Beloved Counterfeit (16 page)

Surely he wouldn’t. But as she turned toward town, his laughter followed.

And she wasn’t sure.

Chapter 19

On the fourth day of Micah’s self-imposed exile from Ruby’s table, Hezekiah Carter came to visit. Like Micah, the pastor had obviously spent time in the sun recently, as evidenced by the red color on his face.

Micah swiped at his forehead and stepped onto the dock to shake hands with the pastor. “What brings you here, Rev. Carter?”

“Working on a garden for the parsonage,” he said. “Something I’d planned to do in my old age.” A chuckle. “It seems to have arrived, and quite before I expected it, I might add.”

“Old age?” Micah shook his head. “Hardly.”

“Be that as it may,” he said, “I’ve a favor to ask. It’s a bit of short notice, but I wonder if you might be willing to conduct the Sunday service this week.”

“Sunday service?” He gave the pastor a looking over. No sign of ill health. “Why?”

Rev. Carter shrugged. “It’s time.”

“I suppose.”

“Excellent.” He clasped his hand on Micah’s shoulder then excused himself to walk away. A few steps down the docks, he turned. “Oh, Micah, one caveat. You’d do me a great honor if you speak on one of the Lord’s promises.”

“Which one?”

He grinned. “Oh, that’s easy. I’d like you to talk about His promise to wash us clean and put our past behind us.”

“Of course,” he said, but as he watched the old man stroll away, Micah couldn’t help but wonder why the pastor had chosen that topic. And this Sunday to preach it.

Never before had he come to Micah on such short notice, though he’d offered up the pulpit on several occasions over the past few months. And never had he given any instructions on what message to give.

With only good intentions and a well-worn Bible, Micah sat beneath the shade of a coconut palm and tackled the job. In short order, he had quite a list of verses applicable to his topic but no sermon.

Again he opened his Bible, and this time Micah wrote a few notes.

A very few notes.

It seemed as though his mind refused to wrap around the task of making something out of the words. When his stomach growled, Micah set his scribbling aside.

He wondered what sort of meal Ruby might be serving up at the boardinghouse today. Not that it mattered, for he had no immediate plans to return. At least, not until he was certain Ruby missed him.

Micah gathered his sermon notes for Sunday and rolled them into a bundle that he carried under his arm. He’d found much to talk about but had little success putting it into some semblance of order. Then there was the uncomfortable feeling he had while reading a few of the more pertinent verses.

He decided to set to walking in the hopes he’d find inspiration along the way. To his dismay, his traitorous feet took him to the front gate of the boardinghouse. He looked to the side yard in the hopes of finding Ruby or one of the girls but saw nothing but laundry hanging on the line.

Micah ticked through his options. The last, which was staying right where he’d landed, appealed the most—and the least.

Of course, Micah knew he had every right to walk up the front steps and seat himself at the table in his usual spot. Pride wouldn’t feed a man for long, and neither would he get a thing written on the sermon lest he sit in his favorite chair and think.

Besides, according to his empty belly, it was near to suppertime.

Micah saw only one way to swallow his pride, and that was in one big gulp. He took the steps two at a time and opened the door as if he’d not missed a day or a meal. When he stepped into the dining room, Micah gave a brief nod to the other boarders then winked at Tess when she brought him fresh cream for his coffee.

“Where’s your mama?” he whispered.

Tess pointed to the kitchen then leaned toward him, a conspiratorial look on her face. “I think she’s mad at you.”

“Is that so?” He stooped to get at eye level with her. “Did she tell you that?”

“Tess, come in here please,” Ruby called.

The child placed her finger over her lips.

Micah chuckled as he watched her skip from the room and, for a moment, envied her easy way of transitioning from one situation to the next. If only the world were as simple a place now as it had been when he was Tess’s age.

When Ruby brought out the food, she placed it in the center of the table then made her exit without sparing him a glance. He thought he noticed, however, that she paid him special interest when she returned with the bowl of conch chowder.

* * *

What was
he
doing here? Ruby peered around the corner and watched Micah Tate turn the pages of his Bible, obviously intent on remaining seated at the far corner of the table indefinitely.

