Mail Order Sweetheart Page 23

  One thing was certain. Whatever the reason, it was important enough to risk his life. He’d rowed in front of the ship and stood up in the rowboat yelling something. Standing up in a rowboat!

  She shrieked when the boat wobbled perilously. The last of the ice had just floated out a week ago. She gripped the railing, praying for him to stay dry. He flailed his arms and steadied the rowboat. The man might not have sense, but he had fine balance. Then the ship turned and headed down the river to Lake Michigan.

  She could not let such effort go to waste, so she made her way toward the pilothouse, Mary Clare in tow.

  “He proposed,” an elderly woman told her friend as Fiona passed. “From a rowboat. Can you imagine?”

  Proposed. Urgency prickled across Fiona’s skin, and she hurried her pace. Sawyer had proposed? Was it possible? In spite of her anger and coldness toward him, he’d still proposed? Her heart pounded, and she knew in that instant that she could never make a life in Harmony. The man she loved was in Singapore. Yes, his father and her niece complicated the situation, but people who loved each other worked things out. They moved forward in faith. Wasn’t that what Louise had been trying to tell her?

  “Stop, Aunt Fiona! I can’t keep up,” Mary Clare protested, panting hard.

  Fiona slowed to her niece’s pace, but the urgency still pounded at her temples. Sawyer wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble and risk for something trivial. But when lives were at stake, his courage surpassed that of anyone she’d ever known. She’d seen that the night of the shipwreck.

  She climbed the stairs to the pilothouse, brushing aside a crewman who tried to direct her back to the passenger deck.

  “You can’t go in there,” the man insisted, his face red. “No children. No women.”

  Fiona ignored the latter and directed Mary Clare to wait for her outside.

  Before she’d finished, the captain opened the door and invited them both to come into the small room filled with shiny brass instruments and a big wooden ship’s wheel.

  “What troubles you, ma’am?” the captain asked after the crewman closed the door behind them.

  “Did you see the man in the rowboat?” Fiona went on to explain that Sawyer would only have done such a thing if it was urgent. “Could we possibly return?”

  She hesitated to explain further, but one of the crew chimed in that the man in the rowboat had asked someone aboard the ship to marry him.

  That made two witnesses. Fiona could barely breathe as she waited for the verdict.

  Beneath his graying whiskers, the captain smiled. “Anything for love.”

  Love. Was it possible Sawyer truly loved her? Had love driven him to risk his life in the icy river? She would soon find out.

  After nosing out into Lake Michigan, the captain turned the vessel to return to port. The mate grumbled about the extra fuel used, but the captain paid him no mind.

  Mary Clare looked up at Fiona. “Are we going home?”

  Fiona’s heart tugged. What did the little girl consider home? New York? Fiona couldn’t give her that, but maybe, just maybe, she could give her a home with parents who loved each other and wanted the best for the family. Truly, there was nothing more important than that.

  When the ship rounded the curve, and Singapore appeared from behind the dune, Sawyer was still sitting in the rowboat in the middle of the wide bend. At nearly the same instant she spotted him, he began to row to shore. Deep, strong strokes propelled the craft across the shimmering water like one of those whirligig water bugs that danced around on the surface near shore. He headed for the bit of land past the docks, where he could drag the little boat ashore.

  Fiona turned to the captain. “Thank you, sir. I realize it was a lot to ask.”

  The man pretended it was nothing, but it clearly was. She had cost them at least an hour on their schedule.

  Fiona left the pilothouse, holding Mary Clare by the hand, and wound her way down to the main deck and then forward as far as the crew would allow. She kept looking for Sawyer but didn’t spot him until the ship pulled alongside the dock. He stood over by the general store talking to Roland and didn’t appear in any hurry to greet the ship. Her nerves increased. It was worse than stepping on an unfamiliar stage for the first time. What if the woman and crewman had heard wrong? What if Sawyer hadn’t been waving at her at all? What if he’d been trying to catch someone else’s attention? Such as Dinah.

