Fletcher's Woman by Linda Lael Miller

Author:Linda Lael Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books

Chapter Nineteen

It was so hot. So unbearably hot.

Rachel opened her eyes. A Chinese woman, eyes downcast, swayed in the void above her. A wooden spoon nudged gently at her lips.

“Drink,” urged the woman.

Dear God, it was true—everthing Jonas had said was true, Rachel thought wildly. Douglas has brought me to China! She groaned, turning her head away from the figure sitting nearby.

“Please drink,” pleaded the woman. “Make strong.”

Rachel did not want to be strong. She wanted to die.

But the woman was quietly insistent. “Drink.”

Rachel drank, tasted the unfamiliar, herb-laced broth on her tongue. How could she be in China? The journey took a long time, even on the fastest ship, and it seemed only last night that Jonas had bought her dinner and taken her to see a play—and forced her to spend the night in his hotel room.

But she had been very ill. Perhaps the sea voyage had taken place while she was fighting that strange battle on the dark cliffs of her spirit. Perhaps she had been asleep for months! Vaguely, she remembered a sense of motion.

No, that had been a clattering, jolting sort of movement. Ships glided smoothly over the water, unless they encountered rough seas.

She accepted more of the broth. “Where am I?”

“Seattle,” came the toneless reply.

Seattle. If Rachel had had the strength, she would have given a shout of joy. As a healing sleep swept up to enclose her, she submitted to it, allowed it to carry her. This time, there would be no battle in the darkness.

• • •

Molly Brady stood still in the cool sanctuary of the general store, her shopping basket over one arm, her eyes bright with an intuitive, mysterious fear as they examined the folded message.

Throat dry, she opened the telegram and boldly read it, even though it was addressed to Dr. Fletcher.

GRIFFIN. CHINA DRIFTER IN PORT. HURRY. J.W.

Molly stiffened. J.W. Jonas Wilkes, of course. The gall of that man, summoning Griffin when no one knew better than he did how difficult—even dangerous—it would be for him to travel now.

Outside the store, in the morning sunlight, Molly reread the message, puzzling. Why should the presence of any particular ship interest Griffin?

Overhead, in the azure sky, gulls shrieked their constant, raucous complaint. But Molly ignored them, crossing the road slowly, wondering.

The China Drifter. Now, why did that name prickle the lining of her stomach the way it did?

She wandered through Tent Town, only half-hearing the friendly greetings of the women who were taking advantage of the warm weather to wash out clothes and blankets. Molly smiled distractedly, and uttered a directionless “good morning” at suitable intervals. She’d lived in Tent Town herself once, and she didn’t want the others thinking she considered herself above them because she worked for the doctor now.

In the woods that separated Tent Town from the Fletcher house, Molly stopped along the path and thought hard.

Griffin’s main source of income came from the interests he held in half a dozen sailing ships. Heaven knew, he would have starved on what he earned as a doctor.

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