Connor nodded. “When the founders built something, they did it right.”
While Connor set up the telescope, Everett walked on and surveyed the shore. The beach’s white sand was spotted with clumps of kelp, broken coral, and dead fish. The storm had spewed putrid froth on the shore, and it bubbled in thick ribbons all the way to the bluffs. Waves still came in rapid swells, breaking high over the sand bar. The damage sullied the natural beauty of the coast, leaving a residue that could be cleaned from the Land sooner than the image would be cleared from his mind.
Everett walked farther down the coast and saw no sign of Mercer or his little orange boat, only seaweed and sludge. He hiked back to the cairn, then he turned and scanned the horizon. The light blue of the clearing sky touched the dark blue of the sea in unbroken parallel. He looked at Connor. “No sign of Mercer and I can’t see the ship. Can you?”
“Hang on…” Connor adjusted the telescope and squinted through the eyepiece. “No, it’s gone.” He stood and grinned. “The ship is gone.”
“The ship is gone!” Everett repeated, confirming the fact to himself. “Do you think Mercer made it to the ship before it left?”
Connor’s smile faded and he shielded his eyes from the sun as he cast his gaze out to sea. “Yeah, I do. I think the storm was localized inside the atmosphere close to shore. Even if it wasn’t, the rescue swimmers would have hoisted him out of the water before the storm had a chance to touch him.” He shrugged and bent back to the telescope. “The ship is gone and the Land is safe.”
Everett stared at the unblemished horizon and felt every ounce of his fear dissolve. A laugh escaped his throat. He wanted to celebrate, but not without Bethany. He glanced back at Connor. “I’ve got to go,” he said as he jogged to the forest path. “I’ve got a life waiting for me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Bethany dragged a heavy bucket of nails across the ground behind her trading table. Only an hour into the weekly village market and her pottery stock was almost depleted. As the crowd momentarily thinned near her booth, she removed her shawl and tossed it over a bushel of early spring vegetables, which she had acquired by trade of a single ceramic bud vase.
As she turned back around, Roseanna Foster stopped in front of the pottery booth. Roseanna looked like her old self, having opted for a soft yellow blouse tucked into a skirt the color of the silvery new growth on the gray leaf trees instead of her black mourning dress. She beamed at Bethany and held up a new pair of gloves. “The leather man is here from Riverside. I got these for Everett. He always misplaces his work gloves. You’d better get over there if you want any leather. It’ll be gone soon.”
Bethany motioned to the back of her booth where four pair of work gloves lay atop a new leather satchel. “I traded with him earlier this morning.”
“So I see.” Roseanna’s eyes widened. “And half the other merchants too, by the looks of it.”
“People need dishes.” Bethany grinned as she rearranged the last three remaining pottery pieces on her trading table. She slid the largest bowl to the center. “And I have a horse to buy.”
“You’ve got a knack for business, that’s for sure, but why go to all this trouble when Everett has plenty of horses? They’ll be yours too once you marry.”
“Not really.” Bethany wiped a speck of dust from the dark blue glaze of the bowl then looked at Roseanna. “Besides, I want to spend my life with Everett because I love him, not because I need his possessions.”
“I felt the same way about Samuel when I married him, though I wasn’t a craftsman like you. I had nothing to trade to make my own living. I was simply a farm girl who loved to take care of home and garden and babies. I still do.” Roseanna’s smile relaxed slightly. “Everett won’t talk about it, but I know he’ll be asking you to marry soon.”
“Missus—I mean—Roseanna, Everett and I talk about marriage all the time. It won’t be a surprise when he asks me because he is waiting for me to tell him when I am ready.”
Roseanna raised a hand and her ruffled cuff slid to her forearm. “I hope you’re not waiting on my account. I love taking care of my home, but you’ll be the lady of the house when you and Everett marry. It is his inheritance and that’s the way it has been done in the Foster family for generations. Samuel’s mother took to her room when I came into the house. I doubt I’ll be able to do that, but perhaps you won’t mind if I take to the garden.” When Bethany tilted her head and smiled, Roseanna continued. “Then again, if you continue your work at the pottery yard, you might need me around the house… maybe you’ll need my help with the children too.”
