The Uncharted Beginnings Series Box Set

by Keely Brooke Keith

  Her hands reflexively dropped her skirt and gripped his shoulders. As her feet touched the floorboards, she watched his face. He kept his fingertips on her waist for a moment longer than was necessary. His lips curved in a satisfied grin. Then he let go as quickly as he’d scooped her up.

  He pointed at the ceiling as if nothing had happened. “It took six men and a system of pulleys to get the logs onto the roof. Each log weighs over three hundred and fifty pounds. Mr. Roberts came up with that number somehow.”

  “Did he?” she responded, still breathless from the surprise of him lifting her.

  “He’s a smart man. Good with figures and all of that.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Henry takes after him.”

  “Yes.”

  Gabe didn’t look at her, but she could tell he was smiling. “The upstairs will have full ceiling height instead of a cramped space like the lofts in the village cabins. You can see the stream from the dormer windows upstairs. I would show you, but I haven’t built the staircase yet. The men helped raise the structure, but the interior building is up to me. I like it that way. My father and brothers will help when they can. Jonah too. But otherwise, I’ll work on it alone all winter.”

  “I see.” Her eyes trailed up the rope ladder. She imagined climbing it clumsily and was glad he hadn’t suggested it. She looked back at Gabe.

  He pointed at the southern wall. “And your father and Walter are going to start building the stone fireplace and oven this week.”

  “Excellent.”

  He put his hand to the small of her back. “What do you really think?”

  She couldn’t think. Her thoughts congealed into a mush of foreign urges and blocked all hope of logical conversation. At last, she found her voice. “Of the house?”

  He looked at her lips and his grin disappeared. She watched the blue of his irises as he studied her. He didn’t move but somehow felt closer. Too close.

  She put her hand to his chest and turned her face away. She scanned the wide unfinished space looking for something, anything to comment on. “I think your house is, um… it’s the start of something beautiful.”

  He covered her hand with his. “Something is different.”

  “With the house? I wouldn’t know because—”

  “No, something is different about you… about us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes, us.”

  Us? Were they a couple? Courting? It was all happening so fast and everything inside her wanted it to keep going, but she didn’t know what to do or say. She had never been in a relationship with a man, and though she’d heard plenty of caution to women about prudence, she certainly didn’t want to put out his fire… not again… not when hers was freshly ablaze. She swallowed her hesitation. “Are we an… us?”

  “I hope so. I have been planning to marry you since we were staying at the Ashton’s estate in Accomack County, preparing for the voyage.”

  “I didn’t know… not like that…”

  “I’m in love with you, Liv. I have been since that day at the river in Virginia five years ago.” His eyes implored her. “Now you know. But I don’t know if you feel the same way about me. I think you might, but you confuse me at every turn. I know something has changed in you. I can see it when you look at me and I can feel it in the way you breathe when I touch you. But I have waited so long for this and I won’t allow myself to believe it until I hear it from you.”

  She opened her mouth, but no words would come out. Yes, she was in love with him, but how could she say it and so soon? He deserved to know how she felt, but once she told him, her heart would be in his hands. Then he would want to know her more. He would want to know everything about her. She wasn’t ready for that. “I don’t know what to do.”

  He dropped his cheek to her forehead. “Just say something. That’s all I want for now—to finally know you feel the same for me.”

  With her face buried against his collar, she whispered. “I’m afraid.”

  “Are you afraid that if you say you are in love with me, I will have you at the reverend’s door within the hour?”

  She pulled back to see him smiling. “It crossed my mind.”

  “I won’t. Not until I know you are ready. Not until I’m certain I have won your heart.”

  Her gaze moved down his face to his mouth. Whisker stubble shadowed his chin and darkened the lines where he was always grinning. If she couldn’t tell him how she felt, perhaps she could show him. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she lifted her lips toward his.

  He drew his face back before she could kiss him. “Don’t.”

  Her heels dropped to the floor. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Forget your worth.”

  One thousand questions flooded her thoughts. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Liv, your worth is far above rubies.”

  “Far above rubies?”

  “You are a virtuous woman and a precious treasure to me. I want to kiss you, but that isn’t why I brought you here.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her heart pounded in her throat. She hadn’t meant anything lascivious by trying to kiss him and she certainly wasn’t going to offer more. If it wasn’t bad enough that she didn’t know what to say, now she was doing the wrong thing. She looked down at her feet. “I told you I don’t know what to do.”

  “You don’t have to because I do. Your father trusts me with you. I need you to let me lead.” He gently raised her chin. “I have thought about this for years. I’m not looking for a sweetheart; I want more than that. I want a life with you. I won’t rush you to the altar, but you have to let me lead. Can you do that?”

  After pursuing her for so long, he wasn’t ready to end the chase. That only made her want to try and kiss him again, but if his way of acknowledging her worth was to lead her in courtship, she would let him. Gladly. She shut her mouth and managed a rigid nod.

  He stood still, gazing down at her. Only his crystalline eyes moved as he studied her. Each beat of her heart ticked the seconds as she waited for his lead.

