Undercurrent of Secrets

by Rachel Scott McDaniel

  Chase looked doubtful. “How can you tell?”

  “It’s kinda like bananas. The blacker it is, the riper the fruit. The solid light green ones aren’t ready to eat yet. But this beauty?” She raised the pear-sized, black-speckled paw paw. “Is perfect right now. Ready for an education, Mr. Jones?”

  “Only if you’re the teacher.”

  She pulled the utility knife from the bag Chase held and sliced open the paw paw. She showed him the inside of the fruit.

  His face puckered in disgust. “It looks like snot.”

  She laughed. “Let’s say it’s a custardy texture.” She used the tip of the knife to remove a handful of seeds. “Ready to taste?”

  “Are you getting me back for teasing you about the non-mouse rag?”

  “Here, I’ll go first so you know I’m not poisoning you.” She swept up a dollop of paw paw flesh onto her finger and ate it before it slid off, the flavor a gentle blend of banana and mango. “Now, your turn.”

  He took the smallest sample possible and hesitantly tasted. All doubt left his face. “Not bad.” He scooped some more onto his finger. “I’m impressed.”

  “Now imagine this as a pudding with a little more sugar and some fancy garnish.That’s what we’re serving our esteemed patrons and judges.” She sampled another scoop of fruit before closing the knife and returning it to the bag.

  “So how many paw paws do we need?”

  “At least a hundred. More if we can.”

  Chase let out a low whistle and turned a slow circle. “I’m game. But are there enough?”

  “There’s a decent cluster here, but let’s start at the larger patch up the creek.” And up the creek held one of the most beautiful spots in all the world. At least to her. Her gaze connected with Chase’s. He’d given up a beautiful Saturday to trudge into dirty basements, trample muddy paths, and perhaps blister his hands with the amount of picking ahead of them. All with an easy grin on his handsome face.

  She wove her fingers into his.

  His dimples appeared like a stamp of approval, and he tugged her closer until their sides brushed.

  “It’s just up that small hill.” She nodded ahead. “Careful, the shoreline gets rockier here.”

  They crested the incline, and Chase paused. “A waterfall.”

  “It’s nothing epic.” And it really wasn’t, compared to the Ohio Falls or even the others around the state. But it was special to her.

  Today her little waterfall was showing off. The creek water cascaded over the rocks, the mist catching the light and producing a rainbow of sorts.

  Chase’s expression turned thoughtful, and Devyn tried not to read too much into it. She’d learned her lesson after bringing Travis to this exact spot.

  “‘Secret Creek,’” Chase read, his gaze pinned to the wooden sign that’d been cemented into this soil longer than she could remember.

  “My great-grandfather named this creek. He built this sign.” She brushed a hand over the two familiar words etched into a sturdy plank of wood. “This is what had me freaking out over what you said in the basement. Secret. You see, there are stories and traditions surrounding this place.”

  “What kind of stories?”

  “According to Grandpa, this creek once had another name. But my great-grandfather refused to tell anyone what it was.”

  “Interesting.”

  “That’s not all. Grandpa said that his mother, my great-grandmother Mira, would tease his father about this creek being named after one of his loves. It was all in jest, but what if…” She hesitated. “What if it was Hattie? What if he brought her here?”

  “We definitely know he had a thing for her. It’s clear enough in his expression.”

  “But then, how was your great-grandfather involved in this? Why did he have the other half of the picture?” Devyn’s fingers fanned against her open mouth. “Do you think there was a love triangle?”

  Chase smiled at her theatrics. “Could be. Great-Grandpap was certainly distressed about something concerning Hattie.” He leaned against the sturdy signpost. “Maybe she was a player and ditched them both. It was the twenties, after all. The era of the flapper and rebellion.”

  But Hattie didn’t look like that kind of woman. Her dress seemed plain, her face void of cosmetics. She had a wholesomeness about her. But if neither Chase’s nor her great-grandfather had married her, what happened to her?

