JASON
Kissing a woman was as intoxicating as savoring a shot of good whiskey, especially a willing woman like Hannah Baird. Jason pulled out of the kiss to watch her half-closed eyes with amusement.
"Why did you stop?" she murmured. Her hands fell from the back of Jason's neck to his chest when he straightened, the top of her head even with his shoulders. She smoothed his buckskin jacket over his woolen gold shirt, giving him a little shiver.
"Oh well, the rain won't hold forever." Jason looked up at a patch of blue sky and squinted when a burst of breeze ruffled his curly brown hair. He pulled out of his pants pocket leather work gloves, decorated with stitched Indian beading. "There's a lot of work to do."
Her lips formed a pretty pout, one of the more fascinating faces she liked to wear. "Jason Bolt! You're always busy. Isn't it too early in the year for logging?"
Jason smiled, for her sake. Winter had come early, and the penalties for the delayed deliveries had been steep. He and his brothers needed a new contract to give their business a much-needed boost once the rains let up. "That's why I have to leave. Owning a lumber camp means you work while everyone else rests."
He led Hannah from a small grove of sweet-smelling pines behind the two-story dormitory where Hannah resided. A wagon aimed for a puddle as it passed by, and Jason maneuvered her to the side of the road to keep mud from splashing on her dress. It was an orange and brown ensemble with a bright orange bow tied at the end of her dress's white collar. She flashed him a smile of gratitude that made it to her brown eyes, once again reminding him of the deliciousness of warm chocolate cake. The thought made him lick his lips, and her eyes widened. Suddenly a little too warm despite the chilly March air, he walked her briskly to her front door.
The sounds of hammers beating on nails filled the air as they approached Seattle Square. Across from the dormitory, workers raced the weather to finish the wrap-around balcony on Lottie's, a two-story saloon, and the busiest place in town. For all its simpleness proclaimed by the dingy white sign with the proprietress' name painted in big black letters, it was a central landmark for Seattle's citizens. To Jason and his brothers, it was a second home.
Hannah giggled and sashayed up the dormitory's porch steps to lean against a railing, pretending to be engrossed with the changes of the saloon in front of her. Jason rested against a post on the steps, enjoying her act.
"Whatever possessed you to build the brides' dormitory here?" she wondered aloud. "I've always meant to ask you."
His mind flitted over the flurry of activity surrounding Seattle's woman shortage three years ago. Out of desperation to keep his men from walking off the job, he had promised to bring a hundred marriageable women to their town and keep them there for a full year, or until they married, whichever came first. Aaron Stempel hadn't thought he could do it, so they made a bet with his brothers' blessings: Aaron would help cover the cost of bringing the girls to Seattle, but if Jason didn't deliver on his promises, he and his two brothers would have had to forfeit the legacy their parents had worked hard to leave them: Bridal Vail Mountain.
Along with his brothers, he had traveled to New Bedford, Massachusetts, and with wit, charm, fancy words, and his youngest brother's sincerity, they had convinced a hundred marriageable brides to return with them to Seattle. All seemed to go well until he realized his men had neglected to build the dormitory while he was away, nearly costing him the bet. Instead, a speech from Candy, his soon-to-be sister-in-law had softened the hearts of the New Bedford brides to be patient while he and his men quickly built a place for them to live. Funny thing was, he didn't remember why they chose that exact location. Convenience never needed a reason, did it?
"The truth? It was the closest place to the saloon."
She threw him an exasperated look and pulled her blonde curls over one shoulder to tuck them behind her ear. One side of Jason's smile grew. "And how was that an excellent idea?"
"Building something like this," he said, waving his hand toward the dormitory. "Men get thirsty."
"Hmm."
He straightened a little. "Well, and you, with the other brides, were more likely to be watched out for."
"I see. Watched by wayward drunks." She twirled a curl with her finger and looked at him through her eyelashes.
Jason's smile disappeared as his voice hit a darker tone. "The only wayward drunks I know about are the mountain men that come into town every year for Rendezvous."
