Tides of Love by Tracy Sumner

Author:Tracy Sumner
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

"There was a curious popular notion."

C. Wyville Thomson

The Depths of the Sea

Caroline Bartram did not consider herself a person of exemplary moral fiber. She had grown up in a mill village in Solitude, West Virginia, in a squalid one-room shack. No running water, just a creek out back, newspapers stuffed into every hole and crevice, four children to a bed and three stretched beside it on the floor. Caroline had done things she was not proud of to escape.

She took a sip of tea, her pinkie angled away from the chipped handle. She remembered Ruby Garnet's lessons and used them well. She glanced from one man to the other, smoothed her hand across her bodice, and balanced her cup perfectly in its saucer. Her presence troubled them, Noah's brothers. The broad, rough one shuffled his feet and drank from the cup using both hands. The tall, thoughtful one, Zachariah, alternated between staring at her and staring out the window.

Troubled, indeed.

Patience waning, she asked, "Do you think a short visit would tire Noah too much?"

Zachariah pinned his brother with a hard glare. "Did you announce Mrs. Bartram, Caleb?"

Caleb's gaze flicked to her, to his brother, to the floor. He shook his head.

Zachariah sighed and swiveled toward her, his face set in lines of a serious nature. "Of course, Mrs. Bartram, since you've come all the way from Chicago. I just wanted"—he threw another heated glance at his brother—"to let Noah know you'd arrived so it wasn't a big surprise. I'm sure you understand."

"Is he all right?"

They both halted, studying her.

She placed the cup and saucer on the end table and tugged at the button on her glove. "I would love to see him now that he's awake." Vaguely, she questioned whether this constituted a breach of etiquette for a widow to visit a man in his bedroom. Ruby Garnet had never covered such a lesson that Caroline recalled.

Zachariah nodded and rose to his feet. "Right this way."

She brushed her gloved hands over her skirt and stood with a whisper of silk and crinoline. "Good day, Mr. Garrett."

"Mrs. Bartram," Caleb said, averting his eyes.

What they must think of her, she wondered, and climbed a narrow staircase in desperate need of a woman's touch. A spot of color would do nicely, a flower or two, a picture. She almost tapped on Zachariah's stiff shoulder and told him. Such rigid posture. She frowned. After all these years, people's derision still hurt. However, this time, she had lumped the scorn on her own shoulders. By accepting an offer to come to a place she didn't belong. Belated, perchance, but she hoped Noah would not be angry with her.

Zachariah halted before a door. Touching the dented knob, he said, "It's only been three days since the accident, and he might be sleeping, like he was during your visit yesterday. If he's not, he won't last long. The doctor gave him these pain powders and they snuff him out as quick as you can snuff out a candle.

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