The Uncharted Beginnings Series Box Set

by Keely Brooke Keith

  She opened her mouth to respond to him, but her words dissolved on her tongue.

  Disappointment flashed across his face. He loosened his hold. “I’m sorry.”

  He began to pull away, so she entwined her fingers with his to stop him. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t apologize. Don’t go.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze. “I won’t.” He looked at her with both hope and regret in his eyes. “Until you tell me to.”

  His gaze moved to her lips, just as it had at the end of their dance, but this time he leaned in and kissed her. A nervous quiver fluttered her insides as he pressed his lips to hers. Unsure of what to do, she closed her eyes, but before she could absorb his kiss, men’s voices rumbled in the distance downstream. She quickly pulled away.

  Feeling caught in mischief, she scampered to her wet feet and peered around the thicket. Mr. Roberts and Simon were traipsing up the path along the stream. She slipped back into her shoes and pretended to watch the waterfall while Henry casually dried his feet and tugged on his boots.

  “Oh, you’re still here,” Mr. Roberts said as they rounded the bushes. He glanced from her to Henry and back again. “Sorry to interrupt. Turns out the fish aren’t biting downstream.”

  Hannah forced a smile though she was certain her cheeks were cardinal red and Mr. Roberts knew she’d just been kissed. She hugged her satchel to her chest. “I really should be on my way home.”

  Henry unrolled his trouser cuffs and sent his father a dour look. “I’ll walk her home.”

  “No, thank you,” she said more insistently than she’d intended. “I should go alone.”

  Henry caught her eye, and her forced smile melted. For an instant it was only the two of them again. His expression changed slightly, but the connection was undeniable. He took one step forward then stopped, his air of formality returning. “Very well. Good day, Miss Vestal.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Henry stabbed a chunk of venison with his fork and glowered at Simon. He wanted to lunge across the dinner table and rip the smirk off his brother’s face. Instead, he chewed his dinner, grinding the seasoned meat until his jaw ached.

  Simon chuckled like a ninny as he told their mother and siblings about Henry and Hannah at the springs. “We gave Henry plenty of time to walk Hannah home, but when we came back upstream, there they were, soaking their feet in the water, sitting close like a couple of lovebirds.” Bits of potato stuck to Simon’s fat lower lip. “You should have seen Henry’s face when he we caught him.”

  “Caught nothing,” Henry mumbled. Thank heavens Simon hadn’t seen them kiss. He would have gotten an even bigger laugh at that. And Henry wouldn’t have been able to restrain his anger so well.

  For a time Henry had thought it was Simon who left the note at the print shop telling him to stay away from Hannah, but if Simon were in love with her, he wouldn’t be having this much fun mocking them.

  “A couple of lovebirds,” Simon repeated himself, laughing.

  Ellenore’s eyes were rounded happily, but she wasn’t laughing with Simon. “Are you courting her then?” she asked Henry with a hopeful tone in her voice.

  He would answer his favorite sister’s questions later, but not now, not in front of the whole family with Simon’s battle-ax of mockery in full swing.

  He gave Ellenore a look, hoping she understood. Ellenore sent a smile across the table to Hazel, who passed the happy expression to their mother. The three younger children were oblivious to the meaning of the glances.

  Priscilla lifted a ceramic bowl of cheesy potatoes and offered it to Simon. “Here, son. Finish these off while your father tells us about the… village business.”

  With Simon’s attention on his food, Priscilla nodded at Matthew. He took his cue and told the family about the elder’s latest plans.

  Henry wasn’t listening. His mind drifted back to the springs and to Hannah. It was illogical for a man of his intellect and satisfaction in bachelorhood to be preoccupied with a woman, but he’d thought of nothing else all afternoon. Sitting beside her on the rock, he’d been close enough to hear the change in her breath when he touched her, close enough to count the golden specks in the brown of her eyes, close enough to know she wanted to be kissed.

  And how he’d wanted to kiss her too.

