Undercurrent of Secrets

by Rachel Scott McDaniel

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I have a whole folder of new works. All inspired by you and God.”

  She couldn’t wait to read them. “I thought you were angry with me. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day.”

  He groaned. “And it was torture not answering your calls.” The soberness in his eyes confirmed his words. “But Steph made me promise not to talk to you until tonight. She said you’d try to talk me out of the reveal.”

  “I would have.”

  “And she also knew I’m crazy about you and would do anything you asked.”

  Her meddling boss caught her attention, and with a megawatt smile, pointed to the deck, mouthing. “Go!” Then she puckered her lips in a kissy face.

  This time Devyn did snort. “My boss is suggesting we make out on the deck.”

  Chase breathed a laugh. “I’ve always liked her.”

  “But first.” She grabbed his hand. “I found something this morning buried by the waterfall.” She filled him in on how she discovered the box. “I brought it with me, hoping you would show up tonight, and that we could open it together.”

  His smile dimmed. “Are you sure? It might contain something upsetting.” He stroked her cheek with his knuckle. “Tonight you’re to celebrate. Your eyes are too pretty to fill with tears.”

  “I’m sure.” She pressed her hand over his. “If the box holds something about Great-Grandfather and Hattie, what better place to open it than right here where their relationship probably began?”

  The concern tightening the edges of his eyes relaxed. “In honor of love that was gained and lost.”

  “You almost sound like a poet.” She quipped a sassy smile, and he reached for her. Getting caught up in his arms was such a beautiful pastime.

  He kissed the tender spot behind her ear. Then her neck. “Go get your box, love. We’ll go through it together. And then we’ll obey your boss and make out on the deck.”

  Her grin widened. “Deal.” She rushed to the galley where her brother was expertly torching the crème brûlés. He flashed a thumbs-up and went back to work. Within seconds, the box was in Devyn’s hands, and she joined Chase on the stern, overlooking the paddle wheel.

  With everyone settled for dinner, they were the only ones out there.

  Chase glanced at the box and then her. “Ready?”

  “I am.” She unlatched the lid and lifted it. Her gaze fell on a note, zeroing in on the first line. “Oh.” The container wobbled in her hand.

  Chase steadied her. “What is it?”

  “Something I never expected.”

  Chapter 35

  Jack scrubbed a hand over his face and winced at the sunlight spearing through the cabin door’s window. He must have fallen asleep. Surprising, considering he’d hardly rested since learning about Hattie. He’d only existed in a dismal haze.

  His bags stacked beside his bed. His bus ticket for Kentucky tucked in his coat pocket. He couldn’t leave this boat fast enough. Everywhere he turned, he’d expected Hattie to appear. Visions of her, so full of life, so beautiful, invaded his every waking and non-waking moment.

  For sanity’s sake, he needed to escape the torture.

  A knock at his door triggered his scowl. He was in no mood to deal with people. Thankfully the Idlewild would remain docked all this week. The excursions had been canceled, the crew released from duties until the following Monday. By then, he’d be gone.

  Someone rapped again.

  He grunted a haphazard, “Come in.”

  Duffy shuffled inside, his face as ghostly white as his captain’s hat. Since that awful morning, the aged riverman seemed to lose all will to go on. He’d kept to his room, rejecting food and company. In those late-night hours, Duffy’s broken sobs had bled through the hollow walls.

  Jack had no more tears to cry. Only scorching anger and emptiness.

  “Have you changed your mind about coming?” Duffy’s hunched posture emphasized his loose-fitting uniform. “To pay your respects.”

  “No.” Jack refused to attend Hattie’s funeral. Her body wouldn’t even be there. Fire had destroyed her remains. His stomach twisted hard, the nausea resurfacing. He missed her. Ached for her. Misery consumed him, making him wish it had been him in that blaze rather than his beloved. For it was no different than what he experienced now. He’d no life in his bones. No solid beat of his heart. All because of Bradford Fairview. “If I go, I’ll hurt him. Or worse.” Authorities had closed the case. They’d refused to consider foul play—even with Charles Jones’s account of the thugs. Bradford Fairview no doubt paid a small fortune to keep things quiet, to publish his version of Hattie’s death. “Do you know what they’re saying happened?”

