Five Sisters (A Romantic Suspense Novel)

by Leen Elle

  Sara nodded, "I'd love to."

  Laden with several books, including the one Sara had given him, and struggling to carry them all, Charlie set off down the hall with Sara at his side. But they hadn't even reached halfway when a strange thing happened.

  Several rose petals flew down from Charlie's arms. They were coming from the red-bound book Sara had given him.

  Charlie's face went white and his eyes widened. He looked at Sara with a confused, yet almost somber, expression.

  "I don't know how those got there," Sara murmured, "I left the roses at the graveyard."

  Charlie took the book off the top of the stack and waved it around from the spine. Three more petals fell out and dropped to the floor, making thirteen petals in all. He glanced back up to Sara with troubled eyes.

  "I didn't put them there," Sara continued, "I didn't. Honest."

  Charlie didn't contradict her, but whispered, "All that matters is that they're there."

  What in the world was he talking about? Sara had no idea. She was lost in her thoughts, her mind swirling, and when she finally came back to her senses and tried to ask Charlie what he meant, he was already walking quickly down the hall, struggling to hold all his books. She tried to run after him, but her feet were frozen to the floor.

  "Charlie!" she called, "Charlie!" But he didn't turn around.

  The little scarlet book lay on the ground at Sara's feet, surrounded by the thirteen rose petals.

  Sara awoke with a stretch and a yawn, her mind still swirling. She had no idea what her strange, yet eerie dream meant, and she was considering pondering on the thought a moment when she realized that Mary's bed was empty.

  Quickly, she put on a robe over her simple white nightdress and her long, dark brown hair was pulled up on top of her head in a mangled bun. Sara tiptoed into the hall and headed upstairs.

  Noah's hands ran through Mary's thick ringlets, and then moved to her shoulders. His lips traveled down to her chest, burning through the thin layer of nightgown. He wanted more, Mary knew, she could feel it from the way he touched her, the way he held her. Whether or not she wanted to go further too, she wasn't sure. And before she could decide they both heard a voice, a girl's voice.

  "Mary?" Sara called, "Mary?"

  Noah instantly pulled away and disappeared to the other side of the ship beneath a shadow so dark he couldn't be seen.

  Mary lifted her robe off the ground and hastily put it on. She was out of breath, but tried not to let it show as Sara appeared at her side.

  "Are you alright?" Sara asked, "I awoke and noticed your bed was empty."

  "I'm alright now," Mary lied, "I just couldn't get to sleep."

  "Why are you up here?" Sara wrapped a blanket more tightly around her shoulders, "It's freezing! You've surely caught a cold by now!"

  "I'm fine, Sara. Really," Mary assured, "Let's just get back to bed."

  Sara nodded and the two girls were just about to head back downstairs when Mary realized her robe was missing a button. She told Sara to go back to bed; she'd be there in a minute.

  Noah popped out of the shadows as soon as they were alone again. As he handed her the missing button Mary whispered into his ear, using a seductive voice she could barely recognize as her own, "Until tomorrow . . ." and kissed him softly on the lips. With a sly smile, she slipped back downstairs and fell asleep more peacefully than she had in weeks.

  CHAPTER 16

  Lovesick Nora

  The next morning, Sara woke early, just as the sun was rising outside the porthole in her room. With a sigh and a yawn, she rose from bed and looked around the room at her dozing sisters. All four were sleeping contently and wouldn't be awake for another two hours or so. Once she'd pulled on a simple day-dress and combed her dark hair back into its usual style, a loose ponytail, Sara slowly trudged up the steps to the deck.

  The bright sun, eager to start a new day, was shining in the distance, but Sara wasn't quite ready for so much light and she shielded her eyes from it, heading towards the kitchen.

  "Good morning, Sara!" called Rory, looking down from the crow's nest.

  "'Ello there!" greeted Michael.

  But Sara merely waved her hand in reply, forcing a smile; she wasn't much of a morning person. It surprised her to see quite a few of the sailors already up and working on the day's tasks, but then again, she'd never woken up before nine o'clock before, so she wouldn't know if they were up this early everyday. She did notice, though, that they seemed a bit more battered than usual, which wasn't surprising.

  The storm had wreaked its havoc on each and every one of the men, in some way or another. Through her squinted eyes, Sara saw that Rory's arm was held in a sling and Michael was limping around with a cane because of his sprained ankle. She didn't bother to look around at the other men though, her stomach was rumbling and the lively sailors weren't helping her already dampened mood.

  Anxious to get away from the brilliant sun, Sara dragged herself through the door to the kitchen and began preparing herself some tea. She'd already prepared the stove to cook some eggs and bacon when she heard a soft rustle behind her.

