A Gentle Fragrance Read online

  Stewart’s tall muscular frame and no-nonsense attitude helped to relieve any doubts about his ability to protect the women. But a man’s build or size didn’t factor in when talking about guns. A bullet could down the strongest man alive.

  Yet Bill knew Vittorio’s family wouldn’t gun them down in the street. That wasn’t how the family operated. Their ways were more underhanded and sneaky, less public.

  “Give me a few days to think it over,” Bill amended. “I just can’t give you an answer right now.”

  “Fair enough.” Stewart rose to his feet. “I had better get back to the book work.”

  Bill said nothing, his mind active as it visited the past once again.

  Fifteen

  Sarah was excited to visit the church again, her embarrassment over her social error no longer disturbing. After Darcy had shared some mistakes she’d made when she’d first arrived at the refuge, Sarah laughed and felt much better about her own awkward moments.

  As she and Bill approached the church, a sudden faint yipping sound came from behind her. She turned at the same moment a brown puppy scampered up to her on awkward legs. It jumped against her ankles. The little animal was so tiny, so cute, she had no fear of it and bent to gather the warm furry bundle into her hands.

  “Why, hello!” She brought it closer to her. Its pink tongue began bathing her face. There had been dogs of a type on her island but none as cute as this little fellow.

  “Uh, Sarah. . .” At Bill’s low words, she looked up. He stared at someone beyond her, then turned his attention to her. “Maybe we should go inside?”

  Sarah glanced in the direction Bill had been looking. An elderly woman Sarah remembered as Mrs. Cosgrove stared at Sarah in shocked disdain, then lifted her head high and entered the church.

  Heart deflated, Sarah looked back at Bill. “Playing with dogs before a church meeting is not allowed in society’s rules?”

  A tender expression crossed his face. “No, you go ahead and enjoy that pup. I think his owner is coming this way.”

  Sarah held onto the wriggling bundle, smiling down into his affectionate brown eyes, but a morsel of the joy had been lost. Bill was being kind; she had obviously embarrassed him again. The pup licked her face, bringing back her smile. She watched as Bill walked over to a young boy and talked with him. The child made a lot of motions with his hands, pointing behind him, pointing toward her and the pup. Bill soon returned with the boy in tow.

  “Sorry about that, ma’am.” The boy held his hands out for the pup. “Little guy gets loose a lot when my brother leaves the barn door open. He was the runt of the litter, though as fast as he runs now, you’d never believe it.”

  Sarah smiled acknowledgment to the child as Bill led her into church, and they slipped into a pew. The service was as stimulating as the last one she’d attended. The hymns of worship blessed her soul, especially the song “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name,” and she longed to learn the music so she could sing along as well. The pastor’s message from 1 Corinthians dealt with unconditional love and spoke to her heart. She was again reminded of her father both in the way the pastor delivered the sermon and by his friendly attitude.

  Afterward, the pastor’s wife and the organist sought Sarah out to speak with her while Bill excused himself. Curious about what was so important that it couldn’t wait until they reached the refuge, Sarah watched as he talked to his brother and Stewart. Perhaps Bill felt uncomfortable being the sole male in a group of women now clustered around her. Though these women were kind, Sarah couldn’t help but notice the snubs she received from other parishioners, women and men alike. She kept the mask of cool detachment on her features, but the slights wounded, and she wondered if they had listened to today’s message.

  Darcy came up to the group, nodded a greeting to the others, then looked at Sarah. “Bill asked that we take you home with us. One of the boys is sick and we need to return. Sorry, luv.”

  “Bill’s not coming?”

  “He said he’ll meet us at the refuge.”

  “Oh.” Sarah wasn’t sure what to think or why Bill would simply vanish like that, but she accompanied Darcy to the waiting car and was silent the entire ride home.

  Once at the refuge, she went to her room, restless, and picked up the cross. She looked at the symbol below the last one—the crown seemed to hang in limbo and at a titled angle, the sun much smaller and far away, the snake larger—then she again set it on the table. She didn’t want to think what it meant, though she suspected she knew. Her aunt had brought darkness into her life, according to what her father and those at Lyons’ Refuge thought. And after reading all of 1 Kings and other passages in the Bible that Pastor Wilkins had recommended, Sarah was beginning to feel as if her father was right.

