Leave it for the Rain: A Love She Couldn't Remember—A Woman He Couldn't Forget (Grayson Brothers Book 6) (21 page)

Rebecca awakened early, eager to head upriver for the picnic Adam promised her.

Up with the sunrise, she dressed in a sleeveless camisole, a belted day skirt of royal blue, matching waist-length fitted jacket with frog enclosures, and a crisp white blouse. Knowing they would be moving along the riverbank later in the day, she opted for a pair of low-heeled, high-topped shoes made of calfskin. She piled her long hair atop her head and secured it with several pins.

As she headed for the kitchen, she thought of Princess Cecily. Had the young royal been at odds with her past and her future as she walked these floors, just as Rebecca was now? Despite being eager to see Adam, Rebecca was also hesitant. Her attraction to him could not be questioned—she was drawn to her handsome suitor. She thoroughly enjoyed their lively conversations and his playful flirting. She even enjoyed their stolen kisses and the warmth of his arms. He was assaulting her senses from all sides and making her world spin, jumbling her thoughts.

But he was also heading back instead of forward.

When Adam was near, he surrounded her with his presence as a mainsail surrounded a mast pole, guiding her in whatever direction he decided to turn.

She needed to be able to think clearly and decide her own direction. If only her thoughts were clear, setting her course would be so much easier. But her thoughts were odd and... frightening because she didn’t understand them. Some of her thoughts were too irrational to be real memories, just as the woman on the beach was too different to be real. That concerned her in the deepest part of her being and made her question everything—including her mental stability.

With a shake of her head Rebecca drove out the upsetting thoughts and entered the spacious kitchen. It was quite cool at this early hour, but she loved the room. As she gazed out the large window above the sink, she inhaled the scents of hickory and dried sage that permeated the kitchen. A waist-high work table of white oak and two ladder-back chairs took up one side of the room while the mammoth cook stove commandeered the other. Several braided rugs added a cozy touch, as did the shelves lined with colorful tins, which held teas, sugar and coffee. A small coffee mill sat atop the work table.

Since Adam had promised to arrive early enough to treat them to breakfast at the inn, Rebecca was spared the task of lighting the huge stove and managing the hot plates. She took a small bottle of milk from the icebox that Adam had generously replenished with ice yesterday evening. She poured some in a dish for Jojo, who was busy batting a small ball of yarn around the table and chair legs. In another dish Rebecca shredded tiny pieces of chicken from the baked breasts they had for their dinner the previous evening. “Come on, little tiger. This should fill your belly until I return.”

As Jojo devoured her breakfast, Rebecca crossed the kitchen.

A rugged oak door with a latch handle led to the scullery. She stepped down into the dark room and paused to let her eyes adjust. It was mostly used for boiling water and doing laundry and so it sat lower than the rest of the house. Its brick floor slanted toward the back exit, which led to the water well the princess must have utilized. The slop stone sink, located next to the outside wall, slanted to one angle as well so that waste water flowed to the soil pipe that threaded its way out back. Rebecca could only imagine how busy the princess must have been, caring for her young brother and tending chores on her own. And yet she had flourished here. Somehow the princess had found a way to overcome all the heartache of her past and claim her future as her own.

But had she ever questioned her own sanity?

Pushing away the thought, Rebecca moved through the scullery and headed out the back door. The day’s first rays of sunlight greeted her as did the chatter of several red-wing blackbirds that had nested in the eave directly above her head. While she waited for Adam to arrive, she roamed the back garden for a short while, wondering what vegetables would soon push from the loamy earth and thinking still about a princess from a faraway time whose journey was not so very different from her own.

o0o

As the waiter at the Beacon Inn served up hearty portions of porridge, ham, eggs, baked beans with maple syrup, Rebecca sipped her hot tea and chatted with her breakfast mates. She surprised herself by eating a second helping of ham and thoroughly enjoyed herself. The inn’s cook packed them a picnic lunch to compliment the trout Adam planned to catch, and within the hour, Rebecca, Adam, Grandma and Dawson headed up Crane River in two birch bark canoes.

Rebecca rode with Adam in one canoe—he in the stern seat and she in the bow seat—while her grandmother and Dawson managed the second canoe.

Once they were above the rapids, the gentle sunrise Rebecca had enjoyed in the garden bloomed into an absolutely beautiful day to be on the river. The sky, filled with fat and fluffy clouds, blazed a brilliant blue and reflected everywhere atop the smooth river waters.

Rebecca left her parasol in the bottom of the canoe and tossed her riding hat down atop it. She’d have unpinned her hair and let it fly with the breeze as well, but decided she shouldn’t totally abandon her good manners no matter how much she longed to do so. Opening the enclosures of her jacket, she allowed herself to relax and enjoy watching the passing scenery as Adam rowed them north with a steady, strong rhythm.

It felt wonderful to feel so free... to be away from the expectant glances she’d suffered in Fredonia. Though people there cared for her and cared about her recovery, and Rebecca genuinely appreciated their kindness and concern, she detested being the object of their scrutiny—and their pity. The townspeople there were strangers to her... just as those of Crane Landing. But in Crane Landing, no one knew any more about her than she did about them. There were no expectations. Her life was a clean slate here—as clean as the river that surrounded her.

She could flow as the river flowed, without resistance... without effort. Maybe crossing an ocean and seeing more of the world wasn’t about her being adventurous. Maybe she was just scared of going back home, of struggling to remember or having to relearn so much of her life. Going back was too hard.

Trout rose up and out of the water, snapping flies from the air and creating circles that radiated outward in the river once the fish dove back down.

