Saving Miss Everly

by Britton, Sally

  “You are always so proper,” Irene added, and Hope’s heart sunk along with her body, deeper into the water. Of course Irene hadn’t actually meant Hope was like her mother. She was speaking of Grace. “And look at how you have been so attentive to Mrs. Morgan and to me. If only you were as considerate of Albert’s feelings.” She sighed heavily.

  “Irene.” It took a great deal of control to keep the rebuke out of her voice. “I have told you, I have no interest in making a match with your brother. I do not love him.”

  “Oh, but why not?” Irene asked, somewhat petulant. “He is a wonderful catch. My father’s heir, tall, and educated. You could only do better if you found someone with a title.”

  “Love,” Hope said, emphasizing the word by speaking it slowly. “I said love. I am sure he has all the necessary qualifications of a suitable bachelor, but I do not love him.”

  Nor would she, ever. Because despite Alejandro’s actions, despite his reluctance to linger near her when she would have followed him about, she could not ignore the way she felt about him. The pull had not lessened. If only those first hours together on the beach had lasted longer. If only he had felt as she did.

  Irene’s lips pushed out, the lower one more so than the upper. Perhaps the pout would have been sweet on a child, but it hardly suited a woman of Irene’s age. “Mama says that love comes after marriage and could not possibly occur before, because it is the thing you find after you have endured hardship together. A courting couple cannot do that. But see, you and Albert are enduring hardship right now. In this cursed place.”

  “I think things like that—like this—would strengthen affection into love.” Hope looked down into the water as a small yellow striped fish swam closer, perhaps curious as to what two strange fish hovered near its favorite rocks. “Look to the Morgans for an example. I have never seen a man so attentive to his wife, and she looks at him as though content in her pain if only because he is near.”

  When the other young lady’s expression started to change, her eyes brightening, Hope felt sure she had made herself understood at last.

  “Then your connection to my brother has grown at least a little?”

  Hope paused. “That is not what I said, Irene.” She stood. “Come. We had better dry along with our gowns or we will only get them wet again when we put them back on.”

  Irene followed her onto the rocks, the two of them sitting with their shifts spread over their knees.

  “I will not give up,” Irene said blithely. “I should love to have you as a sister. Albert is perfect for you.”

  “I do not agree.” Hope kept her gaze out on the horizon, where the dark blue water met the light blue sky. “I wish rescue would come.” Rescue from Albert and Irene, especially. The thought was not charitable, but she could not deny its truth.

  “Imagine if it came now, when we haven’t clothes to put on.” Irene shaded her eyes to stare out over the waves. “I do not think I would mind at all, actually.”

  “Nor would I,” Hope whispered, wrapping her arms about herself. Was anyone out looking for them? She had to believe so. The Carlburys would not abandon their children, and they had connections all across the Caribbean. People would search. The wreckage of their boat could not be far. If anyone came upon it, where the boat had run into the shoals, they would see the missing rowboat and know there were survivors, would they not?

  “We cannot be too far from the doctor’s island,” Irene continued. “I think if we just made the fire that Albert suggested we would be found at once.”

  Perhaps. But that argument had also grown stale between them. Hope said nothing. She closed her eyes and lowered herself back to the large, flat rock’s surface and spread her arms out to her side. The warmth of the stone seeped through her wet shift, and the sun falling against her skin filled her with a comforting heat.

  “You are turning dreadfully brown,” Irene said, ruining the moment.

  It took everything she had not to sigh. Instead, Hope affected a pleasant expression. “It will be only the work of a winter indoors to undo the damage. At least I have stopped blistering.”

  “I am going to sit in the shade.” Irene rose and walked away, but Hope did not join her. A few minutes apart might prove peaceful.

  Her mind turned to the topic of love, but rather than lament Irene’s lack of understanding, she thought instead of Alejandro. Did she love him? He had not shown any true interest in her since their time alone together. It would be ridiculous to love him. She hardly knew him. Except…except every time she met his eyes she felt she knew what he was thinking. What he was feeling.