“I will need your help.” Bethany sensed Roseanna’s need for reassurance. She nodded. “Very much.”
Roseanna reached across the table and laid her hand on Bethany’s arm. “I’m proud of you, sweet girl. And your mother would have been proud of you too.” She pointed to the stack of trade behind the table. “Surprised but proud.”
As the crowd shifted, Bethany noticed Everett speaking with a trader on the other side of the busy open-air market. Roseanna turned too. “Is that the silversmith Everett is talking to? They seem to be negotiating, but whatever for?” She put her hand over her heart. “Oh, I see. Yes, well, I suspect he will be getting your father’s permission soon. And he’ll probably want Levi and Connor’s blessing too, knowing how protective those boys are of you.”
Bethany smiled. “No—he’s had their blessing for years.”
Everett shook the trader’s hand then turned and walked through the crowd toward Bethany. Roseanna said something about going to look at cloth and walked away. Bethany glanced at her and mumbled a goodbye, then she looked back at Everett. His lips were pursed like he was whistling, but she couldn’t hear the tune over the sound of the villagers and the merchants and the children. A gust of wind blew a cloud of loose white petals from a nearby fruit tree through the market. The breeze mixed with the gray leaf’s scent and the salty ocean air, producing the sweet fragrance of springtime in the Land. A group of children ran in front of Everett. He smiled at them and continued walking with his gaze fixed on Bethany as he approached the pottery booth.
She finally heard the notes he was whistling as she stepped around the table to meet him. He stopped his song and drew her into his arms. She pulled back, excited to tell him about her morning, but he held her against his chest for one more heartbeat before he released her. Bethany smiled and looked up at him. “What is that tune you were whistling?”
Everett flipped his hair off his forehead. “Just a song I’ve been working on these past few months.”
“Is it ready?”
“Almost.” He held her hand in his and glanced at her finger. “How about you? Are you ready?”
Bethany grinned. “Almost.”
Everett looked behind him when Roseanna’s cackle of a laugh rang from across the market. She had both hands clasped to her face as she chatted with a group of women near the cloth trader’s booth. Everett turned back to Bethany. “It’s good to see her being herself again.”
“Yes, it is.”
Everett rubbed his thumb over Bethany’s knuckles as he held her hand. “She is afraid we won’t need her.”
Bethany nodded. “I know. I assured her we would.”
“Thank you.” He kissed her hand then released it and motioned to the merchandise behind her table. “I see you’ve been busy this morning.”
She glanced at the pile: leather items, buckets of nails, bolts of cloth, baskets of food, and a shovel. “I’m taking it to Mark Cotter for the horse after I trade these last three pieces.”
Everett picked up the bowl in the center of the table. “I’ll trade you one arthritic herding dog for this.”
She lowered her chin and affected her voice with a masculine tone. “I’m sorry, sir, I have no use for an arthritic herding dog.”
“Very well,” His face drew into a serious expression then a smile threatened his affectation. “I see you are a shrewd negotiator. How about
four hundred ewes and a highly domestic mother?”
“All that for a bowl?” She snorted.
“Never mind, I don’t want the bowl after all.” They both laughed. When their chuckles died out, Everett rocked back on his heels. He was quiet for a moment and glanced around the marketplace. Then he looked back at her and pointed to the trade stacked behind her. “If you insist on buying your own horse, will you at least let me handle the trade for you?”
“No, thank you.”
“Will you let me accompany you then?”
“Fine. You may go with me.” Bethany held up a finger. “But you’d better let me do the talking.”
Everett grinned. “It’s a deal.”
* * *
Bethany nestled her bare feet in the powdery white sand, then she leaned down and traced their outline with her finger. As Everett fed the bonfire with a fresh load of dried branches, a log popped, sending sparks high above the flames. Bethany coolly looked up, brushed the sand from her fingertips, and smiled at him. Everett grinned and resumed his kindling.
