I couldn’t dwell on it, or my heart would chip into pieces. This plan was for Duffy’s safety too. The sooner I left this boat and Pittsburgh, the sooner all our lives would be free from danger. At present, I needed to focus on getting married. My gaze landed on the ivory gown Duffy had given me for my birthday. “Would you gentleman give me a moment.” I went toward the small closet and pulled the dress from the hanger. “I want to at least look like a bride on my wedding day.”
Jack flashed an affectionate smile, and Duffy nodded. They left, and I washed my face, fixed my hair with the fancy grooming set, pulling wispy sides up in the jeweled combs. Today Harriet Fairview was mourned at some memorial service in Pittsburgh and Hattie Louis would remain in the deep breadths of the Idlewild. From this day forward, I’d be Mira, the devoted wife of Jack Asbury. Together we would build our life on God and our love for each other.
In the main hall of the Idlewild, while the rest of the world was oblivious, I pledged my life to Jack. The adoration welling in his gaze overwhelmed me. Duffy had even choked on a few words. He announced our union, and it was I who couldn’t hold back the tears of gratitude, especially when Jack kissed me. I’d been given a second chance at life. A life that wasn’t attached to a family with cruel intentions. I now belonged to a man who’d cherish, protect, and grow old with me.
I gathered what few belongings I had, and Jack took them so I could say farewell to Duffy.
His age-spotted hand cupped my cheek as a tear slid down his.
I hugged him fiercely, taking in the scent of his cigar and the choppy beating of his old heart.
He patted my back. “Never forget how much I love you, child.”
My soul swelled at the words that I’d longed to hear from him. And now I was to leave and never return. I couldn’t say farewell. I just clung to him. “I love you too, Papa.” I turned away, afraid my heart would snap into splinters.
I had one more goodbye to deliver.
I pressed my cheek against the white-washed wall of the Idlewild. “So long, dear friend.” I could almost feel her pulse. “Thank you for the adventures.” This ole gal had embraced me, carried me on beautiful journeys, and sheltered me when I feared stepping out onto the shores.
I peered beyond the rails, beyond all I’d ever known. My courage, so robust only moments ago, shriveled and twisted, the familiar dread clutching with renewed strength. Could I do this? Spend the rest of my days in an unfamiliar world? Face the strong winds of life without the shelter of this place? My home?
Jack’s warm hand pressed my lower back. “What’s wrong?”
My palms still flattened against the Idlewild’s wall, I lowered my lashes. “I don’t know if I have enough in me to face the wind.” My voice was as willowy as the reeds lining the river.
Jack hands bracketed my shoulders, and he turned me to face him, realization settling in the softening of his brow. He must have recalled our conversation on the texas roof after he’d commanded Clem to steer into the gusty weather rather than back into it.
“That’s where you’re different from her.” The pad of his thumb gently swept over my cheek. “The Idlewild fails when low on power, but your supply of strength comes from a greater Source. God’s in you.” He pressed a kiss against my forehead then laughed.
I pulled back, mildly hurt at his ill-timed humor.
“Hattie, you tackle stowaways, raise your chin at gunpoint, bash attackers’ kneecaps, race through forbidden tunnels.” Admiration built in his beautiful eyes and his tone hushed to a reverent whisper. “You cheated death.” His lips feathered against mine. “No, my love, fear has no victory over you. It’s the other way around.” His mouth captured mine, sealing his words in my heart.
The kiss was brief for we hadn’t time to linger, but it would forever remain one of my most treasured moments. Jack helped me back into my cloak. With one final wave at Duffy, we stepped off the Idlewild and into our new life together.
Chapter 37
Devyn
Using a gardening spade, Chase patted down the last scoop of concrete around the 6 x 6 pine beam. The man cut a fine figure in a tux, but seeing him in work jeans, a worn T-shirt, and his toned arms dusted with Quikrete mix, it was a whole different kind of attractive.