Twice Rebecca spied moose at the water’s edge. One huge bull moose with a spread of antlers wider than even Adam’s arm span, lifted its head and let out a deep, long call. She held her breath at the startling sight—and the sound that resonated in her chest—for the animal was larger than her mare and far too close for comfort.

Adam laughed at her reaction. “Magnificent creatures, aren’t they?” he asked from behind her, pausing in his paddling to allow Rebecca a moment longer of viewing the moose.

“Indeed,” she murmured, awestruck. She glanced back at Adam over one shoulder, and sent him a smile. “I had no idea I’d love this so much.”

“I knew you would.” A smile tilted his lips and he winked at her... and oh... her chest felt as if the moose had blared long and low all over again. Her cheeks heated and her belly twirled as if she were riding a series of large waves. But the river was calm. It was Adam who made her feel this wonderful thrilling rush. She turned her face back to the river ahead of her and did her best to breathe.

She could feel his gaze on her as she spoke over her shoulder. “It’s not fair that you know so much about me. It gives you a huge advantage.”

“Would most women not consider it a good thing that a man knew her deepest desires?” he asked.

Her lips quirked and she couldn’t hold back her smile. “That knowledge can be used against said woman just as easily.”

“Agreed,” he openly admitted. “That’s why it will do a woman well to carefully assess a suitor’s character. Mine happens to be spotless as are my intentions toward you.”

Her laugh rang over the river, causing her grandmother and Dawson to glance in her direction. Unmindful of their questioning smiles, she turned to see Adam. “Are you declaring yourself, Adam?”

He shook his head. “I did that years ago, Rebecca.”

“Oh...” She found herself speechless as her gaze locked with his.

“Do you think I based your love of boating on our past?” he asked.

She gave him a small nod. “I did, yes, but I suppose the answer is no and that I’ve insulted you.”

“You’re half right. You have always loved rowing the creek and along the lake shore. I knew that. But I also know how you enjoy the beauty of this place and how each thing you discover, however small, thrills you. That’s why I thought you would enjoy paddling upriver today. What you’re wrong about is that you insulted me. We’ve always been honest with each other and I want that to continue.”

She sat speechless again, but this time it was from the swell of emotion that filled her. As if a wave had crossed their bow, she felt herself rocked by his tenderness and his strength.

She could grow accustomed to that warm and tender side of him that elicited her trust and encouraged intimacy with him. The capable honorable man who rowed them along the river with surety and ease was taking them where he wanted to go, and she was losing her battle to resist.

He held too much power over her.

“I must man the oars of my life.”

He cocked his head in question. “What?”

Realizing she’d declared herself aloud, Rebecca lifted her chin. “I shall row for a spell.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said, wearing a smile that said he was entertained by her offer.

She swiveled her knees right and twisted her torso around to better see him. The canoe rocked, but Adam, steadied it with a slight shift of his torso. “I’m quite capable,” she said.

“I know. You’ve rowed plenty of times during our treks along Canadaway. I’m simply protecting that lovely dress of yours from getting soiled. Rowing can be sweaty work.”

“Oh...” She hadn’t thought of that. “Well, all right, but I shall direct us.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” he said, and he did until they came to a small fork in the river. “If we take that little jaunt left we’ll end up right back in this main body of the river but a half mile past Petticoat Landing. My arms are telling me to stay right.”

Laughing, Rebecca said, “By all means you should listen to your arms.”

“I agree,” he said, dropping his voice as if to keep the conversation between them. “They’re telling me they ache to hold you.”

She didn’t turn around, didn’t even dare to glance back at him.

Adam navigated their way around a small series of shallows and rocks. He did so with ease, just like he did everything.

No matter how she scoured her brain for something to talk about, she couldn’t think of a word.

So they remained silent until they arrived at Petticoat Landing, which was a favored landing for the lumbermen who would skid the logs out of the woods each winter and then float them downriver during the spring freshet.

“We won’t head back into the hollow to my fishing hole,” he said into the silence. “It’s too far of a trek for Grandma to endure. We’ll just picnic here at Petticoat Landing.

As soon as they stepped onto the landing, Dawson began gathering wood for a fire while their grandmother cleared a small area to lay out a square of linen upon which to unpack the contents of the wicker picnic basket. Adam, a fishing pole in one hand and a tackle basket looped about his chest, motioned Rebecca to follow him along a path that snaked alongside the river’s edge.

“Do you like trout?” he asked, as if he hadn’t a clue
what
she liked, although he must certainly remember.

Rebecca grinned. “I’ve no idea. Feed me some and I’ll let you know.”

“Well, first I’ll have to catch you some.”

“Is that a problem?” she teased, feeling playful and a bit daring today.

“I hope not. I should hate to disappoint my lady,” he said, and that stop-her-heart smile of his was back in play.

They walked together upriver, moving easily over uneven terrain, Adam pointing out a protruding tree root here or there or the presence of poison ivy or sumac. Though the air was alive with a host of flying insects, the black flies were not so bothersome and the other flies proved only to be a help in indicating to Adam what type of fly he should attach to the end of his fishing line.

He led Rebecca to a large flat rock that jutted out from the land into the river. Above it was a massive oak tree, its limbs ancient and curved over the water below. Its roots went deep into the ground and no doubt offered cover for the trout far below the waterline.

Rebecca felt her own roots reaching deep into the rich soil at Crane Landing. She was growing here. She was still a sapling vulnerable to strong winds and harsh conditions, but she knew one day she would stand tall and strong if she remained here.

Adam climbed atop the rock first, deposited his fishing gear there, and then he turned to help Rebecca up. The top of the rock was surprisingly smooth and held more than a few natural indentations that made a perfect perch for her. To her left, a shiny black mink the size of a house cat slid into the water from the river’s bank, while farther out in the water a river otter swam by.