Constance: Bride of Florida (American Mail-Order Bride 27) (5 page)

Drake gave her a slight bow. “Pleased to meet you. And thank you for agreeing to look after my mother.” Petite, blond, and blue-eyed, she was a rather beautiful woman.

“I’ll take good care of her. You needn’t worry. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand.

He took it, surprised at her warmth. “Thank you.”

She paused, gently pulled her hand from his, and smiled. “I better go.” She stared at him for a moment, then turned and walked toward his home.

“Should I walk with her?”

Doc shook his head. “No, that’s not why I asked you along. Follow me.”

With a last look at Kimberly, Drake turned to Doc and followed.

Soon they turned into the cemetery. Drake wanted to run. He hated the old place. Didn’t even like walking by it. He avoided even the idea of death.

“Your grandfather and grandmother by your father’s side are buried here. As you know, your mother’s family is buried in Georgia.”

“Why are we going here?” Drake hated the childish way he whined as if he were a mere boy.

“You’ll see.” Doc strode along the rows of graves until he came to a section that was fenced off. A cement ball and wagon guarded the entryway.

Dread rose inside him.

Doc pushed open the gate and held it for him. “I thought it was time you saw where your twin brother was buried. Always felt it was wrong to keep that from you.” He walked down a narrow path, knelt, and brushed away leaves and grass from the headstone.

Drake stood beside him.

Doc pulled a match from his pocket and struck it on the side of the headstone. Light burst from the flame and he read, Evan Ferris Jr. Beloved son of Evan and Martha Ferris.

Drake took a step back and bumped into another headstone. His brother, long ago dead and cold in the grave. So close until birth, yet, there was no mention of his name. No mention that he’d lost a brother. No mention that he should care.

The doc stood. “Drake, I didn’t bring you here to make you feel sad. Thought you needed to know and see about your brother. Twins form a lasting bond. I’ve watched you growing up. You’ve always been apart from your family. I think this is why. Say goodbye to Evan Jr. and then live your life. Become a part of your family and find a good woman to marry her.”

Minutes later, Drake was vaguely aware that the doctor had left him. Standing in the cold night, he gazed at the clouds as they scudded over the moon. He knelt and felt the gravestone. Then he laid his hand on the cold ground. Tears formed and dropped to the earth.

Not bothering to wipe them, he gently patted the ground. “I’m sorry you died. I never knew about you. Although in my heart, there was always something missing. A part of me that felt empty. I think that’s because of you. I hope you’re happy, though in heaven I suppose you would be. Goodbye, Evan Jr.”

Drake stood, wiped his eyes, and left the graveyard of children. It made him smile to think his brother had been buried with other kids. Perhaps in heaven, God had a special place for those who died so young.

An owl hooted and swooped on silent wings past him. The moon hid behind dense clouds as thunder rumbled in the distance. Despite the omens of trouble, Drake felt a peace in his soul he’d never known.

On the walk back home, he wondered about Constance Penny, but couldn’t get the image of Kimberly Agnew out of his mind.

What had he done?

Chapter 6

Constance woke from sleep. Not gently but by being slung against the wall. The ship listed, righted itself, only to be flung to the other side. Starboard to port and back again. Thunder shouted from the heavens, answering her unasked question of what was going on.

Captain Gordon had said if a storm rose up to secure herself and her items so as not to get hurt. Now, she wondered how one did that in a rocking and rolling ship?

She wondered how the other passengers were doing. They’d been green while sailing on calm seas. She sent up a silent prayer for them. After a violent pitch, she added herself and the ship.

Staring out the porthole, she could only see waves. It was as if the ocean were intent on swallowing the ship whole. Winds roared above and she could only imagine how they must be ravaging the top deck.

Her roiling stomach seemed intent on matching the lurch of the waves. Cooky had given her some crackers to eat in case she felt seasick, but they were in the top drawer of the little dresser across the room.

Against her better judgment, yet desperate to aid her rebelling stomach, she waited for a moment of calm and stumbled out of her hammock. The ship bucked against a wave and sent her to the floor. She crawled to the dresser, opened the drawer, and found the crackers.

She leaned against the wall and ate. Her stomach calmed some but the weather did not. She crawled to the porthole and tried to peer through the darkness. The ship pitched, and she tumbled across the room.

Fear beckoned to her in full form. What if something smashed into the lantern on the wall and spread fire throughout the ship? Should she extinguish the flame? Captain Gordon hadn’t said to. What if the other passengers started a fire? The thought did bring a smattering of laughter to her as she thought about how sick they’d been earlier, she doubted they could do anything but groan right now.

She stared at the small window and prayed for light. The only answer came as bright bolts of lightning crashed into the sea. What if the mast was hit? Would it explode? Burn the ship? “Oh, God, why did I get on this ship?”