Warm spells were scarce this late in October, so they’d taken advantage of the sunny afternoon to repost the creek’s sign. The trees shed their colorful leaves with each kiss of wind upon their branches. Fall had always been Devyn’s favorite season, but this year it was more meaningful, for she saw the beauty in letting go.
Chase stood to full height and examined his efforts. Satisfied, he set his sights on Devyn, the sunlight playing in his artfully mussed hair. “You really know how to throw a wild celebration party.” The curve of his full lips belied the slow shake of his head.
“We have each other and a host of insects.” She swatted at a cluster of gnats swirling above her. “What says party more than that?” Since today was the first day they’d had off together, they’d decided to celebrate the liberating fact that the Dream River Ball was over.
He shrugged. “Your great-grandmother faked her own death. I think you can come up with something a bit more exciting than this.” He gave a slow wink and tugged the gloves from his hands. “Genius is in your blood.”
She warmed at the hints of pride in his voice. It still amazed her how it had all unfolded—that Hattie and Mira were the same person. “I happen to remember this being your idea.” After Chase had revealed his identity, he’d been swarmed with press, invites from talk shows, and casseroles from hopeful women. The man had practically begged her for a trip to the cabin, away from the demands of his growing fan base.
“I wasn’t aware you’d put me to work.” He tossed the gloves into the four-wheeler’s cart. “Though I think you’ve been enjoying watching me swing a hammer.” He wagged his brows and she laughed at his ridiculousness. Even if it was the truth.
She snapped off a twig and tossed it at him, and he deflected it with ease. “You know full well we came here to work. For the record, I love my present.” She glanced at the new sign resting on the seat of the quad. Chase had surprised her this morning with a slab of cherry-stained wood complete with chunky framing, decorative routered detail, and the engraved words HATTIE’S CREEK. “This place will be restored to its original name.” Though they couldn’t hang the sign until the concrete hardened, Devyn was thankful to have things exactly how her great-grandparents had first intended.
The box she’d unearthed contained letters from both her great-grandparents, sharing their full love story. Apparently Bradford Fairview had believed the steel plant should remain in his greedy hands and had been prepared to kill for it. While she’d been able escape his murderous plan, she hadn’t wanted to risk anyone knowing she was alive. The letters even mentioned Chase’s grandfather, Charles Jones, who’d been charged with protecting her. Mira had expressed remorse about letting him believe she’d died that fateful night, but she couldn’t contact him without blowing her cover. There were no witness protection programs back in the twenties, so they’d done what they could to remain safe—she’d taken on a new identity.
A line her great-grandmother had written feathered Devyn’s thoughts. “I had to say goodbye to all I knew. Up to then, my entire life was spent between the banks of rivers. The first step was the hardest, but the most important. I ventured past, and in losing sight of the shores, I caught a glimpse of truth. Of what love is. Love is bold. It takes a good deal of courage and a trusting heart.”
There was that stirring again. “Chase?” She waited for him to look up from putting away the tools in the five-gallon bucket they’d brought. “I think I’m going to go for it.” After the ball, Devyn had awoken at two a.m. with a snippet of an idea. One that blended both her loves—coding and history. She wanted to create a website that linked ancestry, newspaper, and historical document sites. Even a bit of social media tossed in by allowing subscribers to connect with relatives
they discovered through the site. And make it all user-friendly. That way those who were tracing their family tree would have one stop for all their genealogy needs. Of course, she’d need permission from the other sources, but they’d benefit from the cooperative effort as well.
His grin stretched wide. “Really?” He jogged toward her, catching her in a swirling hug. “That’s my girl.” From the moment she told Chase, he’d been encouraging her to follow her heart, but she had to overcome the fear of stepping out. He set her back on her feet with a kiss to her forehead. “What about your job with the Belle?”
“Maybe Steph will let me work part-time.” She really did enjoy her role as wedding coordinator, but maybe, just like her great-grandparents, she was only meant to be with the Belle for a season. “If not, then at least I’ll be leaving on an amazing high.”
His brows rose. “Did you hear from Once Upon a Wedding? I thought the winner won’t be revealed until next month.”
