Beloved Counterfeit (12 page)

“You’re to find a seat before Mama changes her mind about serving lunch guests at dinner.” Tess’s innocent face told him the child had no idea of the meaning behind her words. Her sisters, however, snickered as they entered the dining room with napkins and silverware and began placing them around the table.

“Is that so?” Micah slid into a spot at the end of the table and ignored the looks of the others assembled there. “Well, please tell her that once she marries me I intend to be at her table for both.”

“That’s enough joking, Mr. Tate,” Ruby called from somewhere back in the kitchen. She appeared in the doorway, tray in hand. “Your humor has lost its luster, I’m afraid.”

“Yet my promise remains.”

Ruby ignored him to serve the best roast chicken he’d tasted in all his years. Even as he reached for seconds and then thirds, Micah kept his attention equally divided between the food and the cook.

“I understand there’s big changes afoot on the island,” the diner to Micah’s right said.

Micah glanced at the man and pegged him for the indoor type, though he did wear a sheen of red under his fringe of blond hair that showed he’d spent a little time in the sun lately. Likely some fellow on his way to and from without caring what went on here.

“I overheard a bit of celebration down at the courthouse this afternoon. The judge is most happy that he’s found a man to take on the job of heading up the Fairweather Key Militia.” The man stabbed a slice of meat then warmed to his topic. “He said there’d be a big announcement made once the man gave his official acceptance.” He paused to finish chewing. “Wonder who it is.”

An inelegant snort was Micah’s only response. If this fellow wanted news, he’d have to read the newspaper.

Ruby, however, had warmed to the topic and was grilling the guest with a half dozen questions. Interesting that she’d be so keen on wanting to know who was protecting the island when the man in charge had first offered this service to her alone.

“Who do you suppose it is?” he heard her ask.

His inquiry launched a discussion that called a number of familiar names to the fore. Micah remained silent, using the time to enjoy the last bites of his meal.

Then a thought occurred, and Micah turned to face the stranger. “What I wonder,” he said with what he hoped would be a casual tone, “is how you came to overhear something the judge obviously didn’t want overheard.”

“Yes, well, I. . .” He sputtered a bit more before releasing a long, loud sigh. “All right. The truth of it is, I was at the warehouse hoping to get a look inside. Yes, I know it’s off limits except on auction days, but I had to know if a certain piece of treasure with value only to me might be among the artifacts pulled from a recent wreck. Unfortunately, I failed in that matter.”

“Is that so?” Micah made a mental note to speak to Caleb about the man first thing tomorrow. He also decided to check the logs to see just which vessels might have been of interest to the stranger—that is, if he didn’t manage to pry the information from him before then.

The man nodded. “I’m not proud of what I did, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He glanced around the table; then his gaze landed—and stuck—on Micah. “But the fact remains that I heard what I heard. We’re to have a second in command to the judge.”

“We?” Ruby shook her head. “I don’t believe I know you. Are you new to the key?”

The fellow turned two shades of purple. “I, well, what I meant was while I’m not a citizen
per se
, I am interested in possibly relocating.” He waved away further questions with a sweep of his hand.

Micah set down his knife and fork and turned to face the talkative stranger, noting the square jaw, above-average height, and crescent-shaped scar just below his left cheekbone. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“I’m Drummond,” the man said as he offered his hand to shake Micah’s. “Clay Drummond.”

Micah stared at Clay Drummond’s outstretched hand a few seconds past proper before clasping it to show the city fellow just how strong a wrecker’s grip could be. To his surprise, the stranger gave as good as he got.

“And what’s your line of work, Mr. Drummond?” Micah asked. “Because given that you’re here looking for something that doesn’t belong to you, the only thing I can figure you for is either a smuggler or a thief.”

Drummond nearly swallowed his teeth, such seemed to be his surprise. “Oh, I see how it is,” he finally said. “You’re a prankster.”

The room fell into silence. Ruby stepped into Micah’s line of sight to give him an angry stare. “Ignore him, Mr. Drummond,” she said. “He does tend to say things that aren’t appropriate.”