“Am I too late?” Lydia called as she stepped out of the darkened forest path and onto the beach.
“We were just getting started,” Connor answered from the end of the log bench. “How is Mr. Roberts?”
Lydia’s fire-lit face looked exhausted. “He will be fine. Thirty-two stiches. I wouldn’t normally divulge a patient’s details, but he was so proud to live through being gored in the shoulder by a bull that he wanted you men to know the stitch count as if it were some sign of masculinity.” She lowered herself to the log and sat beside Connor. Then she leaned forward to look past Bethany and Mandy at Levi. “Oh, and Mrs. Roberts said to tell you she is waiting for you to build the new cabinetry in her kitchen.”
Levi shrugged. “I’ve already told her twice: I will get to it as soon as I’ve finished the addition on our house.” Mandy smiled and reclined against him. He put his palm across her abdomen. His splayed hand covered most of her pregnant belly.
Bethany watched Levi’s hand on Mandy’s stomach. Something happened inside the enigmatic bump and Mandy and Levi both laughed.
“She kicked!” Mandy said.
“He kicked,” Levi corrected, grinning.
“There is no way to know until the big day—not in the Land anyway,” Connor interjected. “Except with Andrew—I knew he was a boy.”
“After he was born,” Lydia laughed. “I think most men hope there firstborn is a boy.”
“Not me.” Everett sat on the empty slice of log beside Bethany then wrapped his arm around her. “I don’t care either way.”
Bethany glanced at the thin silver band around her finger—a promise ring, he had called it when he gave it to her—a custom Connor encouraged due to their lengthy courtship. The newness of the silver reflected the firelight. She turned her face into Everett’s neck. “You don’t care if your first child is a boy or a girl?” she asked in a near whisper, but it still drew curious glances.
Everett moved his hand to the small of her back and looked at the others. “I have two hundred fourteen lambs in the flock right now… I’ll be happy to have anything born without cloven hooves.”
Mandy laughed again; it sounded like music. Then she flinched. “That was a big one! Feel it, Bethany.”
Levi removed his hand and Bethany laid hers across Mandy’s middle. She felt the stirring of the child beneath the thin cotton fabric of Mandy’s summer dress and it made her wish for the same—someday. She imagined what it must be like to feel a child growing inside and wondered if she would sense her own child’s emotions from the womb.
Mandy smiled at her. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
Levi leaned forward and looked at Connor. “Tell us a story.”
Connor chuckled while Lydia and Mandy groaned about not wanting to be frightened. Levi encouraged Connor to make the story shocking, but Mandy complained gory stories made her nauseated. Everett traced his finger across Bethany’s back, spelling out letters no one else could see: I-L-O-V-E. She stared at the fire and the sounds of her siblings and their spouses dissipated as she focused on Everett’s furtive message: Y-O-U. Even in the middle of the group, he found a private way to make a connection. She pulled her hand away from Mandy’s belly and leaned into Everett’s side. He pressed his lips against the top of her head as he drew more letters on her back. She felt safe with him, cherished and settled.
Connor patted the air with his hand, quieting Mandy and Lydia. “Okay, have you heard the one about the guy…”
Epilogue
Justin Mercer tucked in his shirt and fastened his belt, then began packing his few personal possessions into an oversized duffle bag. After spending his nights alone in the musty, eight-man stateroom, and his days attempting sundry maintenance procedures aboard the eerily understaffed aircraft carrier, he was ready to disembark as soon as they were harbored at Norfolk. He gave the room one last glance, then double-checked the duffle bag for the only item he cared about—a sock filled with a dozen seeds from the gray leaf tree. As he untied the sock and looked inside at the marble-sized seeds, he wondered how and where he would plant them so the miraculous trees would grow safely in America while he returned to duty. He remembered the greenhouse planters his mother used during winter months and considered building something similar.