She swept her thumb over his jaw, rubbing away a smudge. “You’re right. No news until the end of November, but win or lose, I already count the event a success.” The ball hadn’t even ended and the steamboat was already making a jaunty virtual voyage across the social media seas. Videos of Chase’s reveal had gone viral. Of course, Devyn’s identity hadn’t gone unnoticed, but for once she didn’t care if she was trending on Google. Her security came from God, not what the world said about her. She glanced at the sign. No more secrets. No more hiding. “Thank you.”
Chase followed her gaze. “For what? Fixing the post?” He tsked her. “I’m more than a pretty face, you know. I can work with my hands.”
She laughed and moved to lightly push him, but he caught her hands and pulled her to his chest. “Yes, I appreciate both your pretty face and you fixing the sign. But I was referring to what you did at the ball.”
Smiling, he rested his forehead against hers. “I believe you thanked me for that already. At least fifty times.”
But he’d taken a risk. For her. “You never said why you remained anonymous.”
He shrugged. “Not a huge mystery behind it. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make a career out of it. Wasn’t certain I was good enough. And so when my agent suggested I use a pen name, I figured it couldn’t hurt.”
“From a marketing standpoint it was brilliant. The intrigue alone about the man behind all those romancy words did nothing but further your career.” Her fingertips feathered back a lock of his hair that had fallen across his forehead. “You did an amazing job keeping it all a secret, only to tell everyone at a humble steamboat party.”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He slipped his arms around her hips. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in love with you, Devyn Asbury. I realize I have to share you with all those old dudes from those archaic movies. That you’ll always roast me in Skeeball. And while I have a personal goal to mature your taste buds, I’m already resigned to accept defeat in that as well.”
She grinned, his words of love bolstering her heart. “Well, since your secret’s out, I now have to share you with half the female population.”
“Never.” His head dipped close. “It’s only you.”
“And you’re the only one for me, Chase Jones.”
They stood on her great-grandparents’ property. A place built on love. And here she had the man she loved within kissing reach. She stood on her toes, closing the distance, and brushed her lips against his.
Devyn was still in the process of learning to trust beyond her own means. Trust God and those like the man with his hands buried in her hair with her heart, but she was making amazing progress.
God had a way of leading His children. It may not be the course Devyn had imagined, but as long as she stayed in the current of His love, she knew she could rely on Him in both the still and the troubled waters. He was faithful to steer her through it all.
Chapter 38
Mira Asbury
June 14, 1987
I gazed at one of the loveliest sights my aged eyes could take in. My dear old friend. My steamboat. Today our grandson Stephen Asbury would marry his college sweetheart aboard the same vessel Jack and I had been united on.
But no one knew.
The lifelong secret wiggled against my ribs, making it tough to breathe. Though at the ripe age of eighty-one, deep breaths were hard to come by. Jack squeezed my hand, gently urging me to follow the moving line onto the boarding stage.
Here I stood, silver-haired, wrinkle piled upon wrinkle, but the boat that had carried me on the waters over six decades ago had a regal bloom. Even the dual smokestacks had a fancy crown-looking topper. Quite the transformation from its humble beginnings as a packet boat.
The main deck, once open and airy, was now a smooth wall of windows and wood.The words The Belle of Louisville had been painted in vivid red and gold, the fancy lettering stretching from the stern to mid-deck. The cargo hold where Jack had emerged that life-changing night was no longer. But I could envision our first meeting as if it had happened yesterday.
My gaze lifted to the pilothouse. All framed in with glass. A smile graced my lips. Wouldn’t Clem have loved to see that. No more chapped skin from the biting breeze.
I shuffled forward. Excitement charged the air with tangible hints of romance. The sun slung low on the horizon, wispy clouds dappling the pink and purple sky. Such a perfect ambiance for a summer wedding.
I turned and found Jack watching me. That pleasing smile of his prompted my own. Being his bride for over sixty years still seemed too short.
