* * * * *
Ritcherd worked quickly to prepare for his journey to the colonies, his first concern being for Sarah. Following a suggestion from his solicitor, he hired a young girl to stay with her, as much for companionship as to help her. He reassured her that the rent had been paid for eighteen months, and he gave her copies of the papers to prove it. She was overflowing with relief when he told her that he had uncovered some information and he was going to find Kyrah. But she started to cry when he told her he’d set up an open account for her at the bank that she could draw on when necessary, because he didn’t know when he was coming back. He also told her where to find Mr. Hatfield’s office, assuring her that he would help her with any problem that might arise.
“I’m truly going to miss you, Sarah,” he said as she walked him to the door, “just as I did before.”
“And I you. But when you come back with Kyrah, everything will be as it should be.”
“Yes.” He forced a smile, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and left.
Ritcherd didn’t see his own mother again before he left. He packed what he was taking with him in a valise, and put everything else of his that was of any value in a trunk that wasn’t much bigger. Sarah had gladly consented to let him leave it in Kyrah’s room.
He left a note to his mother in the library that simply stated: Jeanette, I’m leaving the country. Ritcherd.
He stopped at the cottage to see Sarah one more time, then rode toward the pier, stopping for a short time at the church ruins. They wouldn’t be sailing for two more days, but George had suggested that Ritcherd get settled in and acquaint himself with the situation for a day or two before they set out. And Ritcherd was only too eager to have everything in order so they could leave. Perhaps he could hurry them along.
Wandering through the church ruins, his heart ached for Kyrah in a way he’d hardly allowed himself to feel since he’d become distracted with the hope of setting out after her. Absorbing the familiarity of every stone, he wondered if Kyrah had come here alone when he’d been away. He prayed that she was well. His thoughts were constantly filled with worry for her. Where was she? What was happening to her? Oh, how he longed to be with her now!
Deep in thought, he sat on one of the stone pews and leaned forward against his hands where they gripped the pew in front of him. He felt no sense of time while he prayed that he would be able to find Kyrah. He knew already that there had been an unseen hand in this. The timely knowledge that she had gone to the colonies was uncanny, along with the opportunity to go himself. Even if he had previously known her destination, there was a war going on. It was difficult, if not impossible, to get passage to America. But the pieces had come together in a way that seemed like a miracle. Still, he needed more miracles. The colonies were big, with a lot of ports and cities, and there was indeed a war going on.
As he became absorbed with what lay ahead, a combination of despair and expectation flooded through him. His neck began to ache and he leaned back, spreading his arms over the top of the pew. With his eyes closed, he felt more than saw the sun’s rays sweep over his face as it moved westward, coming through one of the high church windows. Warmth bathed him as he opened his eyes. Before they adjusted to the light, a large bird flew in and lighted in the window. He squinted but couldn’t discern what type it was; only the outline of large wings with the sun at its back. The bird flew away almost as quickly as it had come, but the impression it left in Ritcherd’s mind was unforgettable. He thought of the Egyptian legend of the phoenix: a large bird that had consumed itself by fire, then had risen after five hundred years, renewed of its own ashes. Knowing Kyrah’s fascination with birds, he imagined some kind of symbolism in the one he’d just seen. He decided that his ship would be called the Phoenix. It seemed a good omen.
As he stood to leave, Ritcherd glanced around the old church once more to absorb the memories. He had seen Kyrah here for the first time. They had played here as children, laughed and talked through endless hours. He remembered them dancing here, their first kiss, and . . .
His memories caught him off guard as he recalled the intimacy that had occurred between them not so many days ago. To have her torn away from him after such a thing had occurred made him physically ill. The idea was so unbearable that he had to push it away. He couldn’t even ponder how she might be feeling toward him in that respect. He forced his mind to better memories. Their first kiss. And their reconciliation after he’d returned from the colonies and they’d finally talked through all of their feelings. It seemed that he’d lived a lifetime since then. And, oh how he ached for her! Then he remembered the brooch. She’d lost it here. He recalled how she’d thrown it to the ground, and it took him only a minute to find it. Fingering it carefully, Ritcherd found comfort in this tangible assurance that his memories were real. He tucked it into the pocket of his waistcoat and mounted the horse he’d left tethered near the church.
It was easy to leave now. He’d received what he’d come for. Memories that had given him comfort. A vision that had given him hope. And a talisman to carry as a reminder of all they had shared. As he rode at a full gallop to the pier, he wished that he could be like that great bird he had seen. It would be easy to find her if he could soar over the ocean, seeing everything below him from the sky’s perspective. He knew that he couldn’t fly, but the image of the great bird emblazoned in his memory reminded him that God knew where Kyrah was. Putting his trust into divine guidance, he knew in his heart that he would find her. He just had to!
The Captain of Her Heart Page 27