  “So you told me the story.” Chase folded his arms, the afternoon sun playing in his hair, giving his dark locks a blueish cast. “What of these traditions?”

  “You sure you want to know?” She leaned closer to him, as if her words held a world of mystery. “The tradition is that every time a person visits here, he or she must confess a secret.”

  Chase’s eyes widened as if he’d swallowed a paw paw fruit whole. Was he afraid she’d make him play along? Of course he held a secret. But she wouldn’t make him uneasy about it. Or make him confess about his illness. Maybe she should she tell him she had already figured it out. Or kinda figured it out. Perhaps that would make things easier for him.“Since you’re not a family member, you’re not obligated to anything.” Which had never been a rule, but with traditions there was always leeway, right?

  He stood to full height. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you.” He swallowed. “It’s not easy for me.”

  She flashed her palms. “You don’t have to. Really.”

  “But with the secret comes the fear that you’ll look at me differently. With all the phone calls, the texts. I’m sure you’ve been wondering.” He blew out a breath and raked his hand through his hair, tousling it.

  Her mother had that same fear when she reentered society after chemo. She hadn’t wanted people to treat her like she was fragile, easily breakable. Mom hadn’t liked the way even her closest friends had viewed her. “It’s okay, Chase. We can leave things in the past. If it helps, I kinda already know.” She placed a hand on his arm, and he instantly tensed. “At least I have an inkling.”

  Chase remained frozen, his eyes filling with what Devyn could only label stark terror. “You do?” He stepped back, and her hand fell to her side. “How? When?” Another step. “Did you look at my notebook?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t need to. All the signs were there.”

  He blinked with a shake of his head. “I can explain. I wanted to tell you. I was afraid of what you might think. It’s a part of my life I’m not used to sharing.”

  She’d never seen him this shaken. Her heart tore at his labored breathing. “We don’t have to discuss it. I know it’s hard for you.”

  “It’s awkward for me to open up about it.”

  “Then I won’t press you to.”

  His head reared back. “Just like that?”

  Devyn smiled with a nod. “Just like that.”

  He moved toward her and kissed her forehead. “I don’t deserve you.” He nuzzled her hair.

  “How about I take your turn?” Her pulse pounded at his nearness. “I’ll tell two secrets to cover us both.”

  Chase eased back and opened his mouth to argue, but Devyn shook her head. “I’m an Asbury. I have to keep the tradition.” She smiled. “Okay, first.” She took a breath and looked around. “I confess I enjoy this view more than the one on the balcony at my penthouse.” She was certain Chase would call her crazy. Who would trade the lights and colors of the city for this spot?

  But instead he nodded. “I can understand that.”

  Her jaw slacked. “Really?”

  His chuckle was low, deep, and stirred a longing in her to hear it as much as possible. “You seem shocked.”

  “I am.”

  “This place has natural beauty. The city lights are nice, but they’re still artificial. That’s not the case here.”

  “No, this is all God’s artwork.” Her gaze lingered on the creek, glistening with the sunlight’s kiss.

  He draped the burlap bags over a low hanging branch and turned in
a slow circle, admiring the surroundings. “I can see why this is your favorite spot on the property.”

  “This isn’t my favorite spot. It’s over here. Come see.” She moved to take his hand, then stilled. “Oh, you may get a little wet.” He may not even value it like she did. Her arm fell to her side. “Never mind, it’s a stupid idea. I don’t want your boots to get ruined.”

  Chase swept both her hands in his and eased closer. “There’s nothing stupid about this. Take me to your favorite spot.” His touch was as soft as his eyes. Those granite hues now a warm gray like her favorite fall sweater. If only she could wrap herself up in them.

  “We’re going behind the waterfall.” She took a few steps on the squishy ground and stepped onto the larger rocks to avoid the muddy bank. “Just right here. See this little space? I used to fit through so easily when I was younger.” She cast him a quick glance. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  She tugged him close and they squeezed through the narrow opening between the rock and waterfall. Once again, her heart filled with awe.

