Releasing Yesterday Page 8

  Sara's features brightened with her smile. "Is it so obvious as that?"

  "Yes, but I do not mind in the slightest, of course, because it allows me to see what your expression might have been when you first ventured to our shores from England so many months before."

  "Doubtless she will be even more overwhelmed this journey." Rachel looped Sara's arm through her own. "Will this not be your first opportunity to travel first class? To say nothing of traveling in company."

  Sara smiled at the woman as she allowed herself to be guided along the wide hallway toward their collection of cabins.

  "I must confess I am quite looking forward to our time together during this journey," Rachel said, the admittance gathering both Christopher and Sara's attention. "Having studied abroad for the greater portion of my childhood, I did not experience many opportunities for girlish camaraderie. Slumber parties. Sleepovers. Ghost stories. Adventures of youth." A flush colored the woman's cheeks and she let fly an embarrassed laugh. "Listen to me going on. Robert would be hard-pressed to not comment."

  "I can assure you, my commentary would be reserved for a more intimate setting."

  Rachel and Sara started, their quick gaze over their shoulders revealing the mischievous glint of Robert Trent's darkly handsome features, their seven-year-old son Hank standing close beside him with both hands clapped firmly over his mouth. Sara smiled, amazed at the similarity of the boy's features with both his mother and father. He sported the mischievous expression of his father and the stark intelligence of his mother in green-hazel eyes. His natural brunette curls were cropped close, but that did not prevent the tight waves from tickling the tops of his ears and forehead.

  Rob doffed his hat and bowed. "Sara Little, Hank and Robert Trent at your service." After a nudge to the arm, Hank mimicked his father's bow.

  Sara dipped in a curtsy. "A pleasure." Hank peeked up at her before straightening, and whispered something to his father, which invited a laugh.

  "Go ahead, my boy, go ahead." After another moment's hesitation, Rob gave him a nudge forward. "Sara, my son has something he would like to ask you."

  "Yes? I will do my best to answer." She leaned down, though the tightness of her corset complained and did not allow as deep a movement as she would have liked.

  Hank shot his father a quick glare before once again meeting Sara's gaze. He swallowed hard. "Would you mind if I sculpted you? You're very pretty."

  Crimson crashed across her cheeks and she straightened in surprise. "Oh."

  Rachel and Robert laughed, which deepened the furrow of their son's brow.

  Christopher chuckled and rested a hand on Hank's shoulder. "She is, isn't she, Hank? Let her digest your request for a day or two, and perhaps she will agree to a sitting before the journey is over. Yes?"

  Hank nodded, his smile brightening his features and reminding Sara very much of his father.

  "Good lad." Christopher shifted his amused expression to Rob. "You have no idea how difficult it was for me to remain silent as the grave when I espied you two attempting your stealthy approach."

  "I appreciate your restraint." Rob shifted his smiling focus to Rachel and Sara. "Now, my dear ladies, shall we make a fast jaunt to our cabins and gather those things we have need of before making our way to the deck? We will be shoving off soon, and I do believe the artists of our troupe will want to witness the event. Perhaps even the poets." He pressed a kiss upon Rachel's temple.

  "Are we just down the hall a way here?" Christopher asked. He sought out his ticket from his breast pocket. "Ah yes. Just here on the left and right. Corner cabin suites, in fact. Good choice, Rob."

  "Thank you. I have placed the ladies in their own collection of cabins on the left and us gentlemen on the right so that we might come to their rescue should anything untoward occur." They shared a laugh as Rob passed out the keys to the appropriate recipients.

  Sara stared down at the heavy brass key and number fob in her fingers. The weight of it was unlike anything she would have expected of a simple cabin key, and certainly different from her previous experience sharing a cabin with three others in third class.

  "Come along, Sara. I am all eager to see the loveliness our men have secured for us." Rachel guided her to the appropriate cabin on the left of the wide hallway. "Would you do the honors?"

