Undercurrent of Secrets

by Rachel Scott McDaniel

  “Well,” I said, grabbing the silverware and placing it on the tray atop the breakfast cart, “I’m glad you aren’t a gossip, Miss Wendall, or I’d be tempted to ask if anything else interesting has occurred.”

  “Heavens be, I’m no gossip. Or else I’d be gabbing about Duffy receiving wires from a man in Pittsburgh. He was in front of me at the office. I needed to check on my sister in Dayton. Not my business, mind you, if I overheard Duffy saying, We’ll be on time, and then you take over.” She shrugged. “Some status of his delivery or something. I don’t really know, because I never eavesdrop.”

  Pittsburgh. Take over? And who was the man he communicated with? A buyer? I gasped. Duffy’s words surfaced like a piece of driftwood to the top of my mind. Once we reach Pittsburgh and I deliver the goods there, my obligation is over.

  Had he been referring to the Idlewild? Delivering the boat to its new owner? Maybe that was why the bosses had let us go on the Ohio. It wasn’t to help bring revenue, but to transport the boat. And how did the first mate fit into all of this? The swirl in my stomach climbed to my head, my temples throbbing.

  After finishing the breakfast preparations, I excused myself, craving an escape. I grabbed a wrench from the engine room and climbed the steps to the texas roof. Clem had been complaining about the wheel brake needing adjusting. So while the men were below cramming their craws with mushy food, I’d be venting my frustration in the most unladylike fashion. It seemed important to fix something, maintain some semblance of control. Since I couldn’t fix my future, I would channel my efforts on the steering system.

  With a humph, I plopped onto the gritty floor, stretched my limbs, and shimmied on my back until I reached the desired spot. The river breeze traipsed over my legs, lifting the hem of my skirt. Modesty with this task had always proven impossible, which was why I had to pick opportune times to perform it.

  My fingers searched for loose joints, my mind numbing to the rest of the world. It amazed me that this seven-foot wheel controlled the direction of a hundred-and-sixty-foot boat. Reminded me how small decisions held the power to steer my entire life. I’d always been comfortable allowing Duffy to navigate my course over the years, but I sensed that would soon change. A tremor of fear gripped my heart. Floating between two shores had been my one anchor. My only constant. I didn’t know my true name, parents, birthplace, or anything else that gave substance to my identity. How could I step beyond all that I’d ever known? Journey past my only stability?

  I discovered the wobbly part and tightened it, adding an extra yank for good measure.

  Vibrations coursed my spine. Footsteps. Not shuffled steps like Duffy’s. Or slow ones like Clem. But heavy, surefooted ones.

  And here I was, half my person wedged beneath the pilothouse, my stocking legs exposed up to my thighs for anyone to see.

  “Go eat your porridge, Face,” I called loud enough for him to hear. “If you say one thing about my legs, I’ll crawl out from underneath here and make you wish you hadn’t.”

  “You weren’t joking about the penknife garter.”

  Jack! I jerked, nearly smacking my forehead on a pipe. “What are you doing up here?”

  “I was about to ask you the same.” Amusement riddled his voice.

  Infuriating man. “Turn around. I’m coming out.” I couldn’t be certain my skirts wouldn’t creep farther as I maneuvered out of the crawlspace.

  “All clear.” His two words and good faith were all I had to go on.

  Grimacing, I worked my way out of the narrowed area, yanking my skirt down as soon as my hands could reach, and climbed to my feet. Glimpsing Jack’s broad back, my breath leaked from my chest. “Thank you for keeping your word.” I smoothed out my skirt, but the fabric remained stubbornly creased. “You can turn around now.”

  He waited another second before facing me. His fingers curled in a loose fist over his mouth as if to hide a smile. “We do meet under the most amusing circumstances, don’t we?”

  “You should extend my duties to Boat Comedian, since you find me so ridiculous.”

  His slanted grin wobbled into a frown. “I don’t consider you ridiculous, Hattie. Not in the least.”

  I returned his scowl, unsure of the meaning of his remark.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” His gaze dropped to the wrench in my hand. “I would think a full morning of fishing would give you an appetite.”

