Gripping the oars, he squared his shoulders and put his back into rowing. Lorena ran her gaze up the Yankee Heart’s great towering side and continued to watch in admiration as they sailed beneath the projecting spar of the bowsprit and the shadow of the jib boom’s sail.
“I wonder why I don’t see Papa among any of the figures on the wharf,” she puzzled as they drew closer to land. “Oh, but there is Temperance and Mrs. Culliford.” Lorena reached up and waved excitedly, catching a glimpse of Edward Hicks’s wife beckoning to her husband in the longboat behind them. Under Mr. Smith’s command, it carried several of the crew as well as Lorena’s and Drew’s trunks.
Brogan dragged the boat up the beach and lifted them out in turn onto the warm, soft beach sand. While he secured the boat, Drew scrambled up the dunes into Mrs. Culliford’s arms. She stooped to receive him, rocking him in a hug and showering his face with kisses.
Lorena followed unsteadily on sea legs while Temperance ambled down the dune to her assistance, her voice carrying over the echoing surf and screeching gulls. “Is it really you, Lorena? We missed you so much! Your father has even purchased a fine porcelain tub for you. It waits up in your room. And there are soaps and bath salts of every fragrance imaginable.”
“I missed you too, Temperance.” Lorena hooked an arm with her sweet young friend. Sand sifted into her sandals and between her toes as together they climbed to where Mrs. Culliford and Drew awaited. They reunited in a huddle of kisses, tears, and hugs. Mrs. Culliford drew her close with an arm wrapped about Lorena’s waist, then tenderly tucked a stray curl behind Lorena’s ear. There were questions about that fateful day, questions about George and what had happened, which for the moment would have to remain unanswered, as shipwrights, workmen, their families, and other townsfolk gathered around to welcome her home.
“Everyone, please,” she called as Brogan strode up the path to join them. “This is a happy occasion indeed, but your good wishes belong to the hero who has made my safe return to Duxboro possible.” Lorena brought her hands together in applause, and all those fine citizens present lifted their faces to Brogan and joined her.
Shouts of “Hurrah” rose up. Drew broke away from the onlookers and ran proudly to his papa’s side. Grinning, Brogan reached down and hoisted the boy into his arms. As he continued with Drew up the dune, Mrs. Culliford separated herself to approach him.
She took his hand reverently between both her own. “On behalf of Mr. Huntley, Captain, bless you for bringing his children safely home. We are truly indebted to you.”
“You are most welcome, Mrs. Culliford.” Brogan lowered Drew to the ground and cast his gaze warily over the spectators gathered. “Tell me, where is Mr. Huntley, and why is he not here with you?”
The petite housekeeper spared a glance behind with a smile for Lorena, emotion misting her eyes. “I found him to be in such a state of loneliness and worry that I convinced him to continue with his business trips. Work seems to be the only thing that consoles him. He left for Boston shortly before the Yankee Heart was sighted in the bay.”
Mrs. Culliford addressed Brogan once again. “I sent word immediately after him, Captain, and expect him to arrive shortly. In time, no doubt, to join you in the meal Temperance and I have been busily preparing. Not that Mr. Mott is not an able cook, but we thought you might be hungry for a taste of Yankee home cooking. Mr. Smith is most welcome, as well,” she was quick to assure him.
“Mr. Smith will be pleased to hear it. Thank you kindly, Mrs. Culliford. I cannot imagine an occasion when we would decline your home cooking.”
Brogan appreciated the woman’s excitement at having her household restored. She blushed shyly under his thoughtful gaze and offered him a smile of gratitude, eyes bright.
She turned next to Drew, sifting her fingers through his long, baby-fine curls. “Your hair has grown since I saw you last. A quick trim would tidy you up nicely before Papa Huntley arrives. Would you let me cut your hair, Drew?”
The lad turned his face, ducking from her reach. He looked to Brogan instead. “I think I need a nap first.”
Temperance scoffed. “Don’t believe him, Mother. He never wants to nap.”
Brogan rested a hand atop his son’s head and chuckled, for he understood the lad’s reluctance. Why must I get a trim when my own papa’s hair is so long? he imagined the boy thinking. Brogan’s hair had now grown to where it skimmed the top of his shoulders.
Observing them, Mrs. Culliford blushed with horror. “Oh, Captain, I did not mean to imply—”
“Please, don’t apologize, Mrs. Culliford. I agree with you; Drew could do with a haircut. Though, clearly, I do not set the best example on that score.”
Mrs. Culliford set her chin proudly. “Well, in that case, Captain, you are most welcome to join us. I’ve often been told I have talent with a pair of shears.”