Later that afternoon Fayth stood at the living-room window of their home, looking out past evergreens and nearly leafless alders toward Puget Sound. Coral had gone out. The Captain sat on a sofa behind her.
"When you're home, do you miss the sea?" She let the lace curtain fall into place over the window and stepped back, turning to look at him.
"Yes, and no."
"I heard Billy and some of the men grumbling about the mail runs. Billy told me you never wanted to be a mailman. What changed your mind?"
His laugh was almost a snort. "The fire, darling."
"Didn't it change us all? I hate to think of you giving up something you love."
"So do I." His gaze pierced.
As was so often the case, she suspected his words had double meaning.
"The government mail subsidies pay well. They're steady, reliable income."
"Yes, steady, reliable."
"I'm proud of you, Fayth. Look what you accomplished while I was gone. The building's finished, the sidewalks covered, and the streets of Seattle are graced with women in colorful new gowns."
"You flatter me. But let's not talk about those sidewalks. I still might storm into Lou's someday and give those councilmen a piece of my mind." She sat in a chair opposite him. "We need to talk about the building and Coral."
"I was afraid it would come around to that. It's time Coral was on her own."
What could she say? She had promised him. Still, she wasn't quite ready to let her go. "I'm worried about Coral. How does she look to you?"
"A little plumper, nice and healthy."
"A little plumper! She eats like she did at Lou's, drinks a quart of milk at a sitting, but she doesn't get half the exercise. She's filled out so much, she's outgrown the dresses I made for her just months ago." Fayth sighed. "She hasn't been happy here since you left."
She tried not to sound jealous, but she resented how the Captain could always keep Coral in good spirits.
"She complains that the house is too quiet. There are no parties, no professor to play the piano. No servants, no cook. No men to pay her pretty compliments. She flirts mercilessly with any man who comes to the shop. Fortunately, most of the business these days is sewing for women.
"I don't know how to please her. She hasn't been paying Lou. You should see all the new baubles and trinkets she's purchased. I paid Lou myself last month. What if she falls back into the business?" She crossed her arms, and caught herself rubbing them as if to ward off cold thoughts.
"I wouldn't worry about her. She's been on her own before. Let her move to the shop."
"I don't know. She's irresponsible. And still girlish. She plays foolish little tricks." Fayth shook her head, remembering her confrontation with Coral earlier in the week.
Fayth had just closed the shop and retired to her desk. Coral was in the storeroom straightening up. Fayth felt something stuck in the sole of her boot. She took it off to examine it. When she turned it over, she found the words, Con, I desire you tragically, penned on the bottom. She pulled off the other to find a companion message. For a good time, meet me at home. Anytime. Fayth. Blast! On her best pair of boots.
"Coral!"
Coral had come running.
Fayth pointed to her shoes in disgust. "What is the meaning of this?"
"You only just noticed?" Coral struggled for control of her giggles.
"How long has this message been here?"
"Two days, but what do you have to worry about? You never walk over the skylights. Oh, Fayth, you should see your face."
Coral broke into a full laugh, little tears crowding the corners of her eyes. "I was only trying to help."
"Help?"
"Anyone can see how much you miss him. Why don't you just admit it? Seduce him when he gets back."
"What makes you think I want to?"
Coral dabbed the tears away with the back of her hand. "I've seen you study him, Fayth, and I've watched you hang on his every word. You love that man."
"He's a handsome man. Too handsome." Fayth laughed "What have I told you about attractive men?"
"Never trust them. So don't trust him, love him."
Fayth laughed again. "I see I'm going to have a hard time turning you away from your romantic notions. Will this ink come off?"
"Might wear off. Keep your feet on the ground, Fayth, and no one will ever see the message. That shouldn't be hard for a realist like you."
Later that night Fayth pitched the shoes into the back of her closet, wondering whether she could paint over the words. But she couldn't help smiling just a little. Coral did have a sense of humor, and a disturbingly clear insight into Fayth's preoccupation with the Captain. That night she had decided, why fight it? She would welcome him into her bed.
