The Uncharted Series Omnibus

by Keely Brooke Keith

  “No.” Connor looked into the distance and Lydia thought maybe his family was a sore topic. She remained quiet and gave him time to reply. She nearly gave up hope for a response when finally he spoke. “I’m an only child. My mother died when I was young. She had been sick for years, so it was really my grandmother who raised me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Lydia knew all too well what it was like to lose a parent. “How did your father cope with losing her?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wasn’t exactly in the picture. I never knew my father.”

  “Did he die?”

  “I don’t know. When I was a kid, my mother told me that my father was a pilot. Whenever an airplane would fly over, she would point at it and tell me that my father might be flying it. She talked about him like he was a hero. I guess that’s why I wanted to be a pilot.” Connor smiled but it did not reach his eyes. “My grandmother came to visit me when I finished flight school, and I asked her about my father. She said it didn’t really matter. I wanted to tell her it mattered to me, but I could tell by the look on her face that I should let it go. She died a few months later.”

  Lydia thought about what it must be like to have no family at all. She could not imagine it and felt sorry for Connor. “It sounds like your life was lonely.”

  “I never thought of it that way. But being a guest in your dad’s house is the first time I have ever been with a large family.” Connor chuckled and raised his eyebrows. “It has been a whole new experience for me.”

  Lydia admired Connor’s ability to lighten the mood instantly. He stopped walking and turned to her. The horses stood still and sniffed the air. Lydia stopped too and looked up at Connor. His gaze was fixed on her, and his expression held a sober vulnerability. “I feel honored to be here… with your family… in your village. I feel honored to be with you, even walking a couple of horses down the road.” He was quiet for a moment but did not look away. She could tell he was calculating his words carefully. She appreciated his consideration, but she also felt desperate for him to speak again. “When I was traveling to the other villages—I missed this place. I missed you, Lydia.”

  Lydia noticed he had not called her Doc. Though she liked his nickname for her, she also liked the way he said her name. Caught by his stare, she knew what her giggly little sister meant when she had said that Connor’s deep brown eyes were full of mystery and passion. Lydia felt dazed and illogical. If this feeling was what Mandy meant when she spoke of intrigue, it was not nearly as enjoyable as she had made it sound.

  Connor reached his hand toward Lydia. She thought he was going to touch her and she held her breath. But he only took the rope out of her hand. Lydia let her empty hand fall to her side. Connor flashed his confident grin and looked pleased with himself. “I have to leave again tomorrow. I want you to know I will miss you while I’m gone.”

  He had control of both horses and started to walk again. Connor clicked at the horses and they followed him. Lydia brushed her gloved hands together, aware of their emptiness and the unease that came with having nothing to hold on to. She walked beside him and, as they approached the barn on the Colburn property, he looked at her, still grinning. “Do you think these two would like to go for a run?”

  “Possibly.” Lydia glanced at the two horses then back at Connor. “Would you like to ride? I can teach you.”

  Connor chuckled. “Thanks, Doc, but I know how to ride a horse. I heard that you are the fastest rider in the village, and I would like to see it for myself.”

  Lydia realized he was challenging her. “Oh, I see. Let’s take them to the barn for saddles, and then we can ride to the paddock across the road and have a run.” Lydia mirrored Connor’s grin and squared her shoulders. “That is, unless you are afraid of riding fast.”

  Connor laughed. “The last time I rode fast, I was at Mach one point eight.”

  “I’m not sure what that means, but I hope to find out.” Lydia took one of the ropes out of Connor’s hand and walked the horse to the barn. She could feel Connor watching her, and she liked it. After she brushed one horse, she heaved a saddle onto it and glanced at Connor as he saddled the other horse. She was pleasantly surprised that he appeared to know what he was doing.

  * * *

  Connor lowered himself into the saddle and held the horse’s reins. He watched Lydia mount her horse with such swift grace he knew the hobby of his youth was her daily experience. Her skirt bunched in front of her thighs, exposing her legs. Connor stared until she looked at him. He grinned and pointed at the field across the road from the Colburn property, but before he could ask, Lydia turned her horse and led the way. She smiled over her shoulder. “Follow me.”

