Love's First Bloom

by Delia Parr

  When darkness finally fell, all the preparations for the grand finale that would mark the end of the day were done. The air itself was thick with expectancy, as well as the realization that dawn would signal the return to the ordinary trials of life.

  Most of the men, women, and children normally abed at this hour had gone down to the open land below Dock Street, a fifteen-minute walk east of the village, to view the fireworks display. Others who would not or could not walk that far crowded together on the bridge at the western end of Main Street. Yet a number of men remained in the village, just in case one of the fireworks went awry and landed on a building instead of fizzling out when it hit the river.

  Ruth, however, was anxiously waiting for the darkening sky to explode with color. She was on board the Sheller, the very ship that had brought her here, with the captain who owned and commanded the vessel, and the man so often in her thoughts, Jake Spencer.

  The night was perfectly clear, the river calm, but Ruth’s heart was racing with anticipation. Quite certain she was the only one on board the ship, if not the village itself, who had never viewed fireworks before tonight, she stood at the railing nearest the bow with Jake to her right and Capt. Grant standing next to him.

  While the two men bantered back and forth about the future prospects of the village and the decline of available cedar wood needed to build masts for ships, she studied the two men. Since the differences in their ages and physical appearances were rather obvious in the full light of day, she detected more subtle differences now that they were shadowed by the evening’s darkness.

  While Grant’s voice was raspy, he spoke with the assurance of a man accustomed to having his every word obeyed and his wisdom honored. Jake, on the other hand, had a rich, deep timbre to his voice, and he listened more often than he shared his views.

  Still, the two men seemed to have much in common. She suspected each had a gentle heart beating beneath their manly demeanors, and there was an aura of mystery about each of them, too. She did not know much about Capt. Grant, but assumed he had a lifetime of experiences at sea she would find fascinating. Despite the hours she had spent with Jake, she knew just as little about him. He had never shared much about his life before coming to Toms River, and she had never questioned him because she could ill-afford answering questions he might have for her.

  She also detected just a hint of familiarity between the two men, a certain level of easy comfort that seemed unusual to the point she wondered if they had known each other for a long time. She also considered her lack of experience being around men to be a detriment to fully understanding the camaraderie between Capt. Grant and Jake Spencer. Because her father rarely, if ever, had anyone call on him at home, even his closest friend, she had never been around men when they were having a conversation between themselves.

  A soft whoosh, followed by an enormous burst of dazzling white stars, lit the sky directly in front of the ship and promptly ended her woolgathering, as well as the men’s conversation. Before the falling stars disappeared, an explosion of blue lights appeared, followed by a red umbrella of light that twinkled in the sky for several heartbeats before disappearing with a hiss as the particles hit the surface of the river.

  When a barrage of very loud sounds that resembled the volley of cannon fire tore through the air, she leaped straight up from a sense of wonder and awe. Heart pounding, she gasped and grabbed hold of the railing with one hand. Fearful that a cannonball might actually hit the ship, she clapped the other hand to her heart, her thumb landing on top of the shell heart she wore every day now.

  Jake moved closer to her and laid his hand on top of hers, but his touch was more unnerving than reassuring as warm sensations coursed up her arm. “Apparently, Lily isn’t the only one who dislikes loud noises. If you’d mentioned it earlier, we could have watched the fireworks from the bridge, but it’s not too late. If you like, I can row us to shore if you think you’ll be more comfortable a bit farther away.”

  “No. I’d rather stay here. I-I just wasn’t expecting the fireworks to boom like that,” she blurted and gently withdrew her hand, hoping the reactions his touch inspired would quickly ease.

  He did not reply until another wave of color hit the sky. “You’re serious? I thought you said you lived in New York City before you moved here. I saw the fireworks there a few years ago. As I recall, the display was more boom than anything else.”

  Capt. Grant grunted. “That’s true enough. They don’t take enough precautions to protect the ships in the harbor, either, which is why my first experience at anchor there on the Fourth of July was my last.”

  “I-I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen fireworks before tonight,” she admitted.

  “Never?” Jake asked incredulously.

  “Not once,” she replied, praying he would not ask the reason why, and then tensed when another volley thundered overhead.

  “Were you always afraid of them, or not interested for some reason?” Grant asked when the noise abated.

  “My father was a … a hawker. He sold … trinkets so he worked a lot, especially on holidays like the Fourth of July,” she said, voicing the first idea that popped into her head that made any sense. She could hardly tell them the truth.

  Holidays were the few times when men who frequented brothels on a regular basis could be counted on to be with their families, which meant her father had more time to preach to the women who sold their bodies to survive. “Was your father a sea captain, too?” she asked the older of the two men when there was a lull in the display, if only to keep herself out of the focus of the conversation.

  Capt. Grant yawned before he answered. “All his life, which included very little of mine,” he offered before he yawned again. “I’ve got some record keeping to finish before I fall asleep standing here, so if you folks don’t mind, I need to get it done if I expect to sail at first light. Assuming my crew makes it back in time,” he added with a snort and clapped Jake on his arm. “Let me know when you’re ready to row back. I’ll help with the dinghy,” he offered and promptly took his leave.

