Mercer's Belles

by Heather B. Moore

  She seemed to be reading his thoughts. “It’s all right, you know. I don’t mind. Truly. There’s never been a man I’ve expected to marry, so I certainly don’t expect to be kissed.”

  With his free hand, Caleb tugged at his collar. The night was warmer now. “I can see how you’d think that, but it’s a shame not to be kissed at least once in your life.”

  “How so?”

  Caleb wasn’t prepared for her question. “I . . . uh, because it’s something that can be enjoyable.” Now, his face was likely growing red.

  “Even when it’s not someone you plan to marry?” she asked, her voice genuinely puzzled. “That feels a bit low class to me.”

  Caleb couldn’t let the comment pass. He drew her to a gentle stop. “It wouldn’t be low class if the intentions were pure. I mean, if a promise wasn’t expected. If . . .”

  She was watching him quite intently.

  He swallowed. “I’m not sure exactly what I’m trying to say, but if you ever change your mind, I’m happy to oblige.”

  Harriet was pretty sure her eyes were wider than they’d ever been. Mr. Munns had just offered to . . . kiss her. She had no idea how to respond. So she did the only thing that seemed logical at the time. She released his arm and headed back to the hotel.

  “Miss Silverton,” he called after her, quietly at first. Then again, louder a second time. “Miss Silverton!”

  She didn’t turn because her face was surely a deep red, and her pounding heart would likely give away what she thought of his offer. His scandalous offer, to say the least. Kiss? What could he ever want to kiss her for? He’d declared, just as she had, that he had no intention of marrying again.

  Harriet picked up her pace, but in truth, her boots were pinching her feet. The walk to her new lodgings with Vivian had been quite enough for the evening. And now she was practically running.

  “Harriet,” his deep voice was much closer now. “Stop, please.”

  She was breathing heavily now, and the hotel was within sight. Looking over at him, she saw that he’d caught up with her. He reached out and grasped her arm. Gently, but with a bit of firmness as well.

  She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said. “I gave you the wrong idea, and now if you would be the gentleman that you claim to be, please step aside and let me pass.”

  “Harriet,” he repeated, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.

  She did look at him then, and she wished she hadn’t. Because she realized in that moment she wanted him to kiss her.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” he said. “The last thing I’d want to do is make you upset. Forgive me. Forget I even brought it up. It was wrong to tease you.”

  Harriet released a careful exhale and finally met his gaze. “All right. I’ll forget about it.” She didn’t want to forget about it; she didn’t want him to forget about it. But the blood had rushed to her head, and she didn’t trust her mind right now.

  He smiled, and her heart did another little flip. She wondered how she could have ever found him intimidating or foreboding.

  “Now, let me escort you back to the lobby, as a perfect gentleman would, who is also a friend,” he said. “A friend who has completely forgotten that he just offered to kiss you.”

  She swallowed back a laugh as she took his extended arm. She didn’t have to look at him to see that he was smiling. The thought sent a dart of warmth to her toes, and her boots didn’t pinch quite so much anymore.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence, and surprisingly enough, it wasn’t awkward. More and more, Harriet felt comfortable with him. “You called me Harriet,” she observed, reluctant for the outing to end. “Does that mean I should call you Caleb?”

  The smile in his voice was plain. “I think it absolutely does, if that’s all right with you.”

  “It is.” She sneaked a glance at his profile. “Tell me, would you be opposed to giving me and the Pinker children a tour of the harbor sometime in the next week?”

  His brows lifted. “I don’t see why not.”

  “I hope I can get permission,” she said. “Those children puzzle me exceedingly. They’ve hardly ventured from the hotel due to their parents’ rules.” They’d reached the edge of the light spilling onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Harriet paused, and Caleb paused with her.

  “Which rules are these?” he asked.

  She released his arm and faced him. Then she told him about the Pinkers’ rules.

  “If they can’t be near the water, how will they see the harbor?”

