Surrender the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  Cora returned to the kitchen, mumbling under her breath.

  Rose shrugged beneath her aunt’s questioning gaze. “I saw her this morning. She mentioned heading into town.”

  “You should discipline that woman, Forbes.” Aunt Muira huffed. “She’s out of control.”

  “Come now, dearest,” Uncle Forbes said. “She’s a grown woman and not our prisoner.”

  “But we took her into our home to be a ladies’ maid and companion to Rose. It would certainly be propitious if she would attend to her duties.”

  “You worry overmuch.” Forbes smiled at his wife and took her hand in his.

  “And you, dear Forbes, do not worry enough.”.

  Rose shifted her gaze between them as they shared a chuckle. “Amelia has been a great companion to me, for which I thank you both very much. But as a ladies’ maid”—Rose shrugged—“Well, let’s just say I have no need of a silly maid anyway.”

  Uncle Forbes took Rose’s hand and gave her a wink. “It pleases me that you two have become such good friends. Now, shall we pray over this grand feast?” Bowing his head, he asked God’s blessing on the food, then ladled stew into his and Muira’s bowl before passing the pot to Rose.

  “You must come inside when you hear the alarm, dear.” The candlelight shimmered over Aunt Muira’s copper-colored hair streaked with gray. At eight and fifty, Muira retained a beauty and a bearing that gave evidence of her privileged upbringing.

  An upbringing similar to that which Rose had experienced, save in her case, all signs of fine breeding had long since dissipated. “But nothing ever comes of them.” Rose glanced out the window where darkness had stolen the remaining light, then back at her aunt whose expression had scrunched into a knot.

  With a sigh, Aunt Muira rose, circled the table, and wiped Rose’s face with her napkin.

  Rose gave her a timid smile. “My apologies. I thought I had washed sufficiently.”

  “I suppose I wouldn’t recognize you if you were clean, dear.” Her aunt returned to her seat.

  Uncle Forbes swallowed the bite in his mouth. “They sound the alarms for a reason, lass. You should heed them as your aunt says.”

  “But I’ve yet to see a British soldier anywhere near here.” Rose bit into a chunk of meat in her stew, savoring the aromatic flavors. “They wouldn’t dare come close to Baltimore. Not after General Smith has gathered such a strong militia.”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past those redcoats.” Uncle Forbes spooned corn into his mouth. “Why they have turned the Chesapeake Bay into nothing but a British pond. A pond from which they emerge like crocodiles to raid upon our poor citizens.”

  “Leaving hundreds of widows in their wake,” Aunt Muira added glumly. “Ruined women and orphans.”

  A breeze fluttered the calico curtains at the open window and sent the candle flames sputtering.

  Ruined women. Rose’s stomach soured. She set down her spoon, her appetite gone. “Thank goodness for your charities, Aunt. You and Mrs. Pickersgill are doing much good for those women.”

  “And you could too, dear. If you accompanied me more often.” Aunt Muira gave Rose a look of censure. “They need someone who understands what they have endured.”

  Uncle Forbes chomped on a piece of venison. “You know, my love, Rose does what she can. We must be patient with her as God has been patient with us.”

  Aunt Muira smiled at her husband. “I understand.” But when his knowing gaze refused to leave her, she huffed. “Well perhaps I’m not patient. It has been five years, after all.”

  Familiar guilt pinched Rose. “You know I care for the women devastated by this war,” she said. “But I’m not as strong as you are, Aunt Muira. I don’t have your courage.” Though Rose longed to be brave, once had even considered herself brave. But after. . . Well, afterward, her courage had abandoned her like everything else—like everyone else, including God. “When I look at those women, when I look into their eyes, I see myself.” Rose stared down at the cream-colored table cloth. “If only the nightmares would end.”

  Reaching across the table, Aunt Muira took Rose’s hand in hers. “Forgive me, my dear. I simply wish you would learn to trust God.”

  Trust? Rose grimaced. She had trusted God after her father had been murdered—had kept trusting Him after her mother died. But how could she trust a God who had allowed such an horrific thing to happen to her? “I am trying, Aunt.” She winced at her lie.

  Aunt Muira drew in a deep breath and shook her shoulders as if to shake off the gloom that had descended on their conversation. She grabbed a Johnnycake and placed it on her plate then glanced over the fare. “Oh, I do miss having rice. And coffee.” She moaned. “And chocolate. It seems years since we’ve had such luxuries.”

  Uncle Forbes snorted. “We are fortunate to have food at all with the British blockade.”

  “More than missing food”—Rose leaned back in her chair and sighed—“I miss peace. I long to feel secure again.”