  If only she could speak to him more plainly on the subject. Yet when she had asked that day watching the faraway storm, he had avoided her direct question. Ought she to try again?

  Soon the only sound she heard was the quiet lap of waves against rocks, and it did not take them long to lull her into sleep.

  16

  Alejandro walked across the beach, carrying a turtle shell on his back and holding onto it by a natural lip on the inside of the shell. He hadn’t had use for the shell six months previous, when the turtle had come upon land. He’d never seen a live sea turtle before, but the one he’d found barely qualified as such. It had been injured. Dying. Something in the water had wounded it. Alejandro finished the job as mercifully as he could, then had studied the creature with sadness and wonder.

  Turtle soup wasn’t an unheard-of delicacy in his parents’ home, so he attempted to use the meat and make his own. The experiment hadn’t gone well at all and he’d ended up only eating a little before becoming violently ill. For a whole day, Alejandro laid in his shelter and waited for death. He recovered and swore never to eat turtle again.

  But the shell had stayed in the same spot, picked clean by the tiniest scavengers on the island, and was now perfect for his purpose. It would hold water quite well. Though smaller than the professor likely intended for a cistern, it would do until Alejandro came up with something else.

  As he walked along the shore, Alejandro’s gaze drifted to the rocks. A spot of white on the dark gray stone arrested his gaze a moment before he hastily averted his eyes. Miss Everly. What was she doing down on the beach alone? And—he did not look again. She was not appropriately dressed. He hefted the shell up further and hastened his steps, only to glimpse another snatch of white beneath the trees. The other young lady?

  He turned abruptly and marched straight into the trees, going through the brush rather than all the way to one of his established paths. The women were together. That would keep them safe enough.

  The first time he found Miss Everly on the beach, a vision of beauty in the semi-darkness, came immediately to mind. Six days, seven nights, previous. He had not thought of propriety, of proper dress, of anything to do with society and the relationships between men and women, until that moment when he saw her.

  The way the English clung to their traditions irked him. An emergency situation called for different priorities. At least the men with coats had finally put those things aside. The island weather had necessitated that much.

  He clattered through the trees, branches scraping against his shoulders and the turtle shell, cutting through the vegetation as best he could. Finally he came to his main path for fetching water, which would make the last leg of his return easier.

  He met Mr. Thorne and Mr. Carlbury coming down, Thorne carrying the pail. Thorne hailed him at once.

  “Córdoba, here you are. Professor Gibson said you went in search of something for your rain collection project. Is this it?” He gestured to the shell. “Do you need any help?”

  Alejandro placed the shell on the ground behind him, carefully. “I will gladly accept it, Señor Thorne. Gracias.” He straightened and stretched his back out. “Mr. Carlbury, your sister and her friend, they are at the beach.”

  Carlbury folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin. “Passed them coming up, did you? I wondered where they got off to.”

&n
bsp; The man disappeared nearly as often as he grumbled, which made Carlbury’s inattentiveness to his sister hardly a surprise to Alejandro.

  Thorne walked around Alejandro, passing him the pail, and lifted the shell with a grunt. “This is much heavier than you made it look, friend.”

  Alejandro’s lips twitched. “It is easier when you hold it on your back.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. Carlbury, here, take the other side. We will move more quickly with the two of us carrying it.”

  Carlbury gave Alejandro a wide berth to come to Thorne’s assistance, taking up the other side of the shell. Alejandro continued up the hill, hearing them come along behind. For a moment, he considered sending Carlbury to fetch the women, but brushed that idea aside. It was no more appropriate for that man to seek the two ladies out than it would have been for Alejandro to address them himself.

  He would have a word with Doctor Morgan and advise a different course of action for the next time the ladies ventured down to the beach on their own.

  Thunder cracked in the distance. Alejandro and the other men froze and turned toward the east.

