Whispered Promise

by Colleen French

  He sighed dramatically. "It was worth a try, don't you think?"

  She walked toward him, her smile fading. "Harrison. Please tell me this is not going to be like this between you and me. Not the entire trip."

  "You're still attracted to me, aren't you, Leah?" He set down his cup and stood. In his heeled slippers he was several inches taller than she was. "Aren't you?"

  She couldn't stand to meet his gaze. Nor could she lie. She looked away. "Yes. Why I don't know, but yes. I'm still attracted to you."

  "Then why—"

  "Because I'm married. I swore before God to be true to Edmund Beale until death parted us."

  "You swore to me first, Leah," he answered softly. "Don't you remember the night we handfasted? The night we first made love? You and I were married before God's eyes and then we consummated that marriage."

  She tried to turn away, but he grasped her shoulders. "Leah?"

  When she looked at him, tears glistened in her eyes. "I don't know what to say."

  For a long moment he stood there staring at her, demanding an answer. Then he released her shoulders and pulled her gently against him.

  Leah was confused. All she could do was cling to him, her face pressed against the embroidery of his coat.

  "It will be all right, ki-ti-hi," he whispered. "I will make it all right.

  "You can't," she said desperately. "No one can!"

  "Shhh, shhh," he murmured, smoothing her magical hair. "Never underestimate the power of fate and the God in our heavens. You and I were meant to be together, Leah."

  She shook her head. "I'm married, Harrison. I'm married. I could never—"

  The sound of Leah's voice was drowned out by a horrendous boom. The boat rocked violently, sending Leah and Harrison sprawling to the floor. Chairs, the table, dishes flew through the air. The hanging lanterns doused themselves. Leah and Harrison were instantly surrounded by the deafening sound of splitting wood and pounding waves.

  "Harrison," Leah cried, confused by the darkness and frightening sounds. Feeling his leg under her back, she rolled onto her stomach and crawled over him. "Harrison, are you all right? What's happening?"

  His hands came out of the darkness, grabbing her shoulders. He lifted her to her feet. What had once been the floor of the cabin had become the wall. Water was beginning to pour in through the cracks in the bulkhead. The wind howled and the waves crashed against the side of the vessel.

  "Hurry, Leah! We've got to get onto the deck," Harrison shouted, dragging her toward the cabin door, now a part of the floor. "The Mary Mae's going down!"

  Chapter Ten

  The sloop rocked violently, this time in the opposite direction, rolling the entire vessel upright once again. Leah and Harrison fell, but scrambled to their feet.

  "We're sinking?" Leah heard herself cry in shocked disbelief. "We can't be!"

  Harrison grabbed her bodice and pulled her body against his, searching with the other hand for the cabin door. "It'll be all right," he shouted. "We'll get out before she goes down."

  She waved her arms wildly. "I can't see! I don't know which way!"

  He held onto her by a fistful of wet clothing. "This way!"

  Water was pouring through the cracks in the walls, ceiling and floor. Only a moment ago it had been ankle deep in the cabin and now it was knee deep.

  A chair floated by and Harrison lifted it and threw it clear of them. "Just stay with me! I'll get you out!"

  Taking a deep breath, Leah disengaged herself from Harrison. She had to get a grip on her fear. She couldn't depend on Harrison or anyone else to get her out of this. She had to do it for herself. She pulled ahead of him in darkness, feeling in the air for the cabin door. "Dear God, don't let me drown," she whispered desperately. "I have to find my son! I have to find William!"

  Then suddenly the door handle was there at her fingertips. "Thank you! Thank you," she muttered aloud. "Harrison! It's here! The door is here!" But her hands were so cold and numb from the freezing bay water that she couldn't slide the bolt back.

  Harrison covered her trembling hands with his larger ones and together they pulled back the iron bolt that held the door closed. When it swung open a wave struck her full in the face knocking her backward into Harrison. Leah choked on a mouthful of salt water, wiping at her stinging eyes.

  He pushed her ahead. "Hold on," he cried, slipping his hand into hers. "Hold on to me, Leah!"

