The Sailor And the Siren Read online

  “Our?” His tone was warm and his lips hinted at a smile.

  “The crew,” she hedged, “but since you’ve become the savior of our bread, I might be so bold as to offer you a seat at the table.”

  He nodded and looked down at the floor for a moment. “You might,” he lifted his chin until his gaze could meet hers again, “but if it’s a supper for the crew then I’ll already have a seat.” He held out his hand to her. “I’m Andrew Brooks. The captain hired me on as his cargo clerk.”

  She took his hand before she could think better of it. “Mister Brooks, happy to have you join us on the Siren. I think you’ll enjoy traveling up and down the river with us. I’m Rosemary Tillman.”

  They shook on the introduction, but neither was in much of a rush to pull away, but propriety was… well, as it always was, and Rosemary was just as cognizant of her place as she always was, so she lowered her hand to her side.

  “Did you just come aboard?”

  He nodded, his eyes following her as her senses followed him as she walked back to the stove, lifting the long handled spoon.

  “I was able to meet Moses and Lonnie before the captain was called away.”

  “By Missus Abraham,” she guessed and saw his smile deepen. “The captain is always obliging his wife.”

  Leaning against the counter almost a foot away, Andrew Brooks lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “It is better to be obliging than a target for a woman who no doubt has excellent aim.”

  Rosemary hazarded a look out of the corner of her eye.

  He certainly had a wit and a discerning eye.

  “Have you known Missus Abraham long?”

  Shaking his head, he gave her a curious look. “I’ve been in the vicinity of the captain as she bellowed at him. I find that ample opportunity to know her.”

  Stirring the stew, she offered up her own quiet observation. “If you are smart, Mister Brooks, that is as close as you’ll get to her for now.”

  His chuckle was soft enough to tickle her ears, and warm her heart. “I had a feeling you were a wise woman, Miss Tillman. I am glad to know you’ve a sense of humor as well.”

  She heard him take a step closer and didn’t have to turn to see him leaning toward the stewpot.

  “I may enjoy a bit of flattery from time to time, but if you think you’ll get an early taste,” she pursed her lips and shook her head, “you’ll curry no favor from me.”

  He offered her a disappointed sigh. “Even though I’ve just arrived and haven’t had a chance for a bite since morning?”

  She set her spoon down and gave him a look that said she didn’t suffer fools gladly, or at all. “Well, as long as you promise not to tell Loretta that I fed you ahead of the others, I might just have a little something that could tide you over until it’s time for supper.”

  “You would have my forever gratitude, Miss Tillman.”

  The thought was very, very appealing. Gesturing to a chair at the table she told him to have a seat. “Be careful what you offer an impressionable young woman, sir.”

  His smile broadened and she felt her heart thump loudly in her chest. She was sure he must have heard it bouncing against the hard wall of her corset.

  “And why is that?” he asked her.

  Taking an apple from a basket on the counter she set about wiping down the piece of fruit before she could set about making him a sandwich to make a dent in his hunger.

  “Forever can be a long time to a woman such as myself.”

  “And I,” his smile deepened enough that she could almost see a dimple in his cheek, “am a man of my word.”

  “Oh,” that was all she could say in reply as her cheeks burned bright.

  Chapter Two

  When Rosemary awoke before the dawn and entered the kitchen, the room was already alive and bustling with noise and the sweet scents of breakfast.

  Sally perked up when Rosemary closed the door behind her.

  “Look at you, Miss. I’d say we expected you to walk in here with a big smile this morning.”

  “Why, Sally, you know I have a smile on my face every morning.” Rosemary caught Loretta’s eye as the cook worked the dough she had on the table. “Morning, Loretta.”

  “Morning, Rosemary. Grab an apron from the pegs and get to work.”

  Rosemary smiled in gratitude. “Right away.” She wrapped the ties around her waist and formed a careful bow at the low curve in her back. “What would you have me do?”

