by Reina Torres
Rosemary set down her paring knife and the potato she’d been skinning and got up from the chair. Stepping over to the pitcher on the sideboard she poured a cup and brought it over to Loretta, setting it gently in her hand. “You sit and relax. I’ll take over at the stove.”
“I’ll be all right, I just need a moment to get my bearings.”
She saw Loretta’s sad eyes and Rosemary took up her free hand in both of hers.
“There’s no need to rush. I’ve helped you make breakfast before. You’ve done so much to help me, Loretta. Let me help you.”
She could see the stubborn lift of the older woman’s chin, but she also saw the weary look on her face.
“You’re gonna stay here and keep an eye on me to make sure I don’t burn the boat down to the river.”
That almost pulled Loretta out of her chair, but Rosemary settled her right back down.
Shaking her head, she moved back to the stove to check on the two large pans of hash Loretta had been preparing for breakfast. Picking up a thick cloth she adjusted the pans on the stove top.
“Sally? You cut that ham up into pieces?”
When Sally didn’t answer, Rosemary turned around and looked at her friend.
“Sally?”
The other girl started and turned to look at her with a blush on her cheeks. “Sorry. What did you say?”
Rolling her eyes at her friend, Rosemary sighed. “Did you cut up the ham?”
“Sure… sure…” She may have been saying the words, but Sally’s attention was drifting back toward the open doorway.
“Sally!”
Loretta’s voice cut through the younger woman’s daydreams.
Dropping her gaze to the table and the platter of ham she’d cut, Sally slowly lifted her eyes to meet Loretta’s piercing gaze. “What’s gotten tangled up in your head?”
“I was just trying to get another look at Rosemary’s Mister Brooks.”
Rosemary’s shoulders tensed up as she kept the hash moving enough that the potatoes could get crispy, but not burnt. She didn’t turn around but she did mumble something under her breath.
“What was that, Rosemary?”
She could hear Sally’s voice full of laughter, but Rosemary wouldn’t look up from her pans. She certainly wasn’t going to turn around and let her read the truth on her face.
While she couldn’t consider Andrew Brooks hers in any way, shape, or form, she had to admit to herself that he was a fine gentleman.
Loretta saved her from the embarrassment of having to answer.
“Sally? Do I need to remind you that you’re working? And your duties do not include leaving the room for gossiping and other aimless pursuits.”
Rosemary could tell by the shuffling sounds that Sally was duly chastised and it took some of the weight off her shoulders.
What Loretta had said was true. They all had jobs that they were expected to do. They had been warned by Mrs. Abraham on more than one occasion that if they spoke to men on board, even the men that were on the crew, for any other reason than to do their jobs, they would be sacked.
Not only would they lose their jobs, but they would be put off at the nearest town and certainly would not receive any kind of recommendation.
So the only thing Rosemary could do with her interest in getting to know the knew cargo clerk was tuck it away with the rest of the hopes and dreams that she’d had, and remember to be grateful for her job and working with people who treated her with respect.
“Loretta? Do I pay you to sit down?”
Rosemary amended her thoughts. Mrs. Abraham certainly didn’t treat many with respect. Certainly not the people who worked for her.
“Ma’am?” When Rosemary turned from the stove toward the doorway, she saw Loretta’s look of warning.
Sure, Mrs. Abraham might smile and nod at folks with plenty of money in their pockets, but to those who worked aboard the Siren, she couldn’t seem to find a kind word.
“Loretta has been working tirelessly all morning. I asked to take a turn at the stove to learn what I could, so I can do more to help her in the kitchen.”
Looking down her long aquiline nose, Mrs. Abraham looked back and forth between the two as if she was trying to figure out if she could trust the women in her employ. As she looked at them both, Rosemary had to keep an eye on the pans.
Letting the crew’s breakfast burn would only give Mrs. Abraham a real reason to argue that they weren’t doing their jobs.
It seemed like forever before she heard the captain’s wife sigh as if she were exhausted by her lot in life. “I know you’re all aware that the crew will be gathering for the morning meal in less than five minutes?”
Together, the women in the kitchen all answered her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, let’s get moving.”
Rosemary barely managed to look up when someone walked up beside her.
“She talks like she’s standing over a hot stove right here with us.”
Rosemary tried not to laugh at Jean’s grumble. “Hush now. You never know when she’ll come back.”
Jean added more toast to the platter she’d laid aside and nudged Rosemary with her shoulder. “She’ll always be back.”
Turning to give her friend a word of caution, all she could see was the spark of mischief in her eyes. Jean was wise beyond her years.
“Really, Rosemary, if you see the shadow of a dark cloud passing overhead,” she sighed, “or you feel a sense of dread. You’ll know that Missus Abraham is near.” Curling her fingers like those of an old crone, Jean’s whisper was almost a cackle. “Beware… beware!”
Rosemary reached up and plucked the last two pieces of bread from the rack, hissing at the sudden heat on her finger tips as she set them down on the platter. “Go on, now. Take those into the dining room. I’ll be right along with the hash.”
