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  “You turned your back on your entire family.”

  “No. I write to Mother. She knows I’m here and that I changed my name.” Which was how Father found him. “My younger brother and I were never close, but I just learned he is now married.”

  “Then he inherits.”

  Is that what concerned her? Bile rose in his throat. Surely Father couldn’t be right. Surely Fiona wasn’t a fortune hunter. There was only one way to find out.

  “I suppose he does.” Sawyer watched her expression. “What’s certain is that I won’t.”

  Fiona didn’t react at all. She appeared frozen in disbelief except that fury still danced in her eyes.

  He offered one final explanation. “Once I learned what type of man my father truly was, I couldn’t have my name associated with his. That’s why I changed it. That’s why I won’t go back.”

  She nodded slightly, her expression still rigid. “I see.”

  She then resumed climbing the staircase.

  That was all? She understood but offered no forgiveness? Or had he truly asked?

  “I deeply regret the hurt I’ve caused.”

  Again she paused.

  He took a breath and steadied his voice, which was getting ragged with emotion. “I regret not being fully honest with you from the beginning and hope you will forgive me.”

  She didn’t move.

  He held his breath.

  Then, her back rigid, she walked up the stairs and disappeared from view.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fiona O’Keefe didn’t cry. Then why were tears streaming down her face? Why these wretched heaving sobs? No man had ever affected her like this before. She had broken off many a relationship before it got to the awkward, demanding stage.

  “Get control of yourself. He’s just a man, one not to be trusted.” Then why did the sobs return, forcing her to once again press her handkerchief to her face?

  Louise slipped into the room without knocking and closed the door behind her. “We all make mistakes.”

  “Don’t counsel me.” Then, regretting the way she’d snapped at her innocent roommate, she added, “I’m sorry.”

  Louise sat beside her on the bed. “It’s all right. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I can tell by the look of devastation on his face that he loves you.”

  Such words only increased the pain. It had gotten so bad that Fiona could barely breathe. “I can’t take a chance,” she managed to say between gasps.

  “Why not?”

  The answer was obvious. “I can’t let Mary Clare anywhere near Winslow Evanston.”

  “But what does that have to do with Sawyer? He would protect you and Mary Clare.”

  Fiona swallowed the ache in her heart. In her despair, she’d nearly unveiled Sawyer’s secret. “Perhaps he would for now, but what does the future hold?”

  “None of us know the future.”

  Fiona’s resolve strengthened. “Look at what happened to you. A bad choice is worse than not marrying at all.”

  “Why would you think Sawyer is a bad choice? He’s been nothing but kind and thoughtful.”

  Fiona shook her head. “It might seem that way, but what’s beneath the surface? Like father; like son?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Fiona gasped. Sawyer’s secret had slipped out. Perhaps Louise had already made the connection. If not, she would hear about it. She might as well hear it from a friend. “He’s not who he claims to be.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s not a lumberjack.” Fiona’s throat ached from holding back the tears. “Oh, he might well have cut down a tree or two, but he’s no illiterate drifter moving from one camp to the next.”

  “He is exceedingly well-read, but that’s not a crime.”

  “Lying is.”

  Louise spoke barely above a whisper. “How did he lie to you?”

  “Sawyer is the son of the man who ruined my reputation in New York, Winslow Evanston.” There. She’d said it. But the speaking didn’t relieve the pain. If anything, it made it worse, for deep down she knew that Sawyer was nothing like his father. Still, she couldn’t take a chance.

  “But they don’t have the same last name.”

  “Sawyer changed his name to distance himself from his father.”

  “That’s a good sign. He doesn’t want to be associated with his father.”

  Fiona shook her head. “Changing a name doesn’t change a man’s nature.”

  Louise sat quietly for a moment. “Does it follow that a child is always like the parent?”

  “They inherit traits.”

  “Then you are like your mother.”

  Fiona choked on the thought. “No! Not at all.” Her mother acquiesced to her father’s poor decisions instead of lifting her voice in opposition.

  “Perhaps Sawyer isn’t at all like his father.”

  “It’s different.” Though Fiona knew she was grasping at straws, she had to find something to relieve the anguish tearing her apart. “I came from nothing. He comes from wealth.”

  “Mmm.” Louise didn’t articulate her thoughts further.

  “You believe I’m being unfair.”

  “Just a bit hasty.”

  “I have no choice. I need to protect Mary Clare.”

  “And you think living in Harmony will keep away anything that might hurt her. Do you really believe that?”

  Fiona hated that Louise made sense, but she couldn’t admit it. “What do you know?”

  “I know that no place is so remote that evil can’t find it. Our only hope is in God.”

  Fiona needed more than faith to protect her young charge. “I am responsible for her. That means doing all I can to keep her from hurt and pain.” Fiona blotted the remaining moisture from her face with her handkerchief. “I couldn’t live with myself if I had an opportunity to act and didn’t do it. Mary Clare’s needs come first now. Speaking of Mary Clare, where is she?”

  “Serenading Mrs. Calloway and the ladies in the parlor. She’s very accomplished and sure of herself for her age.”