  Tipping her chin down, Loretta looked at the big bushel basket of potatoes that sat on a stool beside the table. “I know how you love to peel those infernal things.”

  Pinning on one corner of her apron to her blouse, Rosemary chuckled. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Loretta.”

  “Ooh,” the other kitchen assistant laughed, “now we know you’re hidin’ something, Rosemary. Ain’t no one of us like to peel potatoes. I wondered about that man.”

  Loretta shook her head. “What man is this?”

  The two kitchen girls turned around to look at Rosemary who valiantly tried to keep her emotions under lock and key.

  Sally was the one who burst out with the information as if she was a pot of boiling water, bubbling over the edge. “Mr. Brooks, Loretta. You came back too late last night. While Miss Rosemary,” she favored her friend with a wink, “dished up the meal for the staff.”

  Jean’s laughter never failed to make Rosemary smile. It was warm and gentle even if it was full of her natural energy. “And when we made our way to the kitchen to help her carry the food into the dining room below deck, she already had Mr. Brooks eatin’ out o’ her hand.”

  “He ate out of a spoon like the rest of us, Jean.” Rosemary couldn’t stop the way her mouth tugged up at the corners. “There’s no need for you to tease the poor man if you see him. He’s a gentleman. And he’s the new cargo clerk aboard the Siren, so there’s no call to torture the man. I doubt Captain Abraham would appreciate it.”

  Jean scoffed quietly. “Captain Abraham isn’t a problem either. The man is good natured as the day is long, and he loves this boat.”

  “And most everyone on board,” nodded Sally.

  Jean agreed as she continued to work at the table. “The only one aboard with a foul temper is Missus Abraham.”

  Sally made the sign of the cross over her chest.

  “You don’t have to remind me,” Rosemary continued to peel the potatoes, making long, paper thin strips of skin as she worked.

  And truly, no one had to remind her to watch herself around Missus Abraham. The woman had taken an instant dislike to her the first time she’d come across Rosemary on board the Siren in one of the hallways.

  At first it had just been curious looks as though Rosemary might be a phantom of sorts, barely visible.

  Later, the missus had taken to narrowing her eyes at Rosemary as if she was trying to decipher what kind of rodent or bug she most resembled.

  And then finally, the day came when Missus Abraham had seen her on deck. Rosemary had been about to step onto the wooden crossway to accompany Loretta to the market.

  A step before she could exit the boat, Missus Abraham had taken hold of her arm, her fingers digging deep.

  “What is your name?”

  Rosemary had paused, unsure why the woman was so keen to learn her name, for the woman’s eyes were thin, narrow slits and the dark centers seemed to be the only parts visible.

  In truth, the woman had frightened her.

  Chilled her to the bone.

  And if it weren’t for Loretta’s quick thinking, Rosemary was sure she would have found herself left behind on that pier when the steamboat had sailed on.

  “That’s Rosemary,” Loretta had explained, “orphaned girl with good skills in the kitchen. Deft hand with a knife. Hardly a wasted morsel with this one around.”

  She’d appealed to the penny-pinching side of the business, for Mister Abraham was wont to spend money on his boat and the Missus was just as sure to tu
ck that money aside.

  “Well, keep her off the decks, Loretta. You forget your place.”

  And that was the other skill that the Missus excelled at, reminding folks exactly where they stood in the world.

  Unfortunately, her view was the same as most others on land.

  Women like Loretta, or rather anyone whose skin didn’t glow pink after a good scrubbing, weren’t allowed to rub elbows with folks like the missus.

  Both of them had tucked their chins down and averted their eyes until the woman had walked away. And it was Loretta who spoke first when they heard the door at the front of the boat slam shut with righteous indignation.

  “You’ve too much of your mother in you, Rosemary. You’d do good to remember to avoid that woman at all cost.”

  “And what would she have against my mother? A woman she likely wouldn’t have met? It’s plain to see that she behaves badly to you for no reason other than the color of your skin. Surely she can see you the way I see you.”

