“No, Johny boy, yer see, I’m a changed man!” Morose smiled and revealed shiny white teeth where once there were gold caps.
Lavender studied Morose for a moment. It was as if he had aged backwards and had lived a gentile life, rather than that of a seafaring pirate. His skin was not ravaged by the sun, and his eyes were bright and shiny.
Lavender faced Morose, coming between them, forcing John to lower his sword. “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice shaking. She studied this ghost of a man.
“I will tell yer, but only yer. Come aboard the Lily and I’ll tell yer everything yer wanting to know.”
“Never!” John roared, his neck muscles tightening and his fists clenching. “This is just a ruse to kidnap you!”
“John, please!” Lavender said as she glanced back at him. “This is the man who saved your life. He gave his life for yours! How could I not hear him out?”
John lowered his head. “Fine. Go!” He looked into her eyes, his intensity burning her soul. “I trust you to find your way back to me.” He sighed and put his sword in its sheath.
“Of course, I’ll come back to you. I promise.”
Morose gave a wickedly handsome grin and held out his hand to Lavender, who took it carefully. He led her to the dinghy and helped her climb aboard.
John watched as his should-be-bride disappeared to the Lily. An ominous feeling overtook him.
Aboard the Lily, Morose took Lavender’s hand and led her to his captain’s quarters. She had been there only once before. Right after Morose had died, his crew let her rest there. It looked cozier than it did before. It was lit with softer lighting, and there was a dining table and two chairs in the middle of the room. Upon the table was a small feast of fowl, bread, and fruit and a gold candelabra with eight glowing candles in the middle.
“Sit, me girl.” Morose led her by the hand to the table, but Lavender stopped, turned around, and looked Morose in the eyes.
“Morose—I—I wanted to—” She flung her arms around him and cried into his lapel. “You should be dead! I saw you die! You saved him, you saved me, but then you died!”
“Shh, me girl,” Morose cooed as he stroked her hair.
“Are you a ghost? You look different. You look . . . younger.” Lavender investigated his face, contemplating the freshness and glow of it.
“No, me girl, I’m not a ghostie. I’m alive, saved by mermaids me was. Sit,” he said as he pulled out the chair for her. She complied as she wiped a few tears from her face.
“I were sinking last I saw yer bonny face. So quickly I sank, I couldn’t see nothing at all. Me lungs burned and just before I were about to lose hope and die, I saw a wee light. Methought it were the tunnel to the great beyond. Maybe it were. But I saw a lovely face come near me, and she swirled the water with her hand and made a bubble which she placed upon me face. I breathed, me girl. I took in air and it smelled sweet, like a fresh sea breeze. I was warmed from my lungs to my toes. The sweet face became blurry behind the bubble of air, and I fell asleep, a peaceful sleep, like a wee babe.”
Lavender looked at him with disbelief. But if it hadn’t been for the fact that she had seen him drown, she would never have believed such a tale. Morose scooted his chair closer and took her hand.
“Then, I awoke in a cave and in the water near the rocks where I lay were the sweet face I’d seen. But only now, she looked fish-like and strange. Me body were too weak. I fell asleep again. She brought me raw fish, and I ate it with her for days. She, always staying in the water. And I couldn’t leave. The cave were submerged under the water, but for a tunnel that went above the waves and provided me with faint light and fresh air. She told me ’bout her people and how she longed to see the world above. She told me she could see it, if she were to leave forever and never return. I told her it weren’t worth it. I told her there were mostly violence—”
Morose gently took a strand of Lavender’s hair and twisted it around his finger as he looked longingly at her face. “And heartache above the waves. Then she asked me ’bout John. See, she saw me save him and wondered who he were to me, that I would give me life for him. That’s when I told her about yer. And how me love for yer compelled me to give me life, only to make yer happy.” Lavender listened intently and watched Morose speak. “She were so touched by me words. She wept and left me alone for three days. I was half starved by the time she returned. She told me how she wished for me to return to yer. She asked me if it were too late to claim yer. I didn’t care if it were or not! I wanted to get out of that cave and see yer face once again. She gave me a blob glowing blue, filled with liquid, and told me that if I were to eat it, I could swim and breathe under the water like her and I would be able to stay with her like that forever, or I could return to the surface. I chose the surface, of course, to be with yer again. It’s a miracle I made it just in time for yer vows. I pushed me men so hard, night and day to get here.”
