Chapter 30

Laurie slumped on the same bench where she had waited for Samuel months before. The fragrance of roses—normally her favorite—pricked at her raw nerves. When the door finally opened and Daniel strode out into the evening air, a wave of exhaustion swept over her. She slumped against the backrest and waited.

He eyed her posture and cocked his head to the side. “You look like you’ve had nearly as bad a day as I have—though I have difficulty believing it.”

“Daniel, I’m so sorry. I can’t begin to tell you how foolish I feel.” Tears stung her eyes and she blinked to force them back. “I can’t expect you to forgive me, but I need to explain.”

Daniel’s mouth opened and closed with no sound. His face pinched. “You—you did this? You’re the eyewitness?”

She picked at her nails as the words rushed from her mouth—everything from the first night until her encounter with Samuel Brown at his home.

Daniel sank onto the bench beside her, rubbing a palm across his face.

She touched his sleeve. “I’m very sorry. I can’t believe I thought you were one of them.”

He shook his head and laughed ruefully. “Well, I assumed you were part of it, too, at first. You and your ‘oyster picking.’ ”

“I feel horrible about what happened. Was it very bad?”

“Not the best day I’ve had, but it’s over. I’m starving, though.” Daniel pressed his hands against his stomach.

“Let me buy you dinner. It’s the least I can do after what I’ve put you through.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t possibly sit in a restaurant. How about I make some sandwiches at the store and we take them down to the waterfront? I’ve been sitting in that cell all day; I could stand some fresh air and exercise.”

Warmth rushed through Laurie. “That sounds nice. But if your grandfather doesn’t mind me behind the counter, I’d like to make them.” She fell in step beside Daniel, casting a quick glance up at his face. Handsome, honest, forgiving . . . his list was growing longer by the moment.

And best of all—not a rumrunner.

Seagulls rose and fell on the breezes drifting inland at the Port Angeles Harbor. Large rafts of timber floated on the water, men jumping from log to log with long poles clutched in their hands, guiding their bounty toward the mills along the shore.

Daniel turned and watched as Laurie balanced on one of the logs washed up on shore, carefully placing one foot in front of the other with her arms spread, like a tight-rope walker at the circus.

Laurie tipped to one side and her arms flailed for a moment before she righted herself. She turned and walked back in his direction, chewing her lower lip in concentration. When she came close, she took his offered hand for extra balance, a smile toying at the corners of her mouth. She tugged his arm. “Come join me.”

With a deep breath, he hoisted himself up onto the massive timber, careful not to unsteady her in the process. “What if it rolls? I’m not as light on my feet as those fellows out there.”

“It’s half-buried, it’s not going anywhere.” She released his hand, executed a perfect pivot turn, and walked with confidence along the straight trunk.

Daniel stood with his hands outstretched, willing his feet to stop wobbling on the rounded perch. He tried turning his toes forward to walk along the line, spinning his arms to catch himself. Choosing to keep the larger amount of surface area in contact with the log, he edged sideways down the log, arms splayed.

Laurie laughed, the gentle sound trilling through the damp air. Walking backward, she reached her hand for him.

“Show off.”

“I’ve been practicing all my life. It’s not a particularly useful talent, but I had a lot of fun doing it when I was little.”

“I’ve always preferred to keep my feet on the ground.” He slid his shoes along the log until he could grasp Laurie’s steadying hand.

“And here I thought you were a risk taker. I really don’t know you at all, do I?” She shook her head, her blue hat curving around to her chin.

He stepped closer, grasping her hand and pulling her close under the guise of support. “A risk taker? Like your brother, you mean?”

She ducked her head. “Yes.”

“No. I’m more the make-a-plan-and-stick-to-it type.”

She glanced up, her eyes warming. “Steady. Honest.”

He wobbled and she placed her other hand in the small of his back. “Steady? Maybe when I’m safe on the ground. Of course, I hope steady isn’t just another word for boring.”

She cocked her head and examined him. “No. More like . . . responsible, trustworthy.”

He locked his knees and gazed at her beauty. Her honey-brown hair curled around her chin and her blue eyes danced. He released her hand and reached to touch a freckle on her cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. He wanted nothing more than to reach down and kiss that lone freckle.

“And trustworthy is hard to come by these days,” she sighed.

He hardly dared to breathe as she leaned against him. He put his arm around her back as she rested her head on his shoulder, gazing out across the harbor.