  Black clouds moved toward the island, lightning flashing beneath its shadows.

  Alejandro took a step down the hill. “Ve rápido. Go. Tell the others to gather the food and water into the shelter.” The trees above shook in a sudden gust of wind. “I will get the señoritas.” Safety superseded propriety, yet the idea of sending Albert down to fetch them left him uneasy.

  Without waiting to see if the men obeyed, Alejandro ran down the path to the beach, bucket in hand. They would need what freshwater he could obtain if the storm lasted long.

  But first, he had to make certain the young women rejoined the party. That storm had not been there hours ago, so it had to be moving somewhat quickly. Even if he had kept his back to the east most of the afternoon.

  Alejandro left the pail at the well and sprinted up the dune, then down to the shoreline. He saw two figures in pastels coming down the beach, both lifting their hems nearly to their knees the better to run. The wind had found the beach, and the waves had started to rise.

  “Señor Córdoba,” Miss Everly shouted, waving at him. Her friend immediately halted and dropped her skirts, but Miss Everly took her arm and dragged her forward. When they reached each other, she shouted to be heard over nature’s tumult. “What do we do to prepare for the storm?”

  “Get to the shelter,” he shouted, gesturing to the hill. “As fast as you can go. The others will be there.”

  She did not waste breath on another word, but tugged her friend forward with determination. Though the rain had not started, both women appeared damp. Hopefully they would not grow ill from that unfortunate circumstance.

  When all three of them reached the well, Alejandro told them he would catch up. Before they were halfway up the hill, he was behind them again.

  Mr. Carlbury appeared before them, his head down as though the branches whipping about in the sudden gale might take it off. Alejandro watched him shout at the women, but could not make out what was said. Miss Everly shook her head and then shoved her friend along. The gentleman glared at her, then Alejandro over her head, but wrapped an arm about his sister’s shoulders and guided her up the path.

  Miss Everly looked back once, her eyes lingering upon him, but then she gathered up her skirts and ran. Sensible woman. He kept to the best speed he could without endangering the bucket and the precious water it held.

  They emerged into the clearing at the same moment the rain fell, and it pelted them heavily in the short seconds it took to cross from the trees to the shelter. The turtle shell was outside the doorway.

  Alejandro stepped in only long enough to make certain everyone else was inside. The sailors were sitting nearest the door, backs against the wall of sticks and clay. Mrs. Morgan and the doctor were near the fire, Mrs. Morgan putting her arms out to welcome Miss Carlbury to sit with her. The professor and Thorne were on the other side of the fire, and Carlbury had immediately sat in the middle of the floor rather than be near anyone else. That left Miss Everly nearest the door, watching Alejandro with wide blue eyes.

  “You will be safe and dry in here,” he told them, pointing to the stone roof. “Perdón.” He ducked out of the doorway and into the rain, wasting no time in taking up the turtle shell.

  The professor had offered his assistance, which meant his conversation and occasional opinion, in the making of the cistern. Alejandro had managed most of the work himself, using a hollowed-out branch and the natural curvature of the stones. He’d intended to dig a hole, line it with rocks and more clay, and put the shell at the bottom to collect water. But now it would be best to catch what little rain he could with the shell.

  Though the rain fell like a curtain, soaking his hair and running into his eyes, Alejandro set up the shell beneath an already steady stream of water. Then he withdrew, back to the crowded shelter.

  He stepped inside again, more steps than he wished in order to avoid the rain the wind blew into the shelter. He swept the darkened interior with a glance, noting how everyone seemed to huddle closer to those nearest them. Even the sailors sat with their shoulders touching. Carlbury had moved next to his sister, who shivered and shook as dramatically as the trees outside.

  Miss Everly still stood, her arms wrapped about herself, staring out the opening. Waiting for him? “How long will it last?” she asked, her voice a whisper in the dark.

