Page 4 of Part of Your World

"Brother Crabtree ran through the piece fer twenty minutes, ever hopeful that ye'd honor yer responsibilities and make an appearance. But after half an hour, the poor man's optimism waned, and he dismissed the crew." Da uncrossed his arms and waved them about as if a strap wound tight inside him had snapped. "Do ye have no care for anyone but yerself, Muriel? Can ye not heed a clock when others are relyin' on ye, girl? People sacrificed their time to come to this rehearsal. To support you. And how do ye repay their gift? With irresponsibility and selfishness!"

Muriel winced at the shout, and her chin began to quiver. Da rarely raised his voice to her, and never in public.

His hand balled into a fist as he fought to control his temper. Inhaling a slow breath, he steadied himself before continuing. "An hour ago, I bragged to all the men at the docks that my daughter would be singing a solo on Sunday. Men slapped me on the back and said they'd cover the end of my shift so I could come to the final rehearsal and hear me wee girl sing. But did me darlin' girl bother to show up? Nay. She took a swim instead." His gaze focused on her hair, still wet beneath her hat. "She flitted about in the sea, ignoring her commitments, assumin' all would be forgiven."

"That's not fair, Da! Laraline Seward had one o' her spells. She needed help. That's why I'm late." Well, that and the fascinating discussion afterward about cufflinks and chatelaine clips. She hadn't meant to get so distracted. It just . . . happened. "Fletcher was waitin' fer me at the cove when I finished me swim. He told me of her trouble, and we hurried to Miss Seward's house straightaway."

Her father's bushy brows arched in surprise. "Is she well?"

"Aye. Her breathing settled after I made some eucalyptus steam for her."

"Glad I am to hear it." Da relaxed his stance. "And how's young Fletcher?"

The knots inside Muriel's belly loosened as her daddy's sympathetic nature exerted itself. "Ah, he's fine as frog hair. Eager to show his latest discoveries to his friends, no doubt."

Da's eyes lit with a smile. "What has the scamp uncovered this time?"

"The most amazing things! Did ye know that wealthy ladies sometimes wear a special clip tucked into their waistbands to carry keys and sewing things around with them? Fletcher found one. The little chain pieces had broken off, but the clip was in fair shape. It had a fancy design in the center like a piece of jewelry. Just think, instead o' carryin' necessities in yer pocket, ye could let them dangle on the outside in tiny silver cases. Wouldn't that be grand?"

"Not so grand if it falls off at the beach and gets lost in the sand."

Muriel patted the waist of her practical, navy-blue skirt and imagined it was made of fine, white linen. "Miss Seward said that ladies rarely wear them outside their homes. 'Twas surprisin' that Fletcher found one."

Da raised a brow. "What's surprisin' is that ye and Fletcher would pester Miss Seward with questions while she was feelin' poorly."

"Oh, she was feelin' much better by the time Fletcher brought out his treasures."

"So you had yerself a nice visit with Miss Seward then?"

"Oh, yes. It was quite . . ." Muriel didn't realize she'd stepped into a trap until her da's eyes narrowed into angry slits. She wagged her head from side to side. "I'm sorry, Da. I didn't mean to lose track o' time. Honest. I just got swept up in Miss Seward's stories and—"

"No more excuses, Muriel." Da sighed, and his shoulders fell in the dreaded sag of disappointment.

Muriel grew a little queasy.

"I've indulged yer whims far too freely. I don't doubt yer good intentions, daughter, but good intentions alone are as worthless as a leaky dinghy. Ye need self-discipline. Restraint. The sailor who fails to keep his lifeboat in good repair during fair weather will be left to sink when the storm hits. I don't want that for ye."

Her heart pounded in her chest. "I'll do better, Da. I promise."

He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she felt the heaviness of it all the way to her toes. "I know you will, Muriel, because there'll be no more daily swims until you prove to me that you can be responsible."

No swimming? He couldn't . . .

Mist covered her eyes. "No, Da. Please." She blinked, praying for him to reconsider. "Ye can't take the sea away from me. Please!"

His eyes glowed with regret, but his jaw held firm. "It's not forever, darlin'. Just until ye learn to be a woman others can rely upon."

His words wounded her heart nearly as much as his punishment. Did he really think her flighty and irresponsible? Tears pooled in her eyes, making her vision blur. She kept his house, cooked his food, did his washing. Did that count for nothing?

"Muriel . . ."

She turned to him, begging him with her eyes to relent. To be reasonable.

Torture etched his face, and hope kindled within her breast. Until he spoke.

"The sea's not goin' anywhere, dear heart. It'll wait for ye to get this figured out."

He reached out to touch her arm, but she jerked away.