  Uncle Forbes grabbed her hand and squeezed it. His brown eyes sparkled with understanding. “You have been through so much in your short life, lass. Peace will come again soon. God will take care of us.”

  Shrugging off the platitude that had been proven false in her own life, Rose chomped on her corn cake, but the grainy, buttery flavor soured on her tongue.

  Uncle Forbes took a swig of cider, dribbling some on his brown waistcoat, and set down his mug. He scratched his thick hair. “Let us pray this war will be over soon and our lives can return to normal.”

  “My word, uncle. Normal only if we win.” Rose shook her head. If not. If America once more became a British colony, things would never be normal again.

  “Of course we’ll win.” Aunt Muira nibbled on her corn cake, reminding Muira that true ladies took smaller bites. “It is too much to think otherwise.”

  “Ever the optimist, dearest.” Uncle Forbes gazed lovingly at his wife.

  She returned his gaze, then moved her eyes to Rose. “And then perhaps you can finally marry. Goodness, you are all of two and twenty and fast becoming a spinster.”

  Rose opened her mouth to protest but her aunt continued, “I was eighteen when I married Forbes.” The couple exchanged another adoring glance, sending a twinge of jealousy through Rose.

  Rose glanced at her food, hoping for a resurgence of her appetite, but it did not come. “I have yet to meet a man who interests me.” Or one who didn’t sicken her. Truth be told, after rumors of her plight spread through Baltimore, very few suitors had come to call. And even if an honorable man took an interest in her, and she in him, Rose could only hope to have a marriage as good as her aunt and uncle’s. If not, she wanted no marriage at all.

  “What of Mr. Snyder, the councilman?” Aunt Muira drew a spoonful of stew to her lips. “He’s been coming around quite often.”

  “He is a fat wit.”

  “Rose, lass.” Uncle Forbes squinted toward her. “It isn’t kind to say such things.”

  “I know he doesn’t come from an honorable family.” Aunt Muira dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “But he has become successful on his own merit.”

  Rose let out a sigh. “If I do ever marry, it won’t be to a man with a dubious character.” No, she needed a man she could trust implicitly—someone who would never take advantage of her.

  “But dear—” her aunt started to protest when the sound of carriage wheels grated over the gravel in front of their house.

  Pound. Pound. Pound. The front door resounded.

  The heavy knock at this hour could only mean trouble. Rose’s body tightened. Her glance took in the Brown Bess musket perched atop the fireplace.

  Pound. Pound. Pound..

  “Ah, yes.” Uncle Forbes rose from his chair, as he no doubt remembered that Samuel their footman was no longer in their employ. “I keep meaning to hire a new man,” he mumbled as he disappeared through the dining room door as if he hadn’t a care in the world—as if there weren’t British soldiers raiding t
he coast. Rose heard the front door open and anxious words exchanged. The intruding voice sounded like Mr. Markham, Uncle Forbes’s assistant from church. Sharing a look of apprehension with her aunt, Rose headed toward the foyer.

  A warm summer breeze trailed in through the open door and swirled about the room. Upon seeing Rose and her aunt, Mr. Markham dragged off his hat. “Sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Drummond, Miss McGuire, but there’s trouble down at the church.”

  “Calm down, man. What sort of trouble?” Uncle Forbes squinted at Mr. Markham and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “Some men in town caught a redcoat, sir. And they’re threatening to string ’im up.” He fumbled with his hat and cast an anxious gaze out the open door. “He’s hurt pretty bad too.” He glanced at Rose’s aunt.

  “Oh my.” Lifting her skirts, Aunt Muira headed upstairs only to descend within seconds, medical satchel in one hand and a pair of spectacles in the other. “We should alert Dr. Wilson just in case the man’s injuries are beyond my abilities.”

  Grabbing his overcoat from the hook by the door, Rose’s uncle swept it over his shoulders.

  “A lynching?” Cora entered the room, fear pinching the features of her face.

  “Never you mind, Cora. Keep an eye on Rose and we’ll be back soon,” Aunt Muira ordered.

  “Can’t I come with you?” Rose said as the familiar fear clenched her gut once again. “I don’t feel safe here without Samuel.” She glanced at Cora.

  “Don’t be blamin’ me for him runnin’ off.” Cora wagged her finger. “He was nothin’ but trouble, that one.”

  “You’re safer here than in town,” her uncle said. “Mr. Markham will stay with you, won’t you, sir?”

  The gentleman nodded, seemingly relieved he did not have to return to the mayhem in town. “Indeed, I will.”

  Uncle Forbes patted his pockets and scanned the room. “My spectacles. Where are my spectacles?”

  “I have them, dearest.” Aunt Muira handed them to him, then faced Rose. “Promise me you won’t leave the house.”

