Chapter Seven

“Daniel, I won’t be going with you on up to the settlement.”

Dawn had barely broken on the morning of departure when Josie followed the old man out into the yard, so she might catch him alone on his way back from the “wee hoosie.” She didn’t want Michael or Eunice to hear—not yet. She imagined her brother would have a few things to say about her decision.

Daniel stopped short and turned his wise gaze upon her. For several heartbeats he didn’t speak; then his brow furrowed. “It’s that young man, isn’t it? Young Master Grier. I saw how it was between the two of you. But girl, that doesn’t mean you should stay.”

Josie twisted her fingers in her apron. “Yes, Daniel, I believe it does.”

Slowly and very reluctantly, Daniel shook his head. “Josie, I’m afraid I have to advise against it.”

“Don’t you like him?”

“I like him well enough. He’s upright and respectful. Been generous to us.”

“So?”

“Do I have to say it out straight, girl? He’s white.”

“Half.” Josie’s heart beat a tattoo in her throat. “So am I—half.”

Daniel nodded somberly. He knew what had gone on in the big plantation house—all of it. “Not in the eyes of the world you’re not, girl.”

“This isn’t the world, just one small town.”

“You think that makes a difference? What about those men chasing after us?”

“He says he’ll protect me.”

Daniel laughed, an incredulous sound. “Can’t. They find you, they’ll take you.”

“Don’t say that.” Josie’s worst nightmare, being dragged back to the plantation or to whatever other place Massa Collingwood now lived. She shivered in the cool morning air.

“Honey, I can’t tell you what to do—I ain’t your papa.”

“Yes, Daniel. Yes, you are.”

“And you’re a woman grown now. All I’m saying is, you stand a better chance not getting found up in Nova Scotia.”

“He says he’s willing to come with me.”

“Well then.”

“But that would mean him giving up everything—his job, his place, and his friends. He thinks he has no roots here, but he does. He just doesn’t see it.” She swallowed. “He has a lot to lose.”

“More than freedom?”

“Surely Massa Collingwood won’t send men so far. He has to give up eventually. Daniel, what should I do?”

“How do you feel, child?”

“Like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff ready to jump off.”

Daniel smiled. “No, I mean what do you feel, girl, inside?”

Josie closed her eyes and stood breathing in the morning air, groping internally before opening herself within. She felt…the ties that already bound her and Dougie together, glowing bright as certainty.

She opened her eyes and regarded Daniel. “Guess I’m staying.”

He laid one gnarled hand on her cheek. “Then, child, you have my blessing.”

****

A hard leave-taking, and no mistake. Half a dozen times Douglas feared Josie, standing on the dock beside him, would change her mind and board the Intrepid. Every time another box or bundle was carried aboard he had to keep himself from catching her arm and holding her back from following.

This had to be her decision, her choice, free and clear. But her brother hadn’t made it easy for her, railing at her loud enough to be heard in the forge after he found out, and then laying on the guilt. How will Eunice and Hetty manage without you in a strange place? And what about Daniel? It’s your place to look after him when he gets old.

Josie had mollified him at last with words that chilled Douglas to the heart.

“I can always follow after you, Michael, if this doesn’t work out.”

Even now, standing beside Josie on the wharf and watching as the Intrepid sailed out of the harbor, he smarted over those words. Was that truly how she felt? He’d thought her completely committed to what lay between them and to making a future with him.

He stole a look at her, and his heart softened. Tears poured down her face like rain. He tried to imagine how it would feel to watch everyone he knew and loved sail away.

Almost everyone.

He would have to be more to her now, would have to be her whole world. A frightening thought, since he’d never really lived for anybody except himself. That had been hard enough.

How much harder to take this fragile bird into his hands? Well, but if he couldn’t protect her, he had to believe his love could.

That was what he felt for her: love the likes of which he’d never imagined. And she must love him too, else she’d be on that ship she now watched out of sight. He needed to remember that.

When nothing was visible on the cloudy horizon, he turned and touched her shoulder. “Come on.”

She palmed the tears from her cheeks. “What now?”

“Now we ask for advice. Let’s go see Mrs. Sinclair.”

Josie had met Lisbeth Sinclair once, when Lisbeth stopped by the blacksmith shop one afternoon. So far they had only a passing acquaintance. Followed by more than one curious gaze, Douglas now led Josie away from the harbor—away from her whole past—and to the little house that overlooked the sea.

Chieftain greeted them when they drew near and led them through the tumbled flowers to the front door, which stood open to the humid morning. Even as they approached Douglas could hear the two boys, Archie and Alasdair, kicking up a fuss. Barely a year separated them in age, and Lisbeth often said they should have been twins, alike as they were with their black hair and mischievous natures.

Douglas couldn’t count the scrapes they’d been in, and into which Rab had needed to wade to rescue them. He also knew Rab’s heart beat for them, along with Lisbeth and Dorothea.

A frightening thing, he reflected now, letting your heart stray outside your body and start beating for someone else.

He eyed the woman beside him as they waited for Lisbeth to answer the door. Would they have a crop of children together? Was he man enough to protect them all?

Lisbeth smiled when she saw them, with what looked like genuine pleasure. “Douglas, come in. Or, as Rab would say, ‘come away in.’ ” Just like Douglas, Lisbeth had over the years acquired a number of colloquialisms by association. Now she ran a swift look over both him and Josie, and marked the traces of tears on Josie’s cheeks.