  Charlie, also not much of a morning person, had stumbled into the room and collapsed in one of the wooden chairs. He hadn't bothered to change out of his pajamas and a red plaid blanket was draped around his shoulders. Sara couldn't see his face because he'd dropped it onto the table, but his light brown hair, flecked with gray, was untidier than ever, sticking up in random directions. He groaned inwardly and slammed his head down on the table again, cursing under his breath as his head began to throb even more and he realized what a foolish thing that was to do.

  "Charlie?" Sara murmured, "Are you alright?"

  He looked up, revealing sleepy eyes complete with large shadows hanging underneath like half-crescent moons. A scarlet line ran from the corner of his eye up through his eyebrow, from his encounter with the steering wheel during the storm. Charlie was miserable and he looked it.

  "'Morning, Sara," he croaked, before laying his head back down on the table again.

  "Is something wrong? You don't look yourself," Sara said, coming to his side.

  "'ve just got a headache is all," said Charlie, his voice hoarse, "And I'm a bit tired as well."

  "Perhaps you should go back to bed then and get some rest," Sara suggested.

  Charlie shook his head mumbling, "No. No, I can't go back to bed. Just got to grin and bear it, I suppose."

  "Would you like some tea then? Perhaps it'll help."

  Charlie nodded, his eyes were barely even open, and agreed, "Yes, tea would be nice."

  Ten minutes later, Charlie was sitting cross-legged on the wooden chair- clutching his blanket closer around his shoulders, sipping some hot tea, and looking just as doleful as before.

  Sara sat across from him, quietly munching on some biscuits and eggs; the sailors had stolen all the bacon.

  "Would you like anymore tea?" she asked.

  "No, 'm fine."

  "A biscuit, perhaps?"

  Charlie shook his head, "No. Thanks though."

  The door opened and rays of sunshine fell across the room as Jess entered. He grinned, said hello to Sara, and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter, tossing it up in the air a few times before taking a big, juicy bite. Then his eyes fell upon Charlie, and he nearly choked on the apple.

  "You alright, Charlie?"

  "Jus' a little tired," was the reply.

  "Still wearing your jammies, I see," Jess commented, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile, "And I like that shawl too. Quite a fashion statement."

  Charlie groaned, "It's a blanket, actually. And yes, I know I look like rubbish, you don't need to remind me."

  "I've never seen you in a bad mood before," said Jess, his eyes wide, "It's quite a sight."

  "I'm sure," mumbled Charlie, setting his head back onto the table.

  "Well, I don't want to bother you any," Jess said, moving towards the door, "I hope you feel better soon,
Charlie. And I'll see you later, Sara."

  He left, leaving Sara alone with troubled Charlie once more.

  "Feels like someone's pounding on my head with bricks," Charlie grumbled, "Or beating me with a stick."

  Sara grimaced, "A headache?"

  "Worse," he mumbled, laying his forehead in his hands like a pillow, "My head feels like it's throbbing. It weighs so much I can't even hold it up."

  "Poor Professor."

  She sounded so much like her father when she said that Charlie wanted to sigh, but he didn't feel like giving it the effort. That's how pitiful he was feeling.

  "Perhaps it's from the wave," Sara suggested, "You know, when you hit your head against the steering wheel. Maybe that's why you're feeling so miserable. You have a concussion or something."

  "God I hope not," moaned Charlie, slamming his head back down onto the table.

  *****

  "Dah-dum, dah-dum, dah-dum," hummed Nora, scrubbing the deck beside her two younger sisters and Mary later that afternoon. The sun was shining brightly overhead and she, Emy, Mary, and Gail had decided to help out the sailors on deck since they all weren't in the best of spirits from the night before.

  They were limping around with sprained ankles, broken toes, and arms done up in slings- the effects of the great storm. Now, most of the men were relaxing in the warm sunshine with a glass of lemonade at hand. Several were fishing for that night's supper, but most simply sat and had a laugh with the other sailors. Jess had even brought out his fiddle and was playing a simple tune while the girls, with their sleeves rolled up and their hair tied back, scrubbed the deck dutifully.

  Holding his injured hand with his healthy one and keeping it against his stomach, Ben Leslie made his way across the deck to the girls. When the wave had hit the night before, he'd been thrown onto the deck's floorboards and his hand scraped against a nail that hadn't been hammered in as much as it should have been. It made a clean cut straight across his hand.

  At first, he'd tried to take care of it himself, but the cut was far too deep to be healed with a simple bandage. The bleeding just wouldn't stop and Ben didn't know what else to do. That was when Jacob suggested the most horrible solution Ben had ever heard. He said it probably needed stitches.

  Ben simply refused to let a man who wasn't a doctor stick a needle into his hand. It wasn't that he feared the pain, never that, he just didn't want someone sticking sharp objects into his body if they didn't know what they were doing exactly. And besides, he said, none of the sailors even knew how to sew.