  Rose swallowed. With the British afoot and the crazed mob in town, her aunt and uncle were venturing straight into danger. “I promise, but please be safe.”

  Without so much as a glance back, they sped out the door and slammed it behind them. The thud echoed through the lonely house. Oh, God, I cannot lose my family. Not again.

  Rose hooked the lantern on a nail by Valor’s stall. The bells and musket shots had ceased, giving her the courage to venture forth from the protection of the house and finish her chores. Although Amelia had returned, she and Cora had long since retired to their beds. How they could sleep at a time like this baffled Rose. Neither Mr. Markham’s snores from the sofa in the parlor nor his meek demeanor when he was awake provided Rose with enough security to risk slumber.

  Leaning her cheek against the warm horse’s face, Rose drew a breath of the musky scent of horseflesh. “I’m sorry to have forgotten you, precious one.” She pulled away and ran her fingers through Valor’s mane.

  Something moved in the reflection of the horse’s eye. Something or someone.

  Rose froze.

  “Well, I daresay, what do we have here?” The male voice struck her like a sword in the back. Heart in her throat, she jumped and swung about. A man in a British Naval uniform, dark blue coat and stained white breeches, glared at her with the eyes of a predator. A slow smile crept over his lips. His dark eyes scoured the barn and then returned to her. He took a step forward. Valor neighed.

  Rose’s legs wobbled. “I insist you leave at once, sir. This is a civilian home, and my uncle is within shouting distance,” she lied, wishing her uncle hadn’t left for town.

  Wishing she’d kept her promise to stay in the house.

  “Indeed?” He cocked a malicious brow and took another step. Blood stains marred his white shirt.

  “You are a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

  “Please sir, I am not at war with you. As is no one in my family.” Rose’s pulse raced. Her vision blurred.

  “Ah, but that is where you are wrong, miss. All Yankee rebels are at war with Britain, the mother country.” He grinned and rubbed the whiskers lining his jaw. “And what does a parent do with a rebellious child? Why, he gives the brat a spanking.”

  Rose’s breath crushed against her chest. She darted a quick glance toward the open barn door behind her.

  “You will give me what I want,” the man continued. “Or”—he sighed and flattened his lips—“I’d hate to see this barn and all your animals go up in flames.”

  Liverpool mooed in protest.

  Rose’s head grew light. The barn began to spin around her. She could not endure this. Not again. “Please sir, I beg you.” Her voice squeaked. “If you have any decency, leave me and my family be.”

  “Ah, there’s the rub, miss. In truth, I have no decency.”

  Clutching her skirts, Rose made a dash for the door. Meaty hands gripped her shoulders and tossed her to the ground. Pain shot up her arms and onto her back. She screamed. Hay flew into her face. Valor neighed and stomped his foot. The frenzied squawk of chickens filled her ears.

  The man shrugged out of his coat and tossed it aside. Never removing his eyes from her, he slowly drew his sword and pistol and laid them on the ground.

  Terror seized her. She scrambled on her knees to get away. He grabbed her legs, flipped her over and fell on top of her. His heavy weight nearly crushed her.

  Rose closed her eyes and prayed for a rapid death.

  Best-selling author MaryLu Tyndall dreamed of pirates and seafaring adventures during her childhood days on Florida's Coast. With twenty books published, she makes no excuses for the deep spiritual themes embedded within her romantic adventures. Her hope is that readers will not only be entertained but will be brought closer to the Creator who loves them beyond measure. In a culture that accepts the occult, wizards, zombies, and vampires without batting an eye, MaryLu hopes to show the awesome present and powerful acts of God in a dying world. A Christy award nominee and Inspirational Readers’ Choice Award winner, MaryLu makes her home with her husband, six children, three grandchildren, and several stray cats on the California coast.

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  Other books by MaryLu Tyndall

  Legacy of the King’s Pirates

  The Redemption

  The Reliance

  The Restitution

  The Ransom

  The Reckoning

  The Falcon and the Sparrow

  Charles Towne Belles Series

  The Red Siren

  The Blue Enchantress

  The Raven Saint

  Charity’s Cross

  Charles Towne Belles Trilogy

  Surrender to Destiny Series

  Surrender the Sea

  Surrender the Night

  Surrender the Dawn

  Surrender to Destiny Trilogy

  Veil of Pearls

  Escape to Paradise Series

  Forsaken Dreams

  Elusive Hope

  Abandoned Memories

  Escape to Paradise Trilogy

  Protectors of the Spear Series

  She Walks in Power

  She Walks in Love - Coming soon

  She Walks in Majesty - Coming Soon
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