  “I lost my appetite. Heard there was this giant rat sniffing around the pantry.” My gaze sharpened on him. “I’m thinking of the best way to trap it.”

  Then I saw it. So clear in his ice blue eyes—a secret. One that made his jawline sharp and his shoulders bend forward, as if his entire, powerful frame strained with the weight of it. His intense focus trained solely on me, his gaze tracing my face.

  I held so still the tendons in my neck burned.

  Seconds stretched between us, then his mouth nudged into a smile. “I should’ve known the first night we met that nothing slips by the Admiral.” He tugged the sleeve of his uniform, his pensive eyes on mine. “Yes. It was me.”

  “Why?”

  The sun skittered behind the clouds, causing shadows to dance across his features. “I can’t tell you.”

  Fine. If he wanted to play conversation poker, I’d bring all the chips to the table. “Then maybe you can tell me about this?” I reached into my boot and dug out the slip of paper he’d dropped earlier.

  His expression was an equal mix of surprise and relief. “I was concerned about where that was. Glad it was you who found it.” His hand outstretched, but I slid the paper behind my back.

  “I’m not returning this until I know what’s going on. This looks like some sort of code.” I pinned him with a glare. “Who are you, Jack Marshall?”

  He eased close. “Who do you think I am, Hattie?”

  My gaze wavered, dropping to his collar “I—I don’t know.” My voice squeaked, and I hated his ability to rattle me. “But if your name isn’t Jack Marshall, then we need to be reintroduced.” Regaining my composure, I stuck out my hand. Instead of shaking it, he cradled my fingers and tugged me a step closer.

  He released his gentle hold, his chin dipping to my level, his voice as breathless as I felt. “Tonight.”

  Chapter 12

  I clenched fistfuls of my sheet beneath my chin, wishing I could stuff the wadded fabric into my ears. But not even that could muffle Miss Wendall’s grating snores. While she lay below in deep slumber, I squirmed on the top bunk at each wheeze that faithfully rent the air every four and a half seconds.

  Though my irritation had begun long before Miss Wendall guzzled her sleeping tonic.

  And Jack Marshall held all the blame.

  Tonight.

  That whispered promise which earlier had made my nerves hum with excitement now made my right eye twitch with annoyance. I’d waited through the moonlight excursion, expecting Jack to approach me. To continue our conversation as he’d vowed. But he hadn’t.

  I was such a fool.

  No doubt he’d only invented that sorry excuse for me to leave him be. If Jack Marshall thought for one second I would forget by tomorrow, he’d underestimated me. And to think he’d attacked Face for toying with women’s emotions, when he’d done the same—

  A gentle tapping pierced my thoughts.

  My gaze darted to the door. A hulking silhouette darkened the curtained window. The shadow dipped, and something slid beneath the door. Careful not to wake Miss Wendall, I eased off the side of my bunk, the steel frame protesting with a creaky groan.

  Miss Wendall mumbled something and rolled toward the inside wall.

  My breath seeped from my lungs in blessed relief, and I scooped up the slip of paper. Angling it to catch the moonlight, I blinked away the blurriness and trained my eyes on the masculine scrawl.

  The note was from Jack.

  He wanted to meet me ashore. My lips pressed together. The Idlewild had been docked at the wharf, so it wasn’t any trouble to venture on l
and. But why? We could easily talk in the hold or in the galley. Most of the crew were either asleep or bunking in town. It was seldom that Duffy allowed anyone to go up the hill for the night, but when he did, the majority of men went.

  My fingers curled around the note. Should I? What did I know of this man? Hadn’t he all but confessed he wasn’t who he’d claimed to be? I could be walking into something dangerous. But then, Jack hadn’t lifted a hand against me, even when I was assaulting him. And what if he held information about Pittsburgh?

  That alone drove me to snatch my robe from the edge of the bed and throw it over my nightgown. No time for changing into anything suitable. I couldn’t risk stumbling around in the dark and waking Miss Wendall. With a steadying breath, I creaked open the door and made my way down the staircases.