“Yes, you will,” Jean gave her a wink, “I’ll make sure that Mister Brooks saves you a seat.”
With that parting comment, Jean turned away, just far enough ahead that Rosemary was left to whisper under her breath. “If you do, I’ll make you pay later,” she almost laughed at the thought. “I don’t know what I’d do… but I’d do something.”
So, she wasn’t the scariest woman she knew, but she was fairly creative.
If Jean made things uncomfortable for Mr. Brooks, Rosemary didn’t know how she’d react. She may not be able to get to know him in the way she wanted to, but she didn’t want him to feel like he had to avoid her at every turn.
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t know she wasn’t alone until she heard the heavy thump of a platter on the table beside the stove. Loretta’s hand settled high on her shoulder.
“Don’t let things worry you so much, Rosemary.” Together they began to transfer the hash from the pans to the platters. “I have a good feeling about this trip up the river. You just do what you do and let the river take care of the rest.”
Rosemary didn’t lift her eyes to look at her oldest friend until the last morsel was on the platter, piled in a pleasing mound of deliciousness.
And when she did look at Loretta, it was impossible not to adopt her positive persona. Loretta shone with joy from the inside out and Rosemary so very much wanted to be like her.
It wasn’t too much to ask to be someone’s joy. Was it?
Rosemary followed behind Loretta and as they pushed through the door into the dining room the whole crew called out to them with a rousing cheer.
And there, by the far wall, sitting opposite of Lonnie and Moses, Andrew Brooks looked up at her and smiled.
Chapter Three
Andrew had spent most of the next day doing exactly what he’d been hired to do. Checking in cargo that had already been contracted and adding records for anything that came in without a prior agreement.
Always conscious about the weight that the Siren could safely carry and keeping things balanced within the hold, it took him a few hours to feel like he was confident in what he was doing, with t
he able help of both Lonnie and Moses, and a few local men hired part-time as they needed.
As they’d gone along it had cemented his feeling that Lonnie and Moses would become close friends with him. They listened to his words, worked quickly, and they had a good number of contacts in different towns that would help them load and unload cargo.
It was hard work.
Sweaty.
Dirty.
Exhausting.
Exhilarating.
Aboard the Black Jack he’d been kept on for a skill that had literally saved his life, but this job… this boat… were the product of the choices that he’d made in his life and that was all the difference.
The Siren would begin its journey in the morning after the passengers were aboard. Until then, much of his time was just that.
His.
And as soon as they’d loaded the cargo and checked and rechecked his figures and records, he set aside his paperwork in the small safe that Captain Abraham kept in his office.
The older man had congratulated him on his work and sent him off to eat and rest.
Eating was the least of his concerns. Andrew opted to return to his room and lay his head down on his pillow.
When he awoke, he shot straight up in his bed, his head turning this way and that. There were no wide beams above his head.
No tell-tale creak of old timbers.
No voices from drunken sailors assaulting his ears.
All he could hear was the slow rock of the boat against the river’s movement, the tick of his watch on the table beside his bed, and… something he couldn’t name.
Turning on his bed, he lowered his legs down to the floor and reached for his watch.
The weight felt familiar in his hand and the metal warmed to his skin quickly as he turned it around to orient the timepiece.
When he flicked open the top, he blinked a little at the face of the watch and fought off a yawn.
It was only then that he realized that he couldn’t see in the dark.
Dropping the watch into the pocket of his vest, he leaned over and carefully put his shoes back on, making quick work of the laces after years of practice.
The dark was an old friend to him.
Fighting off another yawn, he moved over to the door and swung it open. There were lamps in the hallway and he retrieved his watch from his pocket and opened it.
A quick look at the hands on the face of the watch told him he’d slept much longer than he’d intended. “I doubt they’ll have kept supper for me.”
Looking back at his darkened room he shook his head. He didn’t want to go back to bed yet. It wouldn’t do to sleep again and make it harder to wake up at the right time in the morning.
Turning down one side of the hallway he didn’t want to bother those who would have likely gone to bed, so he chose to leave that side of the hallway quiet and still.
The other end of the hall was likely closer, but the two doors that he’d have to pass by would be the rooms that housed his men. They were the closest to the stairway to the cargo hold and would give him access to the outside as well.
And that sounded like the best opportunity for him.
A walk around the deck would do him good.
Filling his lungs with fresh air did any man good, but for a man like him that had spent most of his life locked away in the hold of a ship, fresh air was something to be cherished.
Rosemary hummed along with the melody of the song that was playing in the showroom. The glass made it difficult to hear every nuance. Most of what met her ears were the tinny plinks and plunks of the piano keys and a ghost of sound from their singer, Miss Dollie Owens.
The lyrics were absent from the music even though she knew Miss Owens was singing the song, but the windows were a frustrating buffer from the music she craved.
“I didn’t realize that they would be up this late practicing.”
The sudden sound startled her and turned her about.
She hadn’t recognized the voice at first, but she could see him now.
Goodness, he was a handsome man. She wondered if there would ever come a time when just the sight of him wouldn’t make her heart race.
