by Kim Allred
AJ snorted, but she hoped the light was too dim for Finn to see her blush. His face reflected amusement, but a flicker of something else too. She shivered as if it wasn’t too far a stretch for him to whisk her away.
“My father always told me I was born under good fortune, so I guess it’s paying off,” AJ said and squeezed past him, picking up the scent of something akin to cedar and a combination of masculine scent, and the quick touch of fabric against fabric sent a different type of shiver through her. She quickened her pace toward Jackson’s voice, not sure if the man knew he was talking to himself.
Jackson was past the galley, standing inside another room, which appeared to be one of the ship’s storage areas, holding a can of food and eying a large bag of flour. AJ stepped next to him so she could see farther into the room. It didn’t lead anywhere—it was an enormous pantry stacked with bags of flour, grain, and sugar, all sitting in high piles next to cans of fruits, vegetables, meats and other unknown items. Large, unmarked crates ran along one side of the room. When Finn joined them, they were both investigating the items like they were lost treasures.
“Looks like you’re set for a long voyage.” Jackson moved toward the door, still surveying the room.
“I like to be prepared,” Finn said.
“I’ve never seen bags like these for food storage.” AJ inspected each label, brands she’d never heard of. She picked up a can of food and turned it around in her hands, scanning the other items in the hold. “Quite a mixture of old and new.”
“Let’s move back to the galley.” Finn turned, leaving no room for questions.
AJ sighed. Back to the kitchen. All the interesting stuff was in the pantry, but she had no choice but to follow.
They found Jackson standing in the middle of the galley, scratching his head. “It doesn’t look like you need any more supplies,” Jackson said. “But all you have to do is ask and we can make a run. You could do with a meal in town and get something a little more fresh if you’re going to be here long. Nothing worse than eating out of a can too long.”
“Aye.” Finn slapped Jackson on the back. “I could do with some fresh fruits and vegetables. Maybe tomorrow would be a good time.”
Jackson stood at the stairs leading to the deck and scratched his chin. “Not sure I can do it, but I’ll send Caleb over with the truck. He can take you anywhere you want to go. I can give him some errands to do if you want to spend time on your own.”
“Any time will do. I appreciate your help.”
“So does that get me a tour of the gun deck?”
AJ didn’t hear any more of the men’s conversation. Her thoughts were miles away. What she had seen in the stores perplexed her. The packaging on some of the food and other items looked old but freshly packed. Other items had been purchased recently, based on the well-known brand names. She couldn’t fathom the reasoning behind such historical rendering when it came to food and tack but supposed she had seen stranger things, although she couldn’t remember when.
Ignoring the men, she wandered back down the short passageway. Her intention was to get a look at the chart table, but when she saw another door, she couldn’t stop herself. When she opened the door, she knew she had intruded too far, but couldn’t help taking a quick look around.
A huge bed dominated Finn’s cabin, but plenty of space remained for trunks of various sizes, a small hand-carved bookcase filled with books, a side table adorned with a large bowl, a pitcher, and what might be personal grooming gear. On a smaller table, a mug lingered next to an open book. AJ found herself curious as to what Finn would be reading but didn’t dare cross into his private chamber.
Several items could be valuable antiques, some less ornate than others, but all wonderful representations from several generations ago. They could be replicas, but AJ didn’t think so. Too many other things she had seen and touched had been authentic, and she had no reason to believe all this wasn’t as well. Again the dedication to history. Before she could come up with an explanation, soft footsteps approached. The warm, masculine scent of cedar filled the air.
Finn’s body came close, almost touching her, warmth radiating from him. She didn’t want to move forward into his private sanctuary, yet he allowed her no quarter to step back without running into him. He didn’t say a word. So close. She imagined her hair gently moving from the touch of his breath. Panic took hold, and she fought the primordial instinct to take flight. She scanned the room to find another way out—none. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something to say, to explain the meddling, as innocent as it was.
The silence magnified his presence. She was positive he could hear the rapid pounding of her heartbeat. The ship creaked as it nestled against the undulating waves. The bed seemed to have doubled in size. Now would be a good time for someone to ask her to take another look at the galley.
She forced herself to turn and push past him. The warm hardness of his chest brushed her arm. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” She fled back through the chart room and up the stairs. She broke through the door and gulped air, the bright sunshine dissolving her flight response. She rubbed her hands against her jeans, brushed her hair back, and looked around for Jackson, hoping he didn’t witness her rush to the deck.
Jackson picked his way down the gangplank, his back to her. AJ raced to follow and was halfway down before Finn arrived back on deck.
He was right behind her by the time she stepped onto the dock. She wished Jackson had headed back to the parking lot so she could follow, but he had waited for them on the dock. She looked at her feet, out to sea, and then back toward the ship, any place other than in Finn’s direction.
“I hope you both enjoyed the tour of my ship.” Finn’s voice was light, seeming nonplussed by the intrusion and subsequent flight.
“It’s a fine boat. I just wish I could have seen the guns,” Jackson said.
“Guns?” AJ’s self-induced dilemma vanished. She turned to look at Jackson.