Hannah stepped close enough to put a finger on his lips, tracing them slowly. The tension in Jason's jaw ebbed at her touch, and he thought to kiss her again. She looked pretty with her thick eyelashes, pink cheeks, and swollen lips. With a start, he realized it wasn't the first time he'd taken inventory of her assets.
"Well, I'll pray for your safe return. A woman worries about her man."
Her man? Jason choked on the thought. She couldn't mean it. The realization of the seriousness of the situation squashed his pleasant mood. Another kiss was not a good idea.
"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon." She took a step down and leaned forward to kiss Jason on the cheek. Jason kept his body still while watching Hannah's flirtations with his eyes. When he didn't respond she heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose you really are going."
"Yes, I really am going." Thinking to soften the blow, he added, "Should I bring you something back from Tacoma?"
Hannah's eyes rolled upwards as she thought about it for a moment, followed by a smile that broke him out in a cold sweat. "I like jewelry."
Outwardly, Jason smiled back. Inwardly he wanted to punch himself in the face. "I'll see what I can do," he said, and with a wave marched himself straight into the saloon without looking back.
Once safely inside, he let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The midday rush had already begun, and Lottie flitted between tables serving sandwiches and beer. Jason shook his head and made his way to the bar. After all these years, Lottie still loves what she does. That's the thing, isn't it? To find what you love and hold on to it?
He grabbed a whiskey bottle and poured himself a shot. Once that went down his gullet, he poured himself another.
"Kinda early to be hitting it so hard, don't 'cha think?"
Jason looked over his shoulder at his youngest brother, Jeremy. Their parents had shown a sense of humor, giving their sons names that all began with the letter "J" to honor their father, Jonathon: Jason, Joshua, and Jeremy in said order. Funny how his father had always mixed their names up, but their mother never did.
"Oh, I, ah...," said Jason, fumbling more with his anxiety rather than words. He propped his foot on the bar's footrest with his hand on his hip. "Well, I just came from Hannah."
Jason was taller than Jeremy by several inches, and both of them had brown hair; where Jason's was curly and unruly, Jeremy's hair was straighter than the iron rod spoken of by the reverend on Sundays. Their personalities were just as different in disposition though they, along with Joshua, shared one Bolt trait that others found disconcerting: sharp blue eyes that could pierce a person's soul. Which was exactly how Jeremy looked at him now.
"Then you better serve me one up too because I need to t...t-talk to you about that."
Jason's mood plummeted, recognizing he had read Hannah's cues right. "Candy thinks she's serious, doesn't she?" He emptied the bottle into Jeremy's glass and handed it to him. "I think Hannah's expecting something from me soon."
"Well, you've been courting her pretty steadily since Christmas."
"Maybe I have." They both nursed their drinks for a moment, letting that last admission sink in.
"Think you might marry her?" Jeremy finally asked. When Jason raised an eyebrow at him his gestures became agitated. "W...w-well, ah, what I mean is, it's not like you've ever said you loved her. You could still get out of it. I mean, you've got a plan for getting out of it, right?"
Jason leaned his large frame against the mahogany bar and looked at the thin line of amber liquid left in his glass, trying to make Jeremy more at ease. He didn't stutter as much as an adult as he had in his younger years, but it still came out when Jeremy felt stressed. "I don't know. I'm not sure yet."
"What are you not sure about?" Lottie asked cheerfully, the welcome sight of another bottle in her hand. Jason held out his glass, and she topped it off.
Jeremy jutted his thumb toward Jason. "Hannah."
"Oh, I see. Well, I would think that's Jason's business, isn't it?" she said, turning her enormous eyes on Jason. A beauty in her day, Lottie was now in her late fifties and still a handsome woman with a matronly figure and long eyelashes. She wore her hair cut short as of a few years ago and Jason decided he liked the difference no matter what fashion dictated. Lottie was her own person, and that was something Jason could appreciate.
"It is," said Jason. "Except when a certain woman gets the idea that things are a little more... well, more than they are."