  Harriet puffed out a breath of frustration. “I don’t know, and Wallace—the boy—wants to go fishing.”

  “That sounds like his father’s business,” he said.

  Harriet agreed with him, she did. “But he says his father won’t take him.”

  “Harriet,” Caleb said in that maddeningly gentle tone of his. “You’re their teacher, not their parent. You can’t fulfill all their desires.”

  She bit her lip and set her hands on her hips. “I know. And I’ve jumped many steps ahead. We haven’t even had real lessons yet. Those will start tomorrow.”

  His gaze was intent on her. “You’re a compassionate woman.”

  She blinked up at him. He must have shaved again tonight, because his jaw was smooth, so smooth that she was tempted to run her fingers along his skin. “I should go inside. Vivian will be wondering . . .” She didn’t finish, because he’d leaned closer, and she thought he might steal that kiss anyway. She took a step back. He didn’t move, didn’t follow.

  But she sensed that something had shifted between them.

  “Thank you for the walk,” she quickly said. Turning, Harriet took a few steps toward the hotel entrance.

  “Harriet,” he said, his low voice carrying.

  “Yes?” she said, not looking at him, waiting.

  “Anytime you want to bring those kids to the harbor, I’ll give the tour.”

  She nodded, then glanced at him a final time. He stood, silhouetted by the yellow light, his shoulders broad, his eyes warm, his presence occupying every spare inch between them. “I’ll . . . let you know.”

  Then she took the last few steps toward the entrance and hurried into the lobby.

  The people in their conversation groups didn’t pay her mind, and she made her way to the staircase. When she reached her shared bedroom, Vivian had already prepared herself for bed.

  Harriet sensed Vivian’s expectation about telling her of the evening walk, but Harriet wanted to keep it to herself.

  “How was the walk?” Vivian prompted.

  “My boots have seemed to shrink.” She sat on a chair and unlaced them. “How are your feet?”

  “My feet are fine,” Vivian said, not fooled for a moment. “What did Mr. Munns want to talk about?”

  “Oh.” Harriet shrugged. “Nothing special. I told him about the Pinker children wanting to tour the harbor. And I told him a little about Philadelphia and my family. He seemed interested in my former life, although I must say, I never thought I’d make such a friend in Seattle.”

  Vivian didn’t say anything as she watched Harriet begin her nightly preparations. “I think he’s very interested.”

  “Not in the way you’re implying,” Harriet said. “There will be nothing between us but friendship. We’ve both already agreed upon that.”

  Vivian laughed. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  “He’s not interested in marrying, and neither am I. Simple, really.” She didn’t elaborate further, because she was pretty sure that Caleb’s story of his false marriage wasn’t something he wanted gossiped about.

  Vivian pressed her lips together and picked up a book by the bedside table. After flipping through a few pages, she said, “A man can change his mind.”

  Harriet felt the slow burn of her cheeks. She moved out of Vivian’s line of sight to the closet, where she changed into her night gown. A man could change his mind. A woman could
too. But she wouldn’t. She’d made up her mind before getting onto the ship at Philadelphia.

  Yet, when she settled into bed and pulled the covers over her shoulders and up to her chin, she was still thinking of Caleb Munns. About his offer to kiss her. An offer he’d taken back, of course, but what did it mean that he’d offered in the first place?

  Even in the darkness, and with Vivian’s relaxed breathing in the next bed over, Harriet couldn’t get her mind to stop mulling over Caleb’s words. Should she let him kiss her?

  No.

  She worried that if they kissed, although it would mean nothing to him, it might mean something to her.

  Harriet shut her eyes and forced her thoughts to move from Caleb Munns to the tasks tomorrow. Getting settled into her new place, teaching the Pinker children . . . She looked forward to a productive day, one that didn’t have room for daydreaming about a particular fisherman.