  Alejandro busied himself with the pail, carrying it from the doorway to the Morgans near the fire. “This is a season for storms. Son huracanes. From now until winter, storms like this may rise up at any time and last until they spend themselves.”

  “They destroy things,” one of the sailors said. Hitchins. “When I was a child, a storm like this demolished our island. All the trees. Animals. Gone.”

  “What?” Miss Carlbury’s shrill voice made Alejandro wince. “What about the food? The fish?”

  “Calm yourself, Irene.” Carlbury sounded more impatient than soothing. “I am certain we are perfectly safe.”

  “This island has not endured such a hardship in the time I have been here.” Alejandro had no wish to hear more of her fears, but when he took in Miss Everly’s calm demeanor, his tone softened further. “We will pray it passes us by without harm.”

  “Pray to who?” the professor asked. “God? A saint?” He nodded to the sailors. “Island deities?”

  “To whoever will hear us,” Mr. Thorne muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the stone at the back of the shelter.

  Alejandro watched as the others silently closed their eyes. Some bowed their heads, others leaned back as though settling in rather than sending pleas to heaven. Miss Carlbury started sniffling, but the doctor’s wife started speaking to her in a quiet, comforting tone.

  Miss Everly stepped forward until she stood next to Alejandro, she, facing the door and he, inward. “It is very dark out there,” she whispered.

  The shadows had grown gloomier inside, with only the firelight to beat them back. It was not many hours after noon, but the sky was as dark as if the sun had set. Alejandro settled himself onto the ground, away from the walls of the room. She carefully did the same, staying beside him, facing the opposite direction. Their shoulders nearly touched.

  Before Miss Everly, the last time he sat near a woman had been at his last dinner party in Virginia, next to the daughter of his host. The girl had been no more than fifteen, round-cheeked and blushing that she sat near the guest of honor. He had danced with her older sister at a ball.

  How different things were then. He’d worn fine clothing, had been clean shaven, sat with confidence in himself and his place in the world. The next day he boarded a ship to return home to his family, home to the fight for independence from Spain.

  “I miss my family,” Miss Everly whispered, still staring out into the rain. “My sister and I, we are the oldest children. My mother and father thought there would be no more, as we gav
e Mama a difficult time of things. But she had my brother, Edward, when I was nine. Then Charity and Patience after.” Her voice faded away to nothing.

  He watched the fire and the people around it, none of them stirring except for an occasional shudder or glance up when the thunder boomed over their heads. The first time he had sat alone through a storm, what had he felt? Fear, but not of the rain. His mother’s worried eyes kept appearing in his memory, his father’s pale face when they had learned of the casualties in a skirmish at the coast. Those were the things that haunted him.

  “My parents had children before and after me,” Alejandro said, his voice too low to carry beyond Miss Everly’s ears. “But none from before survived long after birth, if they came through that alive. My father, he said he knew at once that I would live. He had never heard a child cry with my strength.” Many times he had heard his father say those words, with pride and surety, even as he grew from boyhood to manhood. “Then they had my sister, who died of illness a few years ago. And my brother.”

  Miss Everly shivered and leaned slightly, the cloth of her sleeve brushing his. “Your father will be proud to learn how you fought to survive on this island.”

  Too far away from the fire to enjoy its warmth, Alejandro keenly felt the ice harden around his heart at her words. “My father will never know anything about it,” he murmured, folding his arms.

  From the corner of his eye, Alejandro watched her turn to stare at him. Her cheeks were pink and spotted with brown freckles, her lips dry and chapped, and the tips of her eyelashes shone gold in the light of the fire. He waited for her rebuke, for her false hope, to tell him he was wrong.

  “My village is called Aldersy, and it is near the coast,” she told him, her tone matter-of-fact though she remained quiet. “My friends still live there. They are as dear to me as my own family. Silas is an earl, Jacob will be the vicar by now, and Isaac is the one I told you of who returned from war to be a baronet.”