In the meantime, he needed to see to other matters. First and foremost, he needed to deal with Edward. For all of his prayers, he had yet to sense any direction to take or words of wisdom to apply. Simply put, all he felt was rage.
What should I do? Edward is my brother, my own flesh and blood. But so is baby Timothy—and he’s innocent. Edward made his own choices; Timothy doesn’t deserve to live in poverty because of his father’s sins. John rested his elbow on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he could be rid of this entire headache.
In that moment, when his eyes were closed, something rustled. Someone tugged on his sleeve. “Mr. John!”
John opened his eyes and turned. “Yes, Duncan?”
“I seen him. He’s here. Down by the stable with Edward.”
“Who?”
“The parson who came to my house and married Anna and Edward. He’s here! You can ask him. He’ll prove our Anna was really married!”
John stood, and Duncan tugged on his sleeve more urgently. “Please hurry.”
They exited by the doors leading to the garden, and John lengthened his stride. Duncan galloped alongside him to keep pace.
“Are you sure he’s the one?” he asked the boy.
“Aye, that I am. Only he’s not wearing the same clothes this time. He looks like a fancy man instead of a churchy one. This way—they went ‘round back, over by the extra water trough.”
John stepped over a fence and lifted Duncan after him, then hastened on. What was Edward up to? Obviously it wasn’t anything good, or he’d be doing it out in the open instead of behind the stables. John rounded the corner just in time to see a man mount a dappled gelding and ride off.
“Oh no! He’s going away,” Duncan moaned.
Edward turned toward them. “Out for your morning constitutional, brother?”
John glared at him. The man Duncan thought to be a priest was a notorious slave trader. “What are you doing, meeting with Phineas Selsior?”
“That’s my business, not yours.”
Duncan shouted, “He’s the priest who married you to our Anna!”
Edward sneered. “Honestly, John. What are you doing, associating with these bilge rats?”
“You said you loved Anna!” Duncan cried. “You married her.”
“Shh, Duncan.” John drew the boy close, and the lad wrapped his arms about John’s leg and held fast like a barnacle.
“We’ll talk in the study, Edward.” John could barely hold his temper. How dare his brother call Emily and her family bilge rats? And what business did he have with Phineas Selsior?
Edward shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “There’s nothing to discuss. You can stow that ‘brother’s keeper’ nonsense. I’m a grown man, and I’ll attend to my own business.”
“You didn’t mind your own business. You abandoned your wife.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Edward leaned against a nearby tree trunk. He smirked. “I’ve never walked down the aisle.”
“’Twasn’t a church wedding, but I overlooked that because we were both wedging the ceremony in the few minutes betwixt our shifts of work.” Emily’s words echoed in John’s mind. It sickened him to think of the lengths to which his brother had gone to delude them.
Suddenly the verse from Matthew flashed through his mind. “And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire.” He knew it then. He had to cast his brother aside.
“You’re to leave and never come back. I’ll have Goodhew pack your personal belongings.”
Edward negligently lifted a shoulder as if it meant nothing to him.
“You’ll no longer captain the Cormorant either.” John watched his brother’s face go florid.
“You’re wrong! She’s mine!”
John shook his head. “You know full well she’s mine.” He looked off to the side where Selsior had ridden off, then looked back at Edward. “You’ve used her to bring in slaves, haven’t you?”
“Not from the outside—just trading within our boundaries. All perfectly legal. Lucrative, too.”
“Not with any of my vessels.”
“Being self-righteous never filled your pockets.” Edward pushed away from the tree and stalked closer to John. “Half of the shipping business, half of those ships, should belong to me. Grandfather changed his will because he found out I’d brought back a pair of slaves my first run out as Enoch’s first mate. Bad enough I lived through the indignity of his leaving me to play lackey to old Enoch. I figured he’d punished me more than enough. The day the will was read and I learned how he’d cheated me of my birthright, I decided the Newcomb name meant nothing. I’ve used your ship to do as I jolly well pleased, and I’ve earned a tidy sum for it, too. Slaves bring good money—a hundred for a brat, four or five hundred for a breeding woman, and up to eight hundred for a strapping worker with some brains. Selsior gives me a full third of the cut.”
John stared at him. “No more.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. It didn’t take much snooping. I saw the grave at the church. The headstone holds only one name—Anna’s. There’s no mention of an infant buried with her. Then I went back to the cottage. There’s a cradle there.”
John’s blood ran cold.
“All I had to do was ask a few questions. Folks think Anna was married to a ship’s captain—funny, no one knew who. You’re going to deal with me. I get the Cormorant. In exchange, I keep my mouth shut, and no one will know that baby is a bast—”
“Enough!” John roared. He stared at his brother with absolute loathing.
“It’s your choice. You know it is. He can grow up respectably, or I can make sure everyone knows he’s—shall we say—’from the wrong side of the blanket’?”
“You’re a wicked, wicked man!” Duncan cried.
“I always thought you were a clever lad.” Edward sneered at the lad, then sauntered off.
Duncan couldn’t hide his tears. “What are you going to do, Mr. John?”
John knelt and hugged the boy. “I’ll have to pray about it.”