  Connor’s competitive spirit tempted him to fire a challenging retort. Instead, he kicked the horse and caught up to Lydia. As soon as they crossed the gravel road, Lydia tore through the open field and left Connor momentarily surprised. He urged the horse to gallop but was only halfway across the field when Lydia pulled on the reins and turned her horse around. She chuckled as Connor pulled up beside her. “What Mach was that?”

  “You’re funny, Doc.” His horse snorted and fidgeted, while the horse Lydia rode seemed perfectly content beneath her. Connor tugged the reins and turned the nervous horse toward the road. “Race me back.”

  Lydia grinned and accepted his challenge. Connor knew his chances of winning were slim, but he rode hard as he crossed the field. He was only a few feet behind Lydia when she made it to the road. He considered his quick improvement a hopeful sign of a future victory. Connor watched her throw her head back and laugh when she turned and saw him behind her. She had once seemed delicate and serious to him, but he was now familiar with her strength and her fervor. She could challenge him for the rest of his life. The thought of spending his life with Lydia appealed to Connor on a deep and organic level; the desire was foreign to his plans, and the weight of it stunned him. As he rode next to her, he saw her expression change and knew the seriousness of his thoughts must have been obvious on his face.

  Lydia drew her brows together. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Connor forced himself to smile but all he could think was that he wanted a life here in the Land with Lydia Colburn—not because the rest of the world was at war, but because he had met his match and would have no peace without her.

  Connor heard someone call Lydia’s name and looked across the road to see Bethany running from the Colburn property. Bethany waved her arms over her head. “Lydia, come quickly!” she shouted. “There’s a man at the cottage looking for you. He said they need you at the school immediately. One of the children has been hurt.”

  Lydia popped the reins and took off. In a matter of seconds, she was out of sight. As Connor watched her disappear, he realized she had held back during their race. He shook his head in amused disbelief then swung down from the saddle and walked Levi’s new horse into the barn.

  Chapter Eleven

  “And then what did he say?” Mandy asked as she lowered herself into a chair at the Colburns’ kitchen table. Lydia carried a porcelain cup full of fresh cream to the table and offered it to Mandy as she sat across from her. Mandy put up her hand. “No, thank you.”

  Lydia drizzled the warm cream into her afternoon cup of coffee. She raised the cup to her lips and glanced at Mandy through the steam. Mandy leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table while she waited for Lydia’s reply. Lydia had already made sure there was no one in the parlor, but she kept her voice low just in case Isabella was listening. “Connor said that while he is gone he will miss me.”

  “He will miss you?” Mandy furrowed her brow and pulled a curl of auburn hair through her fingers. “I suppose it could mean something. It is certainly a friendly thing to say.” She dropped the curl and tapped her thin fingers on the side of her cup. “The men I have intrigued are more obvious than that when they declare their romantic notions. But Connor may have a different wa
y of handling it. How did he look when he said it?”

  “I prefer not to read too much into a person’s demeanor—especially since I was feeling struck blind by my own infatuation at the time.” Lydia thought back a day and pictured Connor as they walked home with the horses. “It was as if he wanted me to know something, but he couldn’t say it.” Lydia waved her hand. “See, my own interpretation cannot be trusted.”

  “And maybe your impression of him was accurate.” Mandy put her finger to her bottom lip as she thought for a moment. “Did he touch you at all while he was speaking?”

  Lydia shook her head. “He took the horse rope out of my hand and then he smiled and kept walking.”

  “What kind of smile?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Lydia set her cup on the table then hid her face in her hands briefly and laughed. “Can you believe I am having these feelings? This giggling over a man—this is your forte and maybe Bethany’s, but certainly not mine.”

  Mandy beamed with delight. “Truly intrigue is the most magnificent part of life, Lydia. You should enjoy it.”