  Side by side they half walked, half swam down the narrow corridor toward the ladder that led to the upper deck. Moonlight spilled through the hatch lighting their way. With every wave that crossed the deck above, water surged through the hatch.

  "Not much further," Harrison hollered.

  The sloop was rocking violently, but somehow he and Leah managed to climb up the ladder, the corridor filling fast with water behind them.

  Leah fell face first onto the rough plank deck. "Harrison?" She could feel his hand clasped around her ankle. She could see nothing but blackness and the shadow of torn sails hanging from the cracked mast overhead.

  "Swim for shore," he yelled above the sounds of the crashing waves and splintering wood. The hull of the ship was breaking up fast. "Swim for shore!"

  "Which way?"

  "I don't know! Just swim!"

  Suddenly there was another horrendous boom. The mast fell, sails streaming behind it. A wave of water came over the deck, sweeping Leah from Harrison's grasp. She cried out in fear, but her mouth filled with water and she gasped and sputtered. The waves spun her, throwing her head over heels. There was no up or down, only water and the desperate need to breathe.

  Leah felt her back crash over the rail of the deck and then she went down, down, down into the blackness. For a moment all time was lost. Her water-soaked petticoat was pulling her under. The waves were pushing her down beneath the surface. There was nothing but the cold, suffocating water and the feeling that at any moment her lungs would burst.

  How easy it would be to just swallow, she thought . . . just give in.

  But what of William? Who would look for William?

  With a sudden surge of strength Leah kicked with her feet pushing in the natural direction of upwards. She pushed and pushed until she thought she would lose consciousness . . . and then her head broke the surface.

  She gasped for air, sucking in a lung full and then another. The waves slapped her again and again, but she fought them. Swim, Harrison had said, swim!

  But where? In what direction?

  Down in the swell of the wave she could see nothing but the outline of the Mary Mae slipping at an angle down into the black bay. But then the water washed her up onto a crest and she saw the blink of lights off her left shoulder. Were those lights from the shore? What else could they be? Surely no other captains would be foolish enough to bring their boats out in a storm like this.

  With great effort Leah turned her body in the direction of the light. They were just a few dots of bright white in the blackness, but she assumed it was a farmhouse. She swam one stroke, then another, but her petticoat and jacket were pulling her down. Her heeled slippers and one lace mitt were gone. She treaded water and yanked at the wet material. Removing both outer garments, she turned again toward the light and began to swim for what most certainly had to be the beach.

  Leah refused to think about how paralyzingly cold she was, or how tired her limbs were. All that mattered was William. She'd not drown, not when William was still out there alive somewhere.

  Leah swam a few strokes, then rested, then swam again. She wondered for a moment where Harrison must be. She even called to him once. But then she knew she had to use all her energy to get to shore. If she could make it there, surely Harrison could.

  She squinted in the darkness, her exhaustion confusing her. That was the shore, wasn't it? She was getting closer. Weren't the lights getting brighter?

  She was so tired now that she didn't know how much longer she could last. She was so cold she couldn't feel her leaden arms as she lifted
them over her head again and again.

  But the lights beckoned her. They were bright and warm. They were so close now, she could almost touch them. "William," she whispered. She took a big mouthful of water and choked.

  Just a little farther . . . Then she took another mouthful and then another. Her limbs wouldn't move any longer so she let the water carry her. I'll just rest for a moment, she thought. She could have sworn she felt sand beneath her stockinged feet.

  Then she lost consciousness.

  Harrison felt the hard, granular sand beneath his cheek and the waves pulling at his feet. He had lost both shoes. He lifted his head, trying to focus. For a moment he couldn't recall where he was or why. Then he remembered . . .

  He sat up, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth. He was shivering so badly that his teeth were chattering. "Leah?" he called hoarsely. He stripped off his torn stockings and stumbled to his feet, looking first one way down the beach, then the other. "Leah?"

  How long had he lain there on the beach unconscious? For God's sake where was Leah? Harrison felt a panic rise in his chest.

