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 about his business. In the months after the disaster, she replayed their conversations over and over. She’d searched for any clue that might have helped her understand why he’d set sail without repairing the boiler. Dear Lord, if money had been his problem, she would have sold her jewelry for him. But as hard as she thought back, all she could remember were comments he’d made about her hair, her wit or her pretty clothes.
Crowley asked other questions about Caleb, but Alanna offered vague answers, unwilling to talk any more than was necessary. Soon the two lapsed into silence.
As she watched another wave crash over the bow of the boat, her mind drifted to the Caleb she’d known and loved. She’d been drawn to him the instant she’d first seen him firing orders at the men in the shipyard. For the first time in her life, she disobeyed her father and strode out onto the Patterson’s Shipping docks, determined to meet him.
They’d been drawn to each other like lightning to water. From the outset, the passion that had burned between them seemed eternal.
The roar of thunder brought Alanna back to the present. The memories receded but as always they never quite went away.
She’d tried to rebuild her life and suddenly wondered if Caleb had done the same. It tore at her to think of him with another woman. He could well be a father by now. “Mr. Crowley, has the captain married?”
“No.”
A small part of Alanna’s heart eased. “Because of the Intrepid?”
Crowley’s hands tightened around the oars as he dug the paddles deeper into the water. “That’s part of it.”
“Have you seen him lately?”
For a moment he didn’t speak, his full attention on the water. “Been a few months.”
“Does he look well?” She hated her curiosity.
He stared at her as if she’d asked a foolish question. “As well as can be expected.”
“Does he spend most of his time at the lighthouse?”
“He’s a regular hermit.”
Lightning sliced through the clouds. The old man shifted his full attention to the sky that had grown suddenly very dark. Fat rain droplets mingled with the wind and the boat started to pitch.
Alanna’s lips tasted of sea salt. She glanced down at her cold feet and realized the water had risen up to her shoelaces. “The boat is sinking!”
Caleb stared out the lightkeeper’s cottage window, relieved to see the thunderclouds rolling over the horizon. An unexpected restlessness had been building in his bones for days. Normally, he’d have attributed the sensation to the onslaught of bad weather. Reading the weather was an extra sense for him, as much a part of him as sight and touch.
But since Sloan had delivered Alanna’s package last month, his well-ordered world had tipped out of balance.
Caleb’s heart had raced as he’d held the package wrapped in brown paper. With his fingertip, he traced A. Patterson emblazoned in the upper left corner.
“Who is she?” Sloan had asked.
Caleb’s lips twisted into a grim smile. “How do you know it’s a woman?”
“Your jaw’s so tense it’s liable to snap.” Sloan grinned. “And a man don’t fondle another man’s package.”
Caleb grunted. “We’ve supplies to unload.”
Sloan didn’t move. “So who is she?”
Caleb wondered if fire still spit from Alanna’s jade-green eyes when she was angry; if her hair still spilled down her back like spun gold. “Nobody.”
Sloan rubbed his bearded chin with the back of his hand. “Right.”
Caleb held out the box. “Take it.”
Sloan looked at the package as if it were hot coals. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“Throw it in the sea for all I care.”
“No note?”
Caleb had been cheated out of his last confrontation with Alanna and his mind swam with a thousand unsaid words. He pulled a pencil from his coat pocket and on the box’s brown paper wrapping scrawled: I want nothing from you or your father. We are finished.
Sloan accepted the box from Caleb and studied the message. “You loved her, eh?”
Caleb’s head started to throb. “I was cursed by her.”
Since Alanna’s parcel had arrived, the island which had been his sanctuary had become brutally small. He’d paced the shores like a caged animal. He worked as hard as three men, but no matter how much he’d sweat, he couldn’t exorcise Alanna from his mind.
Twice, he’d nearly abandoned his post and rowed to the mainland.
But he’d stayed on guard.
Lightning flashed.