  Duffy nodded. “Bunch of rot.”

  Radio. Newspapers. All the places Hattie had once wanted for allies had turned against her, claiming she’d fled to the cabin to meet a beau. His hands clenched. They’d further stated she must have tired of waiting and drifted asleep only to knock over a kerosene lamp, setting the place on fire.

  Lies. Jones’s descriptions of Hattie’s abductors matched the men at the Louisville wharf. No doubt hired by Hattie’s uncle, but Jack had no proof. “What can we do, sir?” Agitation simmered beneath his skin. “We can’t let Fairview get away with this.”

  Duffy’s shoulder’s lowered. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything at the moment.”

  Jack ground his jaw. Couldn’t this have been avoided? If Duffy had only told Hattie sooner, they could have thought through it all. They would have had time to invent a sound plan to keep her from harm. She could still be here. In his arms.

  “I better get going.” The man who could navigate any boat through stormy waters had no grit left in his eyes.

  The memorial service Fairview arranged for his niece was predicted to be a fancy fanfare. All the while the man himself was utterly responsible for Hattie’s death. It was maddening.

  Duffy turned toward the door, then stilled. “Here’s this.” He shakily pulled something from his trouser pocket and held it out.

  It was a torn photograph. But only of Jack. He recognized it immediately—the picture taken by the newspaperman the day he and Hattie had talked on the texas roof. “Where’s the other half? I’d rather have the side of her.”

  “Charles Jones got it. I gave it to him so he’d know who’d he be protecting.” He shuddered, and Jack felt a slice of pity. Hattie had been Duffy’s daughter, maybe not in blood but in everything else. “I was going to ask for it back, but the young’un disappeared. He took what happened personally.”

  He should. The kid had failed to keep the woman Jack loved alive. He glanced at the photo with a tight grimace. What would he do with a picture of himself? Why would Duffy even give this to him? But upon closer inspection, he saw it.

  Hattie’s hand was in his. His fingers wrapped around hers.

  Jack made a fist then unclenched, trying to summon the feeling of her warm palm against his. But no, everything was cold. Numb. “I’ll keep an eye on the boat while you’re at the funeral.”

  Duffy left without another word. With the rest of the crew gone, Jack would be alone aboard the Idlewild for his last remaining hours as first mate.

  He set up patrol on the far side of the bow, sitting in the drizzling rain, letting the sound of water slapping against the hull fill his vacant thoughts.

  By heaven, he’d loved her. Still loved her. He didn’t want his admiration for her to wane. Didn’t he owe that to—

  Something moved to his right. He launched to his feet. Someone was on the boat. A flash of black. But then, nothing. Had he imagined it? He bounded up the deck stairs two at a time, his gaze darting. Light footsteps came from behind. He pivoted toward the sound. There. The dark figure slid into a cabin.

  Hattie’s.

  Smart move, Fairview. The man would know that everyone who loved his niece would be at the funeral. What better time to send his crony to search Hattie’s cabin for evidence that could be used aga
inst him, or to find something to further besmirch her character.

  Fury sluiced his veins. If he couldn’t protect Hattie in life, then he would in death. He stormed the deck and threw open the door. With a growl, he lunged, tackling the trespasser, sending them both to the floor.

  “My goodness, Jack.” That voice. That familiar, haunting voice.

  The hood was drawn, veiling the intruder’s face, but Jack had to see. Had to be sure it wasn’t his morbid imagination. He pushed back the damp cloak, revealing an angelic face.

  How? He needed sleep. Was he asleep? Because the woman pinned beneath him looked identical to the woman he loved. The woman who’d died.

  “Jack.” She cupped his face, her fingers icy, her eyes intent. “It’s me.”

  “Hattie.” He could only whisper. If he spoke too loud, she might disappear.

  She pressed her cold lips to his. “I know this is a shock. But it has to be this way.”