  Loretta’s reaction was not what Rosemary expected that it would be. Instead of agreeing with her, she became quiet.

  “Loretta? Did I say something to upset you?”

  “No.”

  Again, Rosemary didn’t know what she expected, but the sudden and sharp head shake confused her.

  “Loretta, what-”

  “There are somethings better left unsaid, Rosemary.”

  The words got under Rosemary’s skin in an odd way. And she didn’t like the way it made her feel. Didn’t like the way it felt like there was suddenly a wall between them. “But I don’t know what I said.”

  “Just,” Loretta made an effort to smile and the action made Rosemary feel even worse, “let it go, Rosemary. Let’s pretend the last few moments didn’t happen.”

  An odd thought popped up in her head. “It is about my mother?”

  Loretta looked her straight in the eye and Rosemary saw the deep pain looking back at her, instead of anger. “Put it in the past where it belongs, Rosemary. Please.”

  “You know I don’t remember much about her, Loretta. It’s been years since I forgot what she looked like. The only thing I remember is her voice. Singing me to sleep as she cuddled me close.”

  “Then you hold onto those memories, Rosemary. The rest of it… leave it in the past. Please, trust me.”

  “Yes, Loretta.”

  They’d left the boat with all haste after the encounter and the shopping trip had lost its excitement after that.

  Rosemary didn’t want to think about the meaning of Loretta’s words. She knew that Loretta had been a friend to her mother.

  Loretta had been the one to come and prepare the body and had somehow found the money to pay for a proper burial and the services of a preacher to speak words over the fine coffin with brass fixtures and satin lining. That was the only image she could call up into her mind, the men shoveling dirt on the top of the coffin, and the feel of Loretta’s hand in hers.

  If it made her feel better to not talk about her mother, then that’s what she would do. And she kept that promise as best she could.

  The door to the oven closed and Rosemary turned to look in its direction.

  Remembering the conversation always made her stomach twist and turn within her belly.

  But all it took was a smile from Loretta, or a gentle touch and the pain floated away along with the river as it moved past the boat.

  Dropping another peeled potato into the large metal pail half-filled with water, Rosemary shook herself from her reverie and moved on to the next potato. She had much to accomplish before breakfast and there was no time to dream, especially when the dreams were so upsetting.

  The first notion that he wasn’t alone was when Cornelius stepped up beside him at the rail. Andrew ducked his head and felt his lips curling into a soft smile. “Sorry, Sir.” He let go of the railing and straightened beside the man who’d just hired him the day before. “I hope I didn’t overstep.”

  Cornelius drew a deep breath into his lungs and let it out with equal fervor. “Overstep? Hardly! In fact,” he smoothed his hand over the polished wood and sighed, “I expect that you and I will meet here often. There is nothing quite so bracing and stirring than taking the sweet air of the morning into a man’s lungs.”

  “Yes, sir.” Andrew agreed. “When I was a boy it was the only time of the day when my stomach didn’t rebel against the motion of the waves.

  “I’d stand at the railing and lift my head into the morning light and wonder what my family was doing at that very moment in England.”

  Cornelius nodded beside him. “I gathered that was where you came from,” he explained, “but I wasn’t sure what you’d left behind.”

  Andrew’s gaze lowered to the front of the boat where the river slid under the bow. “And perhaps why I didn’t return?”

  “That might be a question one might ask,” Cornelius agreed.

  “When I became a sailor, it wasn’t by choice.”

  Shocked, the older man turned a concern gaze to his face. “Don’t tell me your family apprenticed you?”

  A wry smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. “If only they had,” he began to explain, “then they might have benefited from my misery. Instead, they knew only that I had gone missing when in fact sailors had dragged me aboard a vessel on its way into open water.”

  “Those weren’t sailors you were with, my good man, but pirates.”

  “The captain aboard that ship would have sliced my tongue out if I had voiced such an opinion.”