  Caleb supposed he could inquire at the hotel where Harriet Silverton had moved to, but he wasn’t sure that was the best plan. He could stop by the schoolhouse and hope to find her there, but he didn’t return to the docks until the late afternoon, well after school would have ended. Or . . . he could aimlessly walk the streets, hoping for a bit of luck, and run into her by happenstance.

  Which he was doing right now.

  It had been an entire week since he’d seen Harriet, and he realized now that he should have arranged to meet her. The first few times he’d met her had been coincidences. It had almost seemed that providence had kept throwing them together. But now . . . He missed her.

  This was a strange thing to admit to himself. Frankly, he didn’t know Harriet all that well in the scheme of things, yet he knew her more than he ever did Lucille. Perhaps because everything Lucille had told him had been part-lie.

  And he supposed he missed Harriet because when he was around her, he felt lighter somehow. Intrigued. Happier? Yes.

  Caleb had arrived full circle, and he was back at the harbor again. The gulls soared about the incoming boats with the evening tide. Caleb had finished earlier today than usual, thanks to an abundant catch of fish.

  He stopped and gazed across the activity of the boats, the men, the nets, the fish being dumped into carts to be hauled off and sold to vendors. Gulls screeched overhead, dipping and diving and gobbling up remnants of fish. The day had lost its warmth as clouds moved in, darkening the late-afternoon horizon. The salt on the air was sharp and tangy.

  Perhaps he should head to a café, get his supper, and call it a day. Standing here, he felt like a lost soul, which was ironic. The last time he’d felt that way, he’d been caught up in another woman. And now, here he was, again. Caught up.

  At first, he wasn’t sure the woman speaking to Bill was Harriet Silverton. The distance was too great, and her back was turned toward Caleb. Then he saw the two children on either side of her. A boy and a girl, both towheaded.

  Caleb’s initial instinct was to stride over to the group and find out if Harriet was looking for him. To give that tour. Just as he considered it, another thought entered his mind. Perhaps she’d arranged something with Bill. The idea rankled Caleb, but what if it was true? What if Bill and Harriet were . . . interested in each other? Yes, she’d stated quite clearly that she’d come to Seattle for a job and had no sights on marriage. But Caleb very well knew that a woman’s heart and mind could change. Sometimes at the offer of fresh pancakes.

  This was why Caleb did not approach the group. And this was why after a few moments of watching Harriet speaking to Bill, and Bill’s broad smile as he replied, that Caleb left the harbor. Hands deep in his pockets, eyes trained on the cobblestone road, heart heavy.

  She had danced with him.

  She had walked with him.

  She had asked him to give her the tour.

  Once again, it appeared that Caleb had grossly misread a woman’s intentions. He’d leapt to conclusions far ahead of reality. And now, the result was . . . nothing. He was alone again, as he’d been for a long time now. Nothing in his life had truly changed. If he cut out the past ten days, scrubbed the thoughts of Harriet from his mind, he was still himself.

  No one had been hurt. No one had died. He still had his boat, his rented room, his too-tight suitcoat. He was healthy. A year from now, he’d have enough money in savings to put money down on his own apartment. He’d even considered buying another boat, joining up with a partner. Not Bill, of course. Making a bit of a dynasty for himself. He could add a boat a year, take commissions. Build a home.

  Women were . . . well, women were complicated. And it was best he not to get his heart involved with the female race, because his own heart was complicated enough.

  “Mr. Munns!” the voice that called out to him was feminine.

  He could not believe it was her. No. He stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn around.

  “Mr. Munns,” the woman said again.

  There was no doubt it was Harriet. His entire body betrayed, feet pivoting without his permission, and eyes locking on her.

  She was walking toward him with the two children. They were dressed to the height of fashion, and now that Caleb thought about it, Harriet was well turned out too. Her navy skirt pinched at her narrow waist, and her pale green blouse curved with her torso. She wore no jacket, and he knew instantly that she was cold, if he were to judge by the pink of her cheeks.

  He couldn’t explain the immense relief that went through him at the sight of her walking toward him. Perhaps there was nothing between her and Bill, and perhaps Caleb had worried for nothing.