  He studied the space, his gaze lit with interest. “I’ve never stood behind a waterfall.”

  “I love this place. Always have. When Mitch and I were younger, we begged Grandpa to let us camp all night here. Of course he never let us. Now, all grown up, I think it’s so…” She’d better not finish that. This spot was precious to her. She knew better than to expect others to value it like her.

  “You think it’s what?” he prompted.

  “It’s special here. We’re tucked into the heart of the earth. The waterfall closes us in from the rest of the world. It’s just me…and you.” She did everything she could to avoid saying it was romantic. But to her, it was.

  “So how many men have you lured back here, Miss Asbury?”

  “Only you.”

  His eyes revealed his shock.

  She ran a nervous hand over her tangled hair, frizzing from the water’s mist. “I tried to bring Travis here. But he complained all the walk over. There are too many bugs. The temp’s way hot. No cell service.” She sighed. “When we reached the falls, I didn’t bother bringing him back here, because I knew he wouldn’t cherish it like I do.”

  “Yet you brought me here.”

  She nodded as Chase moved close.

  “Thank you.” He slid a hand behind her neck, easing her closer with the most excruciating tenderness. “I cherish everything I see here.”

  “For my second secret.” Her face was only inches from his. “I was disappointed you didn’t kiss me in the basement.” She was surprised at her boldness, but his penetrating gaze seemed to draw the words from her heart.

  “Here’s a secret to match yours.” His head lowered, his breath warm against her cheek. “I wanted to kiss you the first time we met, when you were dancing on the stern.”

  She blinked and pulled her head back, his hand slipping to her shoulder. “But I was ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculously intriguing.” He didn’t stop his pursuit. His hand settled on the nape of her neck, his fingers catching in her hair. “I’ve never been more drawn to another person the way I am to you.”

  She flattened her hands on his chest, his heartbeat steady against her palm. “I can say the same about you.”

  “Let’s tell each other another way.” He lowered his mouth to hers, conveying his heart in the most thorough delivery.

  Chapter 25

  Hattie

  “Clem?” I rushed into the pilothouse and nearly knocked into the gruff pilot. “Have you seen Duffy?”

  He grunted, his jowls shaking with muted indignance.“Said he needed to run an emergency wire. Should be back any minute.” He glanced at his pocket watch, and a scowl puckered between his bushy gray brows. “He better be, since we’re launching soon.”

  Emergency wire? What was so important that the captain would abandon the Idlewild an hour before departure? Usually Duffy would send a deckhand or the young striker from the engine room to do his bidding, even the purser on occasion. Why go himself? Unless he didn’t want anyone else knowing the contents of the message.

  Had this to do with rumrunning? Was Duffy contacting that Mr. Jones fellow? My conscience poked my feeble will with an accusing jab. I couldn’t protect Duffy any longer. But could I turn him in to the authorities? The suppressed secrets had piled in my chest, expounding, pressing so hard against my sternum, it hurt to draw breath.

  I had to tell Jack.

  But how could I deliver my message without anyone else hearing? An idea flashed, and I scrambled to gather a pencil and my songbook. I scratched the message, Need to speak with you alone. Very important.

  My fingers snapped the book shut, and I set off in search of Jack. My legs carried me to all the decks only to find him on the texas roof near my calliope. The next few moments would determine my wisest decision or my biggest mistake.

  He brightened when he saw me, and my heart lightened at his welcome. Since our kiss a week ago, we’d hardly found any chance to be alone. Running excursions and shipments had filled our days, but that hadn’t stopped him from slipping notes under my door in the morning once Miss Wendall had left to prepare meals.

  Love notes.

  Reading them were like gentle caresses to my heart. The sensible thing would be to get rid of them to avoid exposure, but I couldn’t. So I had become creative as to where I hid the treasured words.

  “There you are, Jack.” My tone was more breathless than it should be.