  He blinked. She was here. “You’re alive.” And before she could respond, he lowered and kissed her. He’d never been so desperate, and his touch was nothing if that. His hands buried in her hair, slid over her slim shoulders, down her arms. He pressed his body closer to hers, making sure she was real.

  Hattie responded in kind, fully convincing him she was indeed flesh and blood. “My word, if that doesn’t bring a lady back from the dead.” She spoke against his lips.

  Jack should probably get off her, but he was mesmerized. Her eyes took on a dark greenish tint against her cloak, her golden hair fell in loose curls around her feminine jaw. Dirt smeared her face, but it only made her more beautiful. The markings of her survival.

  “Now we’re even.” Her mouth lifted into a teasing smile, and he kissed it. “I mistook you as a stowaway, and now you’ve thought me one.” Her gentle laughter was the most captivating sound in the world. “Though I have to say, your tackle had a bit more umph.”

  Her words snapped his alarm. He rolled away, his gaze sweeping her form. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not in the least.” She moved to a seated position.

  He moved beside her, keeping close. “What happened? We thought …that is…you’re supposed to be—”

  “Charred to ash.” The good humor slipped from her expression. “About that. Well. It’s a bit of a long story.”

  “Tell me.” He savored the melodic sound of her voice. A voice he thought he’d never hear again. The look of love she shot him compelled his arm to slide around her. She was here. Thank God, she was here!

  “The brutes tied me up.” She pushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “You keep looking at me like that. It’s hard to concentrate.”

  “I can’t help it.” He leaned over and kissed her again.

  “Fine by me.” She smoothed his brow, her eyes filling with concern. No doubt she saw how rugged and fatigued he was. “I’m sorry.” Her other hand scraped against his stubbled cheek.

  “No apologies, my love. I only want to hear how it is you came back to me.”

  “Like I said.” She removed her touch. “The men bound me and threw me in a cabin. Then torched it.”

  He stiffened.

  “But remember, a lady always keeps her weapon at the ready.” She hiked up her skirt, revealing the garter and knife. “It came in handy. I was able to slice through the ropes and escape.”

  “But the cabin was on fire. We thought you were trapped inside. Young Jones found your necklace.” He withdrew the scorched links from his pocket.

  Her eyes widened. “I must’ve lost it when I was crawling beneath the stove.”

  “The stove?”

  She nodded, her smile adorably smug. “Those idiots couldn’t have picked a better place. You see, I knew of the Hatcher family from Duffy. He told me stories about their role in the Underground Railroad. Those seeking freedom hid in the cabins, and if there was any trouble, they fled through tunnels.”

  “That’s how you escaped?”

  “There was a trap door under the woodstove. It was dark and thrilling!”

  That was his girl. His adventure-loving girl. And for the life of him, he couldn’t stop kissing her.

  She blushed at his attention. “I’m glad you missed me.”

  “Missed you? It was more than that. I never knew such pain. I thought the woman I loved was dead.”

  Her smile sobered. “You love me?”

  “With everything I am.” He’d tell her every day of his life if she gave him the honor. “I love you, Hattie Harriet Fairview Louis.” He said all her names like she had his on the night of their first kiss.

  She leaned into him and he crushed her close, not wanting to let go.

  “Jack.” She nestled into his chest. “What I’m about to say might shock you.”

  “More than you being alive? I think I can handle anything.”

  She leaned back, her gaze steady, resolve in her features. “I want to remain dead.”

  Chapter 36

  Hattie

  Jack’s brows lowered to a straight slash across his forehead. “I don’t understand.”

  How could I explain? “It has to be this way. Harriet Fairview has to remain dead to the world.” And with that, Hattie too. I couldn’t return to the way things had been.

  “My uncle needs to believe I’m dead.”

  Jack’s mouth opened, but I cut him off. “I know it seems drastic, but after hiding in a tunnel for a day and half, and the miles I’ve walked under the cover of darkness to get here, I’ve had plenty of time to think it over.”

  Jack launched to his feet and helped me to mine. “You can’t let Fairview get away with this. Confront him. Make him pay for what he did to you and your parents.”

