A Light For My Love (4 page)

“It's interesting that you still think of
Astoria as home,” China sniped, regaining her voice. She made a
fussy show of adjusting her cuffs. “Let's see, how long has it been
since you left?” She knew that it had been precisely seven years
and three months.

Barely conscious of it, Jake leaned backward
a bit. China's voice and words were as sharp as obsidian. Although
he ignored her barb, his tone acquired a slightly defensive edge.
“Mrs. Farrell told me you're renting rooms now.”

China heard the question buried under his
remark. How had the wealthy Sullivan family been reduced to taking
in boarders? She glared at the older woman.

“When was I ever ‘Mrs. Farrell’ to you,
Jake?” Gert scolded affectionately, obviously missing the tension
of the conversation. “I was your Aunt Gert as much as my niece’s
children’s. You might be all grown up now, but haven't I known you
since you were just a pup? Before you were Captain Chastaine?”

China nearly scowled at her aunt.

Jake's frown relaxed into a sheepish smile,
and tipping his blond head, he looked at the oval rug under his
feet. “Yes, Aunt Gert.”

China barely refrained from rolling her
eyes.

“All right, then. I'll let you two work out
the details. I need to put a couple of chickens in the oven for
dinner.”

“
One
chicken, Aunt Gert. There is
nothing to work out,” China jumped in, anxious to put an end to
this right now. “We don’t have a room available.”

“China,” Gert murmured. “Where are your
manners?”

“I’m sure Jake understands,” she replied,
directing a cold glare at him. “Give him back his money, Aunt
Gert.”

In turn, Jake gave China a hard, intimidating
look that almost made her back down. He still had a sense of
reckless danger that made a person think twice about crossing him.
Finally he released her from his gaze. His frown returning, he bent
to lift his heavy bag to his shoulder. “I'd better go back to the
hotel, Aunt Gert.”

Panic crossed the woman's face.

“What's the matter?” China asked.

“Jake, please—don’t go,” Gert urged. “Just
excuse us a moment.” She gave China a meaningful look.

Jake straightened and put down the bag. He
nodded, turning to look out the window in the front door, as China
and Aunt Gert retired to the kitchen. He had navigated ships
through furious storms, confronted men who would have slashed his
throat for the gold in his back molars, and worked in gale-blown
rigging a hundred feet above a rolling deck. But he'd never been as
scared as he was just now, facing China Sullivan in the foyer after
all this time. His stomach in knots, it had taken every ounce of
courage he had to climb those front steps.

As it turned out, his fear had been
justified.

But he’d be damned if he was going to let her
see it.

*~*~*

When China and Aunt Gert reached the kitchen,
China closed the door.

“What's wrong?” she whispered.

Aunt Gert clasped her hands together, lacing
and unlacing her fingers. “China, we have to let Jake stay, at
least for two months.”

China shrugged irritably. “Why? Let him go to
a hotel—let
him
worry about it. We don't owe him a
thing.”

“Yes we do. Nearly all the money he gave me
is gone. I paid our bill at Allen's Grocery. Mr. Allen was going to
cut off our credit.”

China gaped at her aunt. This situation was
growing worse by the minute. She massaged her temples as she looked
at the rain snaking down the windows in thin rivulets. “But—but
Jake can't stay here. He just can't!”

“I don't know what else we can do,” Aunt Gert
said. “Anyway, that little spat between you two happened years ago.
I'd think you'd have put it behind you by now.”

It was all China could do to keep her voice
down. “Little spat? You know I never liked him. That nasty business
with Althea Lambert was a terrible scandal. And what about Quinn?
Am I supposed to forget that Jake coaxed him to desert the family?
Quinn wouldn't have left if Jake hadn't talked him into it, and we
wouldn't be in this fix.”

“Your brother was a stubborn mule. Jake
couldn't have talked him into or out of anything. As for Althea, I
never believed her story for a minute. I don't think she was even
expecting. As soon as Jake was gone, so was the baby.”

