Noah reached them quickly with his long stride. He was wearing high leather thigh boots folded down at the top.
Melanie quickly slid down the rock. “Papa, look who’s here—Mrs. Bruce.”
“Hi, sweetie.” His glance went to Rianna and he nodded. “Hello, Rianna.”
“Hello, Noah. I came down to the beach and found Melanie.”
“I hope she hasn’t held you up.”
“Oh, no, we’ve been having a grand time.”
“We’ve been hunting for treasure, Papa. Come, see.”
He looked at the pebbles and seashells she’d spread out on the boulder. “Very pretty.”
Then he approached Rianna’s perch.
He stood at eye level with her where she knelt. She studied his sun-bronzed face framed by dark hair and beard. Under the brim of his straw hat, his gaze was as steady and penetrating as it had been the day before.
“You seemed rather absorbed in what you were doing.”
“I haven’t done this since I was Melanie’s age.”
“Any luck?”
She patted her bulging pockets, which rattled with the sound of shells and pebbles.
“Look at my best treasure.” Melanie pulled open her pocket and carefully extracted her little crab. “See?” She held it out to him. “I found him myself.”
Noah bent down, examining the tiny pink crab. “That’s quite a nice treasure. Tad and Robert will be jealous.”
His daughter smiled. “Will they really? I’m going to see if I can find another one!” With those words she ran off.
“Don’t wander too far,” he said. “We’ll be heading back soon.”
His gaze turned toward the shoreline where his old house stood high above the fields. “You came back for more roses?”
Rianna’s cheeks reddened and she laughed. “No, blueberries this time! Actually, Mother and I came for a picnic.
“I thought an outing would do her good. I saw so many blueberries the other day, I brought a pail with me today to pick for a pie.” She paused as she realized she was trying too hard to explain her appearance.
She shrugged and smiled shamefacedly. “The seashore beckoned me, so I’m afraid Papa will have no pie. The month is going by, and I haven’t had a chance to pick any berries at all. I’m sorry, I should have asked permission.”
He shook his head. “Pick all you want. I don’t use that field by the house. I rake another one.”
She nodded, wondering where the conversation would proceed. In the silence she became conscious of her bare legs, hidden at the moment by her kneeling position. Before she could figure out how to release her skirts in a natural way, Noah spoke up. “I wouldn’t think such simple pleasures as combing the seashore would appeal to you after having been away.”
His tone sounded almost accusatory. “On the contrary, I appreciate them all the more.” She sighed in contentment, resting her hands in her lap. “It’s wonderful to be back. It’s almost as if I’d never been away. All my old friends remember me. I’ve been invited everywhere. The people I was close to before I left Wood’s Harbor have just opened their arms to welcome me back into their circle.”
“It sounds as if you expected otherwise.”
She blinked at the words. He was the first person to have guessed her uncertainty at coming home. Gazing down at her hands, she hesitated. “It was just…that I’d been away so long.” She opened her hands, palms up, her fingers splayed as she searched for words to explain her doubts. “It has been over a decade, after all. People change, circumstances change. And the longer I stayed away, the harder it got to return.” Her voice ended in a whisper as she stared at him. Would those deep brown eyes, so dark it was hard to distinguish pupil from iris, condemn her?
He nodded slowly, as if digesting the words. “I still find it hard to believe you’d find enjoyment in any of the things Wood’s Harbor has to offer.”
Rianna made a face at his skeptical tone. “Oh, yes, after the places I’ve seen?” She shook her head with a bittersweet laugh, seeing again the young girl she’d been when she’d first set out to conquer the world. “Let’s see, where should I begin? First was the life of a city girl working from dawn to dusk at the mill. I sometimes think the slaves in the South had it easier. The only difference was we girls got paid. Of course, we had to live off what we made.”
He seemed to be listening intently, so she continued. “Days and days over a loom, doing the same task time and again until I thought I’d expire of the boredom, but my hands would continue performing the task long after I had left it.