  Fiona warmed at the praise for her niece. “That she is. Such an imagination!”

  “Do you think the grand duchess would be content living in a colony on a remote island?”

  “At least she will be alive.”

  “She would be alive here too.”

  “But I have no means to support her here. In Harmony, our needs will be provided for. It’s a community where all work together and share the fruits of the labor.”

  Louise merely gave her a look of disbelief.

  Spoken aloud it did sound unrealistic. But Singapore had its own issues. “The only business likely to hire in the foreseeable future is the hotel.” That meant working for Sawyer. And through him, Winslow Evanston. Never.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  The inarticulate response made Fiona stare at her roommate. “That’s all you have to say?”

  “I’m saying it’s not the worst job a lady can have.”

  “Of course. Working in the saloons would be much worse. They’ve asked me to sing there countless times.”

  “Yet, you didn’t. Why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? It would only confirm the lies and rumors that Winslow Evanston is probably spreading right now.”

  “Sawyer would uphold your reputation.”

  Fiona gritted her teeth so the tears didn’t return. “Stop.” It was too painful to explain.

  “He truly does love you.”

  That’s what hurt. He loved her. She loved him. But they could never be a family. Sawyer’s father had sealed that.

  Louise plucked at her sleeve. “I read the newspaper stories back in New York.” />
  “Then you knew all along that I was the one they called Madam Songbird?”

  Louise nodded somberly. “But I could also tell the stories weren’t true. I have some experience with that.”

  Fiona held her breath. Louise seldom said anything about her past. “You?”

  “My late husband vilified me publicly when I discovered he had developed a...relationship with a woman I’d considered a friend. He said my coldness pushed him into the other woman’s arms.”

  “No one who knows you would believe it.”

  “He was a persuasive and well-liked man. They believed him.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Fiona clasped Louise’s hand.

  “It’s all right. He joined the war effort as a cavalry officer, intending to gain influence in Washington but ended up getting shot.” She stared blankly ahead. “It was both heartbreaking and a relief. It might be wrong to think that way, but since coming to Singapore, I’ve learned that I do have value.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “And so do you. Stay. Not for Sawyer or any other man. Stay here for yourself and Mary Clare. Show everyone who you truly are.”

  Fiona shook her head. Louise didn’t understand. Louise had lost both trust and love for her husband. Fiona’s trust in Sawyer was shaken, but she still loved him so much that just seeing him hurt. She couldn’t possibly live in the same town and beg work from him to make ends meet. She couldn’t face his father again, and the man was bound to visit often with his son here. Worst of all, she couldn’t watch Sawyer court and marry another woman.

  She rose. “My mind is made up. We sail at three o’clock.”

  * * *

  The walk back to the hotel turned wet when the dark clouds unleashed a downpour. Sawyer barely felt the rain. Every word from the discussion with Fiona replayed in his mind. What had he done wrong to drive her away? Why couldn’t she forgive him? Father’s slurs against her were bad, but surely she could see that he was not at all like his father.

  After drying off, he absently arranged and rearranged the registration book, the pen and the figurine of a girl in traditional Dutch garb and wooden shoes that the VanderLeuvens had brought from Holland.

  “That statue reminds me of our happiest times.” Mrs. VanderLeuven reminisced from the door to the dining room. “We were young and just bought the hotel. We hadn’t a cent to our names and owed the bank more than we thought we’d ever be able to repay.” She dabbed at her eyes. “Sometimes I wish for those days again.”

  The lesson wasn’t lost on Sawyer. Having a strong financial foundation wasn’t the key to a solid marriage. He’d begun to think that too, but he was only half of the equation. “Fiona wouldn’t agree. She’ll do anything not to return to poverty.”

  “Now, now, don’t you go believin’ everything a woman tells you.” She clucked her tongue. “Sometimes a lady doesn’t know her own heart.”

  That didn’t help the situation at all. “Thank you, Mrs. VanderLeuven.”

  “Don’t let her go.”

  Why did every older woman give him the same advice? Sawyer glanced at the grandfather clock. Five minutes before three o’clock. “It’s too late. She will have boarded by now.”

  “Then you’ll have to hurry.”

  Sawyer couldn’t forget Fiona’s silent retreat up the staircase. “I don’t know how to convince her.”

  “Did you try giving her a ring and asking her to marry you?”

  Sawyer gaped. He’d done a pile of persuading and completely missed the obvious.

  “Youth is wasted.” Mrs. VanderLeuven shook her head. “Plumb wasted.”

  Sawyer looked down at the registration book. “The hotel—”

  “Will still be here. Go.” She waved her arm until Sawyer got the hint. “Run if you have to. You don’t want to miss her.”

  The lobby door swung open, ushering in a burst of wind and Sawyer’s father.

  The man had the audacity to grin. “She’s gone. Good riddance, I say. No Evanston would tie himself to a poor immigrant.”

  Something inside Sawyer snapped. “Maybe no Evanston would, but an Evans would be honored. Fiona O’Keefe is the finest woman I’ve ever met, and I will do whatever it takes to win her hand.” He tugged on his coat. “I hereby forfeit any claim to your fortune. You can put that in writing and send it to me. I’ll sign it.” He skirted his father. “If you don’t, I’ll have it drawn up myself.”

