“Up ahead.” Grin widening, he resumed walking, and I matched his eager pace.
Within minutes, our steps slowed on the fringe of a bank leading to a meandering brook. I peered at the flow of water, how it whispered over rocks and sparkled with the final breaths of daylight.
“In honor of your twenty-first birthday, I present to you…” Jack’s voice roughened with emotion. “Hattie’s Creek.”
My eyes widened. “You’re naming a creek after me?” A shiver of wonder coursed through me. This had to be one of the sweetest gestures someone could bestow. And yet, it couldn’t be right. Didn’t this property belong to someone? It wasn’t like Jack to bend rules. To claim what belonged to another.
Jack squeezed my hand. “Ready to explore?”
The lure of adventure beckoned, but I silenced its call. “I would hate to get caught by the owner.” However unlikely. It didn’t appear as if another body had stepped foot here in a long while. But that didn’t make it okay to traipse across a person’s land.
“I’m the owner.” The blues of his eyes brightened with certainty, leaving no question of truthfulness. “This land belongs to me.”
“I thought your family was from Louisville?”
His thumb absently stroked my knuckle, his gaze never straying from the brook. “This property belonged to my grandfather. We used to come fishing here when I was young. He really loved this land.” Jack’s voice took on a reminiscent tone. “He wanted to build a log cabin on the clearing not too far from where we’re standing, but Grandmother demanded they live in Louisville. Before he died, he gifted it all to me.”
“What an amazing gift.”
He nodded. “When my family lost everything, I tried to sell it. No one was interested.”
I blinked so hard I was surprised my lashes didn’t knit together. “I can’t imagine anyone not falling in love with this land.”
“It’s the location. The area’s too far from Carrolton. Or any other town for that matter.” He set the bucket on the soft earth. “I couldn’t find a soul who could see the value in it.”
“You’ve found one now.” I inhaled the loamy air. “The problem with most people is they look without really seeing.”
His arrested gaze fastened on me with sudden intensity. “How does it look through your eyes, Hattie?”
The edge of daylight slanted through the trees, glossing the leaves, rendering them almost translucent. The winding creek, constant as my heartbeat, rippled between two sloped shores as if God swept a fingertip along the earth, carving the waters to His liking. Truly, I could see His heavenly prints everywhere. “It’s a wild beauty.” My voice was quiet, and Jack leaned in as if my words were of utmost importance to him. “Something that should never be tamed, but cherished, just as the Creator designed.”
He swallowed. “That’s exactly how I feel.”
Naming his creek after me was thoughtful, but could I accept? This was his land. It was doubtful I’d ever visit this place again. I had no idea what my future held beyond Pittsburgh. That thought alone, sobered my judgment. “As much as I’m grateful, I can’t allow you to name a piece of your property after me.”
“I’m not just naming, I’m giving it to you. The creek is yours, Hattie.” His hand cupped my jaw, a tenderness overtaking his expression. “I could’ve easily gone to town and bought you flowers or candy. But I wanted to give you something that means something to me. A present with value.”
No one ever looked at me like this. Or touched me with such soul-rousing affection. I didn’t want to move. To speak. But the question burned within me, scalding. If I didn’t release it, I’d be charred with the fear of never knowing. “Why?”
He paused as if he chose his words with the same care he held my face. “Because you mean something to me. Your heart is valuable…to me.” Though he pulled his hand away, I remained caressed by what he’d spoken.
My breaths turned shallow. I had no idea how I could be of value to anyone. I, a scrawny orphan with nothing to my name. I had no training of anything useful. All I had was a head full of steamboat knowledge.
Before I lost nerve, I placed my hand on his jaw, mirroring his exact touch only a second ago, his late-day stubble scratching my palm. Our eyes held with a fierceness I couldn’t explain but could feel to my marrow. “Thank you, Jack.”
He gave a tight nod, his entire body tense as if harnessing a surge of emotion. I stood there for several heartbeats, then slowly peeled away from him. But Jack caught my hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist.
