“What are you saying?”
“Ye always pride yerself on knowing others’ feelin’s, but ye dinnae even know yer own.”
I bit my bottom lip, unsure how to rebut her claim. No, this was not worth thinking about. I crossed my arms and looked seriously at Patrice. “Anyway, it won’t happen again. We are here for Graham. That hasn’t changed.”
“Aye, that will never change.” Her knowing eyes caused a knot to form in my stomach.
I nodded at her. “Exactly. Just…don’t speak of this again. Think as though it never happened.” Mr. Ashby had said it best. We should pretend as if it never happened at all.
Patrice didn’t respond; instead, she went around me with the laundry and began whistling as she walked. Same old Patrice, being too shrewd for her own good. But I knew I could trust her to stay silent on the matter, at least around everyone else. I was sure to receive an earful from her later.
My walk back to the guest room was slow and full of paranoia. I disliked the idea of running into anyone, specifically Graham or Arthur.Mr. Ashby, I amended to myself. I mustn’t be so familiar with him. Especially now.
When I reached my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. As soon as I shut my eyes, I recalled the moment I’d taken hold of Mr. Ashby’s shirt and pulled him to me. My eyes flew open. What on earth had come over me? The absolute mortification I felt threatened to crush me. I wasn’t this person, this dishonorable woman who went around kissing men she didn’t love.
Let’s think this through.After weeks of difficulty, worry, and physical strain, I’d found Graham only to discover he didn’t remember me. This wasn’t something one recovered from easily. My body, mind, and heart were in need of recuperation. While working through my heartbreak about Graham, I’d sought comfort. Mr. Ashby had provided it by wiping my tears. It was, simply put, a moment of vulnerability. Despite it being a mistake, my heart was moved. That fact couldn’t be entirely overlooked, but it must be put aside and forgotten. I admitted that Mr. Ashby kissed extraordinarily well, and I enjoyed it very much. But physical compatibility was inconsequential in the face of true love.
And if there was one fact I would never deviate from, it was this:My true love will always be Graham Anderson.
Chapter 22
DearMelody,Cameron,andPapa,
Forgive me for taking so long to send word, if you can. I have only barely reached St. Kitts and have finally gotten a chance to write. On my way to Leith, Patrice and I ran into Mr. Ashby and he has been kind enough to help us in our journey. I know this has been difficult for all of you, as it was for me to part with you. But I’m doing well and have found Graham.
He’s been through quite an ordeal; he was injured badly and was taken in by a generous patroness on the island. However, due to Graham’s injury, he has lost his memories. He knows only his name. He doesn’t remember me, Mr. Ashby, his mother, or Scotland. Needless to say, I will be staying here until he can regain his memory.
Please send word about my niece or nephew. I fiercely miss you all, and cannot wait to meet him or her when I return. And I will return, I promise you that.
Always,
Elsie
It took a few tries to pen the right words to my family, and I still wasn’t satisfied with it. But what else could I say? If I spoke about the mutiny, the storm, almost dying in that dinghy, or the pirates, it would only cause alarm. If I wrote such things, they may think I regretted my choice to run away. I didn’t. Whatever I’d gonethrough, it was worth seeing Graham again, even in his condition. No, especially because of his condition. I could be of help to him. Who else could restore his memory if not me? I had every reason to believe that my choice to come here was providential.
The day seemed to drag on. Had I been on theMaelstromonly this morning? It was now early afternoon, and the sun streamed in my window fully. After folding the letter, I stood in the sunshine, the warmth seeping into my skin. Nothing was quite as delightful as sunshine, in my opinion. Even as my burns still stung.
The letter must be sent today. So while I wished I could stay in the sun all day, I’d have to go downstairs and find out how to send it. I inched the door open, peeking into the corridor. Hopefully everyone was out accomplishing all the tasks Lottie mentioned. Perhaps it was unnecessary to avoid Mr. Ashby, but I wasn’t ready to see him so soon after my embarrassing choice to grab his shirt like that. Seeing no one, I walked down the stairs to find someone who would know where to send the post.
Walking through the first floor of the house, I noted how tastefully it was decorated. Every piece of furniture must have been chosen for comfort over trends, a style I much preferred. It wasn’t until I reached the library that I found someone. Johnny Knox, or Whisper, as he told us to address him, sat atop a table with a newspaper held on his lap.
I cleared my throat to gain his attention. He didn’t even look up, but I saw him smile. “I heard you coming down the hall, Miss Findlay. No need to make yourself known.”
“You have very good hearing. How did you recognize it was me?”
He lifted his gaze. “I saw you come in.”
“Oh. That makes sense.” I sent him an understanding smile. Then I commented on his unique way of reading a newspaper.
“I don’t like to sit with my feet touching the ground,” he answered.
I laughed. “That’s very peculiar.”
“Indeed.” He jumped off the table and folded the paper. “So, is there something I can help with? You seem to be searching for something.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, holding up my letter. “I wonder if you can tell me where to post this? I need to send word to my family in Scotland.”
“You have met with the right person. I can take that to post tomorrow when I go to Basseterre.” He snatched it from my hand without waiting for my response, depositing it in his inside jacket pocket.