“Well, she had a miscarriage. Aunt Gert, why
on earth would a girl make up something like that? Her reputation
was ruined, and she had to move to Portland. All because of Jake
Chastaine.” China would never understand Gert's blind loyalty to
him.

“Althea was jealous and determined to marry
him. When all her coquetry didn't work, she tried to trap him.
There
are
women like that, you know,” Aunt Gert replied.

“I suppose Jake told you that?” China
demanded.

“Yes, and I believed him. He was no angel,
but he was never a liar. Anyway, at least we know Jake. He paid in
advance, and we can use the money. The boy from Allen’s is going to
be here any minute with our order.” She opened the bread box and
looked inside. “I can't understand why our food doesn’t go
farther—sometimes it seems like we’re feeding an army instead of
four people. I could have sworn there were two loaves left after
dinner last night. This morning I only found one.” She closed the
box again.

“I wish we could have discussed this first,”
China complained, sidestepping Gert’s remark about the bread. Her
aunt was right about one thing. There was nothing else they could
do now that most of Jake’s money had been spent. China would have
to let him stay, for a while anyhow. But she didn't have to make it
pleasant for him. And despite whatever saintly notions Gert might
have of him, China certainly wasn't going to put him in easy
proximity of her own bedroom. She wouldn't rest a minute.

“All right, we'll rent a room to him,” China
huffed, lifting a key from a row of hooks next to the back door.
“But we’re going to put the rest of his money away and not spend
it. I want him out of here as soon as possible.”

China walked back to the foyer where Jake
waited. At her approach he turned to face her. She swore he was
taller than when he'd left and he'd definitely filled out. He
blocked out most of the light coming through the front door window.
He was still slender, but his shoulders were bigger and there was
just more of him. Not much of the rowdy boy she'd known remained in
this man's muscular form. But in his eyes—those green eyes—she saw
a fleeting expression so familiar, she had to look away for an
instant.

“This isn't a good idea, China,” he said, his
words cool. “I don't want to cause you any trouble, so I'll be on
my way.”

“No, it
isn't
a good idea,” she
agreed. “The day before you left Astoria I told you not to come
back to this house again. But Aunt Gert acted in my stead, so I’ll
honor the agreement she made with you. Now, come on. I’ll show you
your room.” She turned on her heel and marched back down the hall,
not bothering to see if he followed.

She finally heard his tread behind her as she
led him through the butler's pantry to the back stairs. She was
very aware of him then, as though he generated heat and light, and
she strove to stay far ahead of him as they climbed the circular
staircase. She stopped a moment at the linen closet on the second
floor to collect bedding and towels. Then, never once looking at
Jake, she continued to the third story, where the attic and two
servants' rooms were located. Thin gray daylight from the small
windows revealed a couple of battered chairs, picture frames, a
birdcage, toys, and assorted boxes and trunks. She continued down a
narrow passageway, finally stopping at a pair of doors.

She pushed open the door to one of the little
bedrooms and let Jake go in first. It was a wood-walled enclosure,
as plain as a monk's cell, painted white and sparsely furnished
with a bed, a washstand, a spindle-back chair, and a four-drawer
chest, all made of pine. An oil lamp was set on the chest. The
window had no curtain and not even a rag rug decorated the painted
floor. Being directly under the eaves, the ceiling angled down
sharply. The room had the smell of an old closet, long ignored.

“This is what I have,” China said, waiting
for him to object. They stopped just inside the door, and she could
see this was the only place in the small room where he'd be able to
stand completely upright. "The other room is just like this, but it
doesn't have a window."

He dropped his sea bag on the floor and
looked around the stark quarters, then at her. "China, does the
captain know you've had to turn this place into a
boardinghouse?"

"I'm surprised Aunt Gert didn't tell you,"
she said coldly, struggling against rising humiliation. "Three
months after you left, I learned my father was washed overboard in
the North Atlantic. He'd made several bad investments and he died
without a dime." She gained a measure of satisfaction from his
stunned expression, and deliberately paused a beat before adding,
"We've done our best to get by, but of course, it would have helped
if my brother was here."