  She loved her aunt; that would never change. But as she’d read the words of life, the conviction deep within her spirit could not be ignored. She recognized truth in them and now felt cheated. Sarah had needed guidance. Her father had been unable to give it. Her aunt had provided it, and now Sarah realized all that she’d been taught was wrong. Much of it was considered wicked, and she felt as if a rift had been ripped open inside her. A part of her childhood and young girlhood must be torn away from her in order for her to please the Lord. Though she desired to serve Christ, she couldn’t help but feel bitter tears well up for all she’d learned and lost.

  It did no good to question why these events happened. She didn’t blame her father for his lack of fatherly wisdom or withdrawal during those two years; she knew his love for her mother had been immense. As a child, she’d felt such reassurance, such happiness to see them together. Her mother had been a soft-spoken woman, but she, too, spoke of faith in the Lord to Sarah. At the memory, Sarah wondered what had drawn her to listen to her aunt, when her own mother had been a Christian convert.

  The rattling sound of an automobile coming up the path drew her to the window. She frowned when she saw the Tin Lizzie swerve from side to side a couple of times, as though Bill worked to keep it on the dirt path.

  She hurried downstairs, wondering if he was ill. As she walked out the door, Bill exited the vehicle, his smile so wide it captured her heart and her breath, and then her gaze lowered to the wriggling brown ball of fur in his hands.

  “He’s for you, Sarah.” Bill held out the puppy to her. “Your new pet.”

  She gasped. Stunned at his thoughtfulness, she felt tears glaze her eyes. Her heart felt so full she thought she might float away. Without thought, without hesitation, she went to him, rose up on her toes, and, laying one hand on his shoulder, gently kissed his cheek.

  ❧

  Bill stood on the porch hours later, touching the cheek that Sarah had kissed. He still could hardly believe she’d done that. Afterward she’d seemed embarrassed and had drawn back, though her smile was genuine as she took the squirming pup who’d been christened with the name Sasi. All through the drive from the previous owner’s, Bill had worked to hold onto the writhing ball of fur, almost driving off the road a few times as the Tin Lizzie chugged along. The animal had even wet on his trousers in its excitement, but the ordeal had been worth it to see the look in Sarah’s eyes. And to receive the gift of her kiss.

  He inhaled deeply, then headed inside. Charleigh sat in a rocker with Clementine, humming a song to her.

  “Any idea where Sarah is?”

  “I think she went to the lake.”

  “This late?” Bill didn’t like the sound of that. Only a few hours remained until sunset. “Mind if I borrow the car?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Bill. Stewart took it into town. And Samuel and Greg are working on the other one. The brake sticks.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” He headed out the door, wondering what to do. Well, his wife made the walk every day. He didn’t suppose it would hurt him, and hopefully he would run into her coming back.

  The summer day was mild, but by the time he got to the lake, the water looked inviting. More so, with his wife in it. Unnoticed, Bill s
tood beneath the trees and watched.

  She laughed and played with the puppy as it waded near her, slowly dog-paddling in circles before it moved to shore. The pup padded out and shook itself briskly before scampering to the gray dress to sniff it. Seeing Bill, it ran at an angle toward him and jumped about his ankles a few times. Absently he reached down to pet it, while keeping his eye out for his wife, who had immediately dived under the water once her pet left her. The pup went to make a bed in the gray dress.

  Sarah broke the surface, and Bill watched her swim in her sarong, her movements graceful, alluring. Once he’d resisted the pull to join her in the water, at the island, but now he accepted the push that sent him wanting to rush to her. Heart beating fast, he bent to pull off his shoes.

  ❧

  Reveling in the feel of the silky water around her skin, Sarah swam with delight. After a while, the water was no longer cold, and she loved to spend her afternoons here. She glided underneath and resurfaced to swim on her back. The top of her head hit something solid. More than curious, she swirled around and came face to face with Bill!

  She blinked, a short pause ensued, and then he grinned.