His eyes gleamed, and I wondered if he was reliving memories too. “Are you ready for this, Mira?”
Was I? When I’d heard rumors that the city of Louisville had purchased a damaged steamboat and was raising funds to restore it, my heart had known it was the Idlewild even before I’d read about it in the paper.
And today, I’d walk her decks again. Though with a slightly slower pace than before.
I smiled at my husband. “Lead on.”
He leaned close and lowered his tone. “Atta girl, Admiral.” His rascally wink earned him a swat on his suit-sleeved arm.
I moved across the boarding stage, supporting myself on the rails, and stepped onto the bow like I’d done hundreds of times, but it felt different. Like revisiting one’s childhood home after it had changed ownership again and again. The swell of nostalgia was palpable, but I couldn’t help but feel like a visitor.
“Aunt Mira. Uncle Jack.” The sweet voice of our great-niece, Kathleen, reached my ears. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Got stuck on the interstate,” Jack grumbled. “That construction is going to last clear into the millennium.”
“Well c’mon, you two.” Kathleen squeezed between us and linked her arms through ours. “The ceremony will be starting in just a few. I’ve heard rumors Stephen’s bride-to-be spent a whole grand on her dress.”
Jack let out a whistle. “That’s enough to get us box seats for the Cardinals all season.”
We greeted the captain, a nice man in his fifties, and my mind traveled to another steamboat captain. The one who’d raised me. Our wedding day had been the last time I’d seen Captain Finnegan Woodruff. After he married us, the Idlewild was sold to a company in New Orleans. Duffy had hung up his officer’s hat, and two months later had gone on to meet the Captain of our salvation.
I blinked back the sting of tears. Being here, on these familiar decks, brought a new pull on old memories. Or perhaps it was the tug of heaven on my heart.
I’d lived a beautiful life. One that had almost been cut short by a conniving uncle.
The steel empire Bradford Fairview had kept under his thumb crumbled only seven years later during the Great Depression. Fairview Steel was bought by a neighboring company. Uncle had tried to rally again, attempting to purchase rolling mills, but the venture failed. He died of tuberculosis the following year, penniless.
We approached the grand staircase, and my breath bounced in my lungs.
The curve of the wall, the same twenty steps leading to the main room. Or ballroom, nowadays. It was all too much. I pressed a hand to my heart.
Kathleen leaned close to me. “I was chatting with one of the crewmen. You know what he told me?”
Jack humored her. “That there’s a brig in the engine room for stowaways?”
I subtly pinched him, and his shoulders shook with silent laughter.
“Stowaways.” Kathleen’s tinkling laugh rose above the chatter of the other passengers. “You’re such a character, Uncle Jack.” She sent him a fond smile as we climbed the stairs. “No, he said he was part of the renovation crew and he found love letters behind one of the cabin walls.”
I paused, squeezing the handrail.
“You okay, Aunt?” She gripped my elbow. “Only a few more steps and then we’ll get you to your table.”
Jack cast me a sidelong glance. He knew very well my pause had nothing to do with feebleness. My love notes. The day of our wedding, I was able to scrape a few from the wall, but the rest had slid out of reach. We’d been in a hurry to leave Pittsburgh, to get miles between me and my uncle, so I’d left them behind.
While I would never recover those letters, with Jack’s encouragement, I wrote my own, detailing the secrets behind the three names I’d been bestowed. Jack had penned one too. He had the sentimental idea of burying the notes near my creek. Though I doubted anyone would ever find them.
I flattened my hand on the doorframe of the main room, the hum of her life thrumming into my palm. The Idlewild and I shared a rare connection. This steamboat had taken on three separate identities, just like me. First the Idlewild, then after World War II, she’d become the Avalon, and now The Belle of Louisville.
I patted the wood paneling. Yes, old girl. But just because we’d gone by different names didn’t mean our souls had changed. Our hearts were very much the same. As for me, there was only one name that stuck with me throughout the years—Beloved. Cherished by Marshall Jack Asbury. Loved by God.
Undercurrent of Secrets Page 26