  “Afternoon, Hattie. Always a pleasure to see you.” His words were formal, polite, but his eyes—my goodness—I could see affection welling in the crystalline blues.

  “I need your opinion on a song.”

  His head tilted, but nothing else betrayed the confusion I knew he harbored. I’d never sought his thoughts on songs before. “Right here.” I opened the calliope book to the spot I needed him to see. “Here’s a pencil if you need to make corrections.” I handed over both items.

  He read my words, his mouth curling into a small smile at my endeavor of subterfuge. He scribbled something and handed it back to me, his fingers lingering longer than necessary.

  My eyes scanned his return note.

  Tonight. I’ll handle everything.

  The dread in my stomach unraveled. Soon, I’d share the weight of this burden with Jack, and he’d know what to do.

  “Is my suggestion to your liking?”

  “Of course.” I hugged the songbook to my chest.

  Jack took a step toward me and subtly caught my fingers in his. His voice dropped to a whisper, “One day, sweetheart—”

  “Stand right there for only a second longer.”

  I turned toward the unfamiliar voice in time to hear the unmistakable sound of a lens shutter.

  A man with a press label stuffed into his hatband lowered his camera. “Sorry for not giving a warning, but I wanted to capture you both as you were.”

  Jack released my hand and stood taller. “And you are?”

  “Kent Winston from the Steubenville Herald. I’m covering publicity of the Idlewild during its stay here. My boss wants me to get some photos to go along with the article.”

  I put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, raised on my tiptoes, and whispered in his ear. “Duffy never allows my picture taken. A matter of decorum, since I’m not an official part of the crew.” I hated saying the words and seeing the flicker of anger in Jack’s eyes, but if Duffy found out my photo was captured, he’d be furious.

  “I’ll deal with it,” Jack reassured me. “It’s probably best for my image not to be plastered as well. I don’t recall ever meeting anyone from this area, but I should take precautions not to have my cover exposed.”

  Jack approached the gentleman and led him to the side. I couldn’t understand what Jack was saying, but whatever it was the man readily nodded. Satisfied, I went to my stateroom to dress for the excursion.

  Duffy returned only moments before launch. His mood was irritated at best, and so I
did what I could not to aggravate him as he welcomed guests. He said all the right words, but I could see the splash of annoyance in his eyes. Whatever his trip up the hill was about, it hadn’t been a pleasant one. Maybe he held regret over his actions. Maybe he’d told Mr. Jones he wouldn’t go through with the illegal plans. I could only hope.

  As the hours wore on, I busied myself in the main hall tending the needs of guests and helping the purser sell the confections Miss Wendall had baked early that morning. After we ended the launch, we had an hour to clean before the sunset excursion.

  I figured Jack wouldn’t seek me out, but disappointment still coursed through me as I lined up to count the boarding passengers for the evening’s jaunt. The excursion ran smoothly, and we had a decent-sized crowd.

  With the cleanup done, everyone, fatigued and sluggish, set off toward their staterooms. If tonight would repeat the last time Jack summoned me, he would approach my door about midnight. But the twelve o’clock hour came and went. My eyelids weighted. My stockings itched. With a sigh, I slipped my nightgown over my head.

  Maybe Jack realized there was no way to easily sneak off the wharf, since we were moored in clear view of the town hotel. There weren’t any trees to shield us. Nothing to keep our rendezvous hidden.

  Careful not to jostle the double-framed bed, I climbed to the top bunk. A tight band stretched between my temples, the hammering ache keeping time with my thudding heart. I punched my pillow, fidgeted my sheet, straining to get comfortable without waking my cabinmate.

  The pulsing intensified. No, wait. The tapping seemed external. Urgent. I rolled to my side and jolted at Jack’s silhouette, unmistakable through the glass. He drummed the window again, the sound reverberating off the walls. I skittered off my bunk. Didn’t he realize how loud he was being? Surely, he would wake Miss Wendall.

  I scrambled to the door just as he was about to assault the window again. “Jack, what’s the matter?”