  “You’re a hard man to find, Mr. Munns,” Harriet said.

  This only made Caleb’s heart soar. Was she talking about today? Or this entire past week? “I returned early today, and I was, in fact . . .” He paused because two blond-headed children were listening to every word he spoke. “I was in fact looking for you.”

  He didn’t miss the upward curve of Harriet’s mouth.

  “You were?”

  “I was.” He redirected his gaze to the children so that he didn’t stare at Harriet for so long. “Are these your students?”

  “Why yes,” Harriet said, her tone both formal and amused. “This is Wallace and Rebecca.”

  “Becky,” the girl corrected.

  “Becky,” Harriet amended. “And they’ve both earned a field trip, so you can imagine how much we were hoping you’d be able to show us about.”

  “I’m available now,” he said. “Unless it’s too late?”

  He was answered by Wallace. “Not too late at all, sir. Miss Silverton says that you’re a fisherman. Can we go out on your boat?”

  “Wallace,” Harriet said.

  At the same moment, Caleb said, “If it’s all right with your parents.”

  Harriet gave Caleb a sharp look. “No getting onto a boat. We’re lucky your mother has allowed us to walk about the harbor in the first place.”

  Wallace folded his arms. “You just don’t like boats.”

  Caleb frowned. “Do you not like boats, Miss Silverton?”

  The children joined him in looking at her in anticipation.

  “I, uh, I become quite sick on boats,” Harriet said, her cheeks staining a darker pink. “I hope to never step foot on a boat again.”

  She couldn’t be serious, yet her somber gaze and fiery cheeks told him she was absolutely in earnest.

  “Well, there won’t be any boat riding today at least,” Caleb said. “Let’s start with the office of the harbor master. We are close to it now.”

  Harriet cast him a grateful look, and as the group of them headed in the direction of the shipyard office, Caleb couldn’t help stealing glances her direction. The wind had picked up, and bits of her hair whipped against her neck. Why wasn’t she wearing a jacket or a shawl? The children were warmly dressed, but he was sure Harriet was trying not to shiver.

  He shrugged out of his own jacket. He wasn’t wearing his heavy fishing coat, so at least this one didn’t smell like the o
cean and fish. Before Harriet could notice what he was doing, he set the jacket across her shoulders.

  Her gaze snapped to his. “I don’t need—”

  “You do,” he murmured. “You’re trembling.”

  She blew out a breath, and for a moment he thought she might be stubborn enough to hand it back. Instead, she gripped the edges of the lapels and drew it closer about her body. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and said, “Here we are. Now, you must address the man in charge as Captain Kilgon. Respect is due at all times, even though he’s a land man now.”

  “A land man?” Wallace asked. “What’s that?”

  “Someone who doesn’t sail anymore.” Caleb tugged open the door and led them into a square, stout building. Inside, the smell of old brine was prevalent, and the walls were decorated with old ship memorabilia.

  The harbor master wasn’t around, so Caleb showed the children the different items and explained each one.

  Harriet listened and walked around with them, but she didn’t ask any questions. Each time he caught her gaze on him, she quickly looked away. Caleb wished they could have a private conversation, just the two of them. He wanted to know what she was truly thinking. What she’d talked to Bill about. How her week had been with her new responsibilities.

  After they finished with the boat house, they headed outside again, and Caleb was gratified that Harriet kept his jacket on. The clouds were darker now, lower to the earth, and the wind had picked up. “A storm’s going to hit soon,” he said. “I should escort you back to your home.”

  “Can we watch it coming in?” Wallace asked.

  Caleb ruffled the boy’s hair that was already being mussed up by the wind. “I think we should get you back before your mother worries.”

  Wallace looked disappointed but didn’t complain. A glance at Harriet told Caleb he’d done the right thing. As they walked back to the hotel, the children chattered about what they’d seen at the harbor, and Wallace expressed a keen interest in the boats.