"That does sound serious. Be careful Jason, many a man's been caught in that snare."
Jason set the glass down. Was that what was happening? Was he trapped? He didn't feel like he was, but it wouldn't be the first time some woman had tried to put his head in the marriage noose. "Maybe you're right. I should cool things down."
"But it wouldn't hurt to have a little fun while you're there."
Jason grinned at Lottie's overemphasized blink and suggestive tone. That was exactly what he needed. After being cooped up during a nasty winter, a man was bound to look for satisfaction where he could. A little fun might help him take a step back. "Who am I to argue with the beautiful proprietor of Seattle's finest saloon?"
"Seattle's only saloon, you mean," she said, topping off Jeremy's glass. "One more for the road, on the house." Lottie leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "That way you don't think too hard on the trail."
The brothers chuckled and picked their full glasses up in a toast to Lottie. "To the lovely lady," said Jason before downing the contents in one swallow and setting the glass down, enjoying a glorious burn.
Jeremy shook his head and set his glass down hard next to Jason's. "I'll go make sure the horses and wagon are ready."
"Thank you, Jeremy," said Jason, patting him on the back and following him to the door.
"Jason!"
He looked back at Lottie. She wore an unusual somber look that didn't match the jovial mood they had just entertained. With mild concern, he signaled for Jeremy to go on without him and returned to the bar, the crease in his brow deep. "All right, Lottie, what is it?"
"Remember that time Joshua got sick, and you thought he was going to die? You had been Joshua and Jeremy's guardian for less than a year and you got so drunk you told me how you knew the boys needed a woman in their lives, but because of what your mother said, you had decided you would have to do your best without one."
Jason's eyes widened. When he spoke, his voice was soft with a note of danger. "We've never mentioned it since."
"Maybe I haven't had a reason to before now."
Jason shifted his body weight to lean on the bar, his head cocked to the side. He scanned the room for eavesdroppers, but no one seemed to be listening. "All right," he said, turning his eyes back to her. "You have my full attention."
"Well, I know it's none of my business but I think you're tired."
"Tired?"
"Tired of the game. Sure, you've had a fun time and you've enjoyed these last few years without having to raise Joshua and Jeremy. But isn't it possible that maybe you've finally found the right girl to settle down with? What your mother said—"
He had drawn his lips into a straight line and had no reservations when he snapped, "I know what she said."
"And I know how important that is to you. But Jason, no woman will ever measure up to the expectation you've built up in your mind."
He gave her a lopsided grin and said, "Well, I thought that was the idea."
"Not when you've dallied too long with the same girl."
Jason groaned and rubbing his forehead said, "Oh, not you too."
"I'm just telling you what I know."
Jason hated to admit it, but she was right. Unlike his brothers, he was too old to be frivolously courting women. He usually was more careful and shouldn't be in such a pickle. With logging on hold for days, even weeks at a time, Jason had found himself wandering around looking for something to do. Anything. Somehow Hannah had always been there, willing to talk or needing his help with this or that. When she kissed him on Christmas Day under the mistletoe he had liked it, so he kissed her back. Over the next couple of months he had kissed her several times, each time seeming just as harmless as the one before. Normally he wouldn't have let it get that far, but Hannah had made it easy to forget.
I'm really in trouble. He absently pushed a glass on the bar over with his hand. "Well, I didn't realize. I suppose there's a rumor going around that I'm about to propose?"
"I don't know about a proposal, but if you don't, leave Hannah alone. It'll break her heart, but it's better to cut it off now before those rumors get out of hand. When you get back if she lets you court her without a commitment, she's a fool. So be sure."
Jason stood upright and stretched. He paused and flashed Lottie his most reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Lottie. I'll figure it out. Uh, after the booze wears off."
Lottie patted his hand and with a nod, left him to help other thirsty patrons. Jason left the saloon, looking forward to the trip to Tacoma with relief. A few days of respite was exactly what he needed. He glanced at the dormitory, noticing the porch was vacant. He trotted toward Jeremy, driving the wagon around the totem pole, waving. In the distance, a rolling thunder announced an incoming storm over the Puget Sound. Jason picked up the pace.