Fayth's thoughts returned to the present. "Captain, can we wait until after the statehood celebration to decide about Coral?"
"If that's what you want, Fayth. But let's not delay long."
"The celebration's only a few days away." She paused. "I hate to lose her. It's so quiet when you're at sea. I'll be lonely."
"You won't, darling. Now that I'm going to be running local mail, I'll be gone only days at a time. I'll be here to keep you company."
A last shaft of late November sunlight cut through Fayth's curtained window, fueling her spirits with its brilliance as she dressed for dinner. She smoothed her hand over the skirt of her newest creation, an evening gown of white India silk with three-quarter length sleeves trimmed with yellow velvet roses. The V-neck scooped low in front and back. Ribbons and bows of yellow velvet drooped from the upper and lower edges of the bodice. Three rows of ribbon outlined the train.
Just as the last of the light faded, she fluffed her crimped bangs and arranged the loose tendrils that curled at the back of her neck under an elaborate bun. Tonight he was taking her to dinner at a large party at the Occidental. Tomorrow they'd take the train to Olympia for the official celebration.
She would let Coral move to the shop. She'd tell him tonight. Would he see it for what it was, a desire to remove the barriers she had put up between them? She hoped so. Fayth grabbed her wrap.
She heard voices in the kitchen, and prepared to meet them with a fluttery heart. His voice. Fayth smiled to herself. He always came back, and unlike Drew, the Captain always took care of her. Hadn't he gotten her the money for the second story? Didn't he help her get the original loan? She smoothed her skirt and took a deep breath before breaking from the hall into the kitchen.
"Fayth, you look stunning." The Captain's voice was deep, warm, and barely perceptibly tentative. He studied her with the same hopeful manner that in the past had always confused her. Today, she hoped she read it correctly. Could it be? Was his calm unflappability cracking ever so slightly? Did she read desire there? "Seeing you looking so fine makes me glad President Harrison proclaimed Washington a state."
"Thank you."
"The carriage is parked just outside the door." He held her wrap, before offering her his arm. "You just missed Coral. She left with her escort, a respectable looking young fellow. Told me not to worry about her, or wait up."
"Aren't they all? The little scamp." Coral had never had a dinner engagement before. Had Coral and the Captain schemed behind Fayth's back? Fayth hoped so. "That means we're alone?"
"All alone."
Chapter 12
At the Occidental, Fayth and the Captain sat in the new dining room with the elite, in plain view of all. Fayth enjoyed the attention, especially that paid her by the Captain. Later, she would show him how much.
Green and yellow satin ribbons and flags festooned the heavily decorated room, hanging from every corner and table and nook. Rhododendrons in shades Fayth had never seen before adorned each table in lush bunches of lavender, pink, magenta, and green. The podium up front spilled over with them. Fayth wondered where the hotel staff had procured so many of the out of season flowers.
"Well, it's not Wong's," the Captain said, "but the food here wil
l have to do."
She hesitated, but she had to ask. "Memories of the time we dined there together before don't . . . embarrass you?"
"Never."
What was he telling her? Had he been flattered by her marriage proposal? A girl could hope.
The Captain ordered for them both. As the waiter served their meal, Seattle's mayor stepped up to the podium and began the evening with one of many long speeches. At first intermission, the waiter came to clear the dishes. The Captain reached across the table and took Fayth's hand.
"Do you want to stay for the dancing?" The Captain didn't look enthusiastic about the prospect.
"Something tells me you don't."
"It's not the dancing, Fayth. It's the long prelude of speeches that we'll be forced to endure first. A man can only take so much of politicians jabbering. I've had my fill. I'm stiff from sitting, smiling, nodding, and feigning interest in what they have to say."
She smiled and reached for her purse. "Then by all means, let's leave before they get started again."
He stood and pulled her chair out for her. As Fayth glanced around the room, she noticed they weren't the only people eager to retreat. The Captain evidently noticed, too.
"There’ll be a crush at the coatroom." He took her elbow.
"Are we going home then?"