  All was silent.

  I scurried to the bow and reached shore.

  Chunky stars paired with the crescent moon, lending a soft glow to my steps. I peered starboard and found the massive elm. A sturdy profile caught my attention.

  Jack.

  As if sensing my presence, he stepped fully into the moonlight. “You came.” His hushed voice silenced the surrounding crickets.

  “I’m curious.” I drew near, keeping a safe distance. “Is it common for you to summon women to meet you in the middle of the night?”

  “You’d be the first.” I sensed his smile more than saw it. “It couldn’t be helped. I couldn’t risk anyone overhearing.”

  And there it was. The secret. The one I’d witnessed in his eyes on the texas roof, now rumbled in his husky tone. My heart quickened, the intrigue drawing me a step closer.

  His gaze dipped to my clothes, then snapped to my face.

  I huffed. “You don’t have to look at me like that. My nightclothes are about as scandalous as a grandma’s. Besides, if you’d been more specific earlier, I would’ve stayed dressed like you.” Jack still wore his mate’s uniform, minus his cap, giving me a rare glimpse of his golden hair.

  “Didn’t I say I’d speak with you tonight?”

  “I thought it was a ploy to shirk me off.”

  “Had I thought you would fall for such a tactic, I would have used one.” Just like those first moments we’d met, the night sky complemented him, silvery hues feathering across his strong features. The shifting of shadow and light, so much like my perception of him. I’d like to imagine I glimpsed snippets of his true self, but many facets of Jack Marshall remained in shaded obscurity. “Did you bring the code?”

  “It’s tucked in a safe place.” There was hardly privacy aboard a steamboat, but nobody would tamper with my songbook. The crook in the binding provided the perfect spot.

  He beckoned me farther into the darkness. Hesitant, I followed. Twigs cracked beneath my boots, but much more could be broken if I’d made the wrong choice. He led me out of view from the Idlewild. I was now veiled in the shadows with a man I barely knew, who happened to be bigger and stronger than me. I should have at least grabbed my penknife before running out. What had I been thinking? I wasn’t. So consumed with finding answers about Pittsburgh, about Jack, that I’d left my brain behind as well as my only means of protection.

  “I know this isn’t an ideal place for conversation.” His soft voice contrasted the severe notes of darkness enfolding me.

  I scoffed and tightened my robe. “No, it’s not, so let’s get to it. What’s going on? Who are you? Are you really a first mate?”

  “Yes. I’m a licensed officer, but that’s not my primary profession.”

  “Go on.”

  His gaze settled on me. “I’m a prohibition agent. And I have reason to believe someone is using the Idlewild to smuggle alcohol.”

  Thoughts flooded my mind like the time the hull had sprung a leak, my gut sinking along with any intelligent thought. Jack, a federal agent? “You—you think there’s alcohol aboard?”

  His mouth was a firm line. “It’s possible.”

  “So that’s why you’ve been obsessing over the cargo. Checking and rechecking the hold.”

  He nodded. “If someone is going to bring anything aboard, the most logical time would be during loading and off-loading.”

  Very true. Before Jack had forced the reassessing of goods, the crew would offload with no questions asked. How easy it would have been to disguise alcohol in barrels of oil. “That’s why you inspected the jugs in the galley.”

  “Yes.” He expelled a ragged sigh. “I’ve searched everywhere I know to look and have found nothing.”

  I plucked a blade of grass tickling my leg and rolled it between my index and thumb. “What makes you believe all this about the Idlewild?”

  “The code. Maybe I should start from the beginning.” He crouched beside a sapling. “I served in the Coast Guard during the Great War and made powerful connections with those in…” He paused as if weighing his words. “Confidential positions. After the war, I remained an ensign until my contract ended.”

  It wasn’t hard to imagine him as an ensign. Living aboard a steamboat, I’d seen a fair amount of Coast Guard officers. Jack’s efficiency and discipline matched every maritime serviceman I’d been in contact with. “Then you became a federal agent?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Jack your real name?”

  “Yes and no.”

