How could he tear Drew away from the family he obviously loved? But what if Huntley intended to exploit the child once he grew old enough to be of service? The man had conspired with Abigail to steal another’s son. He was no innocent, surely. But if these were indeed the good, kind folk Jabez claimed, then how could Brogan remove Drew from the only home he remembered, and yet how could he conceive of walking away from him?
Had he tied his cravat too tight or had a wave of conscience arisen to strangle him? Brogan pulled at the neckerchief, longing for a vast blue ocean and its briny spray, his only concern that of which direction the wind was blowing. Because of Abigail, he was forced into this situation. Even dead, the woman continued to make his life miserable.
Brogan rehearsed Jabez’s advice in his mind and wondered where he should go from there. He longed for Drew to know him, and Lorena was his only means of accomplishing that. But what could be more awkward than trying to capture a woman’s fancy while seated in the hushed stillness of a religious sanctuary, her father at his elbow?
Brogan did not care for the confinement of these holy walls. They induced a strange emotionalism that stunted the reckless cunning he knew himself capable of.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Lorena’s reflective gaze. Encouraged, he returned her appraisal. She started and lowered her lashes. He had frightened her.
This was getting him absolutely nowhere.
How ill at ease she looked, fidgeting with the boy’s sling on her lap. Brogan longed to reclaim her attention, to still her hands with one of his own, but he had already insulted her with his forwardness in the shipyard. He did not wish to do so again. Why was it one moment he found her such an annoyance and the next a sweet innocent he felt inclined to protect?
Nay, he was there for one purpose and one purpose only. Miss Huntley did not need his protection. He must not allow himself to think of her as anything more than a means to restoring his relationship with his son.
Glancing at the lad, Brogan recalled his own childhood. The orphan asylum. Whippings for something as trivial as sharing food with a starving alley cat. Punishment for wasting provisions, when the scraps had been sacrificed from the meagerness of his own bowl of gruel. And then there were occasions when he had done nothing wrong at all, nothing except direct the anger and bitterness in his stare at the wrong person.
One day a new orphan arrived. She wept, but no one came to comfort her. Brogan held her in his arms as she cried, and instead of receiving his usual beating, his hair was cropped viciously until nothing remained but ragged stubble. “Boys must never touch little girls,” he was scolded. And when his hair reached a comfortable length, it was cut again.
Again and again he was reminded of how worthless he was, until, at six years of age, he’d run away. And to this day, Brogan wore his hair unfashionably long because he could not bear to have a pair of shears taken to it without breaking into a cold, trembling sweat.
The sound of whispering lifted him from his memories, and Brogan turned to Lorena Huntley as though waking from a dream.
She was frowning at Drew. “We’ll read later.”
They were engaged in a small tug-of-war with the Holy Bible, which Brogan found odd.
“Not read from the Bible at meeting? What is it you wish to hear, Drew?” Brogan asked the boy.
Drew angled his head and looked up, eyes bright. “The story of David and Goliath. It is my favorite.”
Lorena noticed how Captain Talvis responded most eagerly to the least attention Drew paid him. His curious behavior had not altered since last evening.
“David, aye. Now I see,” he said to the child. “David and Goliath, the story of a young shepherd boy who slew a giant with a . . .” The captain trailed off to a thoughtful pause, his intelligent brow knit in concentration as he slowly lifted his gaze to hers and pinned her with a sharp stare.
Dread raced up her spine at his enlightened expression. He spared a glance at the sling on her lap before posing a question with his eyes, while with a jerk of his head and a wry twist of his lips he gestured toward Drew.
He had deduced the truth. How could I have allowed Drew to bring his sling to meeting knowing Captain Talvis would be in attendance? Her hand tightened around the sling, and her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
If only she had waited for the captain’s arrival this morning instead of accepting the ride George offered. She had hoped to use the opportunity to convince George to change his mind, but George’s mind was set, and to make matters worse he mistook her concern for affectionate feelings.
She sighed in resignation. As for the captain, what could she do but confess? She was in God’s house, after all. She nodded over Drew’s small, flaxen head and shrugged by way of apology.
“God bless him,” Captain Talvis praised, in a voice louder than what could be considered polite given their surroundings. Several people turned to stare.
Lorena expected he’d be angry to discover a mere child had struck him down, or at the very least displeased, but here was Captain Talvis conferring blessings.
The strings of the church bass began to fill the meetinghouse with music.