Volt nodded and pressed his lips together. “Justin?”
“Yeah.”
“Good luck, mate.”
Mercer walked out of Volt’s cabin and left the door open so the other men could hear if Volt needed them. He staggered through the corridor, up a short flight of stairs, and onto the deck. The calm sea breeze cooled his face as he worked to untie the ropes that were holding an inflatable dinghy to the deck near the rail. He felt the thorny grip of the illness inside his chest. Knowing his volition could only empower his weakened body for so long, he forced himself to keep going. After checking that the outboard engine was secured to the transom plate, he lifted the dinghy over the railing and lowered it to the water below. He coughed as he held the line linking the dinghy to the ship. He climbed over the railing and down an escape ladder then sat on the narrow seat of the dinghy. The ringing in his ears amplified as he removed a latch from the forward bridle and released the boat from the ship. Gripping an oar in one hand, he reached the other hand around to the back of his empty waistband. It was foolish to leave the ship without his sidearm, but he was not going back now. He started the outboard motor and aimed the boat in the direction of the lowering sun.
* * *
Bethany steadied a tall stack of clay bowls beneath her chin as she carried them out of the kiln. She set the stack on a worktable in the pottery shed, then she spread the bowls across the table to allow them to cool. Untying her apron, she stepped to a sink in the corner of the shelter and began to scrub her dirt-caked hands. As she picked at the clay beneath her fingernails, Mrs. Vestal hobbled to her pottery wheel in the opposite corner of the shelter.
“Are you done for the afternoon, Bethany?”
“If that’s all right with you.”
“Yes, that’s fine.” Mrs. Vestal did not look up from her clay when she spoke.
Bethany blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “See you tomorrow then.”
After Mrs. Vestal grunted a reply, Bethany nodded and wiped her wet hands on her skirt. She walked out of the shelter, crossed the pottery yard, and opened the wooden gate. As she closed it, the latch pinched her finger. A short gasp reflexively escaped her throat and she shook the sting out of her hand. Once the pain subsided, she examined her finger while she walked along the cobblestone street toward her family’s home.
As she passed the sandy path that led through the forest from the beach, someone on the path caught her eye. She looked away from her red finger and saw a stranger walking out of the gray leaf forest and into the village. The memory of once being attacked by a stranger flashed through her mind. Her heart began to race and she scanned the village for anyone who could protect her. When she looked back at the man, Bethany noticed his clothing and was reminded of what Connor wore when he first arrived in the Land. Her fear began to dissipate and astonishment took its place. His gray shirt had block letters on the front that read: NAVY and his short haircut resembled Connor’s old military style. He had to be from Connor’s nation.
The man coughed and held a hand to his chest. His steps slowed to a near stagger as if he were ill or injured. Then his eyes met hers and surprise lit his face.
Bethany took several cautious steps toward him. “Are you all right?”
He stopped walking and his dark eyes widened. “You speak English!”
“Who are you? Where did you come from?” Bethany glanced around her as she stepped closer. “You look ill. Do you need help?”
He erected his posture and cast his gaze toward the buildings and houses in the village behind her. “What is this place?”
Bethany looked too, and then turned back to the stranger. “This is the village of Good Springs.” She remembered what Connor had said about the Land being hidden from the outside world. “Oh, do you mean the Land?”
“The Land?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. This place—we call it the Land.”
After a short chuckle, he nodded. “That’s fitting.”
She wondered if he had parachuted to the Land like Connor did. She looked at the trees behind him and did not see any equipment. “How did you get here?”
The man coughed but did not answer her. She was almost certain he was one of Connor’s people. Her curiosity had never been piqued with such vigor. Connor was brilliant and courteous and strong and now another man like him had arrived, and Bethany found him first. She felt like she had stumbled upon a great treasure and stepped within arm’s reach of the man. “Are you from America? You sound just like Connor.”
When she said Connor’s name, he drew a quick breath and grabbed her arm. His hand was warm. “Connor Bradshaw? Lieutenant Bradshaw? Is he here? Do you know him?”
“Yes. Did you come here to find Connor?”
“I knew he was here.” He took his hand off Bethany and ran his fingers over his short hair. A smile spread across his face. “I knew it. I just knew it.”
His astonishment delighted her. “Connor is teaching at the school right now, but he should be finished soon. What’s your name?”
“Mercer. Lieutenant Justin Mercer.”
Her stomach tingled. “So you are a soldier?”
“No. I’m a naval flight officer—well, I used to be.” He wiped the palm of his hand across his chest.
“In an army?”
“Navy.”
“Oh, the Royal Navy?” she asked thinking of what Connor said about the old plane below the bluffs.
“No, Unified States. Have you had contact with the Royal Navy?”
“No.” Bethany was not sure how his people addressed one another. She angled her head. “What shall I call you?”
“Justin.” He grinned and held her gaze.
“All right, Justin… are you from Connor’s nation?”
“Yes. And what shall I call you?”
“Bethany.”
He lowered his chin. “Do you have a last name, Bethany?”
“Yes, it’s Colburn.” She looked at his mouth. “You speak like Connor. How did you get here?”