“Then we’d arrive home—” she snorted “—a boardinghouse run by a dragon lady—merely to eat and sleep. I admit, at first it was nice to earn my keep, and I felt proud to be able to send my earnings to help the folks, knowing Mother could buy my sisters a few nice extras. But as far as enjoying the independence I’d craved so much—” She shook her head. “I had less freedom there than here. Our landlady guarded our virtue jealously.” She laughed. “With no real cause. There was no opportunity to get into trouble, since it was early to work and early to bed.”
“You must have had some opportunity to meet young men.”
“Oh, yes, there were opportunities to meet factory workers, farmers, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker…” She trailed off in amusement. “All eyeing those young lasses, fresh from the country, with honorable and dishonorable intentions alike.” She made another face. “Even those with the best intentions were only looking for a young workhorse to hitch up with and take back to the farm. I wanted none of that!”
“So you disdained them all, just as you did the honest young laborers in these parts?”
Rianna peered at Noah, surprised at the censure in his tone. Did he think she had turned him down because he was a fisherman? It hadn’t had anything to do with that, but with her own yearnings to be away, and to do and see things for herself. So she smiled a bit sadly, and nodded. “I suppose I did.” Her gaze took on a faraway look as she remembered those days. “Until Ralph. Dear, sweet Ralph.” She gave a dreamy sigh.
“Your husband.” His tone was flat.
“Yes.” The two were silent for a while. Rianna wasn’t ready to tell him about the husband of her youth. The way Noah had been staring at her made her feel he’d seen more than she had intended to reveal. She’d grown accustomed over the years to having no one take an interest in her life beyond the sickroom.
Her gaze strayed to Melanie, bent over the sand. “You’ve been blessed with your daughter. She’s a delightful child.”
“Thank you.” His dark eyes continued watching her until again she felt self-conscious.
“I imagine it must be difficult raising her by yourself.”
He shrugged. “Mrs. Avery is a big help.”
“I remember her as a nice woman.” When he offered nothing more, she turned to look back at the shoreline, wondering if her mother was waiting for her.
“You haven’t any children of your own?”
She stiffened at the sudden question then forced herself to relax. It was a natural question, even if people never asked it of her on her nursing jobs. She was just Mrs. Bruce then, or Nurse Bruce—a woman who was always at a patient’s side, with no life of her own outside the sickroom. Was that one reason she’d feared coming back home, knowing it was a question she’d have to get used to answering over and over? “No…no, I haven’t any.” She began to say something—anything—to fill the awkward silence, when they both began to speak at once.
She motioned with her hand. “You first. I wasn’t going to say anything important. I just thought I’d better go see if Mother is ready to go home. I left her napping…on your property,” she finished with a strained smile.
Noah shifted his feet, not quite meeting her eyes. “Would you like a mess of clams to take back with you? Seeing as how you didn’t get your blueberries?”
She let out a silent breath, relieved at the change in topic. “That would be lovely.” S
he giggled, glad the awkward moment had passed. “Papa will get a chowder instead of his pie.”
A sudden joy surged through her as she saw the smile tugging at his lips. “You haven’t forgotten!”
The humor disappeared from his face. “Forgotten what?”
“How to smile.” She sat back on her perch and beamed in satisfaction.
He coughed again and looked away from her. “I’ll get the clams.”
“Wait, I’ll come with you.” Rianna jumped down from the rock, quickly letting down her skirt as she moved, and hoping he hadn’t noticed. Noah’s hand came up to steady her.
“Thank you,” she said, flustered. “May I accompany you?” she asked quietly, wondering what he was thinking.
“Better not. That mud’ll be hard on your bare feet.”
His tone sounded so matter-of-fact, she thought she must have imagined the tension in the air. “I don’t mind. Come on, show me the way.” She turned to Melanie, who was kneeling in the sand. “Come, dear, it’s time to go.”
“You’d best stay here,” he told his daughter when she looked up. “I’ll bring the buckboard.”
Rianna started walking seaward.
Noah quickly passed her and led the way out to the flats.
