She’d grown increasingly flustered by his speech, but rotting? His word choice affronted her. “And for that you have no one to blame but yourself!”
“True.” He nodded with a wry, crooked grin. “I take responsibility for getting knocked on the head. But, Lorena, yesterday you spoke of being confused. What about that which lies beneath your exterior, eh? What secrets do you keep, I wonder. Could it be you don’t know or trust me well enough to share them? And yet you demand to know my innermost thoughts. Which leaves us exactly where we were before Mr. Louder so rudely interrupted. With a desire to get to know one another. Do you still have that desire, Lorena?”
She pondered her answer, then at length said, “Captain . . . pardon me, Brogan, promise me there will be no more fighting between you and George. I will not have Drew looking to you for example, only to have him believe fighting and war bring excitement to a young man’s life. I do not condone violence.”
“Neither do I. I give you my word. I’ll not raise my fists again no matter what insults are flung my way.”
“Well, in that case, you are invited back to the house this afternoon for a slice of freshly baked gingerbread and a tumbler of Mrs. Culliford’s cool raspberry water. Perhaps you might apologize to George, and I could convince him to return the gesture.”
His brows knitted together. His smile disappeared and so did he.
But Brogan returned later in the day, and then the following morning he called again. He spoke with her father, who sent them off with his blessing, a picnic lunch prepared by Mrs. Culliford, and the loan of his chaise for a drive into Duxborotown. They took Drew for a drive along the two-mile main street, watching the bay and counting the masts that lined the shore. Lorena could tell Duxboro pleased Brogan. It was, after all, a town given almost entirely to the sea and its related industry.
At the town square they turned the corner of Harmony Street onto Washington. Here stood the squarish white Federal houses of Duxboro’s shipping magnates, in addition to boardinghouses for the single young men who worked the shipping trades. All along the lane, to the east, was a clear view of the bay as most of the town’s trees had been hewn in the building of ships and homes.
On foot they climbed the heights of Captain’s Hill. Brogan spread the picnic blanket, and Lorena unpacked their lunch. She removed biscuits, cooked sausages, and a covered dish of thick ham slices, and then pointed across a panoramic view in the southerly direction of Plymouth.
“See there, Brogan, the southern end of that peninsula?” she said as he stretched his long legs, reclining back on his elbows. “That is the area we here in Duxboro refer to as the Nook. There lies the garden plot, where tradition has it that Elder Brewster brought the first lilacs to the New World when the Pilgrims came to America two centuries ago. Today lilacs bloom throughout Duxborotown every spring.”
He chuckled. “And I take it you favor lilacs, eh, Lorena?”
“I pick them for her,” Drew piped up, “don’t I, Lorena?”
“Yes, sweetheart. You are a very thoughtful boy, but please don’t pull off your shoes.”
“I must. I remove my socks so I can feel the worms in the grass with my toes, or how else will I find them?”
“You won’t need worms today. We have a beautiful lunch here, which we are about to eat. You’re not going anywhere, young man.”
From the corner of her eye, Lorena saw Brogan’s smile as she removed a jar of pickles from the basket. She lifted another of boiled eggs, only to spot something unexpected behind a pot of raspberry jam.
“Oh, Drew, look. Look who clever and thoughtful Mrs. Culliford packed for you,” she said, plucking Captain Briggs up by the collar of his blue jacket to hold him aloft. “I’m surprised you didn’t think to bring him for yourself.”
As Drew glanced up from picking his toes, Brogan sprang forth to snatch the doll from her grasp.
“Captain Briggs,” he whispered in a voice thick with emotion and hoarse with wonderment. He took close inspection, turning the doll over in his hands.
Drew jumped to his old friend’s rescue, stretching forth his hands in a silent plea for his return, but Brogan held fast to the doll. “I would have thought him long gone, but I see you’ve managed to hold on to him all these years.”
Drew’s eyes rounded at Brogan, as Brogan stared intently back at him. His gaze rolled over the boy with, if Lorena’s eyes did not deceive, a look of intense love and pride.
“Drew carries him everywhere,” Lorena said, attempting to include herself in whatever was happening, but Brogan had eyes only for the child. He placed Captain Briggs reverently into Drew’s chubby little hands. Lorena turned her attention from Brogan to the doll, thoroughly confused, trying to look at Captain Briggs with the same fascination.
“Brogan, how is it you are familiar with Captain Briggs? I do not recall mentioning him. Drew, have you been showing the captain your doll?”