Rebecca's Heart Page 4

  “You sound more like a prosecutor than my mother.”

  Luke let out a long groan. “It’s that obvious?”

  “To your mother? Yes. To her? I’m not so sure. Though I did notice how flustered she became at your arrival.”

  Pushing his plate away, Luke rested his elbows on the table. “You know I can’t think about courting her—or anyone for that matter.”

  “Why not? Look at your father and me. We married six weeks from the day we met. A bit shocking to many people, I agree, but sometimes you meet someone and know they’re the one. A month later your father left on a three-year voyage.”

  Luke raked his fingers through his hair. “We stood and watched the boats in the harbor on the way to the shop. She mentioned how she couldn’t imagine waiting for someone she loved to return from sea.”

  “So you never told her you’re a whaler?”

  “I was going to. Then she started talking about how dangerous the profession is. Instead of telling her the truth, I told her I needed to get her back to the shop.”

  “I like her, Luke. A lot. But that doesn’t mean she’s the one for you. The sea is in your blood, and you’re going to have to find someone who feels the same way. Someone who will allow you to be who you are.”

  But is that who I am, Lord?

  Luke shook his head. “You’re right, Mother. It is in my blood, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to spend the rest of my life at sea. I want a family someday. And not one I have to leave behind for years at a time.”

  “The right girl will wait for you. I waited for your father during each of his voyages, never regretting my decision to marry him.”

  Luke sighed. He’d heard the stories many times of how his mother had kept busy, counting the months that went by at his grandmother’s bakery, while his father sailed the world. That wasn’t the life he wanted. He was committed to the next voyage and aimed to keep his word to Captain Taft, but after that he was going to retire from sea life. Whether Rebecca would still be around when he returned … that was a whole other question.

  four

  Only two weeks left.

  Luke took in a deep breath of humid air and sighed at the somber thought. The ocean, with its green and blue hues, spread out beside him like a well-polished gem. Gulls glided above the sparkling waters in search of their morning prey. Boats bobbed along ripples that moved across the surface of the sea, some of their occupants likely seeking a day’s wage in a good catch, others seeking pleasure beneath the warm sun.

  Captain Taft would set sail out of this very harbor in a mere fourteen days, yet for Luke the call to stay ashore grew stronger by the hour. And it was all because of the woman who had unexpectedly entered his life—and perhaps a corner of his heart. Rebecca Johnson happened to be everything he’d imagined he could want in a wife. But the timing couldn’t be worse.

  He’d managed to see her often these past couple of weeks. While she worked on slipcovers and draperies, he’d found excuses to stop by the furniture shop with various messages from his mother regarding the decorating project or found ways to be at home while Rebecca worked. And he’d never been disappointed with a moment of their time together. He felt himself drawn to so many things about her. Not only was she pretty and intelligent; she was hardworking, conscientious … and he was leaving.

  Something he still hadn’t told her.

  Unlike his father, he could never rush into a relationship, marry, then leave on another voyage. He would never be able to leave behind a family while he went away for years at a time merely to bring home a ship full of cargo that would add to the country’s supply of lamp oil, candles, medicines, and perfumes. The call of the sea might be in his blood, but he saw no reason to be a whaler simply because his father was a whaler. Whatever the realities of the situation he knew to be true in his head, his heart couldn’t shake the draw he felt to get to know Rebecca better despite the short time he had left.

  The piercing cries of street vendors broke into his thoughts. The rancid smell of fish from a fishmonger’s cart filled his nostrils. Carriages, wagons, and traps congested the street beside him. Pedestrians hurried along the storefronts. Escaping this hubbub of activity was one reason he loved the ocean’s solitude. The peace and quiet he found there made up for the backbreaking work and long hours—but even the lure of the sea never completely took away the deeper loneliness he felt. The endless expanse of water could never give him the cherished relationship between a man and a woman.

  “Please, mister, ‘ere’s a beauty.”