  Fiona gnawed on her lower lip. She’d made this decision, had turned an entire ship around and now she must go through with it regardless of the outcome.

  Ashore, a few of the curious stepped out of shops and homes to see what was going on. When the ship’s crew extended the gangway and only she and Mary Clare disembarked, she would have a lot of explaining to do.

  “You didn’t answer me,” Mary Clare pointed out.

  “What?”

  “Are we going home?”

  “Oh. Yes, I suppose you could say that. We’ll return to the boardinghouse.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” That reaction surprised Fiona. “That’s what you consider home?”

  Mary Clare looked up at her. “Home is where you are.”

  Tears rose in Fiona’s eyes. She looked away and blinked rapidly. Home might be a boardinghouse, but it didn’t matter as long as she had Mary Clare. She knelt and hugged the little girl close.

  “For me too.” She gave her niece a rather teary smile. “We will make the boardinghouse home.”

  Mrs. Calloway would take her back. Fiona had no doubt of that. What she would do to support Mary Clare and herself was another matter. She might have to beg Sawyer for employment if what he’d shouted from his rowboat wasn’t directed to her.

  “Miss Fiona!” The breathless cry came from none other than Dinah, who’d appeared with Linore at her side. “I heard you’re goin’ back. I wanna stay here too.”

  Fiona steeled her expression. Maybe Sawyer had been waving at Dinah. If so, Fiona had made a tragic mistake.

  “I thought you were going to Harmony.”

  “You know I don’t wanna.” Her gaze drifted to shore, and Fiona’s spirits sank. Dinah was looking for Sawyer. “Please help me.”

  “I don’t know what I can do,” Fiona began.

  Dinah interrupted. “You don’t have to do nothing ’cept explain to Mr. Adamson if he asks why I’m leavin’.”

  “But where will you live? What will you do?”

  Dinah’s eyes sparkled. “I’m gettin’ married.”

  Fiona caught her breath.

  Then Dinah started waving madly. “There he is! There he is! See, Linore. I told you he loved me.”

  Fiona clenched her jaw. She could not watch Dinah marry Sawyer. She could not live in the same town with them. Perhaps she might go to Saugatuck or even Holland.

  “Lenny!” Dinah shouted, leaning over the railing.

  Lenny? Fiona didn’t recognize that name. When she looked to shore, sure enough, one of the sawmill workers was waving up at Dinah.

  Fiona let out her breath in a whoosh.

  Dinah danced along the railing, trying to get closer to her beau. Linore didn’t follow.

  Fiona turned to the usually bubbly redhead. “Are you staying in Singapore too?”

  “No. I honor my promises.” But there was something wistful behind the defiance.

  “I wish I had a place of my own. Then I could invite you to stay with me.”

  Linore shrugged, her emotions now shuttered. “Like I said. I honor my promises.”

  “Then why come up here with Dinah?”

  “In case Mr. Adamson followed. I was supposed to distract him.”

  Oh, the games young ladies played. Seeing as Mr. Adamson had yet to appear, Fiona hoped Dinah’s rebellion didn’t create a scene.
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  “Dinah doesn’t need me, though.” Linore wore a tough expression, but there was a lot of hurt underneath it.

  Fiona understood. “If you ever want to return, I’ll do my best to help you.”

  Linore’s defenses temporarily dropped before they went up again. “I can’t see that I’d ever come back, but thank you anyway.” Then she trudged off.

  If only Fiona had the means to start that school. She didn’t and likely never would. Even if Sawyer had proposed to her, he not only wasn’t well-off, he was in debt.

  “You’re squeezing my hand too tight,” Mary Clare informed her.

  Fiona let go. “I’m sorry. You can be on your own, but don’t leave my side. And hold my hand when we walk off the ship on the gangway.” The narrow, shaky walkway didn’t feel quite safe.

  Mary Clare heaved a sigh. “I’m not a baby.”

