The Uncharted Series Omnibus

by Keely Brooke Keith

  John stepped away from the podium and stopped in the aisle near Everett. “You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  Everett glanced at the overseer. “My father used to say that phrase.”

  “That is probably where I got it.” John lowered himself into the pew next to Everett. “I know you had to put in a full day of work by noon to get here today. I am pleased you came. Are James and Nicholas good workers?”

  “They are.”

  “And you will have more help starting tomorrow—that is, if your offer was sincere.”

  Everett nodded. “It was sincere—self-serving, but sincere.”

  “Ah. I wondered.” John leaned back and crossed his arms. He allowed a few moments of silence then drew a breath. “I remember when my father was no longer able to carry out his duties as overseer and it was time for me to take the position. I was trained and ready but terrified to accept my inheritance. Hannah and I had only been married a short while. I wanted to prove to her more than anyone that I could do it. I remember going home at the end of a particularly hard day and instead of showing her kindness, I lashed out at her about something trivial. She saw right through me.” John gave a short chuckle. “She told me to never try to hide my insecurities from her again because I was robbing her of the opportunity to love me through a difficult time.”

  Everett took his eyes off the cross. “I’m sorry, but I fail to see your point.”

  “Whom do you most want to prove yourself to?”

  “My father. I know it doesn’t make sense—he is dead.”

  “Of course it does—he gave you a fine example and a weighty inheritance.”

  As much work as Everett had to do, it was not the farm that burdened him or even the fact that he had his father’s reputation to live up to. He stretched his collar away from his sweaty neck. “I’m twenty years old and I’m running the largest farm in the village and declaring my decisions among the elders. I want to be a man my father would be proud of. He told me to hire men and treat them fairly. He told me to take care of my mother and sister.”

  “These are all things you have been helping him with since you were young. You know how to run the farm and take care of family.”

  Everett shook his head, recalling his father’s dying wishes. “He also told me he wanted me to marry Bethany.”

  “Is that his wish or yours?”

  “Both. It was his wish because he knew it’s my greatest longing. Now she’s intrigued with another man—this outsider—and though I know he will not marry her, I fear he will sully her.”

  John shifted in the pew. “Bethany may be naïve, but she is morally grounded. I do not think it will come to that, but if you do, the question is: would you still love her?”

  Everett did not want to imagine it let alone postulate his ability to forgive. His breath burned in his dry throat and he glanced at the cross as he waited for the words to come. “I would forgive her, but I’d rather protect her from it happening in the first place.” He swallowed hard and looked at John. “I miss my father a great deal and I cannot ask his advice, so I’ll ask you… what should I do?”

  * * *

  Bethany dumped the contents of her satchel onto her bed. Having spent the morning scrubbing the cottage, she was tired of cleaning and decided to put her things away later. She looked around her bedroom, grateful finally to be back in her own space. A wooden trunk in the corner of the room caught her eye. She focused on the flowers painted around its edges and the row of dolls arranged on its top as she stepped toward the heirloom box. The dolls had gone untouched for years, aside from Lydia’s occasional dusting rampage. Bethany could not recall the last time she opened the lid. She knelt on the floor and looked at each doll, trying to remember their names as she moved the toys to the floor. As she lifted the trunk’s lid, Lydia stepped into the room. “Did you miss your toys, little sister?”

  Though Lydia smiled when she said it, Bethany thought the question held more jest than sentiment. She did not smile back. “I’m not a child any more.”

  Lydia sat on a half-size school chair that was pushed against the wall by the trunk. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Bethany looked inside the trunk. It was full of play clothes, ribbons, toy teacups, and doll blankets—all the girl toys passed down from her three elder sisters. Levi always had his own toys; they were still in the trunk in his old room, which was now Andrew’s nursery. As a child Bethany had preferred Levi’s toys because they could be taken outside and played with in the dirt.

  “I missed you,” Lydia said.

  “I missed you, too.” Bethany pulled a painted conch shell from the bottom of the trunk. “Remember when I found this shell on the shore and brought it home? I wanted to paint it, but you and Adeline and Maggie all told me to leave it how it was.” Dried paint flaked onto Bethany’s fingers as she rubbed her hand across the shell. She chuckled and held it up. “I’m not sure what I was trying to prove. I painted an ugly design. Now I see how pretty the shell would have been unpainted. I guess that’s why you all told me to leave it alone. But I enjoyed painting it at the time and that’s what matters. Right?”

  “With a shell—yes. With bigger matters in life—you need to listen to those who’ve gone before you.” Lydia’s maternal tone irritated Bethany’s already frayed nerves. Lydia sat forward in the little chair. “Ten days… that was the longest you’ve ever been away from home, isn’t it?” She was trying to get her to talk. When Bethany did not respond, Lydia continued. “Well, I’m glad you’re back in the house and… safe.”

  “Justin isn’t dangerous.” Bethany laid the shell back inside the trunk and covered it with a heap of play clothes. “I don’t know what Connor told you, but I got to know Justin and he is a good man. He’s actually a lot like Connor.”