  “Son—”

  “Oh, and one more thing.” Sawyer pointed at his father. “You will respect Fiona as much as you respect Mother. I won’t hear one word against her. Ever.”

  Sawyer dashed out of the hotel and clattered down the front steps. He didn’t have a ring at hand, and there was no time to stop by the general store. He needed something else to pledge his commitment, but what did he have?

  A stone—rare as those were—lodged in his shoe and forced him to stop. While pulling off his shoe, emptying it and replacing it, he looked back at the hotel. The hotel! Of course.

  Shoe replaced, he ran down the boardwalk toward the dock. He could see the smokestacks of the side-wheel steamer. The improperly named Bayshore Clipper was puffing black smoke and appeared to be pulling away from the dock. Though gasping for breath, he increased his pace. The only woman he’d ever truly loved was leaving, and this was his only chance to stop her.

  Each board in the boardwalk seemed a million miles from his destination. Other people strolling along became obstacles. He jumped off the boardwalk and slogged through the sand to avoid one couple. Amanda Decker stepped to one side, and he swerved around her, just brushing her market basket as he passed.

  “Sorry,” he apologized to her. “Sorry, but I have to hurry.”

  “Go.” She too waved him on.

  Did everyone in town know of his affection for Fiona and the fact that she was leaving? He didn’t have time to think about it. The docks loomed ahead, and the Bayshore Clipper had already cast off its lines and was pulling away.

  “Fiona!” The word barely squeaked past his gasps for air.

  With hands on his knees, he both tried to catch his breath and scan the ship’s railing. The six young ladies stood together, waving at those gathered on the wharf to see them off. Fiona should be with them, but he couldn’t see her or Mary Clare. Had she changed her mind?

  Then the ship moved farther from the shore, and a ray of sunlight streamed through a break in the clouds. Like a stage light, it caught Fiona’s brilliant red hair. His heart leaped, and the next moment thudded to a stop. She stood on the bow, with Mary Clare at her side. Both studiously looked forward rather than at the shore.

  They did not see him.

  “Fiona!” he yelled, having regained sufficient strength.

  She didn’t budge.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth and tried again.

  Still she didn’t hear him, or chose to ignore him.

  The ship blew its horn again. It was leaving, taking Fiona away. He couldn’t let that happen.

  “No!” Sawyer danced along the dock. “Stop the ship!”

  The vessel didn’t change course.

  He ran to the edge of the dock and waved his arms, trying to capture the attention of captain or crew.

  Roland appeared at his elbow. “Take my boat.” He pointed to a small rowboat pulled onto the shore beyond the end of the dock.

  It would be next to impossible to launch the boat and row the distance to the ship in time to catch it, but Sawyer had to take that chance.

  He took off at a run. Roland followed at a less torrid pace. When Sawyer reached the rowboat, he attempted to turn it over without success. It took both of them to flip it onto its keel. Sawyer grabbed one side, and Roland took the other. Together they slid it into the water. Sawyer climbed into it. Roland handed him o
ars.

  “Thank you,” Sawyer said as he dug them into the water.

  The distance to the ship was great, but with each stroke he was closer to catching Fiona. He pulled with all his strength, and the rowboat skimmed past the logs crowded near the sawmill and then the mercantile. The westerly breeze from the passing squall created a light chop on the surface and slowed his progress. He dug deeper and pulled harder. His shoulders burned. His arms ached.

  Still, the ship was too far away. The paddle wheels paused, signaling the ship was about to change direction from reverse to forward. Once it got momentum, Sawyer would never catch up to it.

  He pulled on the oars with all his might. Though the day was cool and the water icy cold, sweat poured from Sawyer’s brow. He had to catch that ship.

  The paddle wheels churned, and the ship stopped backing and reached the moment of equilibrium when it was going neither backward nor forward. The current caught the bow and pulled it toward the middle of the river. Soon it would tug the nose downstream, and the ship would take off faster than any man could ever row.

  This was his last chance.

  He’d gotten the rowboat within twenty yards. Fiona could see him if she looked his way, but with the lowering sun in his eyes, he couldn’t see her. He stood in the rowboat, ignoring the perilous rocking, and cupped his hands around his mouth again.

  “I love you, Fiona O’Keefe, and I want to marry you!”

  The ship’s nose turned just enough that the broadside of the ship blocked the glare of the sun. That’s when he saw Fiona hurry to the railing. Had she heard him?

  “Fiona O’Keefe, will you marry me?”

  A cry came from the ship, but the churning and splashing of the paddle wheels drowned out any words. The ship came about, and now, pointed downstream, headed on its way.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fiona strained to hear what Sawyer was shouting, but could not. Other passengers insisted he wanted to stop the ship. One even claimed she’d heard him call out Fiona’s name. That alone raised such a storm of emotion that Fiona had to hold on to the damp railing for support. He shouted again, but she couldn’t hear over the chatter of the passengers and the churning of the paddle wheels.