Wild Rose. Ruth Morren Axtell

that day in the store.

      He still wanted to know why.

      When she started walking away from the garden patch, he spoke up. “I’m thinking of buying a boat. Know anything of Winslow’s Shipyard?”

      She nodded. “Don’t think much of old man Winslow, but young Silas’ll build you a good craft. He’s got a gift.”

      “A gift?”

      “It’s in his hands.” She looked briefly down at her own dirt-stained ones. “Anything he builds is light, easy to handle, seaworthy. He won’t charge you much for a small vessel. What are you looking at?”

      “Nothing too big. Something I can handle myself. I noticed your little craft. She serves you well. Where do you take her?”

      He couldn’t tell whether she was pleased or not by the compliment. “Up and down the coast. She’s just a double-ender, but that’s all I need.” She nodded. “Silas built her for me. In his spare time.” She made a sound of disgust. “Winslow wouldn’t let him waste his time on a little peapod for the likes o’ me. Farmers usually build their own. Folks use ’em for fishing and some lobstering.”

      “I’ll have to see him. I don’t believe I’ve ever met him, although Phelps Shipping has commissioned the Winslow Yard for schooners.”

      “Silas has been with Winslow for a long time. Ever since he was a boy. Apprenticed with him. He isn’t from these parts. Comes from one of the islands—Swans or Frenchboro.”

      Another pause. Silence filled the space between them like a physical presence. Caleb still didn’t want her to leave. Maybe it was just boredom. He felt as if he had all the time in the world on his hands.

      “You wouldn’t have any extra seeds?” he asked on impulse.

      “Seeds? Oh, sure, I’ll see what I have.”

      “Mind if I come along?” Now, why had he said that?

      But she just shrugged. “Suit yourself. I have a little bit o’ everything.”

      Caleb walked beside her across the lawn, but as they neared the gate, he heard the sound of a wagon coming down the road toward them. He shaded his eyes against the sun, trying to see who would be coming out to the Point.

      It was old Jim, the man who’d driven him out the first day, with another man beside him. Caleb felt his gut tighten as soon as he recognized Nate, his former first mate, now a captain on a Phelps bark.

      What did Nate want? Was he bringing a message from Boston? Caleb steeled his features to betray nothing, but he couldn’t silence his heart as it began to hammer in anticipation.

      He stood, bracing himself to face the man who was like a brother to him. The only one who’d believed in him throughout. If anyone knew him, it was Nate. If it hadn’t been for his friendship on Caleb’s first voyage, he didn’t think he would have survived the trip in the forecastle of one of his father’s square-riggers.

      How would Caleb stand up to the coming encounter? Could he really convince his friend all was well with him at Haven’s End?

      As the horse and wagon ambled slowly forward, Caleb glanced over at Miss Patterson. She stood, silently watching the two men, nodding a greeting to Jim when he drew up.

      Nate thanked the driver and descended, retrieving his bag from the back.

      Before Caleb had a chance to introduce her, Miss Patterson muttered, “Be seeing ya,” and walked off.

      Caleb’s glance flickered briefly to her, but he made no move to stop her, his attention centered on Nate.

      The two men stood watching the horse and driver depart. When they were alone, Caleb turned to Nate. “What are you doing here?”

      Nate removed his blue cap and scratched his head. “I’m glad I wasn’t expecting a warm greeting, otherwise my feelings might be hurt.”

      Caleb looked hard at his friend. “I thought I made it clear I didn’t want you or anyone else feeling obliged to come and check up on me.”

      Nate ignored the remark. “How was your journey?” he asked himself, then answered, “The seas weren’t too rough.”

      Caleb crossed his arms and remained silent.

      “We had a good passage. Would you like to come in? Yes, thank you kindly, I’ve had a long journey. Can I get you some refreshment? Why, yes, if it wouldn’t presume on your hospitality.”

      Caleb turned on his heel, ignoring Nate’s soliloquy, and walked toward the house, knowing his friend would follow.

      Once inside, Caleb left Nate in the living room and went to the kitchen to fetch him something to drink. When he returned, Nate stood with his back toward him, admiring the view from the rear windows.

      “I can see why you came here.” He turned around with a smile. “Ahh! Just the thing for a parched throat.” He smacked his lips after the first long sip of the cold tea. “Wonderful.” He looked around. “Would you like to have a seat? Why, thank you.” Seeing only the one armchair in the room, he raised an eyebrow. Caleb fetched a straight-backed, wooden kitchen chair and gestured for Nate to take the armchair.

      “Now, are you ready to tell me why you’ve come? Or do you need some food first?”

      Nate smiled. “Perhaps a little later, if it’s not too much to ask.” He set his glass on the wooden crate beside the armchair. Then he looked straight at Caleb, his expression serious for the first time since he’d stepped down from the wagon. “Your father needs you.”

      “Did he send you?” The words were out before Caleb could stop them.

      “You know him better than that. He wouldn’t send for you even if he were gasping his last breath. That doesn’t change the truth. He needs you. The firm needs you. Not to mention countless others. Your mother, for one.”

      When Caleb made no reply, Nate stood and raised his voice. “What is it going to take to get you back? This place is beautiful, I’ll grant you that,” he said, motioning toward the ocean view, “but what are you doing here? You don’t belong here. You belong in Boston, taking over the reins of a shipping empire, not in some tiny harbor hardly visible on a map.”

      Caleb rubbed his hand against his jaw, holding his emotions in check. He’d made his decision and was not going to defend it to anyone. Not anymore. “If you don’t understand why I won’t go back, you who know me, then I can’t explain it to you.”

      His friend continued in a more reasonable tone. “I know how these little villages work. The people living here don’t accept outsiders. Their families have been living here for centuries. It’s all right for summering, but to live here…You have everything waiting for you in Boston. You can’t just walk off and leave it all!”

      The ship’s clock above the mantel ticked in the silence. “Are you finished?” Caleb asked, his calm tone belying his inward turmoil.

      Nate scowled at him in outrage for a second. Then he grinned. “Yes, sir. Are you ready to talk?”

      Caleb sighed. He’d been foolish to think he’d be able to draw a line between everything in his previous life and his reclusive existence now in Haven’s End. “None of what happened in Boston matters anymore.”

      “In a pig’s eye.”

      “Maybe,” Caleb conceded, “but I’m settled here now. Whatever goes on back in Boston is no concern of mine.”

      “Your father is sorry for not trusting your word. He realizes he shouldn’t have condemned you out of hand on the basis of circumstantial evidence. But you know him. He’ll never be able to tell you that. But let him show you. He’ll never doubt your word, nor your loyalty, again.”

      Why was it too little, too late? Caleb stood, unable to contain himself within the confines of a chair.