“Yes.” Jackson pointed to the side of the ship. “See the gunports? She should be carrying cannons.”
AJ stared at the small doors that ran along the side of the ship. She hadn’t paid attention to them until now.
“As I told Mr. Jackson, the cannons were removed long ago. There was nothing to see on the gun deck except crew quarters and the cargo hold.”
“And that’s a shame. Hard to have a good replica without the guns. I see the gunports look usable.”
“I keep everything working where I can,” Finn said.
“Well, either way, she’s in wonderful condition for her age,” Jackson said. “It would be great to see her in full sail.”
“Perhaps you’ll soon have the opportunity.” Finn gazed with pride at his ship.
AJ frowned. She might not get her story after all. “How difficult is it to sail her? By yourself, I mean. She looks like she could use a crew.”
Finn turned a respectful glance toward her. “Aye, she’s a handful by myself. But as long as I keep her close to shore she’s manageable with one sail. I would need several more hands to take her out to sea.”
Jackson chuckled. “We should find you a few hands so we could see what she’s like.”
Finn laughed in return. “I agree we’d need more than the two of you to put her in full sail.”
AJ bristled at the comment, though she knew nothing about sailing. “And you don’t think we’re up to the task?”
“And how many times have you run a sail?”
AJ refused to back down. “I’m a quick study.”
“Are you now?” Finn winked at Jackson.
Jackson laughed, then grimaced when AJ gave him a scathing look.
“Yes,” AJ said, her response subdued. She had talked her way onto dangerous ground and didn’t know how to get herself out of it.
“All right. Why don’t you come back for a short sail? Sunday would work. If you’re up to the challenge.”
AJ had walked into that. Both
men waited for her reply. The moments below deck forgotten, she stood in the daylight, facing the gauntlet thrown at her. She wanted to experience it, the ship plowing through the waves, and she couldn’t imagine any of the sleeker, more modern ships able to compete with it. More importantly, this could be the break she needed. She could gain a great deal of information for another article with one quick sail.
“With one condition,” AJ said, remaining resolute with her decision. “If you’re willing to let me interview you about the ship for my article, then Sunday would be fine.”
A slow smile appeared on Jackson’s face. “Well, you two have a good time,” he said. “Wish I could be with you, but Sunday is my day with the family. And to be honest, I’d prefer to keep my feet planted right here on shore. I was getting woozy just walking around her tied to the dock. Hate to see what a mess I’d make once she left the bay.” Jackson chuckled, then headed toward the path. “I’ll send Caleb out to take you to town.” His last words were partially lost in the wind.
AJ didn’t want to be left behind with Finn, didn’t want to explain the intrusion into his private chambers, and wished she could take back her stupid challenge about sailing. “Wait, Mr. Jackson, I’ll walk with you.” Forcing herself to look at Finn, she discovered he was looking not at her, but at the retreating old man.
“Ten o’clock,” Finn said.
“What?”
“Sunday, ten o’clock. No later. The tide will be perfect.” Finn turned to her, warmth in his smile. She read no malice, no challenge, no other agenda in his emerald gaze.
“All right. I’ll see you then.” AJ hurried to catch up with Jackson. Finn didn’t say anything else, and she refused to look back to see if he was still watching them.
Because, she realized, she would be disappointed if she turned and he was gone.
Finn watched her move up the path until she was out of sight. He had been irritated by her intrusion into his private space, peering into his cabin, but he had been the one who offered them a tour.
She had given the room a thorough review but didn’t intrude past the door. She was just curious. He had no idea what she had thought of it all, and hadn’t meant to stand so close to her, but he couldn’t help himself when he caught her soft scent of lavender. She was just there, her body so close, he could sense the warmth. He wasn’t able to do anything more than stand there, glad Jackson was right up the stairs, the setting too intimate. He was relieved when she shoved past him, most likely embarrassed for being so nosy.
His plans for Sunday would keep them out in the light of day and busy working sails. He would be too busy dodging her questions, while trying to sneak in a few of his own, to give any thought to more familiar matters.
19
Adam couldn’t sleep. After what seemed like hours of restless dreams, he stared at the ceiling, coming to the realization he was awake for the day, and silently cursed. Usually an army tank crashing through the front door would do little to disturb his sleep. His cases at work never bothered him. Most were mundane, and even if he took on a prickly one, it was never bad enough to interfere with a good night’s sleep.
Madelyn was also a heavy sleeper, so she didn’t move when Adam sat up and slid into his slippers. It amazed him that his children had survived through their infancy with both of their parents being such heavy sleepers. Madelyn had kept baby monitors on the nightstands, one for each of them, but the house could have burned down before either of them would have been woken by any squalling coming from the tiny units. Nothing ever happened, of course. Madelyn’s maternal instincts seemed to wake her when she was needed, sometimes before hearing any crying. Having reached the toddler years, the children’s occasional tantrums echoing down the hall still didn’t faze either parent sleeping contentedly in their beds.
Times were different now, and Adam had no one to blame but himself. He had been distressed for weeks before a small respite came his way. He truly believed he had found a solution to his problem. He should have known better. He was finding it difficult to extricate himself from the mess he’d created. And now this. Someone he had no desire to be involved with was smack dab in the middle of preventing him from getting clear.