Morose stood and pulled Lavender up to him by the hands. She was so close to him, she could smell the sea air on him. “Lavy, me girl, it meant to be that I arrived here just in time to stop yer from marrying Johnny boy. Don’t yer see?”
Lavender stared into his blue shining eyes, studying the unique depth of water they had taken on. She contemplated what he was saying. It was magical, enthralling. Perhaps it was even true, but she couldn’t run off with Morose just like that. It needed to be considered; the shock needed to wear off. She needed a clear head.
“Morose, I can’t. You gave your life for me to be with John!”
“And now I’m alive! It negates yer obligation to be with Johnny boy, surely!”
“Morose, I don’t know. I’m so confused! I am overjoyed that you are alive, but I don’t think I love you like that!”
“Yer do, Lavender, I can see it in yer eyes. I can feel yer heart longing for mine the way mine longs for yers!”
“Morose, please. I can’t decide anything tonight! It is my wedding day! Which you ruined, by the way!”
“Yer right. I’m deeply sorry. If I could have got me self here sooner, a more respectable distance from your wedding day, I would have.” He pulled a pearl on a strand of gold from his pocket. “I want yer to take this gift and think it over.” He lovingly tied it around her neck. “This be a gift, from the deep of the sea. Wear it and remember me.”
Morose put his hand gently on Lavender’s face and gave her a kiss. Lavender stumbled back a step. Without a word, she turned and left Morose alone in his cabin.
As one of Morose’s pirates escorted Lavender back to the beach, she saw John sitting on a sandy dune watching and waiting for her.
The pirate got out in the shallow water and pushed the dinghy as far up on the sand as he could and then carried Lavender the rest of the way to dry land. Her white wedding gown flowed in the evening breeze and glowed white from the moonlight. John immediately noticed the pearl floating around her neck.
“Come here,” he said as he whisked her into his arms and embraced her. “I was worried. You can’t trust Morose, no matter how changed he may be.”
“John, he says he was rescued by—a mermaid of all things.” Lavender fiddled with the pearl on her neck. It felt warm and smooth.
“Lavender, listen to me,” John said as he lifted her chin so she could meet his gaze. “Morose saved me, Morose saved you, but you don’t owe him your heart.”
“I—I—I want to show him my gratitude is all.”
“Good. I hope that will be the end of him.” John snorted. “Come, the reverend said he would marry us as soon as you return.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Look at me,” she said, stepping back and ruffling her skirt. “I’m a mess. Do you think he will wait until morning? My dress needs to be dried out, and my hair is all tangles.”
“I think you look more beautiful than ever.”
“Thank you, but I think we should reconv
ene in the morning. I . . .” Lavender put her hand to forehead. “I have a headache.” Then, uncharacteristically, Lavender swooned. John caught her and carried her home as he muttered expletives against Morose under his breath.
“I cannot print this, Mrs. Latter,” Mr. Dixon said as he threw her manuscript of the latest volume of Enduring Promises of the Heart on his desk.
“Why not?” Liz exclaimed, eyes burning with anger.
“It’s too indecent, even for you.”
“Mr. Dixon, please! You are the one being indecent!” Liz said as she sat firmly in Mr. Dixon’s chair. He circled around his desk to stand beside her.
“Mrs. Latter, you have a bride kissing another man on her wedding day! Do you know how many letters a day I get about you? Or specifically your indecent material?”
“You never cared about it being indecent before! Especially not when you are strolling to the bank to make another deposit in your account.”