“Please don’t mind the mess,” she bade. “I’m just clearing away breakfast. Would you like some?”

“Oh, ma’am.” Josie pressed her hands to her stomach. “Thank you, but I don’t think I could.”

“Tea, then.” Lisbeth smiled again. “Dora, put the kettle back on the hob.”

She led them into the big kitchen with its scrubbed pine table, where it appeared a storm had blown through. Used dishes cluttered the tabletop, and the drain board, as well; a pot of herbs had been overturned on the windowsill, and toys littered the floor.

Chieftain, who’d followed them in, calmly inserted himself beneath the table, where he began to eat from what looked like a puddle of spilled oatmeal.

Dorothea, standing at the hearth, turned and smiled at them.

“Here, Miss Freeman, sit down.” Lisbeth hastily cleared a place at the table. “Is everything all right?”

“The Intrepid just sailed,” Douglas explained. “Josie stayed behind. With me.”

“Oh!” The gasp came from Dorothea, whose lips formed a perfect O.

For just a moment, Lisbeth looked nonplussed. Then she reached out and touched Josie’s hand where it rested on the tabletop. “Oh, my dear, how monumental for you.”

Josie nodded, far more wretchedly than Douglas liked.

“And how blindingly romantic!” Dorothea breathed.

The smile that had the power to touch Douglas’s soul broke across Josie’s face. She nodded again. “It is that, miss.”

“Dorothea.” The girl came and sat across from Josie. “You must call me that, or Dora. We’re going to be friends.”

Josie nodded yet again; tears once more flooded her eyes.

“How old are you? I’m thirteen,” Dora said proudly. “You can’t be that much older.”

“Dora, don’t pester Miss Freeman,” Lisbeth cautioned.

“No, ma’am, honestly I don’t mind. I’m nineteen,” Josie told Dorothea. “Only just.”

“We’ll be best friends,” Dorothea decided. “I shall call you ‘Jo.’ It’s one of my favorite names.”

“Hush now, Dora,” Lisbeth bade. “Alasdair and Archie, you take Chieftain out in the yard. Dora, will you please do up the dishes so we might talk?”

The boys went out back, where they promptly began playing noisily. Dorothea obediently got up and gathered the dirty dishes.

Lisbeth gave Josie time to settle while she made tea and set the cups in front of them along with a plate of biscuits. She then took the bench Dorothea had vacated.

“There now. What can I do for you?”

Douglas had once considered Lisbeth Sinclair the prettiest woman he knew—Josie, his Josie, had now supplanted her, though, in his estimation. But Lisbeth had soft, ash-blonde hair and dreamy, blue-gray eyes that belied a very practical nature beneath. And she had a heart nearly as kind as her husband’s.

He cleared his throat. “I’m hoping you can advise us the best way to go about this thing,” he confessed.

“This thing?”

Josie palmed still more tears. “We’ve just jumped off a cliff.” She stole a look at Douglas. “Holding hands.”

“Ah.”

Douglas said, “I want everything to be right and proper. Till we’re married, I mean.”

“Oh!” Dorothea exclaimed again and dropped the oatmeal pot with a clang.

Lisbeth, bless her heart, didn’t so much as blink.

“People will talk,” Douglas pressed on. “Well, they’re going to talk anyway.” They’d talked about him all his life. How much more ammunition they would have now!

“Yes, well,” Lisbeth said easily, “the thing you have to remember about gossip, it’s the product of small minds. People who can’t think of anything better or more worthy to occupy them talk about other people.”

With absolute certainty Douglas said, “That doesn’t make it sting any less.”

“True.”

“Josie, here, can go on living at the quarters behind the forge.”

Without hesitation, Lisbeth offered, “And you can continue to stay here, Douglas.”

Josie swiveled her head and looked at him. “This is where you’ve been sleeping?”

“Only,” Douglas went on, “folks might say I went creeping back there even when I didn’t—now her family’s gone.”

Dorothea abandoned her dishes and came to the table. “Not if Jo stays here with us in place of you. She can share my room. And, heck, we’re so respectable nobody will blink an eye. Then, once you’re married, Jo can go home.”

Josie shot Lisbeth a glance, hopeful and measuring. “Oh, I couldn’t expect…”

“You’re not expecting, we’re offering.” Lisbeth smiled at her daughter. “I think that’s a fine idea.”

Douglas let out his breath with a whoosh.

Dorothea leaned on the table. “Jo, do you have a wedding dress? Oh, Ma—how about that white dress you were making when the order got cancelled? It’s almost done.”

“So it is.” Lisbeth answered Josie’s questioning look with the explanation, “I’m a seamstress, you see—I work here out of the house.”

Dorothea beamed, “She’ll look so beautiful.”

“So she will,” Lisbeth agreed.

Douglas, too grateful to speak, remained silent.

Josie cast him a desperate look. “I’ll need a job, though. I can’t just live on other people’s charity.”

“As for that, how are you with a needle?” Lisbeth asked. “I’ve been considering taking someone on.”

The breathtaking smile broke across Josie’s face once more. “Mrs. Sinclair, ma’am, sewing’s one of the things I do best.”