  A grin curved the corners of his mouth. “Good.” He took her fingertips in his hand. “We’d better go back to the village before rumors begin.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Olivia hummed as she walked to the Vestals’ farm, carrying a pail full of tallow. She had spent Sunday evening humming through the stinky process of rendering the fat for the Vestals’ soap. Twice this morning she had caught herself humming during the Cotter children’s lessons. Even Mrs. Cotter’s strident behavior couldn’t dampen the joy of being in love.

  As she walked to the Vestals’ property, the cold wind and overcast sky were no match for the warmth in her heart. Gabe loved her. He was not the insincere flirt she had once believed him to be, but rather a caring gentleman who had pined for her for years. Being near him brought her dead heart to life and almost made her forget the ugly secret she’d have to confess if they became as close as she hoped they would.

  Three of the six Vestal children were waiting on the path between the orchard and the meadow. Hannah and Doris waved vigorously when they saw her coming. Wade was playing tug-of-war with the dog, but once he noticed her, he waved too.

  Seeing their excitement to learn and even just to spend time with her laced her joy with appreciation. Students like the Vestal children made her want to be a teacher the rest of her life despite the difficulties she might face.

  “Good afternoon,” she greeted.

  Wade ran to her and took the covered pail from her hand. “What is in this?”

  “Three pounds of fat.”

  Doris furled her thin but strong arms around Olivia’s waist and walked awkwardly beside her to the house. “Father has the wood ready for your fire—”

  “And he said I could light it!” Wade interrupted.

  Hannah scowled at her little brother then she tucked a strand of light brown hair behind her
ear and smiled sweetly at Olivia. “Before Father left today he set out all the things that were on your list.” She counted the items off with her fingers. “The old pot, two jugs, a measuring cup, a stirring stick, work gloves, and wooden spoons.”

  “Excellent.” Olivia had hoped Christopher Vestal would be around when she taught the children the necessary but potentially dangerous process of soap making. She also wanted him to be there because he was nice to talk to. His fatherly presence made her feel like everything would be all right, even though he was the one who’d recently endured tragedy. She gave the orchard a quick scan. “Where did your father go?”

  “Fishing,” Doris answered quickly. “He took David to the stream. Said they will come back with our dinner. I love fried fish.”

  “As do I,” Olivia grinned at the girl then looked over at Hannah. “What about the lye?”

  “He left the pan below the ash hopper.”

  “Then we can get started right away,” Olivia said as she and the children approached the yard at the side of the house. Everything she’d asked for was set out on a board near the perfectly arranged firewood. “I wanted to explain the lye process to you before we begin.”

  Doris let go of her and picked up a slate and chalk. “I’m ready to make notes like you said, Miss Owens.”

  Wade held out the pail of fat. “Where do you want this?”

  “Get the fire going and we will melt it in the pot.”

  Doris scrunched her nose. “Is that lard?

  “No, fat obtained from pigs is lard. When it’s from cattle, sheep, or deer it’s called tallow.”

  Doris made marks on her slate, guessing how to spell tallow. Then she crinkled her smooth brow. “Why don’t we have any pigs here?”

  Olivia thought back. “Mr. Roberts was the only farmer in our group who had pigs back in Virginia. He had his drove slaughtered for salt pork for the voyage. And there aren’t any wild pigs here—none that we’ve encountered yet anyway.”

  Hannah selected a wooden spoon from the tools and helped scoop the fat into the pot. “It was miserable eating salt pork every day for three months on the ship.”

  “Salt pork sounds good to me,” Wade said as he stoked the fire.

  Hannah shook her head. “No one old enough to remember the voyage would want to eat pork again.”

  While the fat melted in a pot over the fire, Olivia followed the children into the barn. They proudly pointed out the ash hopper, though they didn’t know how it worked. Olivia explained, “Your father filled the bottom of this wooden box with ashes then covered the ashes with a layer of straw. He probably poured a little water here frequently over the past few days. The water seeps slowly through the ashes and the liquid lye drips down this trough and into this pan. Does anyone know how to figure how much lye you will need?”

  The children glanced at each other. Hannah pulled a folded piece of paper and a stub of pencil out of her apron pocket. She turned and folded the paper until she found a blank spot and waited for the formula. Their expectant enthusiasm to learn a necessary skill confirmed Olivia was doing the right thing. This was the sort of lesson the children of Good Springs needed, and often.

  She held up the measuring cup to the scant light coming through the barn doors. “All of the ingredients, including your water, must be measured accurately. Since we have about three pounds of rendered fat, we will need four cups water and ten ounces of lye. This was my grandmother’s recipe and it will make about ninety ounces of soft soap. That isn’t a year’s worth for a family your size, but I want you to have to make it every few months for a while so you will remember the process.”

  Hannah slipped on her work gloves and carried the jug of measured lye back to the house. Her arms were stiffly bent away from her body. “What happens if it gets on my skin?”