He guided her into line to wait for their coats. "Not if you don't want to."
There was something suggestive in his voice. She hoped she didn't just imagine it. "Did you have something in mind?"
"I thought we might stroll up the beach toward the wharf. Maybe have a little dessert aboard the ship." He sounded too nonchalant, leaving her wondering what he meant by dessert.
Without thinking, she glanced down at her celebration gown.
"Oh, you're not dressed for a stroll. I'm sorry."
"No, please." She took his arm. "The carriage is parked at the wharf. We need to walk there by some route. The beach sounds more,” she paused, “pleasant."
He noticed her pause. There was a suddenly hopeful look in his eyes. "Your gown?"
"It'll wash." She laughed.
They reached the coatroom. He handed their tickets to the harried girl on the other side of the counter.
Minutes later they walked along the deserted beach. Gray dominated the evening sky. The earlier rain had subsided, but more threatened.
"If this weather persists, tomorrow will be an abysmal day for an inauguration. Can you picture the crowd in Olympia with umbrellas and raincoats?" The Captain spoke as they strolled arm in arm under his umbrella.
"Easily. I don't think our politicians deserve less after their blatant campaign against suffrage." She snuggled close against him. Oh, he felt good. Her heart pounded at the turn of her thoughts and what she contemplated.
"You'll get the vote soon," he said.
"I hope so, but it should have been part of Washington's state charter."
Elliott Bay stretched dark and forbidding beside them as they walked along the waterfront. Waves broke into whitecaps, stirred by a damp, cold breeze. Fayth shivered.
The Captain tucked her hand under his warm arm. "Cold?"
"I was thinking of the water. On a night like this it terrifies me. Wild, beyond control, bottomless. I'm glad you stand on the shore here with me, safe."
He looked touched, and hopeful again, as his gaze followed hers to the water. Surely she didn't misread him.
"As they go, that isn't a rough sea," he said. "A good sail, a capable crew and this weather will take you for a ride worth braving. There's nothing like feeling the thrill of speed as you sail with the wind at your back, heightening the illusion you're flying. Traveling at the speed of the wind, not a hair on your head is disturbed. Almost, you are the wind." He stood looking out across the water.
Fayth watched him. Tall and proud in profile, he looked very much as he did when he captained the Aurnia. Very much like the man she had always imagined she wanted.
"Of course, these days we don't rely on the wind. Our steam engine is more reliable. A finely tuned engine gives nearly the same thrill."
"The ocean is your first love. I was never wrong about that."
His fleeting expression confused her. What did she see written in it? Denial? Hope? How could that be?
"She's a good love. At night the waters rock you to sleep like a lover's arms and in the day the spray refreshes your sense of being. Still, it's not quite the same as warm, feminine arms, a real embrace."
Lover's arms? Real embrace? Was he asking what she thought?
Broken shells and kelp littered the shore around them. Fayth picked her way through, heart thudding wildly. Feminine arms. He wanted her embrace, but did he want her love?
He pulled her toward the pier where the Aurnia was docked. "It's cold at water's edge. What do you say I make you some tea and we warm up onboard?"
Was this the invitation she had hoped for? She looked into his eyes, trying to discern his true intentions. But blast him! He'd always been good with a poker face, too calm and controlled for his own good, or hers. His eyes were masked, giving nothing away. She wanted to rattle him, for him to be as vulnerable and hopeful as she. She could play his game of innuendoes. "I would love that."
His expression didn't alter as he guided her toward the vessel and up the gangplank. Fayth paused at the top, allowing Con to skirt around her. He jumped to the deck and held out his arms for her, sweeping her down from the plank. The smell of bay rum filled her senses as he lowered her to the deck.
The Aurnia was deserted. The crew celebrated statehood in town, no doubt with whatever they could put in their glasses to raise in toast to the new state. Con guided her past the instruments in the wheelhouse back to the shipmaster's quarters, his hand planted firmly in the small of her back. She liked the intimacy of his touch, the warmth of it. Who was she kidding? She loved his touch.