If only the weather held out.
LAURIE
Laurie's white dress billowed around her legs, a stark contrast against the darkening sky. She stood on the main deck of Hollister's Pride, a large steamboat barreling along the Puget Sound, and watched as storm clouds rolled overhead in a dark cluster with anticipation.
Earlier she had enjoyed standing on the top of the boat where it was breezy and the view was spectacular. Eventually, it became too crowded with the few couples onboard strolling by, holding hands and whispering secrets. She had retreated to the main deck, seeking relief and hoping that the sounds from the sea might drown out any conversational noise around her. Finally content, she had lost track of time watching the paddlewheel plunge again and again into the seafoam.
While she had stood there mesmerized, the weather had unexpectedly soured, most of the passengers retreating to their cabins seeking refuge from the cooling breeze. Unconsciously Laurie gathered her shawl around her shoulders and began to toy with the idea to retire to her cabin when nearby footsteps caused her neck to tingle. Out of habit she ignored them and turned her face into the wind, hoping he would get the hint and leave.
"Laurie."
She slowly rolled her eyes in a blissful, unladylike moment. Her brother's voice, no longer laden with his Scottish brogue, had settled into a slight Texas drawl. She swallowed a sigh and faced her older brother, lifting her chin regardless of his frame towering over her. She noticed he wasn't wearing his usual large-brimmed hat and as she spoke, and her gaze left his hazel eyes to glance at the shiny badge he wore at all times pinned to his tan leather vest. "What is it, Richard?"
"Captain says that storm's fast-moving and looks dangerous. We're docking in Tacoma to wait it out."
Laurie counted to ten in an effort to not roll her eyes again. She still wasn't used to the way he dropped words in his sentences, a stupid sounding habit he had picked up while working with other lawmen.
She drew in a breath, the answer obvious before she responded, but asked anyway. "And that concerns me because...?"
Richard swore under his breath and impatiently gestured toward the stairs leading up to the cabins. "You know what that means, the captain's warning was clear. It's a dangerous time of year for sailing in these waters, let alone with this kind of boat. I lucked out the captain is an adventurous man with debts to pay or we'd be on a stage and this trip taking a lot longer than I need it to be. So when we dock, you go to your room. That was our deal."
"No, that was your deal. I didn't ask to leave San Francisco, remember? You're the one that decided my reputation was ruined beyond repair. I still think I could have convinced Maguire to let me come back." There was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice, try as she might to hide it. If Sister Agnes in Finishing School couldn't fix her, why should she be able to contain her emotions now? Still, she experienced pangs of guilt whenever she felt disagreeable.
"I gave you a choice," he said, placing his hands on his hips.
Something about his ludicrous statement about her predicament overwhelmed her, and she felt propriety's restraint snap inside. She laughed. Hard. What kind of choice was it when her own brother had paid a doctor to declare her unfit and had all the assets he knew she possessed transferred to his power of attorney? Rumors questioning the soundness of her mind had delivered a crushing blow to the opera house where she had enjoyed singing for two years and left her without work. Never mind most of the rumors were created by his investigation, a fact that she still had difficulty accepting.
Noone had bothered to check the US Marshal's suppositions either, and she didn't blame them. Richard could be formidable when he had a mind to be. How like her brother to think he was her savior when he had contributed to the conditions that left her presumably destitute with her reputation in tatters.
"Nothing funny about this, Laurie," said Richard, moving to stand close enough for her to feel the need to take an unsteady step back, the boat swaying with the growing swells beneath them.
"That because you think you're doing the right thing." The wind came in a rush and Laurie felt her blonde hair come loose from the halfhearted bun she had created for her excursion. She hiccuped before adding, "You and I have very different perspectives on our situation."
"Doesn't matter."