  “But you are free of them now.”

  Andrew lifted his face into the wind. “And yet, in some ways I wonder if this life is but a dream and I am still aboard that ship, weak and shivering in my bunk, hoping I’d manage to keep what little food I had in my stomach.”

  Cornelius nodded in understanding. “They wouldn’t have known that the sea didn’t agree with you when they snatched you up.” His laughter was a scratch of sound in his throat. “So what changed if you don’t mind me asking? I’ve heard of men of their ilk tossing boys like you over the rail for less than that.”

  “True.” Swallowing the taste of bile from the back of his tongue at the memory, Andrew tried to find the words to explain. “Likely, I would have had my fate at the bottom of the sea, but the same storm that revealed my weakness also gave me the opportunity to save my neck.

  “The crew begged off tossing me over the railing as none of them wanted to get wet. Most of the crew smelled like they hadn’t washed in weeks, and along with the possibility of making them stink even more, no one wanted to get wet and shiver below deck after.”

  “Saved by their cowardice?”

  “Partly.” Andrew felt the skin between his brows itch and he reached up to give it a little scratch. “But along with the smell below decks, no one wanted to hear me cast up my accounts. So the captain ordered one of the men to take up his mandolin and play a song, hoping to drown out the noise.” Andrew winced at the memory. “The man had fingers like sausages boiled to the point of bursting and the only sound he could coax from the strings was a sound much like I imagine the hounds of hell might utter. Instead of drowning out my suffering it only served to make me worse. In desperation,” he revealed, “I begged to take a turn at the instrument.”

  Leaning his hip on the railing, Cornelius leaned closer and seemed to be listening intently. “And what happened then?”

  “I’d seen the man place his hands on it and I did much of the same.” He moved his hands and once again felt the ghost of the instrument in his hands. “It took a few minutes, and a number of ear-piercing mistakes, but by the time the storm stopped clawing at the hull I had the way of it.”

  “You played the instrument?”

  Andrew’s smile was little more than a wistful twist of his lips. “In a way. I could coax simple notes out of the strings and tried to copy familiar melodies in hopes that I wouldn’t surrender it back into the other man’s bruising grasp.”

  With
an impish wink, Cornelius pushed for more of the story. “I can only imagine that the captain decided to keep you on for that alone. After all, ships like that can go for months without seeing land. Entertainment keeps men sane when nothing else works.”

  Inclining his head toward the captain, Andrew agreed. “It saved my life. I was allowed to keep the instrument and practice in my quarters and kept the pail with me in case the ocean tossed me about.”

  Captain Abraham folded his arms across his chest. “Do you still have possession of the instrument?”

  “That particular one? Sadly, no. I do have another and a few more instruments that the captain had the men ‘procure’ for me.”

  Cornelius barely managed to stifle a laugh. “And these other poor victims? Were you as successful with them as you were the first?”

  Fighting off the feeling that he was boasting, Andrew tried to answer the man as plainly as he could. “I believe so, sir. I do believe so.”

  “Capital!” Clapping his hands together, the captain leaned closer and lowered his voice as if he was imparting a well kept secret. “I have just the person for you to meet.”

  Andrew was startled. “Now, sir?”

  “Why not?” He pulled a fancy gold watch from his coat pocket and flipped open the top. “The ladies in the kitchen will be done with breakfast by the time we’re done. Besides,” Cornelius gave him a knowing nod, “you have work to do this afternoon. Wouldn’t want to interrupt that, would we?”

  Shaking his head, Andrew gestured toward the door. “I have a feeling that it wouldn’t do me any good to defer the introduction until later. Would you care to lead the way?”

  Smiling at his words, the captain straightened his spine and gave Andrew a knowing nod.

  “Of course I would, since you probably wouldn’t know where to go.”

  The two shared a little laugh and walked inside.

  Loretta plunked herself down at the table in the center of the kitchen. “Goodness me! I swear it gets hotter in here every day.”