  Lydia mocked a grimace. “Enjoy it? I can barely tolerate being in my skin feeling this way. I cannot believe you enjoy this sensation!”

  “What could possibly be undesirable about falling in love?”

  Lydia could have listed manifold discomforts about the situation. She sighed and gazed at the ceiling. Her eyes traced the wooden rafters high above the kitchen table. “If I am wrong about Connor’s feelings, then I will feel humiliated. If I am right, then my whole life could take course in a new direction—a direction I neither want nor feel suited to fulfill.”

  Mandy leaned back and brought her cup to her mouth with both hands. “Perhaps now you understand why I stick to intrigue and refuse commitment. Well, that’s part of my reasoning anyhow. Just enjoy falling in love and when it has run its course—which it always does—return to yourself unfettered.”

  Lydia chortled. “You almost make your hobby of toying with men’s affections sound logical.” She thought of Levi and how painful it was for the person on the other end of that rejection. Lydia looked out the window at the road then back at Mandy. “I prefer not to enter a situation destined to end in broken hearts. I suppose it’s for the best that Connor is gone right now. I should use this time to sort out my position on the matter. I’ve never wanted to marry. I am still not sure that I do. But I must work that out on my own time and not on someone else’s heart.”

  “So you are intrigued by Connor, the mysterious traveler. You are certainly not the first in the village for that.” Mandy grinned briefly, then her serious expression returned. “Is he worth further consideration to you?”

  “Yes… I believe he… he would make a good husband. He is intelligent and considerate and protective, and when someone is speaking to him he stops whatever he is doing and gives that person his attention.” Lydia felt herself getting swept away as she thought of Connor’s qualities. She shook her head. “But that isn’t what is important right now. What I must decide is if I could be a wife.”

  Mandy drew her head back in surprise. “Of course you could be a wife.”

  “Really? What man would appreciate his wife leaving home at midnight to rush to someone’s aide? Or what if I became a mother? How would it affect the village if I were so encumbered being with-child that I could not help a person who needed me?” With only brief consideration of her profession and its importance to the village, Lydia’s romantic feelings all but dissipated. She blew out a breath. “There is more to consider than whether or not he is likable. I have to consider if this is even possible. Connor said he and Levi would be away for three weeks. I want to have an answer prepared by then—even if the question is never asked.”

  Mandy tilted her head to the side, and a curtain of curls dropped over her cheek. “You were always so resolute that you would never marry. Even you must admit it is humorous you should become intrigued by the first man to fall from the sky.” Mandy smiled over the top of her cup. “Whatever you decide, you have my support. And if you decide that you cannot marry, do send Connor my way.”

  * * *

  Lydia lingered in the kitchen long after Mandy went home. She remained at the table but turned her chair so she could look out the window. Her eyes fixed on the grass outside but focused on no particular point. As the sun sank lower in the sky, Lydia watched shadows stretch across the yard. Finally, she stood and walked into the parlor.

  Isabella emerged from her afternoon nap and tapped her cane along the floor as she stepped into the parlor where her knitting basket awaited her. John came home as the sun was setting. He sat near the fireplace in a winged-back armchair and propped his feet on a wooden footstool. Isabella’s knitting needles clicked as she worked.

  Lydia sat on the plush rug that spanned the parlor floor, and she sorted through her aunt’s basket of yarn balls. As she untangled knots, Lydia watched her father’s face. His head was angled toward the fireplace and the warm light illuminated the faint creases at the corners of his eyes—they looked deeper than usual.

  John stared into the fire. “It is nearly one hundred twenty miles north to Pleasant Valley. The boys should be there by Sunday afternoon if all goes well.”