My skin tingled from the gentle pressure of his mouth, from the heat of his breath.
He released me with a smile that lit his eyes. “Ready to explore your creek?”
I could barely contain the swell of feelings. “Yes.”
He turned to retrieve the picnic bucket, and I ducked behind a massive oak. With quick fingers, I unbuckled my shoes and slipped out of them. Now for my stockings.
“Hattie?”
“Right here,” I called as I hopped on my left foot, pulling the soft cotton over my right toes. There. I released my skirt and emerged.
Jack’s gaze traveled to my bare feet.
A blush stretched to my earlobes. So far in this man’s presence I’d been caught ambushing him with a worn boot, discovered sprawled on the dirty floor beneath the pilothouse, and now seen exposing my freckled toes. Jack must have thought I hadn’t an ounce of feminine grace in me. “You can’t gift me a creek and not expect me to experience it.” Strengthening my grip on my shoes, I stepped into the water, moving inward until it reached my shins, the minnows scurrying at my intrusion.
Jack chuckled. “Then I must follow suit.” His acceptance of my antics oddly touched me. He leaned against the tree trunk and shed his boots. Within seconds, his trousers were rolled to his knees, his muscular calves in plain view.
Dear mercy. I was getting several gifts this evening. “Perfect. Now c’mon.” I grabbed his hand and we traipsed through my creek. We talked and laughed, and nothing on earth could have been finer.
“There’s something else I want to show you.” Jack moved a few paces ahead, then turned to face me. “It gets deeper from here on out. Venture to the shore, unless you’re in the mood to swim.”
Tempting, but I was already being scandalous enough. The ground was spongy beneath my soles as I treaded carefully toward the bank. As soon as my feet reached a grassy patch of shore, my eyes latched on to a familiar sight. “Paw paw trees!” I squealed at the row of fruit trees that grew native along the Ohio River. Clusters of bright green, varied-size paw paws dotted the branches. Could this place be any more perfect?
“There’s a larger patch farther up.” His tone dropped with hints of mystery. “Along with something else.”
I hastened my pace, mud pulling at the arches of my feet, but even that couldn’t slow me. Jack’s pleasing laughter carried over my shoulder. I descended the small hill along the brook’s edge and came to an abrupt stop. I was pretty sure a twig was wedged between my toes, but I couldn’t yank my gaze from the sight before me. “My creek has a waterfall.”
“Of course it does.” Jack came up behind me, his hand settling on the small of my back, bringing my attention to his smiling face. “I wouldn’t dare give you a waterfall-less creek.”
The whole scene seemed like a page from a fairy tale. Fairy tales had never been part of my world. But here, with Jack, it seemed anything was possible. Fireflies blinked every so often. A canopy of paw paw trees hedged both shores. The water—so murky a few steps backs—turned glassy as it poured off the cliff of rocks.
I faced Jack, who watched me with pleased interest. My breathless tone revealed my heart. “I love it.”
“I’m glad.”
It was then I noticed a pocket of space just behind the waterfall.
Jack followed my gaze. “Ah, you found our picnic spot.”
Dinner behind the falls? “Really?”
“We might get a tad damp,
but—”
“As if I care about that.” I snatched his hand in mine, tugging so hard I felt a knuckle pop under my grip. I threw a sheepish smile over my shoulder, and it prompted his deep chuckle.
There was a sliver of space between the water and the wall of earth. I slid into it, the mist from the falls spraying me. Jack handed me the bucket and angled to squeeze through. It was larger back there than I’d imagined. Someone could use this for a shelter. Maybe even light a fire. Though with twilight, the space was also darker than out in the open. More intimate.
Jack lifted the tarp from the top of the bucket and spread it over the damp ground.
I moved to unload the bucket, but Jack set a hand on mine. “No, allow me to serve you.”
With a smile, I sat on the tarp, placed my shoes beside me, and tugged the hem of my frock over my knees.