Then she thought of E. Ferris. Did he care so little for her that he’d place her in mortal danger when he could have provided fare for the train? What kind of man had she promised herself too?

A flood of doubts washed over her. She was nothing. Who would want her? Nobody ever had. Only her father until he died. Yet, even in that, he’d left her. Left her alone in a harsh, dirty world. Perhaps it would be better if she died tonight.

Hideous thoughts rammed her mind. “Go outside and throw yourself overboard.” They hissed. “No one will care.”

She pulled her knees to her and hung onto the pole by the window. She clung to it as if it were her lifeline. For hours the ship rolled. Violent shifts followed by dramatic drops and rises.

Below she heard things crash against others. Above she heard a loud crack and then the ship shook as something heavy fell to the deck. She prayed. Harder than she ever had.

“God, are you real? Do You care? Help us!”

Her heart hammered, adding to the clamor around her. Never had she heard a wind so fierce or thunder so loud. What was the captain doing? But then what could he do but hang on as she was doing. One thought comforted her. If she were to die, it wouldn’t be alone. She’d go down with a ship full of souls.

A loud crash sounded above, and the ship listed hard to starboard, taking a long time to right itself.

Constance gripped the pole with both hands and hung on lest she be thrown through the air to the other side. “God help us. God help us.” The words tumbled out. Over and over she repeated her prayer.

After what felt like hours, the ship righted with a loud drop. Constance clung to the pole and tried to bat away the doubts and fears that assaulted her. Through the night, she hung on. Praying for safety. Praying for morning.

Bright light woke her.

She blinked at the sunlight streaming through the porthole. She was alive and still above water.

After eating the last of the crackers, she decided to dress and go outside and see what damage may have been done. Her small cabin was a wreck. The drawers in her dresser had come open and her few items strewn about the cabin. But she was alive. For some reason having beaten the fears, doubts, and storm, lifted her spirits. It felt good to be alive.

She started humming as she dressed. Her stomach seemed to accept the crackers and was back to normal. In fact, she was hungry for breakfast but doubted the galley would be in any shape to cook a meal.

Ready for the day, she opened her door and gasped. The mast had come through the deck and landed not far from her door. Men were busy with ropes in an attempt to haul it up.

Stubby, a bandage around his head, saw her and came to her. “Missy, best you stay in your cabin today. It will be some time before we make enough repairs so it’s safe for the passengers to walk about.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He grinned at her. “A real sailor you are, Lass. The other passengers are all sick as dogs. You look fresh and ready to take on the world, ye do.”

Her cheeks grew hot. She wasn’t accustomed to compliments. “Thank you, Stubby. I see you must have hurt your head. Are there others injured?”

“It’s just a little bump. Aye. There’s a few banged up, nothing for you to worry about, Lass. For now, though, stay in your cabin. I’ll see the cook sends you some food.”

She nodded, wanting to go topside and see for herself what shape the ship was in, but she didn’t want to cause problems, so she stayed in her cabin. It wasn’t too long and she heard a knock on her door.

Upon opening, she saw a shipmate with a plate of food.

“Got ye breakfast, ma’am.” The young man held the tray out to her.

She took it grateful to have food. “Thank you.”

He nodded and left her.

Despite the storm, Cooky had prepared an excellent meal, and she ate every bit of it. She chuckled to herself. Who would have thought that mousy Constance Penny would be a good sailor? Or a good anything!

After some time, she grew restless and ventured outside her cabin. The mast was gone and men were busy repairing the deck. She climbed topside and gasped. Sails hung limp and torn from the smaller masts. Ropes littered the deck, along with men busy with work.

She spotted the other passengers along the rail to her right, but as she walked toward them, she stopped when she realized what they were doing with their heads hung over the side. Instead, she slipped around the men and climbed up to the captain’s walk at the front of the ship.

The ocean was deceptively calm. She knew better now. Those placid waters were capable of huge waves intent on destroying the ship.

“Miss Penny, I see you survived our storm last night. The tempest came out of nowhere like a demon on the prowl. But don’t you worry,
Journeys end
is a stout ship and has weathered far worse than that one.”

“Captain Gordon, I admit I am grateful to be alive today. A wonderful feeling, don’t you think?”

He stared at her quizzically. “Yes, yes I suppose that is a wonderful feeling. I must say, your face is glowing.”

She smiled. She couldn’t even help it as she continued to smile broadly and unashamedly. She had truly never felt so alive. And she wanted to live. She’d beaten her demons and determined not to succumb to their taunts to end her life. No, she was alive and determined to live every moment of however long the Lord gave her.

“I do feel as if I was given a gift of sorts last night. A gift of living and feeling and wanting to live. I’ve truly never felt that way before. … Oh, Captain. Is there something I can do to help? I saw Stubby and the bandage around his head, are there injured that I can aid in tending?”