She sobered at the flatness of his tone, constantly brushing her hair away from her face along with droplets of rain while it whipped in the wind. She could hear thunder now. Thunder that rolled like the echo of a cannon shot.
"I won't allow you to treat me like a prisoner," she warned him, stubbornness tinting her words with an ominous promise.
He leaned forward, so she wouldn't miss a word, frustration and anger clinging to every syllable. "You're not a prisoner, you're a danger to yourself. That's the difference."
"I'll not tolerate you calling me an unstable nitwit!"
"Then knock off those crazy stories about Campbell, or whoever it is you think is haunting you!" he yelled back. The wind grew harsh and whistled through the ship's stacks and the ocean spilled over the deck, water seeping through the rail. They both backed away from the edge.
"I didn't tell a story. I told the truth!" Laurie realized her voice had risen too loud to be proper and tried to back away from the fight but slipped on the slick planks. Richard caught her, his hands gripping her so hard it hurt. A swift glance into his face told her the pain he was projecting wasn't completely from the attempt to keep her upright. She knew from experience fury throbbed through the bulging vein in his forehead. She jerked her arm from his hands and grabbed onto the railing again. "Why can't you believe me?"
"Because last time you said it wasn't real."
"Only because you said I should! That doesn't mean—"
A wave crashed into the side of the steamboat, pitching it forward. Laurie held onto the railing but lost her grip. She fell again, this time doused by the ocean and sliding dangerously toward the edge. Richard forcefully helped her up and grabbed her by the hand, dragging her along.
Laurie struggled against him to right herself, her skirts tangled. She tried to catch herself when she tripped, and Richard tightened his grip with a yank. There was a loud popping noise in her elbow and she cried out, falling to her knees. With an exasperated sigh, Richard came around her, and putting his hands under her arms, pulled Laurie to her feet.
"It's too dangerous out here! Heaven knows I can't figure out why you're fighting me on this," he said, grunting with the effort. "I can't keep chasing you all over the country, cleaning up your messes. Da wouldn't want me to."
"I didn't ask you to follow me! Let go!"
Richard dropped his hands, his chest heaving. Laurie felt the sprinkling rain turn into pelts and looked up. The sun had vanished behind the storm. A flash of lightning lit the darkened sky, followed by another burst of thunder. She shook her head and swiped her fingers at the strands of hair that had cemented to her neck. Giving up, she tugged at her skirts while Richard watched.
"This conversation is pointless, Laurie. You need to get where it's safe. The waves are too high!"
"I'll never be safe," said Laurie, her voice taking on a sullen huskiness. She was tired of the fight, tired of being hurt. She attempted to pick her skirts up and groaned. The petticoats were sodden, making them heavy, and her dress of white linen was now tinged grey. She licked water from her lips, tasting salt and grit, and pulled off the shawl that hung limp around her shoulders.
Without a backward glance, she stepped into the stairwell and gripped the railing as she struggled to keep her skirts out of the way. She had ascended only a few steps when she heard Richard say, "I hope someday you might see things a bit differently about feeling safe, Laurie. No brother wants to see his sister miserable."
Laurie stared down at him, looking like a bloodthirsty creature from the deep. "As long as I have you protecting me, I'll never feel safe. Admit it. We're not going to Scotland after your business in Olympia, are we?"
"No."
Laurie bit the inside of her cheek but spoke her mind, anyway. "That makes you a liar. How do you expect me to feel safe when everything you say is a lie?"
She retreated another few steps before he answered her in his usual sarcastic manner, "Because you would have left San Francisco for Olympia in Washington Territory. My—"
Laurie recognized his familiar entrance into vulgarity and whirled around. "Don't you dare take God's name in vain!" She lost her balance and slipped on the stairs. She grasped the banister to steady herself and drew herself up. Still angry at him, and frustrated over how wet, cold, and off-balance she felt, Laurie continued, "And no. No, I wouldn't have left with you, because in San Francisco I could take care of myself. I had things figured out. What does Olympia have to offer?"