“Em was wrong.”
“What was she wrong about?”
Duncan sniffled and gave John a woebegone look. “She says the devil brings cookies. Edward is evil, but he never brought cookies.”
John calmed Duncan and left him in the care of the stable master. “Our littlest stable hand had a bad start to the day. Perhaps you could help him turn it around with a nice riding lesson.”
“A fine idea!” Mr. Peebles rubbed his hands together.
Duncan looked up at John. “Are you going to go take care of Em and Timmy?”
“Aye, and you can be sure things will work out.”
The lad stared at him somberly for a long count, then nodded once. “You never lied to us. Edward did, but you never have.”
John lifted him to stand on a bale of hay. He stared him in the eye and pledged, “I’ll always tell you the truth. Things are going to change. You don’t have to worry. Before I go into the house, do you want to pray with me?”
“All right. Maybe I’d better pray now. You can save your prayer till you’re with sis.”
Duncan dipped his head and folded his hands. John folded his big hands over Duncan’s little ones. They bowed their heads until their foreheads touched.
“Dear God, I know I prayed hard and lots to have You bring Edward back, but I’ve changed my mind. Please make him go far away forever. Don’t let him take our Timmy. Help Mr. John to be strong and brave. And, God, please bless Em and me so we don’t have to go back to the way things used to be. Amen.”
John squeezed Duncan’s hands. For a moment he couldn’t speak. Finally, his voice husky, he said, “That was a fine prayer.”
As he walked back to the house, John let out a huge sigh. Aye, from the mouth of that little lad had come a prayer that said everyt
hing he’d been feeling, too. Lord, give me wisdom. Guide me to do the right things.
Inside his home, John followed Goodhew’s tip and went to the nursery. Once he reached the doorway, he stopped. Emily had Timothy in one arm and Gracie’s son in her other. Her back turned to the door, she was singing a little ditty he’d never heard before, and the lilt in her voice had both babes cooing. She moved with grace as she dipped from one side to the other in time with her song.
The nursery sparkled. So did she. It looked so right with babies in it; she looked so natural holding babies in her arms. Someday he wanted his own children in this nursery. Our children. The thought stunned him.
Suddenly he felt like a sailor who’d come home after a long voyage. How had he failed to see what was before him all these days? From his frustrations with her the first day, to his concerns, to his caring—why shouldn’t it be a natural step to have come to love her?
Lord, thank You for her. Thank You for taking the blinders off so I could see Your plan for us.
“Emily?”
“Oh!” She startled and wheeled around. “Mr. John! I went down to your study, but you’d left.”
“I had a bit of unexpected business. I need to speak with you. Will you walk with me?”
“But the babies—”
“I’m sure most of the staff will volunteer to mind them.”
Emily smiled. “Ach, now there’s a truth spoken too mildly. I went down to the kitchen, and every last lass there was willing to rob me of my wee ones.”
John chuckled. “They’re not the only ones. I fancy Goodhew embarrasses himself by neglecting his image in favor of spoiling the babies.”
They quickly arranged for the babies to be minded; then John led Emily out of the house. She silently walked alongside him until they reached the crest of the hill. Once there, John looked out at the horizon and smiled. “Fair weather and a sound wind. My ships will make good distance today.”
Emily pulled the edges of her shawl closer and huddled in its cover. She averted her gaze to the small stand of trees to their left.
“Are you cold?” John started to unbutton his jacket at once.
“No, no. I’m fine.”
His fingers stopped, and he gave her a quizzical look. “What’s wrong?”
She hitched her shoulder and remained mute.
He unfastened the last button, shrugged out of his coat, and stepped behind her. The heavy fabric enveloped her. It carried his warmth and scent. John folded his arms high across her shoulders and rested his chin on her head. The weight forced her to rest her chin on his arms. The hold felt strange—companionable, warm, and undemanding, but safe in a way she’d never imagined.
“Look out there,” he coaxed in his velvety baritone. “Take a moment to appreciate the beauty. The ocean is one of God’s richest masterpieces. It’s always there, but never the same.” He inhaled deeply, and his vast chest pressed against her back. “The salt tang is invigorating. Aye, ’tis. Just look at how the sunlight skips on the waves to turn them silver and gold. When you feel troubled, walk here, Emily. Gaze out at this, and let it give you peace.”
She shuddered in his arms. He eased his hold and turned her around. Brows knit, he studied her. “What is it?”
“The sea gives you peace. For me, ’tisn’t the case at all. When I look at it, all I see are countless miles of water, and every last one keeps me from my da and ma. You see the silver and gold because you make your living on the water. I smell the salt of all the tears I’ve cried in fear and sorrow.”
She tried to give him a brave smile and shrug as if those feelings no longer bothered her. Suddenly the weight of his coat almost felt like the pressure of all the burdens she shouldered.
“Aw, Emily,” he crooned. His expression softened with compassion. Gently he cradled her jaw in his big hand and studied her in silence.
She wanted to look away. Already he knew far too much about her. Life had denied her any privacy or dignity. The last thing she wanted was for him to sense how lost and alone she felt, but something about his eyes kept her staring up at him.
