Pieces of Dreams (14 page)

“But the wedding—I told you I wanted to marry you.”

“You did, and I honor you for it.” His smile was weary. “I'm just not fool enough anymore to be certain you mean it. You still have time—just—to change your mind, though you have to make it up once and for all. Stay here and you’ll marry me tomorrow. Go, and Conrad will take you with him to Baltimore and the
Queen of the Sea
.”

“Yes, but what if—”

“He'll do right by you; I know that much because he's my brother and—but never mind. You can be married at the first town you come to tomorrow. After that, who knows? Foreign places, strange climes, then the life of a riverboat captain's wife when the babies come.” Caleb's smile was grim. “Conrad thinks he can plan his family, but I've seen the way he looks at you, and know he's more fool than I am about that part.”

“He said nothing when he came a little while ago.” She rose to her feet even as she voiced the protest. Her voice held an edge of doubt amounting to near-panic. Yet the light in her eyes glowed like the sunset.

He stood also. “I figured that out, which is why I'm here. Make up your mind, Melly. Do it now, or I swear I'll take back everything and hold you to your word.”

Distress invaded her features. “Oh, Caleb! How can I leave you to face this alone? What will everyone say?”

He shook his head with a wry twist of his mouth. “It isn't as if they haven't guessed.”

“Yes,” she whispered. Still she hesitated, searching his face. What she saw there gave her courage, for a slow smile bloomed across her features.

Whirling abruptly, she ran into the house.

What must she take with her?

So much had been packed and removed to Caleb's house already. Aunt Dora could send it after her. Still, there was her wedding dress, she must have that. It would go in the top of her small valise, which stood ready with her underclothing and nightgown neatly folded inside. What else? Her hairbrush and comb from her dressing table, her toothbrush.

The steam whistle was blowing again. She must hurry, hurry.

Her quilt! She could not leave that behind. It would be a reminder of home and friends when she needed it, if she needed it. The initials set into her bridal square were the same, and the date, pray God, would be right. She had thought so often of Conrad, sailing the seas, buying the silk for her in far off Cathay, as she was sewing, had stitched such dreams and idle fancies into it as she was sewing. Perhaps that was why they were coming true.

Yes, she must take it. She snatched it up.

What else? She turned this way and that in distraction, then she stopped.

Nothing. She needed nothing so long as she had her love.

Aunt Dora was waiting for her on the porch. Caleb must have told her already; her eyes were suspiciously moist and she had her hands wrapped in her apron. Yet she was smiling bravely. Melly set down her valise and quilt for a quick, fierce hug.

“You write now, you hear?” the older woman said, the words thick. “And take care, honey. You—take care.”

“Oh, yes, I will, I will...”

Then Sarah and Lydia, Esther and Biddy crowded around, laughing, crying, all trying to hug her at once. Good-bye, good-bye, so many good-byes. She didn't want the tears to fall, but she was leaving so much behind. So much. Yet there was so much ahead.

Caleb was still there also, waiting behind the others, coming forward as they drew back. Melly turned to him.

“Here,” he said, taking her hand and thrusting something into it.

It was a gold wedding ring. Inscribed inside were their initials, just as on her quilt. “Oh, Caleb.”

“You can use it until he buys you another, or keep it to remember me. I won't need it.”

She loved him then as she never had before. And because of it, she would indeed keep his ring. There was a loose stitch in the center square of the quilt next to the wedding date; she had noticed it at the picnic. She would slip the ring in there, as a remembrance, and sew it up safe and tight, for surely Caleb was as much her friend as any of the others?

Abruptly, she stepped close, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him full on the mouth. He raised his hands, but did not quite touch her before he dropped them again. She moved back, her lips curving in a tremulous smile. Then she picked up her things and was gone, leaving him staring, white-faced, behind her.

The
J. B. Cates
blew a last long blast as she ran headlong down the street. She saw it ahead of her, a great wedding cake-like pile of lumber lying nose-in toward the dock. Its white paint gleamed pink with the light of the setting sun. A black cloud of smoke was flying from its stacks to smudge the lavender sky. Men on the dock were loosening its lines, flinging them into the water as deck hands on board the boat began to coil them. The gangplank was being raised. In only a moment, the steamer would begin to move off into the river.

“Wait! Wait for me!”