  She inclined her head and fit the key into the lock with an unsteady hold, eagerness welling up within her. The key turned and the door gave, opening to a view of luxury and comfort Sara could not have imagined upon a vessel.

  Rachel brushed past to make a complete navigation circuit of all rooms. Sara stood within the doorway of the suite, entranced, unable to step even one foot inside. Sunshine danced upon the plush royal blue carpeting from the large brass-rimmed portholes. A wooden door to her left stood ajar, and within Sara could see the foot of a large four-poster bed. An armoire stood in the opposite corner of the room, only just visible from the door to the sleeping area.

  Her knees trembled, her hand upon the door frame tightening to alleviate the demand upon her own strength. Such beauty. Such wealth. How could this be her room?

  Rachel reappeared from the bedroom to the right of the main sitting room, hands clasped and eyes bright with her smile. "Robert Leonard Trent, you have certainly outdone yourself with these cabins. How absolutely luxurious! I do not believe I could have done better."

  "Victory is mine!" Laughing, Robert offered Rachel his arm and guided her from the cabin, Hank eagerly skipping around them like a young colt. "Come along then, Ange. Let us take a few turns around this vessel and see what there is to see of the occupants. Yes?"

  "That sounds intriguing. I wonder if there is anyone we know aboard?"

  The trio continued along the hallway, leaving Christopher to watch Sara's continued unsteady stance within the doorway of the room. "Sara?" Concern fell as a shadow across his face, twisting his usual smile. He slipped an arm around her. "Shall we take a moment?"

  She nodded, accepting his assistance to the writing desk immediately to the right of the entry. He poured her a bit of brandy from an assortment of decanters and steadied the small glass as she sipped. "I should have asked if you travel well. Of course I know you would have denied any hardship, but I still should have inquired."

  "Oh no." She gave a slight shake of her head, which caused the room to tilt slightly. She clutched at his arm and accepted his urging to take another sip. "It is no' that, Christopher."

  "We can take a moment until you have settled. Rob and Rachel will be fine by themselves, as Hank will keep them busy until dinner." He crouched beside her chair and set the glass aside as he regarded her with a close scrutiny. "There has been a lot to take in these last few weeks."

  Sara inclined her head, her fingers momentarily increasing their pressure upon his arm. "Tell me again," she whispered.

  "The telegram?"

  Her chin barely dipped in acknowledgment.

  "Well, I received a communication stating, or rather informing, that you have a pending inheritance from your mother. Included in that is a letter and some personal effects. Before they will release any additional information, or the effects, you must prove your identity, though they were not specific on what they expected as proof."

  Sara fingered the pearl drop necklace at her throat. "An inheritance." Again, she did not understand what it meant. If there could be such a thing as a monetary inheritance, why did she and her mother live such as they had, stretched and forever concerned, though Sara had not realized that until after her passing.

  "I can make further inquiries before the vessel leaves port," Christopher offered.

  Hesitation swelled much like a wave of a summer storm. She shook her head.

  "Very well. Any time you have need of answers, Sara, simply ask. There is no need for you to suffer for the lack when I can help you. Yes?" She inclined her head, rewarded by a firming of his hands covering hers and a kiss upon her forehead as he stood. "I won't act without your approval." He
offered an uncertain smile.

  Sara accepted his hand and stood, stepping into his embrace with a deep sigh. "Thank you for being concerned."

  He pressed a kiss upon the crown of her head before gathering her hand and tucking it into the nook of his elbow. "Come along, Sweet Sara. Let us drink in the beauty of ocean and horizon and forget--at least for a moment--the troubles that might be waiting for us." He scooped up her sketchbook and slipped the pencil into his breast pocket.

  She nodded, eagerness to be out in the fresh air overcoming the taut ache of distress. "I canno' believe this is happening," she admitted. "Did I ever think I would be on my way back to my first home?"

  "And in such a grand fashion, too. No more single-frock-Sara--speaking of frocks ... where is Amy?"

  "She is likely still saying farewell to Thomas. She does not know whether to be excited at her first venture across the ocean, or upset to be gone from her beau for so long."