Jack went to work, grabbing a Beech-Nut Ginger Ale. I smiled. Had to have been Miss Wendall’s doing. Only she knew my weakness for ginger ale. He used his soldier knife to remove the bottle top and then handed the bottle to me. Next, he served a paper-wrapped sandwich and a tin of potato chips.
“Hattie.” He hesitated. “I know it’s not a fancy cuisine fit for a proper birthday party but—”
“It’s lovely.” I was gently emphatic. “All so very lovely.”
“And so are you.” Jack raised his bottle in a toast. “Here’s to you and your twenty-one voyages around the sun.”
We clinked our bottles and sipped. I couldn’t keep from grinning. No doubt I looked like the silliest creature on the planet, but Jack didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he hardly tore his gaze from mine.
Our picnic dinner was consumed, and even my constant swatting at mosquitos couldn’t lower my mood. The steady rush of water cascading only a yard from where I sat, the dotting lights of fireflies, the satisfied swell of my filled stomach, all worked together, prompting my contented sigh.
“Happy Birthday, Hattie.” The way he said my name, as if relishing each syllable, wrapping the word with all the care in his heart, affected my own in the most beautiful way.
“Thank you.” I twisted my napkin in my lap. “It’s all been…tonight’s just…” How could I smash giant feelings into little sentences? “Words are failing me.”
Jack eased closer, bringing with him the scent of spice, masculinity, and everything that made me thrum with longing. “I never thought I would see it.”
The deep rumble of his voice drew me closer to him. “See what?”
“You short on words.”
I gasped at his wickedness. “Maybe I can let this speak for me.” I leaned and reached my hand under the waterfall and splashed him. The icy water dotted his face, and a chuckle burst from my lips.
He blinked and wiped the moisture away using his sleeve. “When I was younger, I used to dip my head under the falls. It was exhilarating.” The corners of his eyes narrowed with merriment. “Perhaps you should try it.” He reached for my waist, and I squealed.
“Don’t you dare, Jack.” Not that I cared a straw about getting wet, but I refused the shame of being dunked. I laughed and squirmed out of his touch. I scurried away, but he caught me by the waist. “Of course I could always dunk you first.” I shoved hard against his chest, but he didn’t budge, my movement only bringing me closer to him.
Too close.
All amusement slipped into something else entirely. Something new.
His hands explored the curve of my waist as mine flattened against his expansive chest. I tipped my head toward his face, and my breath squeezed at the aching tenderness in his countenance.
His chin lowered an inch. Then another. The question swam in his ice-blue eyes. He wouldn’t dare make another move until I gave him permission. Because that was Jack. He’d never take what wasn’t offered.
Gaze tethered to his, I nodded.
His mouth captured mine, and my lashes drifted shut. I had no idea how else to respond, what to do, but the teasing pressure of Jack’s touch awakened everything in me. His lips coaxed mine, his mouth a gentle leader. His hands slid up my back, tangling into my hair.
He eased back and peered into my eyes. I’m not sure what he saw there, but it was enough to encourage him to press his lips against my temple, then trail delicious kisses along my jaw, each one causing my heart to pound harder. His mouth met mine again, and this time I was prepared, answering with inexperienced fervor. Jack moaned and crushed me into him. I nestled in his embrace, but then I yanked back in surprising reality.
“What’s the matter?” His brow creased in alarm.
My fingers flitted to my swollen lips. “I just kissed you.”
He relaxed and smiled. “You did.”
“But I don’t even know your real name. Which means I kissed a stranger.”
He brushed the hair from my forehead, his gaze following the movement as if every part of me fascinated him. “I’m actually named after my grandfather, Marshall being my first name. It was intended for me to go by my middle—Jonathan. But soon everyone started calling me Jack. And my last name’s Asbury.”
“Well then.” I wound my arms around his thick neck. “Now that we’re acquainted, Marshall Jonathan Jack Asbury, kiss me again.”
He did.
Chapter 24
Devyn
Devyn’s knuckles whitened as she held the half-torn picture with a shaky grip. Her great-grandfather? The photo was yellowed from age, but there was no mistaking his white officer’s uniform or the embroidered letters on his cap reading Mate. It didn’t seem possible. An officer of a steamboat? Her steamboat! Why hadn’t she known this?