The going got harder, as the mud became deeper and softer and broken shells less visible.
“Ouch!” she cried, picking up her foot from an ankle-deep pool and rubbing her heel, almost slipping in the process.
Noah quickly stopped and looked back at her. “Wait there. I’ll bring the wagon to you.”
She did as he said, watching him reach the buckboard and put away his things. He climbed aboard and guided the horse toward her.
When he reached her, he climbed back down to help her up to the seat, but before she could swing her legs inward, he stopped her. “Better wash your feet off here.”
She followed his gaze to her two bare feet hanging over the side of the wagon. They were covered in the gray, claylike mud. “Yes.” She made to get down again, but Noah reached for her wrist, stopping her.
“I’ll bring you a bucket of water.” He reached into the back of the wagon and took out a pail, wading farther out to sea to fill it. When he returned, he grasped one of her feet in his hand and poured water over it, rubbing off the worst of the mud. He repeated the procedure with her other foot.
Rianna sat perfectly still, watching his rough hands wash her feet. Although the water was icy cold, numbing her feet and turning her skin red, his hands felt warm and gentle.
Her mind thought of all the sick and wounded men she’d nursed, the many limbs and feet she’d washed.
This was the first time in her memory someone was washing hers.
Chapter Three
Noah bent over the field of blueberry bushes, the long even strokes of his rake turning to jerky whacks the more he thought about Rianna Bruce.
The fact that he couldn’t stand there talking with a woman who’d scorned him more than a decade ago and not be swept in by her charm once again was a bad sign.
She still talked with the same lilting voice, the same enthusiasm of the young girl he’d known. But now the attraction was made fatal by tones tempered with the maturity of self-knowledge.
The worst thing was she seemed to be exercising that same charm on his daughter. Melanie was his only child, the only thing he had left. She was the one bright spot in his life, his reason for getting up before dawn and coming home in the late afternoon.
She’d shown more animation around Rianna than she had since she was a toddler. By the time they’d parted, Rianna had invited her to tea and Melanie had accepted with a wide grin.
What if she hurt his little girl the way she had—
Noah stopped his thoughts cold. That was in the past, dead and buried.
He shook his head in disbelief as he remembered how Rianna had just smiled at his comment about disdaining all the young men of these parts, and acknowledged it as the truth! How many women would have answered so honestly and brazenly?
And yet balancing her childlike frankness, there was something besides mere maturity, something deeper, more attractive than anything he’d ever seen in her before. He couldn’t define it except as some radiance that lit up every word she spoke.
He’d attributed it immediately to her husband. Ralph. The way she’d said his name—almost in reverence—showed the depth of her affection. But that didn’t make sense—the man had been dead longer than Charlotte.
Had Rianna found the kind of once-in-a-lifetime love the poets wrote about? The notion shook him, causing his rake to snag in the low-lying bushes. Clearly, he hadn’t awoken that depth of sentiment in her, no matter how much he’d thought to the contrary. The time they had spent talking about anything and everything after dancing at his grandparents’ socials—he’d never opened up like that to anyone. He’d known then that she was the only woman he’d ever want. Noah sat back on his haunches and wiped the sweat off his brow with his bandanna. From his vantage, he could see the sinking sun across the bay. There had been a sadness in Rianna, too, he realized. He’d noticed it as soon as he’d asked her about children. He wondered what had happened. Had she been unable to have any?
He shook away thoughts of Rianna. She was none of his business. She was here to nurse her mother and soon she’d be off to greener pastures again.
But his mind refused to dismiss her image. Had she found what she’d been looking for in the big city? With her youthful, romantic notions, she’d probably been swept off her feet by some handsome man who could fulfill her every dream. A poor fisherman could never have competed with that.
With an impatient sigh, Noah continued down the row of blueberry bushes, emptying his rake every few strokes. His basket was only half-full. He’d better get his mind on the task, or he’d spend the greater part of the evening picking through it to clean out all the bits of leaves and branches he was getting with his uneven strokes.
