Page 14 of Part of Your World

For if she ever saw Zane again, walking in the opposite direction was the last thing she intended to do.

Chapter 6

“Did you really almost die?” Wilhelmina Davis blinked at Zane from across the table at Forbes’s Confectionary, her brown eyes rounded in fascinated horror as she blinked at him above the rim of her ice cream soda glass.

“Yep.” Zane fit his mouth to the straw of his chocolate soda, hoping the young woman would take the hint and pursue a different avenue of conversation.

His brush with death had made him annoyingly popular. When Max had shown up at Zane’s door with Miss Davis and Miss MacArthur in attendance, his mother couldn’t shoo him out the door fast enough. Go have some fun, she said. It’ll be good for you, she said. A rather odd turnaround in attitude since she’d sent Max away earlier that morning when he’d shown up on horseback to invite Zane for a ride along the beach. Mother had insisted Zane needed his rest. Yet when his friend returned with females in place of horseflesh, Mother suddenly pronounced him recovered.

To be fair, treating a pair of ladies to a trip to the soda shop required much less physical stamina than riding, though his mental stamina was draining with alarming speed. Probably due to the fact that Wilhemina and Constance were eyeing him with the same morbid fascination one entertained when beholding a sword swallower.

Constance MacArthur scooted her soda glass aside and bounced forward to the edge of her seat. It seemed she’d only been consuming her ice cream out of polite courtesy and was now ready to establish her true purpose in coming—interrogation.

“Did you see heaven? What was it like? Was it shiny? Were the streets really paved with gold?” Questions shot out of her like notes from a music box that had been wound too tight. “My mama says heaven is filled with pearls and all manner of gemstones. That’s why she loves visiting the Shaw Jewelry Company. Says it makes her feel closer to heaven.”

Zane blinked, his mouth growing lax over the straw. Had she really just compared heaven to a jewelry store?

He gave his head a little shake, thankful that the throbbing from his injury no longer plagued him after a full week of recovery. “I’m afraid I can’t comment on the aesthetics of heaven, Miss MacArthur, as I didn’t actually visit. While I came close to death’s door, I failed to walk through it.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped and her bottom lip protruded in a pout. “That’s a shame.”

“Constance!” Wilhemina’s shocked gasp reverberated in the air like a Chinese gong.

“What?” Constance frowned then rolled her eyes as she realized her faux pas. “Oh, for pity’s sake, Willie. I didn’t mean anything by it. Obviously I’m glad Mr. Erickson didn’t perish. I simply thought it a missed opportunity to learn about the afterlife. There’s no harm in wishing he’d crossed over to the great beyond before safely returning to the physical plane.” She looked to Zane and batted her lashes in a flirtatious bid for amnesty. “You didn’t take any offense, did you, Zane?” She reached across the table and touched his hand.

He ordered his fingers into a strategic retreat, tasking them with napkin retrieval to avoid prolonged capture. Ever the diplomat, however, he offered his encroacher a friendly smile. “No offense whatsoever, Miss MacArthur.”

And his mother wondered why he’d never shown interest in any of the young ladies of his acquaintance. What could possibly go wrong with marrying a woman who had no qualms about a man visiting the great beyond if it meant appeasing her curiosity?

Zane caught the apology in Max’s gaze a heartbeat before it turned to amusement. Zane had to look away from his friend as his own amusement ballooned in response. Laughter begged to erupt, but he doubted the ladies would take kindly to such a reaction.

“Well, I heard that you were saved by a mermaid.” Wilhemina batted her lashes in a way that did nothing to help him squelch the laughter inside him. “I’m sure it’s just the superstitious ramblings of a drunken sailor, but wouldn’t it be remarkable if it were true? Max told us that you don’t know who rescued you. Is that still true? Surely, as you've healed, some level of memory returned.” She leaned closer and more eyelash batting ensued. “Tell me, Mr. Erickson. . . Have you remembered anything about your rescuer? Anything at all?”

So she could add whatever he revealed to the already churning rumor mill? The amusement he’d been battling died a swift death as the need to protect his mysterious rescuer rose with surprising ferocity.

Zane shook his head, hoping the ladies couldn’t detect the clenching of his jaw. “Nothing substantial, I’m afraid.” Which was true. All he had were hazy impressions. Strong hands. A lilting voice. A comforting touch. And the red hair. “By the time my grandfather arrived, my rescuer had disappeared.”

Wilhemina giggled softly. “Perhaps it was a mermaid, and she swam away before—”

The rest of Wilhemina’s sentence failed to register in Zane’s mind, for at that moment a woman with striking red hair passed by their window. He shot to his feet. Glasses rattled and females squeaked, but he barely noticed.

It was her. Certainty resonated in his soul despite the fact he had not a shred of evidence to support his assumption.

He half-tripped over his chair in his hurry to extricate himself from the table.

“Zane?” Max tossed a curious look his way as he steadied the soda glasses in front of the ladies to ensure nothing spilled upon their summer-white gowns.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I saw someone I need to speak to.” And she was nearly out of his line of sight. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He rushed to the door and out onto the boardwalk. Stretching his stride as much as he dared, he wove through the stylish folk meandering along Market Street, offering frequent apologies when he clipped an elbow or kicked the back of someone’s shoe in his hurry.

There! She stood at the corner, her smiling profile visible as the woman at her side pointed to something across the street. Zane glanced in that direction. A music store. Of course that would make her smile. Because she was the siren from the shoreline.

He grinned as he hastened forward, his gaze fixed on the woman in the simple shirtwaist and dark blue skirt. He had no idea what he’d say to her but he’d figure it—oomph.

Something rammed into Zane, or rather, he rammed into something. A portly fellow exiting a cigar shop. The unsuspecting bystander teetered on his heels, a hairsbreadth away from toppling backward onto his rump. Zane grabbed his arm to steady him.

“Terribly sorry, sir. I’m afraid I didn’t see you there.” He tugged the middle-aged man forward until he caught his balance, the smell of pipe tobacco wafting up from the man’s coat.