“Good evening, Mister Brooks.” Even saying his name gave her a gentle swell of warmth near her heart. “We didn’t see you at supper. I was… what I meant to say was that we were concerned that you weren’t feeling well.”
His mouth softened and she had to grasp her skirt to keep her hand from reaching out. The urge to touch his face was sudden and overwhelming.
“I am sorry I missed it,” he gave her a sheepish look. “I’m afraid I fell asleep after we finished loading up the cargo. I didn’t expect to be so tired. I hope the captain doesn’t regret hiring me on.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” She stepped closer to the railing and set her hand on the smooth, polished wood as her skirts pushed against the wrought iron wall. Leaning her head to the side she looked slightly away, not wanting him to know how much of an interest she was taking in him. “Before supper the captain went down into the hold and when he came into the dining room he told the men that he was duly impressed with the job they’d done.
“By the time he left after the meal, he’d heard such glowing things about you from Lonnie and Moses that I think the men might be planning to put you up for sainthood.”
The praise seemed to make him uncomfortable. His gaze was cast away and his shoulders tensed ever so slightly.
She heard him swallow. The sound was almost covered by the slow brush of water along the hull.
“I hope they’ll still be that happy with me by the close of the voyage as they are now.”
She grasped the railing firmly in her hand and offered him a small smile. “Most of the people aboard the Siren love each other like family. I think you’ll find it’s hard to shake the favorable impression they have of you. In a short time, you’ve managed to win both of them over. That is no easy feat since they’ve been working aboard the Siren for ages.”
“I don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t get along with them. Both men are hardworking and friendly.”
Rosemary just blinked at him, confused over his words.
It took a moment before he seemed to realize that she hadn’t spoken again. Or perhaps it was something else, but he looked up at her with a trouble look in his eyes. “Was it something I said?”
“I’m not sure how to describe it,” she explained. “You say that you don’t know, but I’m not sure if you’re teasing me or you truly don’t see what most men do.”
“What is it,” he pressed and she saw him step closer, setting his hand on the railing just a few inches from her, “please tell me.”
She was used to the night being warm in its season but at this time of night, with a soft breeze moving through the boat, she wasn’t prepared for her cheeks to warm like freshly stirred coals waking from a sleeping fire.
“You don’t see that Lonnie is as sweet as he is because he’s a little… child-like? I’ve not seen you with him much but Moses told me that you haven’t once lost your temper with him. You haven’t made a joke at his expense.”
His brows pinched together just over his nose and Rosemary had to squeeze the railing tight to keep herself from reaching out her hand to touch her fingertip to his skin and smooth it out.
When he spoke, it shook her out of her reverie.
“I find it hard to believe that someone would say an unkind word to him. He’s a good man. A hard worker.”
She was smiling at him as her heart beat a trembling rhythm in her chest. “You’re kind to him.”
Andrew shook his head. “I don’t treat him any differently than I treat anyone else.”
Her cheeks were heating up quickly, tears were welling in her eyes. The reaction had no logic to it, but they happened just the same.
“That’s just it. Our last clerk was smart. He kept everything running like clockwork,” she explained, “but he could be short with
the men… and with Lonnie, he was cruel.”
“There’s no need to treat someone like that. Not ever.”
She heard the rough tone of his voice, saw the vehement set of Andrew’s features and the tight line of his shoulders.
Rosemary felt her heart jump and then tumble. What she felt around him... what she felt for him was as foreign to her as the French language and as wonderous as a birthday surprise.
Earlier, as they’d cleaned the kitchens, Sally had whispered that Rosemary looked completely lovesick for their new clerk. If she was sick, Rosemary realized, she’d never seek a cure. How could she not want to fall for a man who was a true gentleman with a staunch and kind heart.
“Hello!”
Rosemary was brought back to the moment by the lilting greeting from the hall behind Andrew.
They both turned toward the sound and Rosemary wasn’t sure if he had intended to step closer to her, but when he did, she leaned just an inch closer, seeking his warmth.
And yes, his protection.
“Who’s there?”
Rosemary knew who it was, but she had lost the power of speech.
Stepping around the corner onto the outer deck was Dollie Owens herself.
Swathed in a wrapped gown of indigo cotton, its surface sprinkled with white flowers and delicate leaves, she appeared before them like a grand lady. Her head was held high and her hair was coiffed about her head like an ebony crown. Rosemary wasn’t sure she’d be able to move, let alone breathe in her presence.
“Oh dear,” Dollie smiled at them both, “my pride has taken an arrow near my heart.” To punctuate the words, she lifted a hand to the delicate broach on the high point above her breast. “It wounds me.” Her light tone belied her words.
Stepping out beside Andrew, Rosemary held back from reaching out to touch his arm. “Mister Andrew Brooks, this is Dollie Owens. Her voice is heaven itself.”
Dollie waved off the compliment with a bright grin and diminutive turn of her head. “You are too sweet, my dear…” she looked up at Rosemary with a slight twist of confusion at the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”