  “Ever had a water fight?” His tone came out boyish, innocent, as he sprayed her with water.

  Laughing, she threw her hands up to cover her eyes. “Bill!”

  He didn’t relent in his playful attack, and she squealed, ducked, then came up with a spray of her own and splashed him with it. Thoroughly enjoying herself, she laid back and kicked the water so it showered in his face.

  “All right, you. . .” His look of mock retribution as he steadily advanced had her squealing again, and she tried to swim away. He slid underneath the water and grabbed her legs, pulling her down and dunking her beneath with him.

  They came up for air, Sarah laughing. They were close, closer than before. Her heart thudded with expectation at the look that suddenly entered his eyes, and the mood between them changed, going from playful to electric.

  “Sarah,” he whispered before his lips touched hers.

  She felt as if she were floating and falling at the same time and wrapped her arms around his neck, both to anchor herself and keep from sinking. His arms drew her closer. Their kisses took her heart to a place she’d known only one other night. . . .

  “ ‘Won’t you come home, Bill Bailey, won’t you come home— she cried the whole night lo-ong.’ ”

  The sudden sound of two boys singing at the top of their lungs, and badly, startled them and broke them apart. They turned to the bushes to see Joel and Herbert, their hands pressed to their hearts in mock-dramatic flair as they belted out the tune. The pup woke up from its nap and began barking.

  “ ‘I’ll do the cookin’ darlin’,’ ” Joel sang in high falsetto, turning to Herbert.

  “ ‘I’ll pay the rent,’ ” Herbert answered back in a deeper voice than normal.

  “ ‘I knows I done you wrong,’ ” they both crooned, clasping both hands and holding them to their hearts as they each put their weight on one leg and leaned toward the other, heads held high, while facing Sarah and Bill.

  Bill closed his eyes and groaned. Sarah couldn’t help but giggle.

  “ ‘Remember, that rainy evening I threw you out, with nothin’ but a fine-toothed comb,’ ” Joel sang. Then together they gave their finale, “ ‘I know I’se to blame, well, ain’t that a shame—Bill Bailey won’t you please, Bill Bailey won’t you please, Bill Bailey won’t you pleeease come hooome!’ ” Joel swept off his cap from his fair hair, and both boys bowed deeply from the waist.

  Bill shook his head. “Don’t you kids have anything better to do than to spy on your elders?” Tenseness edged the humor of his words, and Sarah looked at him.

  “Aw, we weren’t doing no spying,” Herbert said. “Honest. Ain’t that right, Joel?”

  “That’s right. Mr. Lyons asked where you were, and since we were out berry-picking anyways for Miss Darcy so she can make her pies, we told him we’d look for you.” He picked up a pail that was at his feet. “See?” Herbert picked up his, too.

  “Well, you found me. Your message is delivered, so you can both skedaddle now.”

  “Didn’t know we’d find you in the middle of the lake though.” Joel’s angelic face couldn’t hide his mischief. Herbert sniggered.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Bill let go of Sarah and made as if he was coming their way. “Don’t make me have to tell you twice.”

  Joel’s grin was wide. “Come on, Herbert. We know when we’re not wanted.” The boys took off, laughing and singing another round of the same song.

  Bill shook his head. “Young scamps.”

  Sarah’s heart settled back in her chest, lower than before. “You don’t like children, Bill?”

  “Never been around that many to know.” He looked back at her, a look of resigned disappointment on his face. “Come on. We should be getting back anyway. The sun will soon set, and I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone in the dark. I’d rather from now on you didn’t come out here this late.” He waded out of the water to the shore.

  She watched him a few seconds, then followed. The beautiful moment between them had been shattered, but not just because of the boys’ sudden entrance. She would do anything to recapture what she and Bill had just shared. He turned his back to her as she changed into the dry dress, then he took the wet one from her and they set out for the refuge. Yet even though they walked side by side, Bill seemed distant once again.

  ❧

  “Bill, I’d like you to meet Charleigh’s father. This is Michael Larkin. He’s a strong supporter of the refuge.”

  “ ’Tis a pleasure to meet with ye, Bill.”