In his quarters, she took a seat and watched as he lit the stove and lamps, admiring what she saw. Lean, hard lines. Muscles. Strength. Did she possess the nerve to go through with becoming his wife? Really becoming his wife and all that entailed. The possibility of children, having to give up the shop to raise them. Life always gave choices, but never simple answers, especially for women. A price must be paid for everything, even passion. Did it make good sense to risk the security she had for passion? What good was good sense in and of itself?
For far too long, she had locked her emotions away, lived life according to logic and sense. When was the last time she had felt passion stirring, and yielded, even in the slightest, to its calling?
Memories of the night of the Great Fire flooded back with startling clarity. The deck of the Aurnia, a stiff breeze, flames and smoke in the distance, and Con. Heat, passion. She would be his, make him hers. As for the consequences, come what may.
A soft glow reflected in the polished surfaces. Fayth shifted in her seat as Con put water on to boil. Soon a pleasant warmth filled the room. Con removed his coat. After the damp coldness outdoors, the warmth made Fayth peacefully drowsy and serene.
"Your cabin is beautiful." She watched him get cups and jars of loose tea from the cupboard. "I've often wondered why you leave it to stay at the house. We have nothing to compare."
"Maybe you do."
Hope as dancing as the lamplight flickered within her. The water boiled. He made tea and set a cup in front of her before joining her at the table. As she let hers cool, she rose and wandered around the cabin, admiring his pictures, his books, pointing at things and waiting for his explanations, enjoying his gaze as it followed her about. Was he leering? He'd better be.
"I'm disappointed." Fayth held a framed photograph in her hand. "There isn't a single picture of you without a beard. You'd be most devastatingly handsome without one. This?"
"Grandam. I think you'd be devastatingly disappointed, probably accuse me of having a weak chin."
"I hope I get a chance to make that judgment myself." She inspected the picture. "She looks very statel
y, maybe even imposing."
"She's nothing but kind. Would you like to meet her, Fayth?"
Could he want her to meet his family? He'd mentioned something about them before, so long ago she'd nearly forgotten. Walking about the room had roused her from her previous drowsiness, awakening her nerves, fears, and hopes. The frame trembled in her hand. She set it down, hoping he hadn't noticed. Could he mean?
"I would. Will you bring them to Seattle?"
"If you like, but Grandam doesn't travel well. Claims not to have any sea legs, says I didn't get mine from her. Doesn't like the train much better. Besides, it doesn't run all the way here."
"I might consider going to San Francisco." She smiled at him. "Would you take me?"
"I'll take you anywhere you want to go." His words were laced with innuendo.
Her mouth went dry with anticipation. "Anywhere?"
"To heaven and back, Fayth. Anywhere." His eyes looked dark, but he didn't move from his chair. He didn't move a muscle. Why couldn't she ever read him? If he wanted her, why didn't he come get her? She looked to the galley, unable to resist goading him.
"I thought you mentioned dessert. I don't see a cake, a pie, anything."
"Don't you?" His voice became very deep.
"No, and I'm hungry." She matched her tone to his. He lost control. Desire danced in his eyes. If there was a deeper emotion behind it, he kept that masked.
"There's a cake in the cupboard."
What a strange and intimate game they played. Neither spoke of cake. She held his gaze. "Then by all means, serve it."
He stood suddenly, pushing the chair back with such force that it toppled over. He didn't pause to look back at it. The next instant he swooped her up and carried her down the hall back to the bedroom, never letting her gaze escape his. Her heart beat an uneven rhythm so loud he must have heard it.
Con's neatly made bed filled the room. She looked toward it and couldn't resist teasing him. "What does it say about a man when his bed fills the whole room?"
"In general, I couldn't say. Specifically, I'd say it's too damned lonely sleeping alone in such a monstrosity."
His answer surprised her as much as his sudden action. He set her on her feet in front of the bed and stood behind her. She felt his hot breath on her neck and the stillness of him. It took her a minute to realize he was giving her a chance to retreat. A chance she didn't need.
The Last Honest Seamstress Page 21