  Luke stopped in front of a street vendor, a little girl selling small bouquets of colorful flowers. She was clothed in filthy rags, her hair oily and matted; it seemed the beautiful, sweet-smelling arrangement had fared better than she. Normally he never noticed the street vendors who spent their days hawking. Selling everything from newspapers to cheese, oysters to peanuts, pies to bottled water, these vendors were simply a part of the city’s bustling backdrop with their shrill cries, blowing of tin horns, or tinkling of bells.

  For some reason the pinched, haunted look on the girl’s face made him take a closer look. He’d spent the noon hour sampling delicious fish chowder with vegetables and sweet bread pudding for dessert, served by his mother’s cook. This girl had more than likely eaten nothing but a slice of bread all day, if that.

  Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. “What’s your name?”

  The tousled-haired little girl’s eyes widened at the question. Instead of answering, she held up one of the bouquets. “Only twenty cents, mister.”

  He counted out the money then repeated the question.

  The girl’s head lowered as she handed him the bouquet. “Mandie.”

  Luke counted out another twenty cents and handed it to the girl. “Mandie, I want you to find yourself something good to eat tonight.”

  Before she could object, Luke stuffed the money in her sweaty palm and hurried away. Something should be done about the conditions of children like Mandie, who had to work long hours on the streets for mere pennies. Within five minutes the brick-faced building housing Macintosh Furniture and Upholstery stood before him, and he’d all but forgotten the little street vendor.

  Humming quietly to herself, Rebecca finished stitching the hem of the drapery panel that would soon grace the window of Patience Hutton’s parlor. Slipcovers adorned the two sofas and matching chairs, and the effect was stunning. Tomorrow Rebecca would hang the curtains, and the room’s new décor would be complete. Mrs. Hutton had told Rebecca she was pleased with her work. So pleased, in fact, she’d mentioned the possibility of Rebecca’s redecorating the sitting room and Mrs. Hutton’s bedroom as well.

  Placing the scraps of extra fabric in the already full bin, Rebecca ran her hand through the pile of material whose various patterns now enhanced parlors all over Boston and contemplated the idea that had been forming in her mind throughout the morning. She held up one of the fabric scraps she’d used from Mrs. Hutton’s green, blue, and yellow slipcovers and smiled, imagining the vivid colors brightening the beds inside the Mills Street Orphanage. Yes. Her idea would work. It might take a bit of coordinating with some of the women at church, but she had no doubt Caroline and maybe even Mrs. Hutton would be eager to get involved with the worthwhile venture.

  To finish the project before the cold Boston winter set in, she’d have to work longer hours to complete not only Mrs. Hutton’s work but also the work for the half dozen other clients for whom she was currently commissioned to make slipcovers. But her time would be well spent.

  Rebecca glanced up as the bell over the front door of the shop rang, announcing a customer. She drew in a quick breath as Luke, wearing a crisp shirt and coffee-colored trousers, made his way through the row of furniture toward the tailor’s bench where she sat surrounded by bolts of colorful fabric.

  “Good morning, Rebecca.”

  “Luke. What a pleasant surprise.”

  Rebecca smiled, noting the sparkle in hi
s eyes, and hoped this unannounced visit truly was a pleasant occasion for him, as well. This wasn’t the first time in the past couple of weeks Luke had dropped by the store unexpectedly with a message for her from his mother. His last visit came with an invitation to his mother’s sixtieth birthday party, which would be held at the Hutton home the following evening. Still, if she were to guess, she was quite sure most of the reasons behind his visits were purely concocted as excuses to see her. It was a thought that left her smiling inwardly despite the fact that she had no intentions of letting her feelings for Luke go any further than the friendship they now shared. Jake had done more than enough to cause her to think twice about falling in love again.

  Luke’s tall, muscular figure towered over her, and she noticed the sharp contrast between the white shirt he wore and his skin, perfectly tanned from hours spent in the shipyard. As much as she wanted to fight it, she couldn’t help the flutter of butterflies his presence evoked.