“I do?” Micah feigned surprise as he released his grip. “I’m sure Mr. Drummond here understands I meant no harm.” He punctuated the statement with a look intended to tell the stranger just the opposite.

Drummond met his gaze in such a way that Micah had no doubt the message had been received. He appeared about to say something when Ruby barged into the conversation. “So, Mr. Drummond, tell us more.”

“Yes, like when you’re leaving,” Micah said.

The question went unanswered as the conversation soon turned to other things, leaving Micah to enjoy his meal in peace. If anyone were to hear the announcement of his appointment early, it would be Ruby O’Shea.

He waited around to do just that, remaining in his place even after the others had excused themselves. To find a reason for staying, Micah chewed slowly and refilled his plate until nothing remained on the table.

When little Tess climbed up onto the chair beside him, Micah set down his fork and gave her his full attention. Or at least he did the best he could, considering his too-full belly.

“Mama says she can go fry up another chicken if you’re still hungry.”

“Does she now?” He looked past the child to the pantry and the kitchen beyond. “You tell her I’m much obliged, but I’d rather speak to her than eat any more of her fine cooking.”

Tess climbed down, nearly upsetting the chair in the process. Micah grabbed the chair and righted it as he watched the girl head back in the direction she’d just come, her bare feet padding away seemingly as fast as they could go.

His statement was obviously duly repeated. A second later, as pots and pans began to clang behind her, Tess peered around the corner. “She says she’s busy and you should go home.”

Above the noise of the kitchen symphony, Micah gestured for Tess to approach. “Did she say anything else?”

The girl nodded. “ ’Cept I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“I see.” Micah pretended to think a moment. “I don’t suppose she’s happy with me.”

“Tess, where are you?” This from one of the twins—not that he could ever tell them apart. “Come and help us finish our chores, or we’ll tell.”

Tess leaned close. “You should probably do what I do when she’s mad.”

“What’s that?” he whispered.

“Hide,” she said as she once again bounded from the chair. This time she left in the direction of the front hall, her footsteps disappearing up the stairs rather than heading in the direction of her sister’s persistent call.

Both older girls came running through a moment later. “Where is she?” one of them asked.

He pointed to the stairs. “Something about hiding.”

The girls looked at one another. “If she’s hiding. . . ,” one began.

“Then we are, too,” the other finished as the pair raced off to join their sister somewhere on the upper floor of the boardinghouse.

Micah sat a moment longer then quietly pushed away from the table. He’d sat there so long that his feet took a moment to listen to his head, but eventually he got as far as the doorway. From there he could see Ruby working over a basin of water. She appeared to be scrubbing something.

So intent was she on whatever she was doing that she obviously never heard him until Micah stood right behind her. It was all he could do not to reach out and massage arms that were surely sore and in want of care.

She paused in her endeavors to swipe at her forehead then continued with her work. Again Micah itched to relieve her of some measure of the duties she’d likely performed every day since coming to the boardinghouse.

For a tiny woman, she certainly bore much on her shoulders. Shoulders that practically begged for his fingertips. He reached out slowly, intending only to imagine for just a second what she might do should he make good on his thought.

Then he saw those shoulders heave, watched the hands go still in the basin. A sniff confirmed what he suspected.

Ruby was crying.

All the glee in telling her about his appointment fled. He reached into his pocket to offer a handkerchief, and his fingers touched the sand dollar.

“Ruby, I’ve brought you something,” he said softly as he reached toward her back, extending the delicate shell.

She whirled around, took one look at what was in his hand, and ran. This time, however, he didn’t let her get away. His long strides easily matched hers until he caught her just the other side of the fence.

“Let me go,” Ruby said, and he did, though he made sure to stand between her and the path to town.

The last rays of the sun burned streaks of gold across her hair and cast her face in shadow. Micah longed to turn her toward the light so he might see her better.

“I only wanted you to have what was already yours,” he said as he tried again to give her the shell. “You dropped it this morning at the beach.”

Her gaze landed on the object in his hand and lingered. “Was that only this morning?”

Micah lifted her palm and placed the sand dollar in it. With care he closed her fingers over the shell then lifted her hand to his lips.