  He hadn’t planned it, but when he saw her by the springs, he had to know if she felt the same way about him. Now it was clear. Yet, the more his affection for her grew, the more his thoughts clouded.

  With one simple kiss he’d complicated their relationship. Did this mean they would court? If so, he should do the honorable thing and speak to her father first. It seemed too soon for that. He’d become attracted to Hannah, kissed her, couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanted to pummel his brother for mocking them, but did any of it mean he should change his life and plan for marriage?

  He’d never felt like this when he wanted to court Peggy Cotter, or even with Cecelia Foster. For some enigmatic reason everything was different with Hannah. Hannah was different. So much thought and passion churned beneath her surface, and he ached to investigate. That investigation would require courting. But there was more to courting than spending time together. The elders had made it clear that in the village of Good Springs, the purpose of courting was to determine if the couple was well suited for marriage. We are too small a population to toy with each other’s affections, Reverend Colburn always said.

  So he hadn’t asked Cecelia to court and look how that turned out.

  He shouldn’t move forward blindly and risk hurting Hannah or himself. But did he want marriage? Was he capable of loving Hannah how she deserved to be loved?

  At some point, Matthew stopped telling the family about the mundane village business. He sopped up the last drips of gravy on his plate with a heel of bread then ate it. After everyone finished dinner, the youngest girls cleared the table.

  While the women chatted and washed dishes, Henry needed to be alone and think. He stood from the table and looked at Priscilla. “Thank you for dinner, Mother.”

  She tilted her head a degree the way mothers did when they knew something was wrong. Without giving her a chance to ask, he climbed the narrow staircase to the bedroom he shared with Simon to get his satchel before he went back to the print shop. Pausing in the corner of the room, he knelt to pull a wooden box from under his bedstead. After a check of the doorway, he opened the box.

  Beneath a stack of nature sketches, he found the portrait he’d drawn after Mrs. Susanna Vestal’s funeral six years ago. Mrs. Vestal’s appearance had changed rapidly in the months before her death, but this portrait was how he remembered her. Face full of life, noble cheekbones, and light in her golden brown eyes. She’d babysat him when he was a young boy back in Virginia, and he’d enjoyed the way she told all the children stories to amuse them. He would never forget her ability to make up the stories as she told them.

  Hannah had inherited more than her mother’s features. She possessed her mother’s creativity and gentle spirit. He’d soon find out about her storytelling skills. For both of their sakes, he hoped her story was worth printing.

  The more he thought of Hannah, the more he wanted to be with her. It was both noble and a pity she had committed her life to raising her siblings. I still have years to go with the twins, she’d said.

  Henry lowered the sketch and stared at the wall. What was he doing by interfering with the Vestal family? They needed Hannah. He was allowing his attraction to her to drive his thoughts.

  “She looks just like her mother, doesn’t she?” Priscilla said from the doorway.

  Henry laid the sketch back in the wooden box and slid it under the bed. “She does.”

  “Have you shown Hannah that sketch?”

  “No.”

  Priscilla stepped into the room. “You should. She might like to see it.”

  Though his mother meant well, he didn’t want her telling him what he should and shouldn’t
do with Hannah. He slid the sketch into his satchel as he rounded the bedstead. “I need to go back to work.”

  Priscilla sat on the edge of his bed and smoothed the pleats in her skirt. “Hannah’s a special girl,” she said, trying to lure him into a conversation he didn’t want.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “She has worked diligently to take care of her family. It takes a special kind of faithfulness to raise children that aren’t your own. She is strong but delicate too.”

  He stepped toward the doorway. “Indeed.”

  “Take care that you don’t hurt her, son.”

  He stopped and turned on the ball of his foot. “I have no intention of hurting her.”

  Priscilla lifted an innocent hand. “No one ever does. These things begin sweetly, but someone always gets hurt.”

  Someone always got hurt when he was involved. She didn’t say that part, but that’s what she meant. And it was always the girl who got hurt. Women took offense so easily, but he didn’t want to talk about it. If any person besides his mother had brought up his flawed past, he would have harangued them with cunning wit until they regretted it.