“Should I tell him to go home?” This from Carol, who had little tolerance for anyone lately.

“Shh,” Ruby said as she stepped away from the door. “We’ll not be treating the guests that way.”

“But he’s not a guest,” she whispered. “I think he’s just here to court you.”

“Court me?” Ruby lowered her voice. “Court me?” she repeated. “Why would you think that?”

“We know what he asked you,” Maggie said as she stepped inside with a bucket of fresh water. “Tess told us.”

“Tess told you?”

“Why do you keep repeating us?” Carol asked.

Ruby took the water bucket from Maggie and set it on the floor, then led the twins out onto the back porch. “I’m not repeating. . .” She sighed as she closed the door. “All right, maybe I am. And maybe Mr. Tate
did
declare his intentions.”

The twins exchanged an I-told-you-so glance.

“But I have neither accepted him nor taken him seriously.”

“And that’s where she’s gone wrong.”

She whirled around to see Micah Tate standing at the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Was I not invited to this party?”

The girls giggled. “It’s not a party,” Carol said.

“We’re just talking.” This from Maggie.

“About you,” they said in unison before scampering away across the backyard. “And whether you were here to court our mama.”

Ruby felt the heat flood her cheeks, partly from embarrassment and partly from irritation. “That’s quite enough, girls,” she called, though her words might as well have been puffs of smoke for how quickly they disappeared in the salt air.

Their giggles followed them as the twins disappeared around the corner of the boardinghouse. “Traitors,” Ruby muttered as she tried to ignore Micah.

Busying herself with work came easy to Ruby, yet as she cast about for something to do, she found all her chores were waiting inside. With Micah standing between her and the door, she could only talk her way back inside or stay and remain silent. Neither appealed.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go inside now,” she finally said. “I’ve work to do.”

He looked as if he might argue but stepped aside. She reached for the bucket but found he had snagged it first. “Please put it in the basin,” she said, and he did as she asked.

Micah stood looking quite out of place among the dishes and pots lining the countertop. “Thank you,” she finally said in hopes he’d get the idea and leave.

“You know I was just teasing about going to the church to reserve a date.”

“No,” she said as she turned her back on him. “I didn’t.”

“Well, now you do.” He paused. “And Viola’s brother—”

“Nothing to it,” she said. “Not that I owe you this, but I’ve not seen the man since that day on Main Street.”

It was the truth, though she decided not to let on how ambivalent she felt about the Lord answering her prayer to rid Remy from her life should he be a bad influence. Praying that prayer had been the best thing she’d done, yet she couldn’t help but feel disappointed that the rogue hadn’t at least come calling to apologize for his familiar behavior on Main Street.

“Yes, I know,” Micah said.

“You know?” Ruby tried to absorb the meaning. “How could you know?” She paused. “Unless you’ve been watching me.”

His gaze collided with hers. “I made a promise.”

Realization dawned. “You
have
been watching me.”

Micah looked away. “If you don’t need anything further, I’d be much obliged if you’d allow me a corner of the table to work on my Sunday sermon.”

“Go ahead.” Ruby went back to clearing the aftermath of supper, though her mind wandered to the ways Micah might have found to keep her in his sight while she remained unaware. That she had not known frightened her, yet finding he was capable of such covert behavior gave Ruby an unexpected feeling of satisfaction.

As she worked, however, she found herself sneaking peeks at the man inhabiting her dining room. At first he seemed distracted and then intent on whatever he was writing. A few times when she passed the doorway, he seemed to be talking to himself.

The sun sank lower, and the room fell into shadows, so Ruby decided the neighborly thing to do would be to light a lamp. Oddly, her fingers shook so badly she nearly couldn’t accomplish the task. When she finally managed it, she felt so flustered she almost didn’t bring the thing to him.

It’s only Micah Tate.
Ruby lifted the lamp then steadied it with her other hand.
And Micah Tate irritates me on a good day.

She stepped into the dining room. The wrecker didn’t bother to look up. Setting the lamp in the middle of the table seemed silly since it barely cast enough light to reach to the far edges.

