The Lightkeeper's Woman. Mary Burton

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      The weather was closing in. She and Crowley would have to move fast if they were to make the journey before the storm hit.

      It seemed even the heavens were warning her to keep away from Caleb.

      “Best we get moving,” Crowley said as he brushed past her.

      Alanna watched the old man limp down the peer. He seemed confident enough about the weather and making the crossing. After all, if it were too dangerous he wouldn’t make the journey, right?

      Determined, she picked up her valise and stepped onto the pier. Bracing her feet she accustomed herself to the movement. Water lapped against the moorings as she tiptoed down the dock, careful not to get her heels caught in the wide openings between the boards.

      The vibration of her footsteps had Mr. Crowley raising his head from the rope knot he was untwisting. He snorted. “Hurry up. We ain’t exactly got all day.”

      She stared at his vessel that was as weather-beaten as her pirate captain. Her sail was patched in a half-dozen places and water sloshed over the bottom. “Is there supposed to be water in your boat?”

      Crowley unfastened the rope from the dock. “The Sea Witch is an ocean-worthy gal and she’s never failed me.”

      Doubt had her lifting her gaze to the sound. A handful of whitecaps dotted the waters. “The water looks rough.”

      He shrugged. “I’ve seen worse.”

      She nibbled her bottom lip. “Would it be better if we waited an hour or two?”

      “Women. Couldn’t make up their minds if their lives depended on it. I thought you was in a rush? Look, if you don’t want to go that’s fine. But I’m not giving your dollar back.”

      Her gaze lifted to Caleb’s lighthouse on the north end of the outer banks. It seemed much, much closer. The guilt and anger she’d carefully kept locked away for two years pounded at her heart. She was so close. “I have to go.”

      “Then the water’s calm enough.” His eyes narrowed. “You bring the money?”

      “I’ll give it to you when we return.”

      “Fair enough.” He twisted his thin lips into a half smile. “Don’t worry, the Sea Witch will serve us well. Now if we are going to shove off we best do it now.”

      Now or never.

      Alanna handed her valise to Crowley who tossed it toward the bow of the boat. It landed in a puddle of water on its side. “Would you please right my bag? I don’t want my things getting wet.”

      He didn’t spare the bag a glance. “With these waves and wind, we’ll both be soaked by the time we reach the banks.”

      Alanna hesitated. Was anything to go right on this journey?

      “Move your fanny!” Crowley said.

      Sighing, Alanna lifted her hem. Careful not to snag her skirt, she climbed down the small ladder into the boat’s damp bottom. The dinghy wobbled from side to side as she clung to the ladder. It was one thing to look at the boat from the dock, quite another to stand in the leaky vessel. She doubted she’d have let go of the pier if Crowley hadn’t pulled her roughly onto a wooden plank seat.

      “Women and the sea is a bad mix,” he muttered.

      The rocking boat unsettled her stomach. She wished she’d thought to pack crackers or a piece of bread. It still wasn’t too late, she thought in a panic as she stared at the dock. She could leave this wretched place behind.

      The box buttoned tight in her cape pocket brushed her leg, a reminder of why she was here. “It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been on the water.”

      Crowley studied Alanna’s white-knuckle grip on the side of the boat. “You ain’t gonna panic or worse start crying is you?”

      She lifted her chin. “Of course not.”

      He studied her an extra beat as if he half expected her to cry. “God save us all.”

      The old seaman took his seat across from her, his back facing aft. His knees brushed hers and she could smell the strong scent of whiskey. Gripping the oars, he pushed away from the dock.

      Despite his age, Mr. Crowley was a strong rower and within minutes they were a hundred feet from shore. He paused long enough to raise the sails. The boat started moving at a fast clip.

      Frigid northeastern winds smelling of salt and sea teased the curls peeking out from her hat and flapped the folds of her cape and skirt. The water grew choppier, and she lost sight of the dock.

      Now that they were out of land’s reach, the lighthouse seemed miles away. A wave broke over the bow of the boat, spraying her face with seawater. Sputtering, she wiped her face clean. If the boat were to overturn, no one would be there to save her. She would simply vanish into the sea.

      “I hear twenty-three men died when the Intrepid went down in a storm. The survivors say the ship’s boiler blew without warning.”

      “Yes, it’s true.”

      He snorted. “A good captain goes down with his men and his ship.”

      How many times had she heard others in Richmond utter the same thing? Ironically, Caleb’s reputation would have fared better at the inquest if he had died with his men. But Caleb had been blown free of the Intrepid when the boiler exploded. In the maritime world he’d done the unpardonable—he’d survived when his men had died.

      And then her father had supplied the reports that stated Caleb had refused maintenance on the Intrepid’s boiler so he could leave port three days earlier. His fatal error had killed twenty-three men.

      She’d been so ill those weeks after the accident. Weakened and exhausted, she’d broken their engagement in a fit of grief and fear. Her father and friends had told her over and over that she’d made the right decision. As her health improved and she grew stronger she’d started to question the events surrounding the accident. Caleb had always seemed so careful when it came to his ship.

      Her father had discounted her doubts and then without warning he had shot and killed himself in his study. The devastating loss had left her in a state of shock for months. When she finally let go of her grief, she came face-to-face with the reality—her father’s business wasn’t simply in trouble—it was gone. She was penniless.

      “What are you to him?” Crowley said.

      “An old friend,” she lied, hoping he’d leave her to her thoughts.

      Crowley grunted as his narrowed gaze skimmed slowly over her. “You and he were friends? Lovers maybe, but not friends.”

      The old man was right. Alanna and Caleb had loved each other; they had laughed together; and yes, they had been lovers, but they’d never been friends. So caught up were they in their attraction to each other, they rarely discussed anything other than the most superficial.

      Perhaps if they’d been better friends, he’d have told her more СКАЧАТЬ