Chase retrieved Hattie’s photo from his notebook and lifted it to meet the one in her hand.
A perfect match.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. She would have never identified him if it hadn’t been for his name scribbled on the back. “Marshall,” she whispered. She glanced to see Chase’s brow lift. She flipped the photo around, letting him read the faded scrawl. “That was my great-grandfather’s name.” Which didn’t make any sense because… “Oh.” Her hand fell limp to her side. “How could I forget?”
“Forget what?” Chase handed her Hattie’s picture, and she placed them side by side on the shelf.
She looked at the reunited pair. “His name was Marshall, but I think he went by his middle name. Jonathan. Or was it Jack? I can’t remember. Either way, it matches the mystery initial on the note we found in the songbook.”
Understanding marked Chase’s eyes. “So it’s possible it was your great-grandfather who planned the rendezvous.” He leaned in, his sleeve brushing her elbow, and examined the photo. “Makes sense.”
“Hardly. I never heard of him being an officer on the Idlewild. I thought he was a farmer.”
Chase gave her a small smile. “I mean it makes sense that he was the one who wrote the note. Wanting to see her.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Why do you say that?”
“Look closer.”
Hattie hugged the songbook to her chest with her right hand and with the other—Devyn gasped. “They’re holding hands.” In Hattie’s half, her left wrist and hand had been torn out. But in Marshall’s half, his fingers clasped hers. “Check out the way he’s gazing at her. It’s like—”
“He loves her.”
“No, no. He couldn’t.” But there it was, evidenced in sepia tones. While Hattie faced the camera, Devyn’s great-grandpa was angled toward Hattie, his eyes shining with affection. “He was married to my great-grandmother Mira for sixty years.”
Chase seemed impressed. “That’s a long time to be with one person.”
“Right? It’s creeping me out to think he was in love with someone else. You don’t think…he had an affair with Hattie?” Fire gathered in her chest. “Maybe that’s why the picture was torn. So no one would know they were ever together.”
His face softened. “Maybe Hattie was a secret love before Mira.”
Devyn’s gaze snapped to his. “Secret. Th
at’s it.”
“That’s what?”
“Can you drive a quad?”
His lips curved into an amused smirk. “You win the award for the most random remark of the day.”
Devyn smiled despite her crazy emotions. “What you just said reminded me of something. More like some place. And it happens to be in the same area I planned to take us to get what we need for the ball. We can walk, but the quads will get us there quicker.” She reached to lift the Victrola, but Chase was there.
He dimpled. “I got it.” With complete control, he gripped the sides of the gramophone and followed Devyn back up the stairs. He loaded the Victrola into his Jeep, and together they went to the large steel-framed barn.
With their quads freshly gassed and their heads properly helmeted, Devyn led the way. She’d forgotten a hair tie, and her makeshift knot lasted only a few turns into the drive. Chase dutifully followed on the well-worn trail, and they reached their destination in no time.
They killed their motors and tugged off their helmets.
“It’s pretty out here.” Chase’s gaze wandered the wooded space. “Do I hear water?”
“Behind you.” She pointed to the narrow path that had born the marks of her sneakers for years. “I’m going to show you my favorite part of the property.” After grabbing a few burlap sacks from the dump cart and tossing a utility knife into one of them, she motioned for Chase to walk with her. Of course, she’d only taken a few steps before he insisted on carrying everything.
Her fingers ran across the tips of the tall ferns. “I wanted a special dessert to serve at the ball. Something that grows along the Ohio River to go along with the theme.” They reached the creek, and she gestured to the patch of trees surrounding them.
“Paw paws.” He inspected the low hanging fruit. “You know, I’ve never tasted one.”
“What?” Devyn’s brow spiked. “Pfft. And you call yourself a Kentucky boy.” She examined several on the branch. They were all in varying states of ripeness, but the last week of September was the prime time for picking. “Here’s a good one.” She snapped it free.
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