He drew in a deep breath. “Aye, there are a few who were hurt but not too badly, but that is not your concern. You are a guest.”

Captain Gordon strode to the rail and spoke to a man.

Constance turned her gaze from him and looked over the sea. In front of the ship, dolphins jumped out of the ocean as if they were playing in the dark blue waters.

She paused and remembered Stubby had told her about the steam engines they used in case of trouble.

A steady thrum below reassured her that they weren’t dead in the water. She drew in a breath of fresh sea air. Yes, she was alive.

I’m coming, E. Ferris. You’d better be ready.

###

Drake woke from fitful dreams of being buried alive. He threw off the blankets, happy to see the sun was now shining and the storms of last night gone. Most of them anyway. There was still Mother’s illness.

His heartbeat rushed as he thought about her. She couldn’t die. Fear jolted him and he hurried to dress. Finished, he sped down the stairs. With a groan, he saw that as usual, he was the last one up.

Yet, relief bolstered him, as it seemed no one acted as if a disaster had occurred in the night. He slowed and sat at the table. A plate in the center was piled high with pancakes while the smell of bacon drifted in from the kitchen.

He was about to ask who cooked the meal when Kimberly entered the room with a plate of bacon and one of toast.

“Here you all are. Mrs. Ferris was adamant that I prepare breakfast for her men.” She smiled at him and set the plates down.

Father, his face drawn, nodded at her. “Won’t you join us?”

“I’ve had mine. I was up earlier and fixed Mrs. Ferris and me a wonderful cup of tea and poached eggs. She told me she’s always loved poached eggs, but no one in her family liked them. So, I made her a treat and now, I’ll be going back to her room to watch over her. She’s really a lovely woman.”

Drake cringed at the thought of his mother wanting something but forgoing it because of him, his father, and brothers. Yet, he knew it was mostly him. He’d rebelled at the thought of a soft egg cooked in water.

If he’d only known, he’d have told her to make poached eggs. He glanced around the table and wondered if the others had bowed to his moody protests. He felt as if he’d awakened a different person.

Why had he been so self-consumed all these years? Why didn’t he recognize it? And now, just what was he going to do about it? First thing he was going to do was find out what Mother wanted.

His mind drifted back to the small grave and his heart lurched at the pain his mother must have gone through as she tended to him. She probably hadn’t had time to grieve over his brother.

Edgar passed the plate of bacon to him. There were five left and father hadn’t had any yet. Normally, he’d have taken at least three or four and not given it a thought. Today, he forked two pieces and left the rest.

He wondered about his father and the small infant sleeping in the cold ground bearing his name. Drake had always wondered why he hadn’t been named after Father. Early on, he’d despised the name Ethan because he thought he should have been Evan Jr. Now, he knew why.

A nagging thought nudged his mind. Is that why he’d demanded to be called Drake instead? Because he felt slighted and had fought back in the only way he knew how by choosing his own name? A name that wasn’t connected to the store or the family in any way.

Drake stabbed at his food, not finding his usual pleasure in eating. A glance around the table showed he wasn’t the only one. Yet, no one spoke. Why was that? Why did his family seem to only have one topic of conversation and that was the store?

Putting down his fork, Drake collected his thoughts. “Father, how is Mother this morning? Any change?”

After taking a sip of coffee, he turned to look at him. “The same. Dr. Andrews is coming by a little later to check on her.”

Drake stared at the man was and was shocked to see that he looked tired, sad, and aging before his eyes. Drake hadn’t really looked at his father in such a way before. Today, Evan Ferris was a man and not just father.

Edgar stood. “Edwin and I can open the store. Drake can help if he wants. You stay here with Mother.”

Drake winced at Edgar’s darting glance toward him. Meeting the challenge, Drake stood. “Good idea. It’s time you had a little rest, Father. We can handle the store. You stay home as long as Mother needs you.”

A look of shock made its way around the faces in the room. Father gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, Ethan, or I should say, Drake. I would like to stay with your mother.” He looked away. “There’s so much I’d like to do for her.”

Drake waved at his brothers. “Let’s go. Send word if you need us.”

Father nodded. While he looked relieved, his face had darkened with a sorrow that made Drake cringe.

Heavy with regret, Drake led his brothers on their walk to the store. How many times had he done this before but followed behind his brothers? Never had he led the way. Today was different. Life seemed brighter, more painful and cheerful at the same time.

Soon, they reached the store. Drake felt his pockets. He didn’t have a key. Never had. Father had tried to give him one, but he’d refused to take it. He looked at his brothers. “Either of you have a key?”

Edgar pushed between them to the door and unlocked it. “Me and Edwin have keys. We’ll get you one today.”