  Series after series of impossibly beautiful displays of color, followed by loud bangs, kept Ruth too enthralled to ask Jake any questions about his life before he came to the village. Later, however, when he was rowing her ashore, she was able to gather her courage. She sat in the stern of the boat, holding his cane for him, while he sat in the middle, and their knees almost touched. Although the dark of night kept her from seeing his features clearly, she was close enough to hear him take a breath over the sound of the oars gliding in and out of the water.

  “I don’t really know very much about you, beyond the fact that you injured your back in a fall from a roof you were repairing. I can only assume you’re a carpenter by trade,” she prompted, in part to keep her thoughts from focusing too completely on the man so near to her.

  “That I was,” he replied, his voice straining as he pulled the oars through the water. “With my back healing as well as it is, I expect I’ll be leaving within the next few weeks to go back to the old homestead, but I’m inclined to choose another livelihood when I do. Painful mistakes can force a man to think long and hard about his future,” he murmured.

  She shuddered, just imagining the painful recovery he had endured before he came to Toms River. “Do you have family waiting for you?”

  He paused so long she regretted the question and sighed with relief when he finally answered her. “My parents are gone now. I have one brother, but we haven’t been close for a couple of years now.”

  “Growing up, I used to wish I had a brother or sister. I still do,” she mused, but when she caught the scent of the flowers in her garden and saw a glimmer of light near his cabin, she tightened her hold on his cane. “Why are we going to the south side of the river? The apothecary is on the other side.”

  “That may be true,” he said as he leaned forward to pull the oars through the water again. “But the seaman who was guarding the cabin on the odd chance that p
art of the fireworks display misfired is waiting for us on this side of the river. He’s going to row the dinghy back to the ship while I walk you home.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble, although I truly enjoyed being on the ship tonight. But we could have watched the fireworks with everyone else. It would have been much safer for you, too. All this rowing can’t be very good for your back.”

  “My back is fine, and I don’t have one or two but three bottles of Mr. Garner’s remedy, just in case I need it,” he countered. “Hold onto the sides of the boat. We’re about to hit shore.”

  The boat no sooner scraped the sandy bottom when the glimmer of light grew a little brighter. By the time Jake had pulled the dinghy to shore and helped her stand on solid ground again, the young seaman arrived holding a rather dim lantern. After a brief exchange, during which Jake handed over a few coins, the seaman pulled the boat back into the water, leaving Ruth alone with Jake.

  Completely alone. In a bubble of gentle light. Surrounded by total darkness. With a man who made her heart race when he looked at her, captured her gaze, and held it for almost an eternity.

  “I wanted to show you something. It’s right over here.” He carried the lantern as he led her to her garden, where she found a lovely wooden sitting bench with a high back and wide seat. He had it positioned so that she would have a close view of her garden, but a panoramic view of the river, too.

  Rendered speechless, she watched him set the lantern on the ground and his face light up with delight. He slid the hinged back of the bench forward while the seat remained stationary, transforming the unique gift he had made for her from a highbacked bench into a bench with a narrow table.

  “I only finished making it yesterday. I know you like to spend a lot of time here. Now you have a place for you and Lily to have a picnic, even if the ground is too wet.”

  “It’s amazing,” she whispered. Overwhelmed by his skill as a carpenter and his thoughtfulness, she walked over to the bench, stood next to him, and ran her hand over the wood he had sanded to a smooth finish.

  Blinking back tears, she dared to hope that this man might be the one man she could trust to help her protect Lily, the one man she could trust—someday—with the truth about who she really was.

  She touched the shell heart she wore beneath her gown, fairly certain that if he had not captured her heart before tonight, he surely had stolen it from her now.

  When she saw the tiny cross carved into the middle of the back of the bench, she blinked back more tears. “Is this your mark?” she asked, pointing to the carving beneath it that looked like a cane turned upside down before she realized it was the letter J, his initial.

  Feeling a bit foolish, she looked up at him when he did not answer her and lost all thought and all sense of time or place. He was gazing at her with such longing, she could scarcely breathe. Her heart nearly stopped beating when he bent his head close and kissed her.

  Very gently. Very tenderly. And only once, which was more than enough to let her know that he might be falling in love with her, too, because the dazzling burst of emotions that filled her entire being, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, made the display of fireworks tonight pale by comparison.

  The only question that exploded in her mind, with all the force of a cannonball, was whether or not he was also the one man who would forgive her for all the lies she had told him … or if he’d reject her as unworthy of his love and devotion.

  After escorting Ruth home, Jake took his time walking down the dirt path that led from the back of the apothecary to the base of the bridge on Main Street. The village was quieter now, and without the fireworks he had little to light his way. He had no regrets about kissing Ruth tonight, if only to have one very special memory of her that would have to last a lifetime unless he found a way to finish his assignment and redeem himself without losing her.

  Forced to choose between his career and a woman he had quite unexpectedly grown to care deeply for, he was deeply troubled and nearly oblivious to his surroundings.

  Until a dreaded voice rang out from behind him.

  “Too busy chasing skirts to care about your career. Pity. Your brother will be so disappointed when I give him this news tidbit.”