  She let out a soft sigh and frowned for an instant. Hadn’t Jake’s presence once set her heart to trembling, as well? She wasn’t one of those empty-headed girls who simply fell for every boy who paid attention to her. No, as much as she liked Luke, she had no guarantees he wasn’t as capable of breaking her heart as Jake had been. Jake had been so caught up in himself that he’d never noticed what she needed, and she had no intentions of repeating that same mistake. Besides, once she finished working for Mrs. Hutton, more than likely she’d never see Luke again.

  He pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind his back then leaned against a mahogany side table that smelled like the fresh beeswax that had been used on the surface to bring out the shine in the wood. “I met the saddest-looking little street vendor on my way here today, and, well”—Luke tugged on his ear then handed her the flowers—“I thought you might like these.”

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” Rebecca took the bouquet and brought it to her face, drawing in the sweet scent of the buds while smiling at his awkward attempts to woo her. Luke Hutton, with all his family wealth and social position, was acting like a flustered schoolboy. Regardless of her hesitations, she had to admit she found his uncertainty endearing.

  She stood then crossed the room to one of the cabinets in the back and fished out an empty vase for the flowers before setting them down on her workbench. “I’ve always thought it’s a pity those poor children have to work such long hours for so little.”

  “I agree, but what’s to be done?”

  “I have an idea.” She hadn’t meant to share her thoughts with anyone until she’d worked out the details, but now that she’d begun, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to get Luke’s insight. “It’s not a solution for the young street vendors of the city, but rather the Mills Street Orphanage.”

  “I’d like to hear your idea.” He sat down on the other side of her workbench and rested his elbows against the table.

  She fumbled with the flowers, trying to arrange them in the vase, which was slightly too big for the bouquet. With all the other vases being used as displays to complement the furniture, she’d have to make it work.

  “Before I tell you my idea, would you like some tea?”

  Luke tilted his head slightly. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too hot for tea?”

  “For hot tea, certainly. I meant iced tea.” Rebecca let out a soft giggle. “Ever since I arrived in Boston, I’ve developed quite an affinity for drinking tea, both hot and iced. Caroline’s the one who got me into the habit, and now, no matter what the weather, I don’t think a day goes by without my having at least one glass of tea using Mrs. Lincoln’s recipe.”

  Luke blinked. “Who’s Mrs. Lincoln?”

  “The author of a recently published cookbook. It’s titled Mrs. Lincoln’s Boston Cook Book: What to Do and What Not to Do in Cooking. It’s said to be an instant success. Her recipe for tea, for example, is exceptional. Have you ever been to the Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company?” She tidied up the bits of thread and scraps of fabric on the table, continuing her monologue. “They sell all those little bins of tea from around the world, and I plan to sample each one eventually. It’s far more refreshing than tea cakes or bread pudding, which I’m not terribly fond of anyway, although I do admit that peppermint cakes are my weakness and always tempt me—”

  Rebecca stopped. She was beginning to sound more like her younger sister Sarah, who never seemed to know when to stop talking, than a grown woman. What interest, if any, would Luke have in peppermint cakes and the A & P Tea Company? On one level she’d grown to feel quite at ease around the eye-catching shipbuilder, but the way he was looking at her now, with his handsome visage, made her heart quiver. And she had the bad habit of talking too much when she was nervous.

  “I myself love bread pudding.” Luke smiled and let out a low chuckle. “Had some for lunch today, in fact. Next time you come visit our home, though, I’ll be sure to tell Mother you prefer peppermint cakes over ordinary tea cakes.”

  Rebecca pushed back, she realized a wisp of her bangs and felt her cheeks warm at his teasing. “It’s really not necessary, considering the fact that when I’m there I’ll be working.”

  “You won’t be working tomorrow night now, will you? You’re coming to my mother’s birthday party.”