  “You just think that because he sounds like Connor?”

  “No. You don’t know him.”

  “Do you love him?”

  Bethany wondered that herself. She liked him and—with little effort—could imagine loving him, but their connection lacked something unnamable. She picked up the old dolls from the floor and began stuffing them inside the trunk. “I don’t know. Maybe. I think I could love him. He’s smart and charming and has the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. And the way he looks at me when no one else is around…”

  “It sounds like you’re intrigued with him.”

  Bethany closed the lid on the trunk, satisfied that all her childish possessions were now out of sight. “So what if I am? So what if we are attracted to each other and love each other?”

  Lydia stood and folded her hands. “Those are two different things. Attraction is a biological help to ensure procreation. It’s an enjoyable benefit of romance, but it isn’t love.”

  “Is this a medical lecture?” Bethany pushed away from the floor and walked back to her satchel. “You have Connor. Now another outsider has arrived—a charming and mysterious man who will no doubt intrigue every woman in the village—and he is interested in me. You should be happy for me. You had your fun, now why can’t I have mine?”

  Lydia stabbed her finger into the air at Bethany. “You think I’m trying to keep you from something good when I’m actually concerned you are making a bad choice.”

  Bethany boosted her volume. “I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened. She blinked rapidly then glanced at the door. Footsteps echoed in the hallway as Connor climbed the stairs. His brow furrowed when he rounded the landing and looked at Bethany. She wondered how much he had heard and glanced back at Lydia. The tip of Lydia’s nose was red like she was about to cry. Guilt gripped Bethany’s throat and she regretted what she said. She knew she should apologize in the moment, but she could not get herself to say anything.

  Connor leaned a hand into the doorframe and sighed when he looked at Lydia. “The elder meeting is over, but your dad won’t be home for a while.” He looked back at Bethany and his scowl
returned. “There’s someone downstairs who wants to talk with you.”

  Bethany assumed he meant Justin. She controlled the beaming smile that threatened to splay across her face. “Does he have my father’s permission?”

  Connor glanced at Lydia then back at Bethany and grinned. “Yes, actually, he does.”

  * * *

  Everett used the reflective glass door of a bookcase in the Colburns’ parlor for a mirror and combed his hair with his fingers. His reflection blurred as he focused on the books inside the glass. The inscriptions on several leather bound volumes attested to the Colburns’ long lineage of faith. It was a heritage he planned to pass to his future children, but first he had to get the woman he loved to let him court her.

  Everett looked away from the books when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Bethany’s fingers skimmed the handrail as she descended the steps into the parlor. Her smile faded when her eyes met Everett’s. The change was subtle, but he noticed. He grinned anyway. “Were you expecting someone else?”

  “I’m glad you came. I missed you.” Skirting his question, Bethany reached her arms up and hugged him the way a child hugs her father. She let go quickly, but he held her for one more heartbeat. After she pulled away, she flopped onto the divan and gave her voice a dramatic inflection. “You have no idea how awful it was being trapped in that cottage for ten days. I was so bored. I wished you would have come to see me more, but I understood why you couldn’t.”

  Everett rounded the edge of the divan and sat beside her. “I would have slept on the ground beneath your window the entire time if I could have, Beth.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say.” She shifted sideways and propped her arm on the back of the divan. Then her smile mellowed into a caring grin and her voice lowered from its ebullient tone. “And after all you’ve been through. This has been a hard time for you too. It didn’t seem fair—our being separated when we needed each other. I wanted to go to the funeral so badly. I hated being apart from you while you were grieving.”

  “Don’t worry. There’s plenty left.”

  “Grief?”

  Even while sitting beside the woman he loved, Everett ached from losing his father. He pressed his lips together and nodded. “We’re together now. Let’s focus on that.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “About losing Father?” When she inclined her head, he watched the light hit her blue eyes. “My sweet Beth, I know you’re willing to share my grief, but that’s not why I came.”

  “Oh?”

  “I thought I was going to lose you.”

  “But you didn’t. I survived the illness. The boredom afterward turned out to be a far greater threat to my survival. I was so lonely at times, I thought it would kill me.”

  Everett grinned at her exaggeration. “People do not die from boredom. Besides, you had Mercer in there with you. I’m sure you enjoyed getting to know the newcomer, didn’t you?”

  A sullenness marked Bethany’s expression. She pulled her arm off the back of the divan. “I suppose.”

  “I know you’re fond of him.” Everett had promised himself he would not ask, but the words slithered from his tongue. “Do you love him?”

  “Are you asking as my friend or as an elder?”

  “Are there two different answers?”

  Bethany’s eyes glanced to the left then back at him. “No.”

  “Be honest with me.”

  She looked at her hands. Everett watched her face as she picked at a cuticle. Finally, she glanced back up at him. Her fingers continued their nervous picking. “I don’t know. And that is the truth.”

  Hearing her indecision was better than hearing her declare her love for another man. If she did not love Mercer, Everett still had a chance. He would fight for her. He would give her the space and the time John advised, but he would not give up. He reached his hands to hers and pulled her fidgeting fingers apart. “Do you love me?”