Again, no answer. He coughed into his sleeve. “Do you know Connor well?”
“He is my brother-in-law. You sound ill. Do you need to see the doctor?”
“You have doctors here?” He chuckled then nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“I can show you to the medical cottage. It’s just down the road.” She motioned to her family’s property. “My sister is the doctor in our village. Her name is Lydia, but you should call her Doctor Bradshaw.”
Justin gave a short laugh as he began walking beside her. He seemed to have recouped some of his energy. “Doctor Bradshaw—as in Lieutenant Bradshaw’s wife? He married the village’s doctor? Why that lucky—”
When Bethany glanced at him, he cut his words short. She looked back at the path to the shore as they stepped onto the road. “Did you come here alone?”
“Yeah.”
“From America?”
“No, I have been on a ship for the past few months.”
“With your navy?”
“No, another ship.”
“Where is your ship now?”
“It’s still out there.” He pointed his thumb toward the ocean. “Is this an American settlement?”
She glanced in the direction of the ocean then looked at his gray hooded shirt and his blue trousers. “But your clothes are dry.”
“It’s a long story.” He coughed again and slowed his pace.
Bethany realized she was gabbling and felt childish. His cough sounded painful. She reached a hand to his arm. “You sound really ill.”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Okay,” she repeated. “Connor also says that word.” When Justin glanced at her hand touching his arm, she saw his face change. Thinking she must seem improper, she removed her hand. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He continued walking beside her. “I haven’t seen a woman in a long time—especially one as pretty as you. Is your husband going to be mad at you for helping me?”
; “I’m not married. Not that I’m too young—my eighteenth birthday was last week.”
He grinned and she liked it. His flawlessly straight teeth gleamed unnaturally. She wanted to stare but forced herself to look away as they stepped off the road and onto the grass. She pointed to the white cottage behind the Colburn house. “Lydia’s office is in there.”
As they walked across the yard in front of her family’s home, Bethany glanced at the stranger named Justin Mercer. He was so different from the men in the Land. Though he was ill, he still seemed strong and even dangerous—in the same way Connor had when he first arrived. Connor always said war raged outside the Land, and she wondered if Justin were the same kind of warrior Connor had been. The thought thrilled her. And Justin’s speech was not different from the people in the Land in any nameable way—perhaps in enunciation or simply in the way his mouth moved—but whatever it was, it reminded her of Connor and made her feel an instant connection to Justin.
Bethany knocked on the cottage door, then she turned the knob and crossed the threshold. Justin followed her in, coughing all the while. She glanced back out the open door. “Lydia might be in the house. I’ll go look for her.” Motioning to the patient cot in the corner of the room, she smiled at him. “You can wait there, if you like.”
Justin stepped to the cot but did not sit. He looked around the room, then his eyes settled on Bethany. She could not read his expression but sensed he wanted something. He seemed intent on holding her gaze. Finally, he grinned. “Hurry back, Bethany.”
* * *
When Bethany returned to the cottage, Justin was lying on the patient cot. His gray sweater was balled up on the floor, and he wore a white cotton shirt. She held a tray of food with both hands and used her foot to close the door behind her. The noise woke him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize you were sleeping. Lydia is still away and Connor isn’t home yet. Would you like me to leave you alone so you can rest?”
Justin’s grin returned and he raised himself to his elbow. “No, stay. I like talking to you.”
The flattery satisfied her. He was charming and mysterious and he liked her. She pressed her lips together then looked at the tray. “I brought food for you.”
“You’re a saint.” Justin sat up and shifted his feet to the floor.
Bethany set the tray on the cot beside him then stepped back and bit her lip, unsure of what to do. She pulled a chair close to the cot and sat. Justin looked at the food, but did not touch it. She watched him for a moment. “Would you like something else?”
He shook his head. “I’m just not that hungry.” He gazed at her in a way that made her think he was about to say something, but he only stared.
Feeling awkward, she decided to speak first, so she talked about the only thing they had in common. “Connor and Lydia were married two years ago. They have a son, Andrew, and I think he is quite possibly the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. I’m sure Connor will be happy to see someone from his nation. Were you well acquainted?” When Justin only nodded, she continued. “It was a terrible fright when Connor first arrived. No outsider had ever come here, alive anyway—not since our founders settled here long ago. Connor said no one in the world knew the Land existed and he was adamant that we didn’t want the outside world to find us.” She stopped speaking as she realized that if Justin made it to the Land, the rest of the warring world could soon follow. “Will others come too?”
“I doubt it.” Justin reached for the glass of water on the tray. He drank without pause then held up the empty glass. “This water is perfect.”
“Is fresh water still scarce out there?”
“It depends on what you consider fresh.” Justin chuckled at his own joke.
Bethany did not understand his meaning, but she liked his voice too much to care. She reached to the jug of water on the tray and refilled his glass. He began to cough again, so she picked up the folded napkin from the tray and handed it to him. “Why are you sick?”
“Everybody’s got it.” Justin wiped his forehead with the napkin and drew his feet back onto the cot. “I’m going to lie down while we wait for the doctor, but don’t leave.” He reclined on his side and used his arm for a pillow. His thin shirt had no collar and short sleeves. Bethany stared at the defined muscles in his arms.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Bethany?”