Sighing, Adam moved from the bed, grabbed his robe, and headed to the kitchen. He turned on one small light, not yet ready for the full brightness of the kitchen, everything white and stainless steel. He made instant coffee. If he made a pot, it would get old before Madelyn got up, and she liked a fresh cup in the morning. He took his coffee into the study and slumped into his recliner, the perfect spot for reading legal texts and strategizing cases.
Madelyn kept a small comforter close by in case Adam fell asleep, or if the house had a chill as it sometimes did in the dampness of winter. He didn’t deserve someone like her, always ensuring his comfort. He wished he could talk to her about his problem. She was his sounding board, always able to see the forest. Adam was typically good at it himself, but with some cases, he got too buried in the legal meanderings and needed someone to remind him to look at the bigger picture. That was where Madelyn shone.
Not this time, though.
He took a sip of coffee, leaned back in the recliner, and pulled on the comforter, wrapping it around himself like a protective cocoon. He worked through his predicament as if Madelyn were there next to him, guiding each bullet point like a practiced legal assistant. He had needed money and he was too ashamed to tell anyone, even Madelyn—especially Madelyn. People would think him foolish and weak.
The last two days had focused on finding his way through the nightmare, but he seemed further than ever from his goal. He still questioned the wisdom of getting involved with a stranger who, if he had to admit it, deeply scared him. He drained the last of his coffee and set the cup on a stand before pulling the comforter tighter around him. He stretched out the recliner and shifted his focus to the ceiling. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes. His next steps remained shrouded, just a hair out of reach. He wished he could ask Madelyn what she thought.
Madelyn found Adam asleep in his favorite chair. She frowned and tucked the comforter tighter around him. Something was worrying him, something he didn’t think he could share with her. He never held anything back, whether it was about work or home, and the fact that he wouldn’t talk to her was more than she could bear.
She knew in her heart it wasn’t another woman. And he wasn’t drinking too much—that would be obvious. He enjoyed his poker nights. Maybe the gambling had gotten away from him. Maybe he got into some trouble at work.
He was a proud man, but this wasn’t like him—sleepless nights and closing her off. She brushed a light kiss on his forehead, the worry lines erased in easy slumber.
She wouldn’t push for now. But if it went on much longer, she wouldn’t have a choice. They were stronger when they dealt with problems together, and she had a limit to the amount of disruption she would allow in their lives.
20
Saturday morning brought AJ out of a groggy sleep. Why had she committed to such an early time for an antique trip? A quick look toward her window revealed the dismal grayness, and she fought the desire to roll over and go back to sleep. She had worked late into the night on her article on the inn, but it didn’t seem complete. Something was missing. Maybe it was the Ramseys, or the first family that turned the Westcliffe into an inn, or maybe the continuing mystery of Finn. He seemed to have nothing to do with the inn, other than his close proximity to it, but sailing into the bay with a historical ship seemed to tie him to the place, in timing if nothing else.
Making her way to the kitchen, each step required AJ’s full concentration, as if she had spent the night clubbing. Stress at work over the past few weeks, combined with her life being thrown off tilt the last few days, topped off with five hours of sleep, did not make for a fully functional brain.
Coffee.
If she could get to the machine, she could have her hands wrapped around a glorious mug of magic brew in less than five minutes.
Five minutes more, after the caffeine hit, her world would rotate back to a level horizon.
With the coffee machine set to its chore, AJ shuffled to the window overlooking the building’s garden and groaned at the light misting of rain. She had forgotten to check the forecast. Dragging herself back to the counter, she wrapped one hand around a steaming cup of blessed relief, grabbed a banana from a basket with the other, and let her mind drift to her article.
She had planned to meet with Stella on Friday, but her friend had been interrupted by an early closing over in Eugene, an all-day event.
Having the day to herself, AJ made a trip to the Historical Society Museum. Since AJ was unable to see the inside of the inn, the Historical Society had been instrumental in giving her the only view to what the building had looked like in the early years as a family home, then as an inn. The museum had the only documented pictures, and even they had not been able to get anything after the seventies.
The building itself was unremarkable from the early years, other than the number of bedrooms included as part of the original design. A bit unusual for a middle-class family and perhaps an omen for the obsessive nature running through the family.
The Historical Society had not been able to retrieve much in the way of journals, so the accounts of its morphing into the inn were from third-party recollections of events. The main story of the inn had been as Mr. Jackson said. The oldest son and his fixation on the war, what he thought might be an ultimate attack from Japan, and the eventual fall into general madness before a stroke took him.
Light broke through from the garden window, and AJ smiled. The clouds were lifting from the day as well as from her mind. Getting dressed for the trip, she finalized her next steps. She had to find out more about the inn. But Mr. Jackson wasn’t going to be an easy nut to crack.
The key was the ship. Perhaps nothing sinister was going on, but Finn Murphy’s reluctance to talk was enough to pique her interest. An old ship magically appears one day sitting at its dock—the whole mess just begged her to dig. She would get her next story and determine for herself if there was a connection between her ghost ship and the Westcliffe Inn.