  Bethany’s eyes widened. She sat silently and left her hands under his. Then she smiled and dimples pitted her cheeks. “Of course, Everett. You’ve always been my dearest friend.”

  “I cherish our friendship too, Beth, but that’s not what I meant. I asked you to be honest with me and now I am going to be honest with you.” His heart hammered against the wall of his chest as her smile disappeared. He drew a deep breath. “For the past two years I planned to declare my love for you on your eighteenth birthday, but when it got close, you complained about the boys who were waiting to court you. You said you weren’t ready. So I decided to give you time. Then you almost died and I was so scared I would lose you before I had a chance to tell you how I felt. I don’t know if you still want more time, but if you are willing to consider Mercer, then you need to know that I love you.” He left his hands piled on hers, desperate for the connection.

  Bethany sat silently for a moment, then released a long breath. “I don’t know what to say. I had no idea you felt that way about me. I must admit I was intrigued with you when we were in school, but then after the attack last year, I—we—changed. People have sometimes suggested that we belong together, but I had no idea you…”

  Everett inched closer to her on the divan and could smell an intoxicating mixture of gray leaf oil and soap on her skin. He had to force himself to focus on their discussion. “I won’t rush you. I will wait for you for however long you need. Just please promise you will tell me if you start considering another man.”

  She shook her head in slow and rigid movements. “I already am.”

  “Him?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I already told you: I don’t know. I’m attracted to him and I know he is attracted to me.” When Everett gave a frustrated groan, Bethany shrugged. “You told me to be honest.”

  “Yes, I did. I just… fine… I can wait for you to sort that out because I love you and if you do accept me, I don’t want you wishing you were with someone else.”

  “I would never do that.”

  “Just please, promise me you won’t spend time alone with him without your father’s permission.”

  “Those old rules are only because people don’t trust each other.”

  “No, they are for your protection.”

  Bethany angled her chin. “Would you consider marrying a woman you don’t trust?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  Bethany drew her hands away. “That wasn’t my question.”

  “He is experienced in things you can’t imagine.”

  “Is my imagination so dull?”

  “You are naïve and trusting—”

  “First my imagination and now do you disparage my intelligence?”

  “No, Beth—” Everett moaned at her captious questions.

  “How about my morals? Connor and Lydia both seem to think I could be easily seduced. Do you agree with them?”

  “I do but not because of a lack of morals on your part but on his.” Everett stood and pushed his hand through his hair. “If Mercer is given the chance, he will take advantage of your innocence.”

  “He said he loves my innocence.”

  “Because he wants to take it away.”

  Bethany stood and matched Everett’s tone. “You don’t know him.”

  “I don’t need to know him. He is toying with the woman I love.” Everett stepped close. The tips of his fingers burned, wanting to touch her again, but he did not. “I know you, Beth. I know what you want and what you need. I know that right now, more than anything, you want to get back to the pottery yard and sink your fingers into clay. I know you are sensitive and eager to please and you see possibilities in everything, but I won’t take advantage of that. I know I can trust you—you found a skeleton in an airplane and kept it a secret. Three years ago you would have blabbed that to anyone who’d listen. More importantly, I know how to love you and how to protect you. I saved your life once and I would gladly do it again. I would try to
protect you from anyone and anything, but I cannot protect you from yourself.”

  * * *

  Bethany slid her arm through her pail’s handle, wedged her trowel between her teeth, and began to climb the boulders beneath the bluffs. She ignored the remnants of the old airplane’s wreckage buried in the sediment nearby and gripped the next chink in the rock to climb to the top of the boulder nearest the eroded cliff. It would all be worth it if the mineral sparkling in the face of the rock were what she hoped. As she pulled herself onto the boulder’s level top, she withdrew the trowel from her mouth and spit the dirt from her lips. The sparkle in the cliff face was within arm’s reach, but she would have to work quickly if she were to return the way she came.

  She set her pail between her feet on the boulder and glanced back at the ocean. The tide was already changing. Determined to get a sample of the sparking minerals before she had to climb back down, she planted one palm on the cliff and scratched its surface with her trowel. Loose soil sprinkled her face. She wiped her brow with her sleeve and continued working. After a second scraping, she loosened a chunk of the quartz. Tucking the trowel beneath her arm, she rubbed the crystal with the fabric of her skirt. As she examined the gleaming stone she heard someone above the cliff. “Hello?” she called out.

  “Bethany?” Everett stepped to the edge and looked down at her. “What are you doing down there?”

  “I found some nice chunks of quartz.” She held up the crystal and then scowled at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to look at the airplane wreckage, but when I saw the tide was quickly changing, I decided not to.” He squatted between the tussock grass on the cliff. “Did you climb down there?”

  “No. I climbed up here. I was down below getting minerals to make black glaze and I saw this quartz sparkling in the sunlight. What girl could resist?” She smiled as she dropped the crystal into her pail and reached her trowel up to loosen another chunk.