  "Then just ask one of the girls to do it," Jacob had shrugged, "I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

  "Wouldn't mind?" chuckled Carl, "You try asking a lady to use her needle and thread not on some fabric and wool, but on an actual human hand!"

  "I'm sure if we explained the circumstances . . ." Jacob replied.

  "Which one would be best, anyway?" Ben pondered, "Mary? She's probably the most mature."

  "Not to mention the most attractive," Carl laughed, "But I'd advise against that. She's been in bed all day, I heard. Must not be feeling well."

  "Gail then?"

  Jacob's head cocked to the side, "I'm not so sure she's a better seamstress than any of us men. She'd be up to it, I'm sure, but would probably leave you with a nasty scar."

  "Sara?"

  "She's off helping Charlie with his head, I think."

  "I wouldn't dare ask Emy," Carl added, "The poor girl would probably faint."

  "Who's left then?"

  "Nora."

  "Right, Nora."

  "Shall I ask, or would you like to do the honors?"

  Ben remembered the look of awe on the girl's face when he'd asked her. She must have been a little scared to stick a needle into his hand as well, because she blushed furiously and could barely say a word to him. But it was all worth it in the end. His hand had been cleanly sewn up and he supposed it should be healed in just a few weeks or so.

  Nora was so busy scrubbing and humming her little song that she didn't even realize who was beside her until he said, in his silky smooth voice, "Nora?"

  When she looked up and saw Ben, Nora nearly lost her breath. His blond curls were glistening in the sun's rays and his clear blue eyes sparkled. Besides the injured hand he held against his torso, he looked absolutely perfect, as always.

  He kneeled down beside her and Nora suddenly became aware of how terrible she must look right now. What luck! Her fingers clutched a dirty rag and her forearms were covered in suds. Strands of hair had fallen out around her face, but instead of seeming appealing, they just looked frizzy and matted.

  "Nora?" he asked again.

  With her heart pounding out of her chest, Nora uttered the only word that came to mind, "Ben."

  Ben laughed, "That's right, Ben. Glad to see you remember me."

  Nora's cheeks burned.

  When she didn't reply, Ben scratched his head, but grinned, "Well, I just wanted to thank you again for what you did last night. My hand's doing much better today and it's all thanks to you."

  Nora felt her mouth open, but she couldn't make out any words at the moment. She was in such a state of shock she didn't know what to say or do or think.

  Ben nodded, feeling a bit uncomfortable as the young girl gaped at him, "Well, er . . . I'm pretty sure it won't scar too bad. And hopefully it'll start to heal soon and I'll be able to cut out these stitches, right?"

  Nora nodded silently.

  "Well, that's all I wanted to say," Ben finished, "So, er, thanks again, Nora."

  He'd already risen and crossed the deck when Nora managed to make out a few words and murmured, "Your welcome."

  No one else on deck seemed to have noticed the short conversation between Ben and Nora, and they had gaily joined Gail and Zooey as they led the group in a song while Jess played the tune on his fiddle:

  "We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot.

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot.

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

  We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack.

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  Maraud and embezzle and even hijack.

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

  Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

  We kindle and char, inflame and ignite.

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  We burn up the city, we're really a fright.

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

  We're rascals, scoundrels, villans and knaves.

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs!

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

  We're beggars and blighters and ne'er-do-well cads.

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  Aye! But we're loved by our mommies and dads!

  Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

  Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

  Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

  Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

  Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me."

  Gail bounded around the deck as she sang, and although she didn't have the most melodious voice of the bunch, she was definitely the most enthusiastic. As the song finished, she jumped on top of the ship's rail and grabbed a robe for support, belting out the last stanza with a grin and lots of laughter.

  Her voice traveled down the flight of stairs and into the lower level of the boat.

  Poor Nathaniel could hear her and the others sailors as they enjoyed themselves on deck, and he couldn't help but wish he was able to join them. He'd give anything to be up there at this very moment, in the fresh air and sunshine, but he knew that never would, and never could, be possible.

  The song also reached the ears of
Charlie and Sara, who were sitting in his office, still sipping some tea.

  Charlie hadn't bothered to get dressed at all this afternoon, and he still wore his pajamas with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His hair still stuck up in odd places and the shadows beneath his eyes only seemed to have grown darker. He was lying on the sofa with his feet up and a wet rag on top of his forehead.

  When he heard the sailors' song, instead of smiling he dropped his hands onto his head and moaned, "Why, oh why, have they decided to sing? They aren't even very good singers."

  Sara sighed, "I'm sorry, Charlie. But they'll be done soon, I'm sure."

  "They'd better," Charlie agreed bitterly, "If not, I'll go shut them up myself."