  Bill shook the man’s hand, admiring his strong grasp. An Irishman by the sound of his voice, his obvious strength belied his years. And his tact was commendable, as well.

  When Bill and Sarah returned from the lake, Bill in wet clothes and Sarah with her hair wet around her hips, the husky, gray-haired man who’d been sitting on the porch hadn’t batted an eyelid. Of course, considering the craziness that went on at the refuge on a continual basis, maybe a grown man in dripping trousers and shirt wasn’t all that odd to see.

  “He’s coming to Manhattan with us in a few days,” Stewart went on to explain. “We’ve decided to stay overnight. Michael wants to treat us to a Broadway show. I think Sarah would enjoy that, as well as seeing some of the sights. And while I’m talking to Judge Markston, Michael will be staying with the ladies so they’ll never be alone.”

  Bill directed a sharp glance at Stewart, to which the man shook his head. “No, I didn’t tell him your story. But I don’t think he’ll be too shocked. Charleigh served a term in prison, remember, and at one time she also had a killer after her. Your brother saved both Darcy and Charleigh from his vengeful agenda.”

  “My brother?” Bill’s eyes grew wide.

  “Yes. In a most ingenious way, too. Got a black eye and split lip for his efforts. As a matter of fact, I think the killer was a former associate of yours—Philip Rawlins, though we knew him as Eric.”

  Bill stood rooted to the spot. “Phil came here?”

  “It’s a long story. One day I’ll have to tell you about it.”

  A wash of emotions swept over Bill. Disbelief that his brother could find the courage needed to face a killer and save the women. Shock that the killer was the man Bill had once saved. Vittorio had marked Philip as a dead man, and Bill had warned him in advance. He shook his head, trying to get a grip on reality. It all seemed so bizarre.

  “I also had a run-in with Eric years ago, and saved Charleigh from his clutches before you knew him. He’s in jail last I heard. And while Brent won’t be coming with us since he has to teach the boys, I want to assure you again that Sarah will be safe. We won’t let her out of our sight.”

  Bill felt his defenses weakening. Stewart knew how to make a convincing argument. If Brent could and did protect the women, Bill certainly knew these men could.

 
; “I’ll think more on it.” It was the best he could do.

  Sixteen

  With her hair again braided into a more acceptable style, Sarah left the bedroom. She stopped upon hearing Charleigh’s beautiful voice wafting down the corridor in a soothing tune.

  “ ‘Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral. . .too-ra-loo-ra-li. . . Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral. . . Hush now, don’t you cry. . . .’ ”

  Sarah came to the threshold of Charleigh and Stewart’s bedroom and peeked in, not wanting to disrupt the poignant moment. Charleigh sat in a rocker, smiling down at Clementine, who lay in her arms. The child’s wide eyes looked up at her. Her hair, a shade lighter than her mother’s, shone copper red.

  “ ‘Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral. . .too-ra-loo-ra-li. . . Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral. . . That’s an Irish lullaby. . . .’ ”

  Tears came to Sarah’s eyes as the haunting melody reached down deep to touch her soul, and she placed her hand to her stomach, hopeful for the day she would sing her own little one to sleep.

  Charleigh looked up. Sarah, now embarrassed, turned away.

  “Please don’t go. Clemmie isn’t being cooperative anyway. No lullaby created is going to put this one to sleep for her nap.” Charleigh laid a fingertip to the child’s nose, and she giggled.

  Clementine twisted in her mother’s lap and looked toward the doorway. She smiled, and Sarah’s heart was touched. “May I hold her?”

  Charleigh seemed surprised, but it was no wonder. Sarah had never offered to hold a child during all her weeks at the refuge. “Certainly. Maybe she just needs a change of hands to help her settle down.” Charleigh rose from the rocker and handed the girl to her.

  “Sa-rah,” Clementine said with a smile, putting her little fingers on Sarah’s cheek.

  At that moment, something inside Sarah changed. Gone was the fear of impending motherhood and the fear of Bill’s rejection of their child, while the entrance of motherly love captured her heart and soul. She desperately wanted her own baby to hold in her arms and almost wept with the release of the bonds that had constricted her from admitting that.