  "Well, if she misses the last call to board, she won't need to worry about either."

  Sara laughed, and noticed how the sound softened the concerned creases across Christopher's features. I am sorry to have worried you, Christopher. She smoothed a smile across her countenance, refusing to let any part of this new journey be tainted. She retrieved the sketchbook from him and hugged it against her chest.

  "I know Amy is like me, how can she no' see every moment that waits?" His teeth flashed in a broad smile, tugging at her heart and easing the shadows more distant.

  "That is the spirit of adventure I so admire in you, Sweet Sara. Then let us be off. I never tire of watching the people beckoning farewell moments before they embark. Did you know Robert and Rachel at times will compete in creating back-stories and histories for each of the families and individuals? It is quite fascinating."

  "How fun," Sara whispered, accepting Christopher's guidance through the hall to the sun-kissed decks.

  "I haven't yet decided whether they compete on the most feasible, the most realistic, or simply the most in-depth. As far as I know, they have never once spoken with the individual--or family--involved to confirm their suppositions."

  Intrigue continued to tickle her imagination, and she felt a twitch in her fingers as they displayed their impatience to run free. Then the pair broke out onto the main deck and the cacophony of emotions and the symphony of noises begged for the whole of her attention. Sara could scarcely navigate to her own place at the rail in time to begin the translation from reality to paper.

  Page after page of the sketchbook called to her pencil, leaving no room for attention to surrounding conversations. There came only the delight of creating the story of yet another beginning.

  The blat of the vessel startled her from her frenzy, her attention distracted by the practiced movements of the crew as they withdrew the bridge and prepared to make way. Sara flipped the page of her sketchbook and captured the action, unwilling to forget even this menial task. How many months ago had she promised herself to never lose another moment of this life? Today she would remember that vow anew.

  Eight

  Arrival

  Sara stared at the pearl drop necklace as it lay within her palm, the simple silver strand tangled within the gold ring which once belonged to her mother. No thoughts would venture forth from the shadows and fog in her mind. Her eyes closed as her fingers curled in upon the duet of jewelry, holding it close to her heart as she attempted to keep the questions at bay. A tap upon her door from the vessel's hall jostled her mind from its reverie. She peeked out and into the smiling features of Christopher Lake.

  "Are you ready?" He presented a sketchbook by way of reminder. "We are about to arrive at port, and I thought you would want to commemorate the event?"

  "Oh, yes!" She snatched up her own sketchbook and pencils and eagerly followed after him, looping his arm with hers. When she caught him peeking at her, she smiled. "Yes?"

  "You … it is good to see you in higher spirits. Eagerness to see your once home agrees with you," he admitted softly, the flush covering his neck and ears even as his eyes held hers.

  She held his gaze, the corners of her lips quivering upward. "I am only that eager to show you the England I have held so close to my heart."

  He cleared his throat and looked away, the red migrating upward to his hairline. "It would be unwise for you to continue to regard me with such … affection, Miss Little."

  She laughed, and relished the warmth which settled deep within at a return of the better side of her nature.

  "You laugh, but do you truly not understand how challenging it has been to not persuade the Captain to perform a wedding ceremony for us during this voyage?" His gaze flicked to hers and away again.

  Her smile did not fade nor retreat at such a romantic notion.

  "And Rob has done little to help persuade me from it. Only my own conscience and sense of propriety has held such a rash action to the wayside."

  Sara could just imagine Robert Trent listing the positives to the argument Christopher waged with himself. Rachel as well. "Would it be so horrible?"

  He blinked at her, his step faltering to a stop. "What did you say?"

  "Would the Captain marrying us be so horrible?"

  "Well, er, that is, of course not, but I thought you wanted a grand wedding in a lofty setting. Or, rather, at least at the chapel by The Gallery Lake with a reception at the Gallery afterward. Or did I not ask you about that?" A confused scowl shadowed his face as he thought back, distraction an attractive addition to his features.