  But it was his mother, and she was right.

  He took a slow breath and tried to relax his aching hand. He didn’t want to hurt Hannah. By kissing her he’d moved their relationship into dangerous new territory. He couldn’t forget what had happened or ignore his growing desire to be with her, but neither of them had circumstances that suited courting. He was busy with the press and didn’t have the time to build a house and feed a family. She couldn’t leave her responsibilities, and he would not ask her to.

  “I care for Hannah a great deal.” He looked away so his mother wouldn’t see the doubt in his eyes. “And I won’t hurt her.” As the words left his mouth, he left the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hannah walked into the church behind her father, brothers, and the twins. Though not yet nine o’clock in the morning, the warm air had thickened with humidity overnight. Heavy rain was coming. It couldn’t dampen her enthusiasm for her nearly completed story or for the chance to see Henry.

  The Roberts family hadn’t arrived yet, but the church was nearly full. Half of Hannah’s siblings dispersed inside the chapel. Doris skipped toward the front of the room and sat beside her friends. David slid into a seat two rows behind the pew their father chose. Wade craned his neck, also looking for someone, anyone, to sit with other than his sisters.

  Gone were the days of the family sitting together on one pew. Such was the case with most families in Good Springs. With many of the young people growing up, marrying, and starting their own families, the weekly church services had become more about the community as a whole than one’s own family.

  Christopher had given the older Vestal children permission to sit where they pleased, but Hannah wouldn’t leave her father and the young twins. They might feel rejected if she did. Of course, David, Wade, and Doris weren’t rejecting the rest of the family by sitting elsewhere but enlarging their social spheres. It was natural, expected even. They all still mattered to each other, yet one day someone else would matter more to them.

  Hannah never thought she’d want to spend her Sunday mornings anywhere other than beside her family, but after Henry’s kiss, everything felt different. She’d thought of him while she brushed her hair, while she’d laced her Sunday shoes, and even now as she sat and straightened her posture. Despite a heart swelling with new feelings, she fought the urge to look for him.

  She checked the twins, studied her cuticles, and flipped open the cover of her Bible, but soon her eyes searched the crowd pouring into the chapel.

  Henry had yet to arrive. It shouldn’t matter to her. Her family was her priority. The twins might need her during the service. She belonged here beside them. Still, it would be nice to have freedom like the other young adults. If she couldn’t have a romance in real life, she could experience one in her story.

  As the villagers found their seats, Hannah’s mind drifted. She’d stopped berating herself for not paying attention to sermons long ago. The mind went where it willed, and she was too close to finishing her story to care.

  Adeline had convinced Prince Aric to fight the atrocities of the slave traders. With swords and horses, he’d gallantly led the king’s army out to fight. While he was gone, Adeline was taken prisoner by a neighboring kingdom, which she discovered had funded the kidnapping slave traders who’d stolen her from her homeland.

  During Hannah’s writing time last night, she had left Adeline in a dark, damp dungeon, praying Prince Aric would receive word that his beloved needed help. All that was left to write was Aric’s daring rescue, defeat of the enemy, and declaration of eternal love for Adeline.

  Hannah almost released a sigh, but her attention snapped back to the present.

  As the chapel doors closed, Henry slipped into Hannah’s row and sat beside her. He grinned. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” The words fell out of her open mouth as ineloquently as a horse sipping tea. Her face warmed.

  Henry didn’t seem to notice her blush. He leaned in front of her and the twins to shake Christopher’s hand. “Good morning, sir.”

  “Henry,” Christopher replied. He gave Hannah a quick questioning glance then turned his gaze to the front of the room.

  Reverend Colburn stepped to the lectern and began the service with prayer, beseeching God for the congregation’s health, protection, unity, and provision. He thanked the Lord for the coming rain, and as if God replied, drops tinkled against the glass windowpanes and on the roof. The slow patter quickly turned into a steady downpour. When the reverend said amen, he raised his voice to compete with the sound.