  “Vinegar will neutralize the burn,” Olivia answered, realizing she hadn’t asked Christopher to leave vinegar close at hand. If she wanted to be in charge of a schoolhouse full of children someday, surely she could take care of three students by herself. She remembered the fire on the first day of school and doubt filled her thoughts. “Please, be cautious with it. Keep your gloves on and your sleeves down.”

  While the fat melted in the pot over the fire, she let Hannah measure the water into a glass jug. “Always add the lye to the water. Never the other way around or you will cause an eruption.” She slowly stirred the lye into the water. “As this mixes it will warm. We will let it cool then add it to the melted fat and stir it as it boils.”

  The children diligently watched all afternoon. Hannah made notes at each step of the process. Doris wrote a word or two on her slate. Wade got jittery with excitement at the end of the boiling when the mixture rose into a frothy mass. Olivia decided he would be the first to learn how to taste the mixture to be sure it was done.

  “No way,” he balked when she demonstrated placing a small cooled amount on the tongue to see if the bite was gone.

  “You must learn.”

  “Oh all right.” He reached a finger to the spoon and winced until his tongue touched the drip of soap. Then he grinned. “Not bad.”

  Doris wrinkled her nose. “Do I have to taste it too?”

  “Not this time,” Olivia answered. “But you will have to learn eventually.”

  After she gave instructions on letting the soap cool and showed them how to store it, they began to clean the utensils. A brief part in the clouds allowed a stream of sunlight to break through the late afternoon sky. It was time to end her lesson. “I helped my grandmother with soap making every year when I was a girl. After she died, my mother bought our soap from the general store, but I always missed the annual chore with Granny.” All at once she realized none of the children in the settlement of Good Springs had their grandparents in their lives any longer, though many were probably still alive back in America. She almost asked the Vestal children about their grandparents, but since they had recently lost their mother, it might refresh their sadness.

  The dog sprang from its place beside Wade and rushed to the path. Mr. Vestal and David were returning with their catch hanging from lines over Christopher’s shoulder. When they reached the house, Christopher passed the fish to David and brushed his hands together as he met Olivia by the back steps.

  She held up the cleaned jugs. “Do these go in the mudroom?”

  “Here, I can take them in.” Christopher pushed up the brim of his straw hat. “You have done so much for us today.”

  “It has been a pleasure.”

  “How did they get along?”

  “Quite well. Very attentive and helpful.” She stopped, still holding the jugs. “We will do this again in a few months, but I will oversee the process instead of instructing next time.”

  He reached for the glass jugs. “Are you able to stay for dinner?”

  She glanced at the children. They seemed happy, settled by a full day’s work and occupied with the fish David began to clean. She had nowhere urgent to be. Her mother wouldn’t expect her home early and she probably wouldn’t see Gabe again until church on Sunday. “Sure. I can help cook if you need me.”

  A grin deepened the creases at the outer corners of Christopher’s eyes. “I didn’t mean for you to stay and work. One of my only kitchen skills is frying a fresh catch. Consider it our way of saying thank you.”

  “Sounds delightful.”

  As Christopher opened the door to go into the house, Olivia gathered more utensils. She bent down and picked up the measuring cup and spoons. When she turned back to go inside, Christopher still stood on the stoop, holding the door open for her.

  They returned the utensils to their place in the mudroom then he hung his woolen coat on a peg by the door. “The children enjoyed your company today. I could tell by their faces from across the yard. They are very fond of you.”

  “And I them.” Unable to stand idly while he cooked, she crossed the room to the stove and checked the gray leaf chips burning in the firebox.

 
“Have a seat at the table. You have earned it.” He waved her back as he continued talking. “When the elders first discussed building a schoolhouse, I barely gave it a thought. But you have convinced me with your passion.” He cuffed his sleeves and began washing his hands in the basin. “I’ve never known a woman to have such fervor for something that she keeps at it despite resistance.” He lifted a wide iron pan from its hook on the wall beside the stove and began to season it. “I’d heard of women behaving boldly for this cause or that back in America, but it usually left me with a bad impression. You went above protest by showing us how much you care about educating the children.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Vestal.”

  “Christopher, please.”

  She reluctantly lowered herself into a chair at the table. “Thank you, Christopher.”

  “I like having you come to the house to teach the children. It is convenient for me to have them here all week. But you have proven you know what you’re doing, and you have the courage to stick with it. I’ve decided to champion your cause of getting that schoolhouse built soon. I can’t promise the elders will agree with me right away, but I promise to show the same determination in persuading them that you have shown in teaching my children.”

  Olivia shot to her feet. “Thank you, Mr. Vestal, I mean Christopher! That means a great deal to me.”

  He gave her a quick grin over his shoulder as he held his palm over the stove, checking its heat. “You are important to my children, so if having a schoolhouse is important to you, it is important to me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A rosy film of morning light settled across a thin layer of fresh snow. Olivia’s boots crunched through the white ice as she walked between the gray leaf trees on her family’s property and turned right onto the road toward the Roberts’ cabin.

  She surveyed the McIntoshes’ home as she passed. Over a month had gone by since Gabe first took her to the house he was building near the stream. Even though he had told her he would be staying there to work until it was finished, she wanted him to come back to the village more often.