  Sara caressed his cheek with her fingertips, the warmth drawing his mind back with an almost audible snap. "I want to be your wife. What does it matter where we are wed, Christopher?"

  He gathered her fingers and pressed them to his lips. "When you gaze up at me with sapphire eyes, Sweet Sara… " The velvet gruffness sent a shiver from toe to head, her knees unsteady and causing her to sway toward him.

  But the halls were not their own.

  He cleared his throat and stepped back, reluctance presenting in the slow release of her hand. "Come along, Sweet Sara. We should hasten on deck before we begin an act which is better put off for a bit."

  Sara nodded while fanning herself with her hand.

  Christopher cast an aside glance moments before gathering up her hand again and tucking it into the nook of his arm. "Perhaps Rob is wiser than I first gave him credit?"

  "Yes?"

  "He accused me of being foolish to not set an earlier date for the wedding. That the ardor will only build, thereby making the waiting all the more challenging." His gaze remained diligently forward, though the redness of his ears confessed to his attitude regarding the subject matter. "No offense meant to my Carla, but the waiting for the wedding day didn't present a problem. With you, however…." He cleared his throat.

  Her fingers trembled, and she tightened their press upon his arm. "I…." But she held no experience in beaus and bedding. She knew only that she loved this man, desired him more each day, and the intensity of that frightened her.

  "Perhaps we should sit down and speak with Rob and Rachel about it this evening once we've settled ashore? Yes?" Sara nodded. "A bit awkward of subject matter, since you've known them for such a small amount of time. Well, you can think on the matter and give me your answer a bit later, although you just nodded assent." Christopher's chuckle sounded a bit forced and uneasy. "Now I do believe I am giving too much thought to facts beyond my control. It happens when I get nervous, er, or something."

  "I love you so much," she whispered, the smile a caress upon her soul and heart.

  Christopher laughed. "And I love you, though I don't understand why my rambling would make you say that."

  She couldn't help but giggle. "Because you make me feel better about my own bit of nervousness. You understand how silly I feel, and that eases my heart."

  "You?" He blinked down at her. "Why would you feel silly?"

  "Because I have no notion what to do with a beau." She flushed the moment
the admittance was spoken.

  His features relaxed. "You give yourself too little credit, Sweet Sara. One of the most desirable qualities about you, in addition to the obvious, is your instinctual ability to make me feel loved. Respected. Accepted. Wanted. All these and more." He leaned close and kissed her, softly, gently, while ignoring the steward passing them on the other side of the hall. "In all honesty," he whispered, "you already act as a wife. Perhaps this is why I wake each morning and suffer a moment of confusion as to why you are not beside me?"

  Sara thought she might melt away at the continued warmth of his presence, the soft caress of his breath near her ear, the frantic thud of her heart…. Her eyes fluttered closed and it required every ounce of fortitude to keep from drawing closer.

  A throat cleared behind them, springing them apart like a catapult. Rob and Rachel shared a knowing smirk, though Rachel hid hers behind a gorgeous silk painted fan.

  "Good day, you two," Rob quipped. "I see the adventure has begun a bit early since last night's resolve."

  "Spare me," Christopher grumbled. But then he laughed. "Yes, yes, it is all grand fun and what-have-you, but I swear I had no ulterior motive when I slipped from the cabin without letting you know where I headed."

  "At least none that you would admit to yourself."

  Rachel tapped her husband upon the arm with her fan, her emerald eyes smiling though her features were smooth with calm. "Behave, Robert."

  "Yes, dear, but you know quite well he doesn't mind. Chris. Is that not right? You feel accepted when I cajole and carry on."

  "Well, I suppose I feel included at least. Is that the same thing?"

  Sara smiled at the trio. The way they teased each other definitely made her feel a part of the group, and when did she ever have that before meeting these glorious people? Before there was usually only one other she felt she could trust herself with. But never before an entire group.

  Rachel looped her arm around Sara's and drew her forward. "Come along, dear heart, I wish to make a nuisance of myself to you."