  “Yes, of course.” While she’d truly come to enjoy Mrs. Hutton’s company, she wasn’t sure how she would feel attending the rather formal celebration. Festivities back home in Cranton had consisted of homemade cakes and pies, along with savory dishes prepared by hardworking farmwives. She was sure this party would be a far cry from roasting meat on a spit or playing baseball in the pasture behind the family barn.

  “Good—I’m glad you’re coming. And tell me something else, Miss Rebecca Johnson,” Luke said, leaning forward, “what else do you like besides the A & P Tea Company’s vast selection of teas, Mrs. Lincoln’s recipes, and peppermint cakes?”

  Rebecca gnawed on her bottom lip and regarded Luke. Surprisingly, she saw no hint of amusement at her expense in his expression. Only genuine interest as he waited for her response. Convinced it would be better to keep the atmosphere light rather than risk the possibility of their conversation becoming too personal, Rebecca laid her finger against her chin, squinted her eyes, and pretended to think hard over the question. While Luke’s attraction to her was becoming obvious, she felt certain she wasn’t ready for any declarations from him wanting to call on her formally.

  “Let’s see. I love corned beef, mashed potatoes, my brother Adam’s maple syrup—though not together—and baking just about anything. I dislike seafood and eggnog—”

  “Being a man of the sea, I can tell you that you don’t know what you’re missing when it comes to seafood.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and wrinkled her nose. “I know perfectly well what I’m missing, and besides, you’ve interrupted me. I wasn’t finished with my list.”

  “Please do continue.” Luke’s satisfied grin told her he was thoroughly enjoying their exchange.

  “I can tolerate corn chowder, which I know I should love along with the seafood, being a favorite Massachusetts fare, and I do love baseball, which doesn’t exactly fit into the food category, but I like it all the same.”

  “That’s quite a list.”

  Rebecca took a deep breath and sat down across from him, hoping she hadn’t rambled too much this time and made an utter fool out of herself. “What about you?”

  “Well, I suppose I’m rather easy to please when it comes to the subject of food. I have a bit of a sweet tooth, being rather fond of things like the aforementioned bread pudding, and then there’s pumpkin pie, apple pie, and cherry pie. Any pie or cake for that matter, I suppose.”

  “And shipbuilding?”

  “Now you’re interrupting me.” He shot her an amused look. “I also like boats, sailing, and baseball, and I’m rather good at chess.”

  Rebecca glanced at the front door and, for the first time all day, wished a customer would interrupt them
. It was becoming far too difficult to stop the growing attraction she felt toward the young man sitting across from her.

  Luke cleared his throat. “Enough about me. You never told me your idea for the Mills Street Orphanage. I’d like to hear it.”

  Rebecca paused. Jake had rarely shown interest in things she was concerned with. Not that he’d been totally indifferent toward her, but looking back, she realized their conversations had focused primarily on his work and his interests.

  “After my father married my stepmother, Michaela, our family adopted my youngest sister, Anna.” Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment and smiled at the image of the little girl’s face. While the first few months had been somewhat of an adjustment for her, she was now as much a part of the family as any of the Johnsons’ other six children. “Anna lost her parents in a terrible fire and ended up living at the orphanage for a couple of years. After hearing her story and realizing the important role the orphanage played in her life, I’ve wanted to get involved and do something to help make the children’s lives better.”

  Rebecca reached for the large box of scraps and pulled out a handful. “For the past eight months I’ve been paid to make slipcovers and drapes of every color imaginable. There are at least four more boxes like this in the back. My clients don’t want them, but for some reason I’ve never gotten rid of them. Now I know why.”

  “Something regarding your idea to help the Mills Street Orphanage?”

  Rebecca nodded. “I propose to get a group of women together and with this fabric make quilts for the orphans for this coming winter.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  She smiled at his encouragement but wished his enthusiastic compliment didn’t affect her as much as it did. “It’s a simple idea, really, and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier. It’s easy to give money or old clothes away, but I wanted to do something with my talents that would help me actually get involved in the lives of the children. I want to help each child pick out the colors for his or her quilt, so it’s something special that’s theirs.”