When he finished the task of raking blueberries, he sat awhile by his wagon, cleaning the berries and dividing them up. One bushel into a good-size basket, the other to take back with him to Mrs. Avery.
On his way through town, he stopped his horse in front of the Devon place. No one was on the front porch. He glanced at the gardens edging the white picket fence, remembering Rianna’s remark about toiling away at it. It certainly seemed a whole lot more attractive than the field of hay and wildflowers she’d found so pretty on his property.
Hating himself for his quick, furtive movements, he swung the basket down from the wagon, glanced up and down the street, and seeing no one, made his way toward the back of the house. There, he quickly set the bushel basket down by the kitchen door, then turned on his heel and walked to his wagon, not breathing easy until he was well on his way home.
Why couldn’t he stay away from Rianna? No sooner did he see her than he had to hike on over to her, drawn like a fly to flypaper.
Back at Mrs. Avery’s, the screen door banged behind him as he entered the kitchen.
“Papa!” Melanie turned in her chair, her face beaming. “You’re finally home!”
He leaned down, squeezing her shoulder, and gave her cheek a quick peck. “What are you up to?” Her cheeks and hands were dusted with flour.
“I’m helping Mrs. Avery make the biscuits for supper.” She patted down the rolled-out dough with her hand.
“Oh, my,” he said, glancing over his daughter’s head and winking at Mrs. Avery, who stood at the stove. “I’ll bet that’s a big help, isn’t it, ma’am?”
“Goodness, yes. Soon, she’ll be making them all by herself.”
He gave Melanie’s thin shoulder a final squeeze and stepped back. “I’m sure they’ll be the best biscuits I’ve ever had.”
Melanie used the biscuit cutter and carefully cut another round, then laid it on the greased baking sheet.
Noah stepped toward his landlady. “I brought you some berries. Where would you like me to set them?”
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p; “How thoughtful of you. Just leave them by the door for now. We’ll pick over them after supper.” She looked toward the doorway to the dining room. “Look, Amelia, at what Noah’s brought home.”
Mrs. Avery’s married daughter stepped into the kitchen. “Good afternoon, Mr. Samuels.” The stately woman, looking as cool and refreshed as if she’d just stepped out of her bath, walked toward the basket and eyed it. “How lovely. We don’t get blueberries like this down in Massachusetts.” She picked a berry off the top of the pile and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm.” She smiled at Noah, making him feel as if she were a queen bestowing her approval on a subject.
He gave a brief nod of his head. “Evenin’, Mrs. Johnson.” Before he could say anything, two pairs of running feet came crashing through the outside door. “Mr. Samuels! Mr. Samuels! You’re home!” Two boys lunged at Noah.
Noah grabbed them both under their arms and swung them around. The boys shouted with glee.
“Robert! Thaddeus!” their mother admonished, “Not in here! Some decorum, please!”
The boys paid her no mind, their attention on Noah. “When’re you going to take us out on your boat? Didya know we went fishin’ up t’the pond today? Caught us a mess o’ trout. I got the biggest one, didn’t I, Tad?” The oldest boy wriggled around Noah to ask the younger.
Tad nodded. “And Grammie’s fryin’ ’em tonight for our supper.”
Noah smiled over their brown heads at his landlady, who nodded confirmation. “Think you’ll have a frying pan big enough, ma’am?”
Mrs. Avery pursed her lips and shook her gray curls. “Oh, I was worried for a minute there. I thought I’d have to borrow one from the neighbor, but luckily the trout just fit one of mine.” She nodded toward the pan on the stove.
Noah dismissed the idea of sitting in an easy chair and reading the paper for the few minutes before supper. “Why don’t we go outside and toss a ball around until your grammie calls us in to supper.”
The boys both shouted their assent, and kept on shouting as they dragged him by the arms toward the door. He glanced back at Melanie, who was looking at him with longing. “Why don’t you come along, too, Melanie. That is, if Mrs. Avery can spare her main cook.” He waited for the older lady’s permission.
To Be a Mother Page 13