  Jake whirled about and glared at Robert Farrell, who was standing in the path, just beyond arm’s reach. Otherwise Jake might have used his fist to make the man swallow his own words. Truth be told, he was just as angry with himself. He should have suspected the cad would be lurking about, hoping to talk to him at some point. “What are you doing here?”

  The reporter shrugged. “I could ask you the same question, although after the kiss you stole from Widow Malloy back by your cabin tonight, I can only assume you were hoping for another.”

  Outraged by the man’s audacity, Jake hissed, “You were there? Watching us?”

  The man took a step back. “Of course I was there. I take my orders seriously. Or have you forgotten that I work for your brother, and since he’s the one in charge of the Galaxy at the moment, he’s the one I take orders from, not you.”

  “What orders?” Jake tightened his grip on his cane. “Clifford just sent me a letter that I received only a few days ago. He can’t possibly have changed his mind about my assignment yet again.”

  “He sent me to make sure you understood what’s at stake.”

  “I understand what’s at stake,” Jake countered.

  “Do you? Unless your brother told you what I’ve discovered about Ruth Livingstone, which I learned on a rather lengthy trip to Boston, where she resided until very recently, and what I expect to confirm in Philadelphia, I don’t think you have any idea how close I am to writing the full story of what that young woman kept hidden to keep her father from being convicted.”

  Jake was tempted to tell the man that his information was dead wrong, but decided his own interests would be better served by having Farrell chase down leads that would take him far from here. “Don’t let me stop you,” he snapped. “Just be on the stage when it leaves tomorrow morning.”

  Farrell snickered. “I’m traveling by private coach now, which is waiting for me over the bridge as we speak. By the way, I actually do have a rather odd message from your brother.”

  Jake stiffened his back. “What’s the message?”

  “He said to tell you he’s removed the cot in the storage room at the newspaper office. It doesn’t make any sense to me, but he said you’d know what that means.”

  “I do,” Jake said, without explaining that Clifford was making it very clear that there was no room for Jake at the newspaper anymore if he failed his brother again. There was no room in Clifford’s heart for forgiveness, either.

  Thirty-One

  Ruth soon found she had neither the time, the energy, nor the inclination to keep wondering if the first kiss she had shared with Jake Spencer would be her last. For the third night in a row, she spent the wee hours before dawn wearing down the floorboards in her bedroom trying to comfort Lily while Elias tended to his wife, who had been ailing for a few days. Now that dawn was finally breaking, she was too exhausted to take another step. She stopped pacing and swayed from side to side since any motion at all seemed to help the whimpering child lying in the crook of her arm, and she prayed the little one would finally drift off to sleep.

  Poor Lily. Her eyes were swollen from crying all night, her cheeks flushed, and the curls that framed her face wet from her tears, which had dampened the neckline of Ruth’s nightdress. Softly, Ruth began to croon the lullaby she had sung so often during the night. “ ‘Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, holy angels guard thy bed. Heavenly blessings without number, fall in kisses on thy head.’ ”

  As Lily grew limp and quiet, her breathing slowed, but Ruth continued to sway and hum the melody. She did not dare stop and put Lily back into bed before she was in a deep sleep. Unfortunately, none of the remedies from Elias worked as well as simply holding the teethin
g child, although Ruth was not certain how much longer she could hold the little girl without dropping her unless she sat down.

  Her arm was nearly numb, her shoulders and back were throbbing, and her head ached unmercifully. “If I had my way, babies would be born with a full set of teeth.” She looked over to the empty trundle bed and sighed. “All I want is to put my head on my pillow, draw up the covers, and sleep until you’re old enough to go to school.”

  The sound of footsteps out in the hallway and light trickling into her room from beneath her door made her pulse quicken. When she heard a soft rap at her door, she ever so gently laid Lily into bed, tightened the belt on her robe, and tiptoed quickly across the room to open the door.

  Elias Garner looked every bit as weary as she felt, but the concern she saw in his eyes that had troubled him for the past few days had deepened to fear. “I need to fetch Dr. Woodward,” he whispered. “I know you’ve been up most the night again with Lily, but if you could sit with my wife—”

  “Of course.” Ruth slipped into the hallway and eased the door closed. “Is there anything I can do for her until you get back?”

  “If she wakes up, give her some water, if she’ll take it, and change the compress on her forehead as soon as it warms. Otherwise just … just pray,” he urged and hurried off.

  Swallowing hard, Ruth crossed the hall and entered the couple’s bedroom. The light from the oil lamp sitting next to a small wooden chest on the dresser to her right was dim, and the air in the room was heavy with the unique scent of the remedies Elias had used to try to cure his wife’s illness. If Elias felt it was necessary to get the doctor, Ruth was afraid that Phanaby was far sicker than any of them had anticipated.

  Ruth tiptoed to the chair sitting at Phanaby’s side in front of the bed table and eased into the seat. The older woman appeared to be sleeping, yet she looked far worse than when she had first taken to her bed. Her face was flushed with fever, her lips were dry and cracked, and her breathing was so shallow, Ruth had to hold her own breath to hear the woman draw in any air.