“I—I don’t appreciate that! Now, listen. I have received letter after letter of complaints and even threats. Threats, Mrs. Latter, because you did not wed Lavender and John in your last volume. That Clarence girl almost killed herself on your wedding day when she read it. She passed out right there on the floor and almost cracked her head.”
“Sarah is a halfwit, and she is always feigning a spell. This is literature, Mr. Dixon. It’s highs and lows, ups and downs, all for the drama! Surely you know this.” Liz threw a hand of dismissal at Mr. Dixon.
“I know it, but this is different. We need to keep the people happy if we want them to keep reading.”
“Where would I go next if they married? I’ll tell you, the doldrums of children and family would be next. The adventure would be replaced with diapers and sleepless nights.” Liz put her hand unconsciously on her belly. Mr. Dixon didn’t bother to notice.
“I can’t argue with you there, but if things don’t turn around soon, I may have to end your featurette.” Mr. Dixon puffed on his cigar and sighed as he sat on the edge of his desk.
“No, you won’t! You could never go back to featuring recipes and Reverend Lyons’s diatribes on radical dress.”
Mr. Dixon puffed on his cigar some more and shook his head in defeat. “Now, what was it you came in here for?”
“I wondered if you had a position for my sister Harriet. She’s very well educated—a teacher. She would make an excellent assistant editor.”
“Yes, Harriet. She was sending me articles occasionally for the paper. I never received a letter of complaint about them.” Mr. Dixon wagged his finger at Liz.
“Indeed, and you never sold a paper because of them either.”
“As always, Mrs. Latter, you have outwitted me. If I didn’t feel so fondly of you, I would have thrown you out of my office a long time ago.”
“Mr. Dixon! I am blushing!” Liz smirked and gently touched her cheek with the back of her fingers sarcastically.
“Indeed, I do have a position for Harriet. Perhaps she can help me control you.” Mr. Dixon raised one brow.
“Very good. When can she start?”
“First thing.”
“Excellent!” Liz chimed as she jumped up from her seat and headed toward the door. “Now print that! I know where my story is going, and it’s going to sell more papers than ever.”
Volume Two
Abandoned
Harriet trotted down the road, excited for her first day at the Gazette. As she turned the corner she almost bumped into a young man, who quickly corrected his course to avoid her as he tipped his hat.
“Good day, ma’am,” he said and hurried on his way.
Harriet nodded but he didn’t notice. As she approached the brown double doors to the Pleasant View Gazette, she admired her reflection in the window panes. She looked smart. Smartly dressed and smart minded. Liz left a few hats at the house when she moved out after her wedding, and Harriet was not too proud to keep and wear them. Liz had the most extensive hat collection of any person Harriet had ever met, all funded by her Gazette stories. Harriet’s blue and yellow frock looked great with the little gold pill box hat, and it gave her a needed boost to her confidence.
Harriet had been teaching in Florida for several years, ever since she earned her teacher certification. But teaching children who lived in shacks on the edges of the swamps was not nearly as intimidating as working in a professional newspaper office as an assistant editor. Harriet had written a few short articles about Florida for the Gazette, but she had a big shadow looming over her known as Penelope Pottifer, also known as her little sister, Elizabeth Latter.
Harriet pulled the knob and entered the Gazette. An old acquaintance sat at a small secretary desk in front of an office surrounded by big windows.
“Mitzy, hello!” Harriet greeted cheerfully but professionally.
“Hello, Harriet! I am so happy you are here. Are you ready to start your first day on the new job?” Before Harriet could answer, Mitzy waved a hand in front of her face. “That Mr. Dixon is always puffing on his cigars. All day long. I am so tired of coming home smelling like a gentlemen’s club. Not that I’ve ever been in one because I am not a gentleman.” Mitzy got up and pushed open the window nearest her desk.
“I am ready.” Harriet straightened her dress.
“Good, because Mr. Dixon is a hard boss. I tell you, he yells, he smokes, he throws things. The only person who gets their way around here is Penelope Pottifer. Which I suppose is how you got this job so easily.” Harriet’s eyebrows raised and Mitzy noticed. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to imply you don’t deserve this job. Of course, you do! You are Penelope Pottifer’s sister.”
