to face him. “And besides, you’re miserable. You can hardly keep your hands off your head because it’s itchin’ so badly.”

  “It can wait.”

  “See! It’s itching now, is it not?”

  Adam yanked his hand back down to his side, chastised that she caught him scratching again. “Oh, all right. But you’re not washing it.” He cast Chesny a pleading glance.

  The older woman nodded. “I don’t mind helpin’.” She motioned to a nearby boulder. “Sit yo’self down there and let me take off that bandage.”

  He did as ordered, and Hannah marched off and dropped onto a blanket she’d brought for them to picnic on. He couldn’t help grinning at her indignation. He knew she had a good heart and just wanted to help him feel better, but there was an appealing innocence about her that caused her to not make the wisest of choices at times. Perhaps that came into play when she found him in the barn. He imagined most young women would have rushed off out of fear or fainted, but not Hannah. She had boldly tended to him, and he admired her for it. But she needed to learn that some lines couldn’t be crossed.

  “Hmph. That there wound is lookin’ good. Don’t see as why you need a bandage any mo’.” Chesny tossed it aside and pushed up her sleeves. “Get yo’self up on that flat rock and lay back.”

  Again, he obeyed like a boy and lay down on the sun-warmed stone, listening to the trickling water below. Crickets, locusts, frogs, and birds joined together in an entertaining chorus. The warm spring breeze flittered through the emerald canopy of trees overhead, rustling peacefully.

  Adam closed his eyes as Chesny scrubbed his head, and he pretended that Hannah was actually tending to him. Everything about Hannah was kind and gentle, unlike Chesny. He’d be lucky if he wasn’t bald by the time she was done with his hair. He smiled and refocused on Hannah. He feared he was falling in love with her. But what could a nameless stranger possibly offer a girl like her?

  All he knew about himself was that he was used to working hard. The idleness of the past week was making him antsy. He needed to be working—doing something productive. And now he knew for certain that he’d sailed before. Little things kept creeping back into his mind—of climbing the ratlines and staring out at nothing but brilliant blue water as far as the eye could see. And the wind constantly tugging at his clothing and hair, and the fresh scent of the ocean. But the truly important things like who he was and where he’d come from were still a blur in his mind. If only he could remember everything.

  “You’s done, boy. I had to use that there shavin’ soap on yo’ hair.” Chesny splashed a few more handfuls of water on his head. “You can get up now.”

  Hannah smiled and stood. “Doesn’t that feel so much better?”

  He nodded, relishing in feeling halfway clean again. Water ran down the back of his shirt, saturating it and the wrap on his chest. Suddenly there was a loud crack above his head, and he glanced up. Something long and dark fell. It landed right beside him on the boulder.

  Hannah squealed. “Snake! Adam, there’s a snake on the other side of you.”

  He didn’t take time to think. Bringing his arms protectively across his chest, he flipped onto his left side, and quickly rolled over twice until he dropped to the ground, landing on his knees. With the grace of a grandpa, he scrambled to his feet and grabbed Chesny’s hand. He pulled her over to the blanket where Hannah still bounced on her toes, and turned to see where the snake had gone.

  He blinked his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. His lips pursed, and he pressed his hand to his aching side. I don’t believe this.

  On the boulder lay not a snake, but a gnarly, grayish-brown tree branch.

  A very unlady-like snort erupted from Hannah’s mouth, and Adam turned around to see what was wrong. She stood with her lips pulled tightly together, mirth filling her eyes. No longer able to hold back, she burst into laughter, bending over at the waist. Chesny’s chuckles rumbled and bounced her shoulders.

  Adam realized he had been the brunt of Hannah’s childish prank. Was it similar to the kind that Jamie fellow and his brother had played on her? He grabbed hold of his side, still stinging from the sudden exertion. He didn’t know whether to be mad or not.

  Fighting back another snicker, Hannah looked up at him, semirepentant. “I couldn’t help it, Adam. I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, I can see. You can hardly stop laughing you’re so sorry.”

  Hannah bit her lip until it turned white.

  “Go ahead and cackle before you bite a hole in your lip.” Adam leaned over and knocked the dirt off his pants and draped his right arm across his chest.

  Hannah sobered immediately. “I truly hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  Chesny walked to the boulder and picked up her scattered supplies, still snickering.

  Adam scowled, turned away, and walked back toward the water.

  Hannah walked up behind him. She tugged on his sleeve, and he turned to face her.

  “Adam, please don’t be mad. I was just teasing. I’m truly sorry.”

  The penitent look on her pretty face and in her watery, blue eyes cut him to the core. He reached out and cupped her velvety cheek with his hand. “I can’t stay mad at you, even if I try.”

  Hannah laid her hands on his arm. “That was a stupid thing I did. I could have caused you more pain. I didn’t think about it, I just did it. Being impulsive has always been a problem for me.” She ripped her eyes away from his and looked down.

  “Like when you found a beat-up stranger in a barn and rescued him?”

  Hannah looked up at him, her gaze framed by thick lashes. A small, embarrassed grin flittered on her lips.

  His heart did a flip-flop, and he knew in that moment he’d completely lost his heart to
the beautiful, young woman.

  She reached out and grabbed his hand, then pulled him over to the boulder and picked up the quilt. Handing it to him, she looped her arm through his and propelled him to a grassy spot. Suddenly, she stopped in midstride, and he worked hard not to run into her. She turned to face him. “Oh, here’s another present.”

  He looked down at the comb in her hand and couldn’t resist teasing her this time. He bent over at the waist and put his hands on his knees, aiming his head toward her. When she didn’t move, he peeked up at her and grinned. “So, you gonna comb my hair for me, or do you think I can do it myself?”

  Her nostrils flared, and he thought for a moment she was going to punch him. As she stood there appraising his head, an embarrassed grin tugged at her appealing lips, and she held out the comb. “Touché.”

  He took the comb but claimed her hand with it. His thumb glided over her soft skin, and she gazed up at him, her mouth slightly open. He swallowed hard, peeking over his shoulder to see where Chesny was, and she stood there staring at him with her arms crossed and brows raised. He cleared his throat and dropped Hannah’s hand.

  “It’s time to eat our lunch,” she said, disappointment evident in her voice. Grabbing one edge of the blanket, she pulled it under the shade of a big oak. Then she knelt down and started removing things from the basket she’d brought.

  Adam pulled the comb through his hair, hoping to make himself more presentable. She pulled one thing after another from the basket until she’d spread a fabulous array of food before them.

  “I hope you like cold chicken.”

  “Mmm, love it!” Adam laid the comb on the blanket and turned to find Chesny. “Are you joining us?”

  She strolled over to him and glanced down. “I reckon it’s safe for you two to eat alone. Just don’t go lettin’ her talk you into takin’ no bath.” The twinkle in her eye belied the serious tone of her voice. “I be back in a bit with Israel and some fresh clothes; then we’ll tend to that task.”

  He nodded but looked away, uncomfortable with such talk in front of Hannah. Chesny walked to the tree line, turned back, and wagged her finger at him. He knew she was entrusting Hannah to his care, and it meant a lot that she would trust him.