She looked back at his face. “Pardon?”
“You said you weren’t married. I just wondered if you have a boyfriend.”
“I’m not courting anyone, if that’s what you mean.”
“Courting?” He looked amused. “Is that what they call it here?”
“Yes.” She brushed at the flecks of clay on her skirt, embarrassed of her dirty work clothes. She thought about going into the house to change, but once Lydia arrived she would have to leave the medical office.
“Courting.” He whistled one short quiet note as he glanced around the room. “Are you Amish or something like that?”
“No. I don’t think I am… that.”
He looked back at her and pointed at her head. “Right, you’re not wearing the little hat thingy. Where are your people from?”
“Our founders came here from America.”
“So this is an American settlement?”
She did not know how to answer him but wanted to appear mature. “I suppose so. What is it like out there?”
“You don’t want to know.” He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
Bethany had not been allowed in the medical office when Connor was Lydia’s patient, though she had fantasized about it often. She dreamed of a noble warrior falling from the sky and needing her care. As she studied Justin, she wondered if this was what it was like for Lydia. His raucous cough jolted her from her daydream. He covered his mouth with his hand. She wanted to do something to help him. “I’m sorry, I should let you rest while you wait for Lydia—I mean, Doctor Bradshaw.”
Justin reached for her hand. “Stay please. It has been so long since I’ve been with… please stay.” He pulled her hand onto his chest and covered it with his.
She knew she should leave so he could rest and for the sake of propriety, but being wanted produced an ineffable pleasure she could not ignore. Bethany’s cheeks warmed. “All right, I will stay.” She slid to the edge of her seat and let him hold her hand over his heart.
“Thank you.” Justin grinned and closed his eyes. “I like your voice. Tell me more about this place. I want to hear all about the Land.”
Chapter Four
Everett strained to hear what Lydia was saying to his mother back in his parents’ bedroom. Their muffled words bled through the hallway but dissipated before reaching the parlor. Though his father was dead, Everett felt there was still hope until the doctor officially pronounced it. He stood from the stuffed armchair to pace the parlor floor. Levi and Mandy both looked up at him from where they sat on the divan. Mandy’s eyes were red from crying. Levi had his arm behind her and his fingers wrapped securely around her shoulder. Lydia’s baby lay sleeping on a knit blanket on the rug beside Mandy’s feet.
Everett stepped to the window and pushed his hands through his hair. What was taking so long back there? His father was dead; he had witnessed Samuel’s final breath himself. For a moment it had felt like Everett’s final breath as well.
His mother’s footsteps echoed from the hallway as she walked into the parlor. She held a wet handkerchief to her nose and sniffled. “He’s gone. My Samuel is gone.” Everett opened his arms, and his mother dropped her head against his chest. “Your father is gone,” she sobbed.
Mandy rushed to them and leaned into Everett’s side. He took one arm off his weeping mother and wrapped it around his sister. If ever there were a moment where a man’s crying would be acceptable, this would be it. He braced for tears, but instead of crying he only felt the urge to inveigh the unfairness of death. Swallowing his bitter protest, he held the weeping women and dredged eve
ry ounce of courage he had to be strong for them. He was the man of the house now—the heir to the Foster property—and to lead, he had to be strong.
The baby awoke, but Lydia was still tending to Samuel’s body in the back bedroom. Everett watched over the heads of the mourning women as Levi scooped the baby up. Levi carefully supported Andrew’s tiny head in his hands. Soon Mandy and Levi would have children too. One generation faded away as another began. Never before had the brevity of life seemed so harsh.
* * *
Justin’s chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm, though his breath sounded raspy. Bethany found it awkward to watch a stranger sleep. Lydia was the doctor—the one used to touching people she did not know. Bethany decided Justin was not really a stranger—he was a friend of Connor’s and so he was a friend of hers. Besides, he had said he liked her. Surely attraction had the power to void unfamiliarity.
Bethany glanced out the window and saw Connor walking to the main house from the road. She slid her fingers from underneath Justin’s hand, then hurried to the cottage door and stuck her head out. “Connor! You will never believe what’s happened!”
Connor coolly turned his face toward her as he continued walking to the house. “Oh, yeah? What’s happened now—you find a rocket and a dead Martian or something?” He reached for the knob of the back door.
Bethany glanced back at Justin—he was still asleep on the patient cot. She looked outside at Connor and let out a little squeal. “Come and see for yourself. Oh, you’re going to be thrilled! Just come and look!”
Connor smirked at her, making her feel like her enthusiasm was immature. He strode casually to the cottage door. “What are you doing in the medical office anyway?”
Bethany stepped back and motioned with an open palm to the patient cot. “Just look! Another man from your nation!”
“What the—” Connor scowled and pushed the door wide as he rushed past Bethany. The door swung on its hinge and banged into the wall behind it, causing her to jump.
Bethany reached for the door and gently closed it. “Aren’t you glad? He said he knows you. His name is Justin Mer—.”
Uncharted Inheritance (The Uncharted Series Book 3) Page 5