A knock echoed through his door, jarring him from his thoughts. “On my way,” Mercer blurted as he retied the sock and buried it in the duffle bag. After a glance at his wristwatch, Mercer lifted the bag to his shoulder. He left the room, walked the narrow corridor to a flight of stairs then through another corridor, and entered the ready room where a commander awaited him.
“Your reenlistment has been approved,” the commander said before Mercer could close the door.
“Thank you, sir.”
“It’s not without complications.” The commander motioned to a chair at the conference table. “You will have to put in a few weeks sim training before you’re allowed back in flight.” As Mercer lowered his bag to the floor and sat, the commander continued. “The paperwork will be a slow process. All of the service branches are reorganizing while the Unified States focuses on rebuilding infrastructure, but we need pilots. You were declared M.I.A. after the incident at McMurdo Station and now you are being hailed a hero for capturing one of our nation’s biggest enemies.”
Mercer shook his head. “I didn’t exactly capture Volt, sir.”
“Well, it was the signal you sent from the icebreaker that led us to him. How you survived on a dinghy for a month while you waited for help is beyond me, and the look of that storm behind you when they pulled you from the water!” The commander shivered. “It’s a sight I won’t soon forget. But the important thing is, you kept yourself off the boat while Volt and his men died of that awful disease.”
While the commander spoke, Mercer thought of his month—not on the dinghy like he had reported, but in the village of Good Springs in the Land. He had spent the past four months on the carrier thinking of little else: the Land’s beautiful terrain, the pristine fresh water, and the antiquated lifestyle that made him want to leave. When he reminisced about toying with the affections of the cute virgin, Bethany, he considered his time in the Land better than a month drifting at sea, but when he thought of the backbreaking work on Everett’s farm and the cultural restrictions of their society, he recanted his former summation.
“And you never had any symptoms?” the commander asked.
Mercer remembered every moment of his experience with the deadly disease from when the fever gripped him to waking up on the shore of the Land. As he thought of the suffocating burn inside his lungs before he drank Lydia’s gray leaf tea, he cleared his throat and looked the commander in the eye. “None, sir.”
The commander nodded at him and then sat in the chair at the opposite end of the table. “When the plague hit us, the carrier lost half her crew within a month—three thousand men and women dead. It was the single greatest tragedy I witness
ed during the war. But it’s behind us now.” The commander leaned back in his chair. “Countries can’t fight when most of their people are sick or dead. The war is over and the Unified States is rebuilding, albeit with a fraction of her former population. And you will be the guest of honor at the admiral’s banquet this Saturday. Your mother is being flown to Norfolk as we speak.”
Mercer shook his head, believing the commander was mistaken. “It can’t be my mother, sir. None of my family survived the water poisoning.”
“Your mother did. She was surprised to learn you had survived the war and the plague—not many did.” As Mercer processed the news of his mother’s survival, the commander stood and stepped to the door. “We disembark at zero nine hundred.”
“Thank you, sir.” Mercer lifted his bag to his shoulder as he rose. “I look forward to it.”
###
Our journey in the Land continues in Christmas with the Colburn, book four of the Uncharted series. The first chapter of Christmas with the Colburns is included in this ebook next...
Christmas with the Colburns (Uncharted #4)
Chapter One
Lydia Bradshaw refused to allow the Colburn house to go undecorated at Christmastime. Weaving among the bartering villagers at the open-air market, she anchored baby Andrew on her hip and scanned the traders’ booths for tinsel, ribbon, garland—anything that might make her family’s home look like it did when her mother was alive. Surely one of the traders or artisans had something left, even this late in December.
“I should have started making decorations weeks ago,” she muttered to the baby, as if an eleven-month-old cared, “but with a medical practice, a house to manage, and a great-aunt to care for, it seems my favorite holiday has sneaked up on me like a cat on a mouse.” She smiled down at Andrew as he sucked on his fingers. “Come to think of it, if our barn cats did their job and killed mice, my box of decorations from last Christmas wouldn’t have been turned into a reeking, chewed-up nest.”
Uncharted Inheritance (The Uncharted Series Book 3) Page 20