“We just call her Liz or Lizbeth, or Beth, or Liza. I am also an accomplished educator and have written several articles for this very publication.” Harriet smiled.
“Of course, you are! And, I’ve read all your articles. Very interesting in their own right. Not fiction, of course. So—not as enthralling as the drama and scandal of Enduring Promises of the Heart. But very good. Can I ask why you left Florida? Was it the alligators? Was it the bugs? Did you get—”Mitzy lowered her voice to a whisper—“fired?”
“No, of course not. I—I simply missed home and my family. I must admit, I didn’t care for the bugs or alligators much either.” Harriet smiled. “Mitzy?”
“Yes?”
“Would you direct me to where I’m supposed to be?”
Mitzy was quiet for a long moment. “You know, I honestly don’t know. I’m not really sure if the Dixons intend on you being out here with the boys or not . . . ”
“Well? Should I see Mr. Dixon? For instruction?”
Mitzy laughed. “Oh dear, no. You must never go to see Mr. Dixon. Mr. Dixon will have you come see him, but you must never go to see him unless he has asked for you to come.”
“Oh dear. Then what do you suppose I should do?”
“Mortimer is the new floor manager. I would start with him. Mr. Dixon is just over there.” Mitzy pointed to a young man in an ill-fitting suit, across the floor. “That’s Mr. Dixon.”
“Mr. Dixon? I thought he was indisposed?”
“Yes, he is. That is Mortimer Dixon, his son.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you.” Harriet walked over to the young man. “Excuse me, Mr. Dixon.”
Mortimer turned around and gave Harriet a once over. “Hello. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I’m Harriet Black, your new assistant editor.”
“No,” he said slyly. “These gentlemen are our assistant editors.” He pointed to three desks with men sitting behind them. They each glanced at Harriet but continued their work.
“There is some mistake then. I was told by my sister, Elizabeth Black— sorry, Latter—that Mr. Dixon had offered me a job as an assistant editor. I’m certain that’s what she said. Was she mistaken?”
“Did she really
say assistant editor? Because all our editors are men and you are—not?”
“No, of course I’m not.” Harriet was beginning to feel very red and embarrassed.
“No, of course not.” Mortimer winked at Harriet. “Let me talk to Mr. Dixon. As much as I’d like to look at you each day, I really don’t think we need another female in the office.” Mortimer nodded his head toward Mitzy.
It took all of Harriet’s willpower not to injure Mortimer as he strolled past her on his way to speak to his father. He walked right in the office without knocking.
“Mr. Dixon, I have a young lady out there who says she was told she would be a new assistant editor.”
“She is to be an assistant editor.” A gruff voice rang through the office.
Mortimer backed out of the office and shut the door.
“You are to be our new assistant editor, Miss . . . ?”
“Harriet Black.” She offered her hand to Mortimer.
“Very well, you may have this desk. I will get you started with a few . . . We already edited the recipes for tomorrow. All that’s left is the finance pages.” Mortimer looked concerned.
“Mr. Dixon, I assure you I am capable of editing anything you put on this desk.”
Mortimer nodded with a contemplative scowl upon his round face. “All right, I’ll let you have a shot at them.” His high-pitched voice cracked. He shortly returned with a pile of papers about two inches thick. “This needs to be done by this evening. It goes out in the morning. Mark any corrections.” He pointed to the bottle of ink on her desk.
“Yes, of course. I assure you I am quite well prepared for this.”
Mortimer frowned and looked apprehensively at her as he lifted his hands in surrender, slowly backed away from her desk, turned, and entered his office.
Harriet went right to work and found several errors on the first page. The man at the desk opposite hers looked up at her a few times but never bothered to say a word.
Harriet made quick work of the assignment but was the last to go home besides Mortimer. He strolled out of his office and over to her desk.
Unbroken Promises of the Heart: (Promises of the Heart Book 2) Page 2