  Hannah opened her Bible along with everyone else to the passage the reverend was expounding and tried to calm her thumping heart. No man had ever shown interest in her like this before, and certainly not in public. Was everyone behind them watching them?

  She held her Bible in front of Ida and Minnie so they could read along. Neither of the twins had her own copy of the Scriptures yet. Perhaps one day Henry would print Bibles for every boy and girl in the settlement. Maybe he would print many books for the children. What were his plans for the future?

  Hannah glanced at him. He had his open Bible splayed in his hand and was looking at the reverend. Just when she thought her gaze had gone unnoticed, Henry shifted in his seat and slid his arm over the pew back behind her.

  Now everyone behind them would be watching them.

  She fixed her eyes on the page, praying the twins wouldn’t notice Henry’s arm. Or David. He was sitting two rows back. If he noticed, she’d never hear the end of it.

  Why did it matter what David thought? She was a grown woman, and a man who liked her had awakened her heart. Did he love her? He might. Or he might be a scoundrel, a thief of affection here to rob her peace. Or he might one day be her husband.

  What a silly waste of energy! She could no sooner get married and leave her family than she could sprout wings and fly to the fictional land in her book. They needed her to keep her promise, and her characters needed her to finish her story. Henry Roberts might be interested in her, but he didn’t need her. Not like her family did.

  She tried to remind herself of her first encounters with Henry. He was aloof and independent. So what if he’d said he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the dance? Good Springs was a small, isolated village with little entertainment. His attraction was probably nothing more than a passing fancy, and she’d be a fool to make more of it.

  Still, all she could think of was the warmth radiating from his body and the minty scent of his breath.

  He might not be thinking of her at all. He was probably thinking about his work. She should think about hers too if she wasn’t going to listen to the sermon. She tried to recall the scene in her story she wanted to write later, but her stubborn thoughts were fixed on the man beside her. He’d kissed her, sweetly, privately, but now was publicly showcas
ing his affection by draping his arm across the seat behind her.

  Or was he?

  Maybe he always rested in such a position when he sat casually in a crowd. Many of the men did. It was a relaxed posture, the very reason some elders had objected to the pews having backs. When any other man sat with his arm behind his sweetheart, she judged it a possessive posture, as if he were staking his claim. But maybe Henry was just at ease in her company.

  That was a much more tolerable thought. He was simply enjoying her company, becoming her friend. Yes, a friendly gesture—that was all. A friend wouldn’t make demands of her life that she couldn’t oblige.

  Reverend Colburn referenced another scripture passage, and Henry took his arm down to flip through his Bible. He held the book with both hands and looked at the reverend for the rest of the sermon, save for the occasional glance at Hannah. She wished he’d put his arm behind her again.

  After the service, Henry made small talk with Christopher then complimented the twins on their curls. “Pretty like your big sister,” he said.

  Minnie pushed in front of Ida. “But my hair is prettier isn’t it?”

  “No, my curls are bouncier!” Ida protested.

  “There now girls.” Christopher put a fatherly hand on each of the twins, ushering them toward the door. “Say thank you and good day to Mr. Roberts.” He looked up at Henry. “Come to our house for dinner tonight.”

  “Thank you, sir, but it’s my sister’s birthday.”

  “Perhaps another time, then.”

  Hannah silently watched the exchange, her stomach flipping like a fish in a frying pan. Why was her father inviting Henry to dinner? Did he know they had kissed? Had Henry spoken to her father about her?

  Rain poured from the sky as the family stepped out of the chapel. Christopher opened the family’s big umbrella and passed it to Hannah. The twins gathered closely beside her while she held it overhead. Doris popped open a new umbrella, one made by Mrs. Owens with a gray leaf wood frame and waxed cotton fabric. Christopher and David slapped on their wide-brimmed hats to shield themselves from the downpour, but Wade joined Doris under her umbrella.