  “No, you’re not. But you are my responsibility. I promised your mama I’d take care of you.”

  “That’s what Aunt Lilli said, but she doesn’t think you’ll be any good at it. I heard her tell Aunt Peg that she’d bake her an apple pie if I didn’t get sent right back there.”

  That sounded like Lillibeth.

  “Well, I’m not sending you right back there.” She would deal with the problem of Winslow Evanston later. Maybe Louise was right. With the proper support and perspective, Mary Clare would learn to identify and ignore falsehoods.

  “Good,” the little girl said. “I like it here.”

  So did Fiona. Crazy as it seemed, she’d grown to love the lumber town with its sandy streets and ever-changing population. She stood and watched as the town came into full view. Singapore was about as far from New York City as a girl could get, but it had a warmth that Fiona hadn’t found in the city.

  Mary Clare tugged on her sleeve. “There’s that man who was in the boat.” She pointed to shore.

  Sure enough, Sawyer was on the dock now, looking uncommonly somber.

  Her nerves fluttered again. Had she made a big mistake? Was he only trying to warn the captain that there was a problem with the ship?

  He scanned the ship, looking for something or someone. Please, let it be her.

  “Oh, Sawyer.” She sighed. “Paul.”

  Paul Evanston. Could she get used to that name? Would she have an opportunity to try?

  A sob choked out, and tears burned in her eyes. Her hand went to her lips. She could not break down and cry in public. Fiona O’Keefe did not do such things.

  “Why are you sad?” Mary Clare asked.

  Fiona swallowed hard. “I’m not sad.”

  She looked away, not wanting to see if he looked for someone else. His father was still in town. The thought of facing Winslow Evanston again set her nerves on edge. Perhaps she should begin educating Mary Clare now.

  ”Some people say bad things about me.”

  Mary Clare looked up at her. “Like that man in the newspapers?”

  Fiona blinked. “You can read already?”

  “I know how to read names, and I saw yours.” Mary Clare tilted her head. “I asked Aunt Lilli what the newspaper said, and she told me. She said that rich people think they can say anything they want, but I’m to remember that what matters is what God says about me.”

  Fiona was stunned. Her sister had said that? Lillibeth had more sense than she’d given her credit for. “What does God say about you?” she asked hesitantly.

  Mary Clare didn’t hesitate. “That I’m a princess.”

  Then that bit wasn’t about Celtic royalty after all, it was all about the best royal family possible. Fiona hugged Mary Clare. “That’s right. You are God’s daughter. Since He’s King, that makes you a princess.”

  Mary Clare nodded emphatically, certain of that truth.

  Fiona let her niece’s simple faith soak in. What was true for little Mary Clare was true for Fiona too. Status didn’t come from fancy gowns or social standing, it came from her relationship with the one true King. A weight lifted from her shoulders, and a laugh bubbled to her lips. How simple! And yet how perfectly earth-shattering. Nothing else mattered.

  “Miss?” One of the crew interrupted her thoughts.

  She blinked back the tears of joy. “Yes?”

  “We’re ready for you and your daughter to disembark now.”

  Her daughter. And God’s daughter. In that moment, she knew beyond all doubt that they would be all right. Storms would come, but the Lord calmed storms.

  The crewman motioned them forward.

  She took Mary Clare’s hand.

  The girl walked with certainty. So could Fiona, knowing God walked with them.

  * * *

  Sawyer paced the dock in front of Roland, who was tolerating his impatience like a mother tolerated a child’s petulant cries. It was taking an interminably long time to moor the ship and extend the gangway. Moreover, he could no longer see Fiona or her niece. After Mary Clare had pointed him out to her aunt, both had stepped back from the railing.

  “I need a ring,” Sawyer growled as he passed Roland for the umpteenth time.

  “I don’t have a ring in stock, but she’ll appreciate your idea more than any jewelry.”

  Sawyer wasn’t so sure. “This is Fiona we’re talking about. Haven’t you noticed her jewelry?”