  Revenge swept on the shores of my soul, but I wouldn’t wade in the bitter waters. “It won’t work. It wasn’t Uncle who tried to kill me.”

  “It was men he hired.”

  “But I can’t prove it.”

  Jack’s shoulders lowered slightly but his jaw set like stone.

  “Don’t you see?” I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my cheek. “Even if I denounce my inheritance, it still falls to my children. My uncle won’t stop. It’s safer for me to be dead in his eyes. In everyone’s eyes.”

  “That’s letting him win.”

  “If he knows I’m alive it puts us all in danger. This is the escape I prayed for. Jack, I don’t want the heiress life.” I reached for his other hand, clasping them both. “I don’t want to marry a stranger. I don’t want to live in fear of my uncle. I want to be free.”

  “But then you’ll have to give up your life here as well.” Sadness crept into his gaze. “You won’t be able to return to the Idlewild.”

  And that hurt the most. My boat. My life here. Everything I’d ever known. But God had taken me this far. “I know.”

  “Hattie.” Jack slid his hands from mine and lowered to one knee. “Marry me.”

  My balance went askew, and I placed my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. “Are you serious?”

  “I just got you back. I can’t give you up again.” His face was ruggedly gorgeous, his eyes so brimming with affection I could hardly breathe. “Please say yes. We can return to my land in Kentucky, build a cabin near your creek.” He stared at my left hand. “I don’t have a ring, but I promise to buy you one that will—”

  “Oh, Jack!” I lunged into his arms, nearly sending us to the wood floor for the second time today.

  “Is that a yes?” He laughed into my hair.

  The door to my stateroom yawned open, and Jack scrambled in front of me.

  Duffy poked his head inside. “Jack, what are you doing in Hat—” His gaze landed on me, and he startled. “My girl?” His voice filled with wonder, then broke upon a withering sob. “My girl!”

  He shuffled forward as if in a daze. I’d witnessed the disbelief in Jack’s eyes, but it was ten times more severe in Duffy’s.

  “It’s okay, Duff. I’m well.” I rushed to him and hugged his neck. His arms clasped a
round me in a trembling embrace.

  I informed Duffy of all that had happened. He scratched his gray temple, his gaze never leaving mine as if I’d disappear into thin air. I finished with how I’d accepted Jack’s proposal, and Duffy squeezed my elbow.

  “I’ll marry you two.”

  As a steamboat captain he was licensed to officiate weddings. Something of course I’d known, but still, it was all happening delightfully fast.

  “What about a license, sir?” Jack stood and grasped my hand in his.

  “Leave that to me.” The twinkle was back in Duffy’s eyes. “I’ve a friend who works in the courts who owes me a favor.”

  I was to be married to Jack Asbury. “But I can’t go by my name anymore.”

  “The papers all know you by Harriet Fairview, and you can’t return to Hattie Louis either. Thanks to Face.” Duffy grunted. “He leaked to the press about you living aboard here. Told them your name, everything. He said it was to honor your memory, but I say it was to put himself in the spotlight.” His head shook in disapproval, his gaze sharpening on my face. “You look pale. I’ll fetch some food.” He slipped out the door.

  I turned my attention to Jack. “I must be renamed.” Changing identities was becoming an irksome habit of mine.

  Jack’s lips twitched. “I have a suggestion.”

  “Don’t you dare say Admiral.”

  He laughed. “Maybe not the full, but how about the heart of the word? Mira.” His gaze turned tender. “Mrs. Mira Asbury has a beautiful ring to it.”

  With that enamoring look in his eyes, he could call me Bernadine Buggywampus and I’d dumbly answer. But he was right, Mira was a lovely name. “I like it.”

  His head lowered, lips brushing my temple. “I’ll only call you Admiral when we’re alone.” His husky undertone spurred my blush. Soon we’d be very alone and closer than I’d ever been to anyone.

  Duffy returned, setting food and drink on the dresser. “Time to have us a wedding.” He smiled, but there were hints of sadness in his face. He knew the result of this. That after today, we’d never see each other again.