“I’m sorry, little one. I—”
She pulled away. “No. Oh no, you needn’t be sorry for me. I’m not to be pitied. Duncan and I have each other, and we’re doing fine with little Timothy.”
“Of course you’ve done well with Timothy.”
“He’s a grand man-child—growing bigger by the day.”
“Be that as it may, Emily, you’re entitled to want something for yourself.”
“What with the other wee ones I care for, my days are full, and I want for neither bread nor shelter. Besides—”
“Hush!” He stepped closer and held her shoulders.
She wanted to squirm away from his hold, away from his piercing gaze and the way he made her long for the things she’d missed and could never have. He saw straight through the list of things she’d spouted. Yes, she truly meant she felt grateful for each and every one of them; but John seemed to hone in on the things she lacked, and she couldn’t allow him to see the holes in her heart and soul. Most of all, she didn’t want him to see the longing in her eyes. What woman wouldn’t fall in love with a man like him? Aye, but I’m ordinary, and he’s extraordinary. I’m a fool even to think of this.
“Emily, have you never longed for what other young women want?”
She tore her gaze from him and stared at his cravat. The laugh she forced sounded hollow, even to her own ears. The question made her ache something awful. Of all the men in the world, why did he have to ask? “What would that be? A child? I’ve two to rear. Boys, the both of them—and that is always what is most desired.”
“What of a husband, a home, and beautiful clothes?”
She tilted her head to the side and gathered enough courage to meet his eyes once again. “Men rarely are worth much trouble, if you’ll pardon my saying so. The landowner back home split apart all the families under his care without so much as flinching. Da couldn’t keep his own children. Even here most of the men go off to sea and leave their wives behind to tend to the wearing realities of life. A good many of the seamen drink away their pay long afore they make it home.”
“I can’t contest the fact that you’ve seen more than your share of men who are rascals, Emily. Don’t you know any who are decent, hardworking, God-fearing men?”
Only you, John Newcomb, she thought. Instead she tore her gaze from him and stared at the ground. “We both know there’s not a man in five counties who’d ever look at me. I’m poor, uneducated, and have two lads he’d have to feed. I gave up dreaming years ago, John Newcomb. Dreams are for fools and children.”
“Emily, you’re wrong.”
“Please don’t feel obliged to give me any fancy words or promise I’ll turn a corner and find true love. I decided long ago that it all came down to me relying on God to get me through each day. Whether due to intent or circumstance, others will end up letting me down. Edward was a scoundrel; Da couldn’t keep us.” She shrugged, then cleared her throat. “Aye, I know God will never fail me, so He’s where I’m putting my trust.”
“Joshua chapter one, verse nine: ‘Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest,’” John quoted softly.
Emily nodded. “Aye, now there you have it. ’tis a verse I cherish, too. It’s seen me through many a hard day, and God is always faithful to be there for me.”
“Em, what if a man wanted to be in your life?”
Deep inside she winced at that question. Of all men, why did John Newcomb—the man she loved and could never have—ask her that? He unerringly hit her weak spots in this conversation. Unwilling to let him read any of her thoughts, she turned back to stare at the ocean. “A man who wants to start off his life with the likes of me and the boys? There is no such man, one willing to take on what he’d consider such burdens.”
John stepped closer. She shivered e
ver so slightly beneath his coat. He gently tugged her shawl from beneath the jacket and draped it about her head and shoulders. Emily wasn’t sure whether he’d chosen to stand between her and the ocean to arrest her view or block the wind. As his hands brought the edges of the shawl beneath her chin, he nudged her to look up at him.
“They’re not burdens, Emily. Though the responsibilities have weighed heavily on you, you’ve never considered caring for your family a burden.”
She smiled at him. “Love lightened the load.”
“Emily.” He slipped his rough hands up to cup her face, and his voice dropped to a deeper register. “God has given me that same love for you and your little family—I’ll gladly take on such precious ‘burdens.’”
“And I’m thanking you for having done so. You’ve been a true blessing.”
“No, Em.” He rubbed her cheek with his thumb and smiled. “I’m not talking about the little things I did to help you out. I’m talking about the future.”
Why was he touching her like this? He’d been a comforting friend in the past, but this—it felt softer, more personal … like a caress. Her wits scattered in the wind. Emily stared at his cravat again. “Only God knows the future. The arrangement we have for now is wondrous though. I do love minding the babes.”
“Woman!” He said the word in an odd tone that hinted at both humor and exasperation.
Emily looked up at his face again.
His thumb slid over her lips. “I’m not trying to discuss a business arrangement. I’m asking you to be my wife!”
John watched as Emily’s eyes glistened suspiciously. Her lips parted in shock, and the color drained from her face. She bowed her head, and he could see the tips of her russet lashes flutter as she blinked away tears.
“Emily?”
“John, you don’t have to do this. Truly you don’t.”
“I know I don’t. I’m asking you to be my wife because it’s what I want.” She still wouldn’t look him in the eye. He sensed her emotional withdrawal and could not bear it. He’d not let go, and he could feel the pulse by her jaw thundering beneath his fingertips.
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