  It was still dark out. He staggered, looking up at the waxing moon. It was somewhere around midnight. Not that much time could have passed. He started to walk down the beach, then run. There was no sign of survivors anywhere. Already pieces of the sunken ship were beginning to wash ashore. He stepped onto a huge square of one of the sails. There was a large lump underneath. He tapped it with his bare foot. A body?

  "Leah?" Harrison backed up, kicking aside pieces of wood. He grabbed one corner of the canvas and began to haul the sail up out of the sand. "Leah?"

  It was a body. Lying face down in the sand.

  Harrison fell to his knees and rolled the corpse over. "Leah?"

  But it wasn't Leah, thank God. It was one of the sailors aboard the ship. Harrison crossed himself, something he'd not done in years. The sailor had a knife strapped to his side. Harrison took it and slipped it into the waistband of his sodden breeches.

  Slowly he got up. He would tend to the body later. He began to run down the beach again. His eyes scanned the muddy beach and the edge of the water as he called Leah's name again and again.

  How far could she have gone? Everything else from the Mary Mae was washing ashore here. Surely she couldn't have gone down with the ship, tied up in the rigging!

  Then, by the white light of the moon he saw her. She was lying on her back on the beach just ahead of him. Her jacket and petticoat were gone. Both slippers and one stocking were missing. Her wet hair was plastered to her cheek so that he couldn't see her face.

  "Please God," he prayed. "Let her live to make this right between us."

  He fell to his knees and brushed her hair from her face. "Leah?" She was so pale.

  He grabbed her shoulders. "Leah, answer me! It's Harrison. I'm here, Leah."

  When she made no response, he lowered his head to her face and waited.

  After what seemed an eternity he felt her soft breath on his cheek.

  "Oh, Leah!" He raised her up, cradling her in his arms, brushing the magical red hair from her face. "Leah, wake up."

  "Harrison?"

  "Yes." He heaved a thankful sigh. "Yes, I'm here."

  Her eyelids fluttered and then she was looking up at him. When she spoke again, it was so softly that he had to lower his head to hear her. "I was afraid I wasn't going to make it to shore. The lights. Thank God they were here or I'd not have made it."

  Harrison's forehead furrowed. "Lights?" He looked around. "I see no lights, Leah. We must be miles from a house."

  She shook her head, her voice stronger now. "No. That can't be right. I saw white lights, like lanterns."

  He pushed her hair off her cheek and kissed it. "My grandmother would have some sort of mystical explanation to this." He smiled down at her. "She'd say those lights were souls from heaven guiding you to safety, guiding you back to me."

  She was sitting on her own now, but hadn't moved out of the circle of his arms. She looked up at him. "And what would you say?"

  He shook his head slowly. "I would say I don't know. I would say you're safe and that's all that matters to me, ki-ti-hi. "

  She smiled. "I always liked it when you spoke to me in the Indian tongue, especially when . . . " She let her voice fade into silence.

  "Especially when?" he urged.

  When she looked at him again he could see her cheeks coloring. "Especially when you made love to me."

  For a long moment their gazes locked. What was she trying to say, he wondered. Was she saying she needed him as much as he needed her? Was she asking him to make love to her here on the beach, now?

  Then Harrison realized that Leah was shivering so hard that her entire body was shaking. "We have to find some kind of shelter," he said. He stood and pulled her to her feet. "Can you walk?"

  She nodded, her teeth chattering. "But there's . . . nothing f . . . for miles. Wh . . . where will we g . . . go?"

  "Some of the sail canvas washed ashore. I'll build a shelter. I'll make a fire. Once we're warm, our clothes have dried, and the sun's come up, we'll decide which way to set out."

  Arm in arm they started back down the beach.

  "Did . . . did you find anyone else?" Leah managed through chattering teeth.

  "Just one. Dead."

  She nodded.

  When they came upon the sailcloth, Harrison let go of her and grasping the cloth, began to drag it up the sand beach toward dry land. "We'll bury the body in the morning," he told her. "Right now we've got to get out this wet clothing before we both catch our death."