  I tossed aside the blade of grass. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Hattie.” It could be the deceit of a moonlit night coupling with my fanciful imagination, but my name rolling off his perfect lips sent chills coursing through me. “I’m already telling you more than you should know.”

  My brow dug. “Why are you telling me?”

  “Because I’m asking for your help.”

  “My help?” My raspy tone betrayed my surprise.

  “You’re smart, observant, and assertive. You’re a powerful ally, Hattie Louis.” His ice-blue gaze sought mine and something built between us, a silent pact.

  He thought me helpful. Not a burden, always in the way. But valued. He wanted me to partner with him? For a secret investigation? My blood warmed with excitement. “What would I have to do?”

  “Keep your eyes open. Things aren’t always as they appear.”

  “Does Duffy know?”

  “He does.” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “He’s the reason I’m here. I’ve known the captain since my youth.”

  My head tilted at this news. “How?”

  “My aunt.” His lashes lowered, his voice softening. “She was neighbors with Duffy’s niece.”

  “Florence Albright?” That morsel of information served me an entire plateful of how Jack Marshall had been raised—high society. Duffy’s niece was one of the well-to-dos in Louisville. Duffy’s family was part of the social class that would turn its nose up at an orphan such as me. I lacked good breeding and money. Duffy had the respected family line, but had been shunned for choosing the riverman life. Florence remained the only relative who still spoke with him.

  “When I was young, I spent summers with my aunt. I’d wander next door, and Mrs. Albright would tolerate my presence well enough. Duffy would talk to me of steamboats and rivers. He’s the reason I became a sailor.”

  Jack was probably seven to eight years older than me, so this must have occurred before my time with Duffy.

  “The Coast Guard intercepted a code about the Idlewild. The person who decrypted it knew my connection to Duffy. She recommended me for the job.”

  She? A woman who interpreted secrets? I couldn’t be more fascinated. “What does the code say?”

  “‘Diamond aboard Idlewild.’” He stood and dusted his hands off on his trousers. “Shakes Donovan is known for calling cases of moonshine ‘diamonds.’”

  Even I had heard of the infamous bootlegger.

  “The man has speakeasies up and down the Ohio and Mississippi. How clever would it be to employ unsuspecting vessels to run his goods?”

  Wickedly clever, indeed. “Is that all the code said?” It seemed rathe
r lengthy to only be three words.

  “That’s the main gist of it.” His gaze darted away, making me wonder if there was more he wasn’t telling me. “So will you help, Admiral?”

  My mouth twisted. “I don’t know if I can partner with a man who won’t tell me his real name.” I could always hassle Duffy to tell me Jack’s true identity, but prying secrets from the steamboat captain was about as easy as plucking a star out of the velvet sky.

  “Is Hattie Louis your real name?” His counter took the strength from my already-weak case.

  “It is to me.” Though I had no clue what my birthparents had initially named me. If they’d named me at all. All that had been on my person when Duffy discovered me was a note begging him to take care of me and my birthdate, which hopefully was authentic. It would be unnerving not knowing how old I truly was. “You know about the circumstances with my parents, or lack thereof?”

  “I do.” His tender response was more than my heart could hold. “I know that Duffy took you in and raised you.”

  “He’s the only papa I’ve known.”

  Just like the code, his eyes communicated something I couldn’t read. “He’s done well.”

  “Duffy would disagree.” I sighed. “He’s always saying how much more feminine I should be. That I lack in grace.”

  Jack gave me a long, meaningful look, then shook his head. “You lack nothing.”

  Chapter 13

  Devyn

  “You know I’d do anything for you, Devs.” Peirson Brooks’s tripleplatinum voice flowed through Devyn’s cell speaker. “I’m hosting CMAs the following week, but I’m free the Saturday before.” Only Peirson would refer to the annual country music awards as one would speak of a routine doctor’s appointment.

  “You sure?” Devyn curled her feet beneath her legs and relaxed against the plush cushions of the den sofa in her childhood home. “I know you’re busy. Please don’t feel obligated just because without me you would’ve flunked college.”

  That familiar low chuckle made her smile. “Yes, yes I would have.”