“I’ll not forget my promise, Ruby,” he said, “nor will I withdraw my offer.”

She shook her head as she turned to face the ocean. “I don’t understand. This morning we were practically strangers and the sun hasn’t set on the day, yet you’re offering to marry me.”

Micah came to stand beside her, following her gaze toward the water. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters.” Ruby paused but did not spare him a glance. “You know nothing about me, Micah Tate,” she said, “and I warrant once you’ve heard my story, you’ll change your mind.”

“Interesting statement.” Micah thought of Caroline, of how this time things would be different. “For I was about to say the same thing to you. Likely you’ll not appreciate my reasons, either.” He stepped between Ruby and the ocean. “So don’t tell me your story and, unless you’re wanting to hear it, I’ll not tell you mine.”

She shook her head. “That will never work.”

“Why not?” He warmed to the topic. “Many a marriage has started out with the couple knowing too much about each other. I’m offering to protect you from whoever and whatever frightens you.”

“And in return?”

“In return, I get a warm bed and a good meal.” When she turned her back and started walking toward the boardinghouse, Micah knew his jest had fallen flat. “Look,” he said when he’d caught up to her, “you really want to know what I get?”

Ruby nodded.

“I get someone who needs me. I get a place I can call home that doesn’t echo when I step inside. True enough, I get food in my belly and a soft place to lay my head.” He paused then decided to just come out with the rest of it. “And you’ll get a man who will stand by you, Ruby O’Shea. The way I see it, you’re long overdue for a man who will take up for you. Am I wrong?”

Her glance told him he wasn’t.

“Now I guarantee there’s nothing you can tell me that will change any of what I’ve just said.” It was his turn to pause. “That’s not true.”

Ruby’s sharp intake of breath was enough to let him know she heard. “I’m a man, Ruby, and a man—a husband—has certain needs of his wife.”

“Is that all?” She asked the question as if she weren’t surprised at his statement.

“No,” he said. “There’s just one more thing. That baby Tess wants. . .”

The redhead gave him a look. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mr. Tate. I haven’t agreed to take you on yet.”

“No, but you will,” he said with a bravado that tarnished a bit when she had the audacity to laugh.

Chapter 15

“I want to meet this man, Vivi. As your brother, I insist on making the acquaintance of the man who has designs on my sister.”

Viola set her needlepoint aside and turned her attention to her brother, who had only just stopped pacing the room. His questions peppered their evenings together, but rarely did he bring up anything related to Dan Hill.

“Must we discuss this now? I was so enjoying myself.” Viola maintained her smile, barely.
Lord, lead me, please.

“It is as I suspected. This man is a cad bound on taking your affections and offering nothing in return.” Remy began his trek around the parlor, his fists clenched. She’d seen his temper and knew his way with anger would either cause him to do something stupid or send him into a brooding silence that might last for hours or even days.

But he spoke at least a bit of truth. She had neither seen nor heard from Dan Hill in days. She’d not yet lowered herself to make a visit to his clinic, though more than once she’d considered it.

“You’ll find a changed man in Father, I warrant,” Remy continued. “Your absence has mellowed him greatly.”

“My absence?” She stifled a humorless chuckle. “I doubt anything I may have done, past or present, has made any impact on that old man.”

Remy paused at the window and lifted the edge of the curtain to peer outside. “Tell me about Ruby O’Shea,” he said.

The abrupt change of topic took a moment to settle. “Why?” she finally managed.

He let the curtain drop. “No reason,” he said, though she knew there must be.

“Well, let me see.” Viola shifted positions and dropped her needlepoint into the basket beside her chair. “She’s a hard worker and decently good at acting as the midwife’s assistant.” When he turned to lift a dark brow, Viola explained, “She accompanied me to assist in a difficult birth recently and did a splendid job. I understand she has some doctoring skills.”

When Viola paused, Remy shook his head. “Go on.”

“She’s got three adorable daughters and somehow manages to raise them and run the boardinghouse in Mrs. Campbell’s absence. Mrs. Campbell is the wife of the former judge. She’s away seeing to her daughter’s—”