  “I heard she gave it all away, along with most of her fancy gowns.”

  “What? Fiona would never give away her finery.” Unless she didn’t intend to return. He clenched his jaw.

  “You’ll have all the answers soon.” Roland clapped him on the back. “Come to the store if you need anything.”

  Sawyer barely heard his friend. The ship had finished mooring and was now discharging someone. It must be Fiona. Sawyer closed his eyes. Please God, let it be her.

  When he opened them again, Fiona was making her way down the gangway, one hand on the railing, and the other clutching Mary Clare as if terrified the little girl would fall overboard. The girl, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm. She waved at Sawyer and gave him a big, somewhat toothless smile.

  Sawyer waved back. In the past he would have felt like a fool doing that. But today it felt right, natural. From what Roland had told him, Mary Clare had traveled from New York City in the escort of people she did not know. That took a lot of courage from a girl of seven, the same sort of courage her aunt had.

  Fiona reached the dock and at last looked his way.

  He took off his hat. At her frown he hastily put it back on. What was proper for such occasions? A man didn’t propose to a woman every day. Moreover, he’d forced a whole ship to turn around just to bring her back. Hopefully she would accept his proposal.

  After a deep breath, he hurried toward them.

  “Fiona—Miss O’Keefe,” he said, a bit out of breath. “Miss Mary Clare.”

  The little girl stuck out her hand. “Pleased to see you again.”

  He shook it. “You’re very polite.”

  “Miss Gulliver—she’s the one who took care of me on the train—said that good manners can take a person far. I didn’t need anyone watching me, but Aunt Lilli insisted.” Her sigh told him just what she thought of that.

  “Your aunt was right. You should always travel with another person—an adult,” he added at the sharp look from Fiona.

  Mary Clare rolled her eyes. “I figured that’s what you’d say. That’s what all the adults say, as if they know better.”

  “We have learned a few things over the years,” Fiona interjected.

  “Not everything, or we wouldn’t have had to come back.” Mary Clare pointed to the gangway. “There’s your trunks, Aunt Fiona. Does that mean we’re staying?”

  Instead of answering right away, Fiona looked at him. The lump in his throat melted. She cared for him. He could s
ee it in her eyes...along with caution. She’d been hurt badly. By his father. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her again. That included his father.

  Fiona looked down at Mary Clare. “Perhaps we will stay. At least until the next ship.”

  That statement stabbed through Sawyer, threatening to erase the hope he’d just built. “You could stay longer.”

  Fiona didn’t give anything away in her expression. “Do I have a reason to stay?”

  Mary Clare looked from her aunt to him and back again before heaving a sigh and wandering off to the pile of trunks.

  Though his heart hammered on his rib cage, Sawyer focused on Fiona. “To run your school.”

  “But I don’t have a school.” She paused, then her eyes widened as the meaning behind his statement struck. “What are you saying, Paul Evanston?”

  He cringed at the name. “That man is dead. He died a long time ago. I’m Sawyer Evans now and for the rest of my life.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched. “Like a stage name.”

  “No, a new man, like Saul becoming the apostle Paul or Simon becoming Peter. The old man is gone. I’m my own man, Fiona. I’ve broken all contact with my father. After what he did to you...” He fisted his hands. “It was heartless and unthinkable.”

  “It could have been worse if I hadn’t seen him for who he is.”

  Sawyer shuddered. “I’m glad you did. I’ll do everything in my power to prevent him from reaching you or Mary Clare.”

  “Thank you.” She did look grateful. “But you haven’t answered me. What school?”

  “The one in the west wing of the hotel.”

  “There’s no school...” Again her eyes widened. “How is this possible?”

  That was the stumbling block in his plan. “It will take time...and a lot of work, but I promise you that I will see it built.” He’d thought it over while waiting for the ship to dock. “The west wing is most easily separated from the rest of the hotel. We can make a new entrance and block the hallway that leads between the main hotel and that wing so the ladies have complete privacy.”