He hunched his shoulders, jamming his hands
into his pockets as he glanced at the dark floor. With that single
mannerism, one that he'd had since childhood and one which had
always annoyed China, she felt propelled back in time.

He looked up at her again. "I'm sorry to hear
about it." He started to reach for her elbow. "Can I help
with—"

To cut off his question, and before he could
touch her, she pulled away. She didn't want his hand on her arm,
and she certainly didn't want his hypocritical sympathy. Taking a
step back, she recited the rules of the house. "Meals are at eight,
one, and six. If you're not on time for them, we won't wait and
you'll go without. You get clean bed linen and towels once a week."
She dumped the sheets and blankets into his arms. "You're
responsible for making your own bed, and you can use the bathroom
on the second floor. We have two other guests in the house—you'll
meet them at dinner."

"Are you sure you want me in the house? Maybe
you'd rather give me a stall in the carriage house," he fired back,
his expression stony.

The carriage house.
China froze, a
flutter of caution rippling through her. "Do you want this room or
not? It doesn't make any difference to me. I can rent it to
anyone."

After an uncomfortable moment he grumbled,
"Yeah, I'll take it."

China quietly released the breath she held.
"Then you'll follow the rules. Here's a key to the back door, but
at ten thirty I latch the night locks. If you're out past that
time, you'll sleep somewhere else. All right?"

"I suppose I can remember all that," he
snapped. He took the key she held out to him while trying to keep
his grip on the bedding.

"Fine, then." She turned to leave, then
stopped, her hand on the doorknob. Keeping her back to him, she
asked, more quietly, "Do you know where Quinn is?"

"Not for sure," Jake replied, plainly
surprised that she didn't know either. "I lost track of him a
couple of years ago. I thought he must have written to you."

She looked at him over her shoulder. "He
never has." She nearly ran from the room to get away from the
questions lurking behind his eyes.

*~*~*

Jake listened to the sound of China's
footsteps hurrying down the back stairs. He made his way to the
bed, careful to duck as he went, and sat heavily on the bare
mattress. The bedsprings screeched under his weight and he sighed,
resting his chin on the bundle in his arms.

He felt like a dog trapped on the wrong side
of a fence. He knew he wasn't supposed to be here, and China hadn't
forgotten that either. Of course, she'd been shocked to see him,
but he'd hoped she might not be so mad about it. After all, they
were adults now. But she was still as high and mighty and stuck up
as she'd been when he left. That intense rush of emotion he'd felt
when he first caught sight of her in the hallway, that was just a
reasonable reaction to seeing a familiar face after so long.

He shifted on the bed and looked out the
small window to the street below. What, he wondered, had transpired
between China and her aunt that made her change her mind about
renting a room to him? And such a room, he thought, looking around
again. The door, apparently not hung correctly, began to close. Why
had he agreed to stay here and
pay
to be treated like gutter
slime? Okay, maybe he felt a little guilty, and goddamn it, guilt
was a bad reason to do anything.

He'd paid his best crewmen two months' wages
to stay around Astoria until the ship was ready to sail again. They
were probably getting drunk in the saloons, Jake assumed a bit
wistfully, and visiting the girls who worked upstairs. He shifted
to move away from a bedspring that was poking him through the thin
mattress. He knew they were having more fun than he was.

The Occident was beginning to seem like
paradise compared to this. Better still, he wished he was back
aboard the
Katherine Kirkland
in his own quarters, somewhere
on the ocean. They were no bigger, but they were captain's
quarters, not servants'.

He thought about what he'd found, coming back
to this house. The captain was dead? The family broke? He didn't
see Quinn as often as he would have liked—they'd been on opposite
sides of the world since their voyage to Canton—and now he realized
that China's brother was as ignorant about all this as he'd been.
He didn't know his father had died, or that his sister was renting
out rooms. What else had happened to China, to the rest of the
family? She hadn't let him ask, and he supposed he had no right
to.

He knew time could change a lot of things,
but China was the most changed of all. Her soft girlishness was
completely gone. She'd grown more beautiful than he'd ever
envisioned, but in a cold, untouchable way.