  Leah followed him up the bank, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest for warmth. It was all she could do to put one foot ahead of the other.

  Harrison walked up to the line of brush and marsh grass and dropped the sailcloth. After studying the configuration of the trees, he began to bend limbs and pull up dry grass to tie the limbs down. "It won't be pretty, but it will work," he told Leah.

  "I . . . I'd . . . don't c . . . care. A . . . anything, j . . . just m . . . make me w . . . warm."

  Satisfied with the way he had bent the tree limbs, Harrison grabbed the sailcloth and threw it over the bent branches and saplings. Then he began to tuck down the canvas as best he could, staking the bottom seam to the ground with pieces of drift wood.

  With a smaller bit of sail he laid out a floor so they would not have to sit on the cold, damp ground. "Not the best wigwam I've built, but it will do," he told her. Now get inside while I find some reasonably dry wood."

  Leah did as he told her without protest. A few minutes later he was back, making a neat pile of wood just in front of the leeward opening on the makeshift wigwam.

  "H . . . how w . . . will you s . . . start the f . . . fire?" Leah asked.

  He looked up at her through the darkness and winked. "I'm a redskin, remember. We redskins are good at this."

  Her laughter was encouraging. Leah was going to be all right.

  Harrison took a piece of flat driftwood he'd found on the beach and knelt and pressed the wood into the sand. He shredded a bit of sailcloth with the knife he'd found on the dead sailor and laid it in the driftwood's natural hollow. He knew it was damp, but hopefully the tiny pieces of fiber would dry fast enough to make this work. Then, taking a smooth stick he'd found on the bank he began to twirl it between his palms.

  'Patience,' he remembered Kolheek telling him. 'Patience brings the woman spark to the man.'

  Harrison forced himself to think of something other than the necessity of getting this fire started. He thought of Leah. He thought about what it would be like to hold her naked in his arms. He wouldn't make love to her, not if that wasn't what she truly wanted. But he had come so close to losing her again tonight that to hold her would be enough.

  Harrison looked up to see Leah undressing. He averted his gaze.

  He continued to twirl the stick between his palms. "What . . . what are you doing?"

  She lifted an eye
brow. She was warmer here out of the wind. Her teeth weren't chattering anymore. Her voice was stronger. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking these wet clothes off." She shrugged. "You can turn away if you like."

  "And if I don't?" he asked huskily.

  She shrugged again, pulling at the laces of her stays. "It's not as if you've not seen it before."

  He had to laugh at her practicality. But then she peeled away what was left of her torn wet bodice and stays and he was struck silent. She was wearing nothing but her linen shift now. It was wet and plastered to the curve of her breasts, breasts that were rounder than he had remembered.

  Of course she had given birth since the last time he had held her naked in his arms. She had been a girl then and now she was a woman.

  A spark suddenly struck from the stick lighting the shredded sailcloth and Harrison tore his eyes from Leah. If he lost this spark, he'd have to start all over again. He leaned and blew gently on the cloth. He added another scrap of cloth to the tiny flame, then some marsh grass, then some twigs.

  "Oh," Leah sighed. "That's wonderful."

  He fed the fire smaller sticks, then larger ones.

  Leah crawled over closer to the fire, putting out her hands to warm them. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. She was so beautiful, even with her wet tangled hair and torn shift.

  "Better? he asked, suddenly feeling awkward.

  "Better." She nudged him with her elbow. "Now aren't you going to get some of those clothes off or am I going to have to bury you in the morning too?"

  He laughed with her as he pulled off his tattered shirtwaist. He'd lost his shoes and coat somewhere in the bay. Then he peeled off his wet shirt. When his hands went to the tie of his breeches he looked up at Leah. She was watching him unabashed.

  She made him warm from the inside out.

  He pulled off the wet breeches leaving him in nothing but the small leather loincloth he'd refused to discard when he'd dressed in the Englishman's trappings.

  Harrison turned until he was seated beside her. The fire felt glorious. Her bare hip pressed against his felt even better.