Slowly and with care, Ruby edged nearer Micah. When he looked up, a startled expression on his face, she realized he’d been deep in thought and not merely careless with his attention.

“Oh, I. . .” He rose so quickly the chair fell backward and clattered to the floor. Tossing his notes onto the table, Micah retrieved the chair then checked it for damage. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He looked at the lamp then glanced out the window. “It’s late,” he said. “I should go.”

While Micah made to pack his things, Ruby reached for one of the loose pages. “Forgiveness,” she read, “is the business of God. Ours is to allow Him to wipe the slate clean.”

He snatched the paper from her and set it on the pile in front of him. “Just notes,” he said. “Not a real sermon yet.”

Ruby settled across from him and reached for another page. “White as snow, He washes us, though our scarlet sins would surely—”

“Really, Miss O’Shea.” Again he took the paper from her. “It’s not in a form I am ready to share yet.”

She nodded but made no attempt to leave. “You’re welcome to work on it here,” she said. “I’ll be putting the girls to bed soon, but that certainly won’t affect anything happening in this room.”

He nodded and muttered a word of thanks.

“So take your time.” She rose. “And let yourself out should you finish before I come back downstairs.”

Another nod, and he bowed his head over his work, one hand guarding the pages he’d filled with scribbles. Rising, she left to fetch the girls and see to their bedtime routine. Through it all, she continued to listen for the door to close, signaling the departure of her guest.

Finally, the girls settled into slumber, and Ruby had her chance to do the same. Exhaustion played at the corners of her mind, as it always did this time of night, and her body ached. Any other night, she might have heated water for a bath.

Somehow with Micah Tate under the same roof, it seemed improper. So did lying down to sleep with him sitting in her dining room.

Perhaps it was the long discussion she’d had with the girls about him. While Ruby had been careful not to commit to anything, Tess had decided Micah would make a fine papa for them. Maggie agreed, but Carol kept silent.

“I still have a papa, don’t I?” Carol whispered as Ruby had kissed her good night.

What to say? Reflecting on it now, Ruby cringed with the lie she’d told. Someday she’d tell them the truth—someday when they were old enough to understand.

“What a joke,” she whispered. “I’m two decades past them in age, and I still don’t understand.”

And with Micah Tate remaining seated at her dining table, she’d do well not to contemplate more than one male at a time. So she rose from the chair where she’d collapsed only minutes earlier and adjusted the braid that had come loose while wrangling Tess into her nightclothes. While she could do nothing about the smudges of exhaustion under her eyes, she did pinch her cheeks to return some semblance of life to her face.

As she stepped out into the hall and closed the door, Ruby felt a strange fluttering in her stomach. Surely Micah Tate was not the reason, for no more irritating a man walked the earth. Yet when she bypassed the next to last step—the one that always creaked—in order to keep him from hearing her approach, Ruby had to admit it was so she could watch him undetected.

He kept himself well groomed, this rough-hewn wrecker, though his clothing bore signs he might have patched it himself. With rusty hair trimmed short enough to touch a jaw with no trace of whiskers, the wrecker almost looked like a gentleman. A lawyer, perhaps, or maybe if she forgot about the way he made her feel when he stood too close, a preacher. Only his hands, overlarge and covered with the calluses a working man accumulated, gave him away.

He’d moved the lamp closer, causing most of the dining room to be plunged into darkness. The stern portraits of Judge and Mrs. Campbell took on a sinister look on one wall, while the curtained windows offered nothing but the black night sky and the sound of the waves lapping against the rocks at the base of the hill some distance away.

Another book lay in front of him along with the Bible, but its name she could not discern. As she edged closer, Ruby could read the binding.

Robinson Crusoe.

What in the world?

The wrecker wasn’t writing a sermon at all. At least it appeared he hadn’t given much thought to the needs of a congregation, unless he would be speaking to them about castaways and uninhabited islands.

Ruby felt her temper flare as Micah picked up the book, slowly turned a page, and allowed his eyes to lazily follow Mr. Defoe’s words across the page.
How nice he has time for such frippery.