  “Yes,” Lydia agreed. “I hope the weather remains favorable for them.” She found a knot in a ball of light green yarn and began to pick the tangle apart. Her fingers stayed busy while she thought about Connor. As Lydia pulled at the knot, she pondered the subject of marriage. She wanted to determine her stance on the matter before Connor returned, but her thoughts only drifted to Connor as a person. She was beginning to think somehow the two concepts were inseparable; only the love of the right man could make her want to marry. Still, she could not believe any man would want a woman whose profession would always be her prominent duty. The men Lydia knew preferred women who were devoted only to domestic interests. Lydia wanted to ask her father’s advice on the topic, but she felt the matter should go no further than Mandy—unless Connor made his feelings known. If he even possessed those feelings for Lydia, which she had no reason to believe he did. She shook her head out of frustration.

  “Have you got a tough one?” John asked.

  “Pardon?” Lydia’s attention snapped from her thoughts and she wondered if she had spoken out loud.

  “The knot.” John pointed at the yarn she was holding. “You looked frustrated.”

  “Oh, yes... perhaps. I don’t know.”

  “I see.” John furrowed his brow. “You will work it out, Lydia. I know you will.”

  Lydia smiled, thankful for her father’s encouragement even if they were thinking about two different things. She heard a light tap at the front door. Most people in the village went to the Colburns’ kitchen door. Lydia glanced at her father as she set the yarn in the basket. She stood from the floor and straightened her skirt as she walked to the door. Its rarely-used knob squeaked when Lydia turned it. “Mrs. Owens. Please, come in.”

  A slight woman in her mid-thirties, Ruth Owens wiped her boots politely and stepped across the threshold. “Thank you, Lydia. Is your father home?” She looked past Lydia. “Oh, hello, Mr. Colburn. May I have a moment of your time?”

  John removed his feet from the footstool and stood. “Of course, Ruth.” He motioned to the divan across from his chair. “Please, have a seat.”

  “I will only be a moment. I have to hurry home and cook dinner.” Ruth sat on the edge of the divan and folded her gloved hands in her lap. “It’s my boy, Luke. His father and I are concerned about him. I’m more concerned than his father. That’s why I came to you, Mr. Colburn.” Lydia started to leave the room, but Ruth held her hand up. “Stay, Lydia. I have no secrets. Mr. Owens and I rarely see eye to eye on things, especially Luke’s upbringing, but this time I think Luke is headed for real trouble.” John nodded to Lydia, and she sat beside the woman on the divan. John sat back down in the armchair and turned his atten
tion to Ruth.

  “Luke was always a good boy, you see, doing his chores and minding us.” She gestured continually with one hand while she spoke. “Then not long ago, he started having some trouble in school—mostly with the other boys. I spoke to his teacher about it. He says Luke only has one friend, Walter McIntosh. The teacher said Luke and Walter usually keep to themselves. Then last month Luke started coming home from school later each day. Now he gives his father lip about the chores and refuses to answer when we ask why he is late. I understand it’s natural for a fourteen-year-old boy to want his independence, but this sudden rebelliousness seems out of character for Luke. So I went by the school one afternoon last week when I knew he should be getting out of class. I watched from a distance as my son and Walter left the school yard with Frank Roberts.”

  Lydia looked up at her father. He glanced at her and looked back to Ruth without changing his expression. Ruth put up both hands. “Frank Roberts is a grown man—and an odd one at that. Pardon me, Mr. Colburn, if that was wrong to say. I just do not like my son being influenced to ignore his chores and sass his parents. They are up to no good… I just know it.”

  John shifted position in his chair. “Did you tell your husband that you saw Luke with Frank Roberts?”

  Ruth nodded. “He said it’s Luke’s way of showing us he is growing up. He said I should not worry about it, but I have been losing sleep over this. Luke is my son.”

  “Your husband is right, Ruth. Luke is growing from a boy into a man, and it is normal for him to challenge authority. And you are also right. Adolescence is a time when young men easily make bad choices. From the behavior we have witnessed from Frank Roberts, I would consider it a bad choice for a young man to spend time alone with him.”

  “Will you speak to my husband then?”

  John leaned an elbow onto the arm of the chair. He rubbed his fingertips against his thumb for a moment as he turned his face toward the fire. Ruth and Lydia waited silently for his response; Isabella’s knitting needles clicked in time with the clock.