Her voice broke as she called. They couldn't hear her for the beat of the paddle wheel and cascading of water. The pilot in the small house above the Texas deck was watching the river instead of the dock. The boat was drifting away with the river current as it built up steam.

Her side ached as she ran pell-mell with the valise beating against her leg and the long quilt in her arms threatening to trip her with every step. Her lungs were bursting, her heart shuddering in her chest.

“Wait for me!”

Now the passengers on deck were calling, pointing at her. Her hair was coming down as she lost her pins. Her arms ached with the weight of the valise. Tears rose to blur her vision. She ran harder.

But on the upper deck, a man was whirling to stare, sprinting to the railing. Conrad.

He saw her, waved, then spun around and disappeared. Seconds later, he appeared on the lower level at the gangplank. He did not wait for it to be lowered, but climbed to the end of the raised planking, using its rope guard rails. While passengers shouted encouragement or yelled up to the pilot to stop, the deck hands leaped to crank the gangplank to a level position. Conrad rode it down, weighting it, holding it steady.

But the boat was pulling further away, getting ready to back into the river's current before swinging to head upstream.

Then Mr. Prine was beside her, coming from the saloon nearby.  “Give me your stuff, Miss Melly! I'll chunk it on board for ye!”

She pushed the small bag at him, and he swung around at once to give it a hard heave. It landed on the deck and skidded against the bulkhead. An instant later, the quilt followed in the same way, rippling, shining, as it sailed over the water to catch on the railing. Eager hands grabbed it and drew it to safety.

Now Conrad was holding to the gangplank railing, grinning with joy, gladness brilliant in his eyes as he leaned out to her. “Jump, Melly! Jump! Now!”

But the gap was widening between boat and land. The water was swift-running, murky yellow-brown. And deep, so deep. A shiver ran over her, tracking down her back with the chill of old terror.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't.

“Jump, Melly, love. Come on, I'll catch you,” he called again, his voice deep and true, and rich with promise as he held out his hand. “
Jump if you love me...”

She squeezed her eyes shut, turned away. She took a step back down the dusty street. Then another. Another.

“Melly!”

It's only water...life, just life.

Whirling, she picked up her full skirts and began to run. She did not look at the water, but fastened her gaze on Conrad's face and the aching love in his eyes. Harder, faster. At the edge of the landing, she gathered her courage and her strength and leaped as hard and far as she could go.

The water, the deep flowing river, was under her, its widening stretch between bank and boat dancing in the last glow of the sun. She glimpsed it for a blinding instant as she flew across it but did not take her eyes from the man who reached out for her.

Then Conrad's strong arm whipped around her waist like a steel hawser. He staggered with the force of her momentum before he swung her onto the gangplank and dragged her roughly into his hard arms. Holding her so tight she could feel the hard thud of his heart against her ribs, he pressed his cheek to her temple. Overhead, the passengers on the decks cheered and shouted in congratulations and approbation.

“Dear God, Melly,” he whispered. “I was so afraid.”

He did not say of what, but she knew it was many things. She tilted her chin as she answered, “Not me.”

He smiled down at her with aching tenderness. “I adore you, sweet Melly Bennington, and will my whole life long. Come away with me and I'll give you the world tied up in a ribbon. I'll show you sunsets and storms, white sails in moonlight and dark night on a black sea. I'll sing you a sea chantey and let the waves rock you to sleep in my arms. And always, wherever you may be, there will I be also, and I will be home.”

“I love you, my captain,” she whispered. Then smiling, she put her arms around his neck, holding on as if she meant never to let go while she lifted her mouth for his kiss.

The
J. B. Cates
blew a deafening blast on its whistle and eased backward into the river. Conrad and Melly paid no attention.

It was miles before they noticed that the voyage had begun.

About the Author

Since publishing her first book at age twenty-seven,
New York Times
bestselling and award-winning author Jennifer Blake has gone on to write over sixty-five historical and contemporary novels in multiple genres. She brings the story-telling power and seductive passion of the South to her stories, reflecting her eighth-generation Louisiana heritage. Jennifer lives with her husband in northern Louisiana.

<< >>

Much of Jennifer’s backlist is still available in print and/or digital format.

New titles and recent new editions include:

The Three Graces Trilogy

New titles from Mira, released July, August and September, 2011.