"You didn't have a job anymore. Your only prospects were along the Barbary Coast and you know you don't belong there. As for Olympia, I can watch over you while I do my job."
"Pfft," she said, not caring that it was an unladylike sound. "That's not the reason. You didn't worry about watching over me while I went to school in Philadelphia. You never once checked on me in Louisiana after you visited before the war. Not even a letter, and you knew I was miserable. We won't talk about the danger I was in."
Richard ran his hand through his wet hair and swore a string of cuss words, following them with, "There was a war going on! Blues and Greys all over the place, and I didn't belong to neither!"
"You didn't care about watching over me in San Francisco until Kenna contacted you," she continued, her green eyes growing fiercer with each accusation. "You never came to visit during that year of, of, of hell the two of you put me through in that snake-pit excuse of a hospital!"
"Watch it, your roots are showing."
Laurie felt a lifetime of resentment settle in her shoulders at his reproof as he referenced her accent, let alone swearing. She bit her lip again and took lengthy breaths to rid herself of the brogue that only reared its head when she was furious. She would have to say her prayers for the cussing later. Without a priest around, it was the best she could do.
"Besides, you're wrong," he continued with his face hardening. "I did care. I wanted you to be happy and get well. As for visiting, the world didn't stop, Laurie. I still had a job to do!"
"You should have left me alone and I would have been fine," said Laurie, the lingering brogue still thickening her words. "What's in Olympia, anyway? And don't tell me it's so you can watch after me. We both know the moment you settle me in, you'll disappear on official business."
The wind had picked up speed, howling at a fevered pitch. Another lurch from the rough seas seemed to close Richard's mind. He stomped up the few stairs between them and grabbed her midsection. Half-dragging, half-carrying her, he took Laurie to her cabin without a word.
Stumped into compliance by the rough treatment from Richard, Laurie fell silent. She winced the few times her legs bumped into the wall, willing the memories the bruising sensations brought to mind to stay buried. He set her down and held her arm as though she would try to run away while he opened her cabin door and shoved her in. She straightened and faced him, her eyes wide.
"What's in Olympia?" he asked, his voice raw and hoarse. "Another asylum. I think this one can make you better."
"No! No, Richard, no, please!" She sprinted toward the door, her arms open, but he slammed the door shut. She threw her body against it and heard the lock click from the other side. "Richard!" she wailed, pounding on the door with her palms. "You can't do this! Just because you don't want a sister anymore!"
"That's not it!" she heard Richard yell through the door. "I gave my word I'd take care of you!"
Laurie screamed, cried, kicked and pounded on the door, sometimes rattling the doorknob with the hope her distress would make him open it, but she soon tired and rested her back against the wall. With disdain, she decided he had probably already retired to his own cabin. She stared curiously at her hands, not sure if the stinging in them was from contact with the door or the memory of Sister Agnes's ruler on them. Perhaps they let little girls run around in Scotland swearing like sailors and acting without decorum, but that's not how we behave at St. Vincent's, the nun would chastise, her wrinkly face so close to Laurie she could smell cloves on her breath. She would lift the ruler and say, You're in America now, and we'll make you a lady yet.
"Well, you weren't very good at your job," Laurie said aloud, petulant, and focused on her fingers. They were pruned, reminding her of Sister Agnes' face, and the stickiness of her clothes had grown uncomfortable. Chafing disagreeable to her, and having an innate desire to be sensible, she plunked herself down on the floor and tugged at the fabric around the buttons on her white shoes. She wrenched them off, peeled her stockings from her legs, and stood to finish disrobing.
After she had put on dry underclothes, she sifted through her oversized trunk, making her selections. The storm made the simple task difficult, the steady rocking of the boat making it hard to keep her balance. After some debate she selected one of her favorites, a brown dress with blue ribbon embroidery. Reasoning that fresh shoes would probably get wet when she got out of the cabin anyway, she put the same shoes back on and buttoned them with determination, disregarding the dampness she felt through her clean stockings.
Laurie took her rosary beads from her jewelry box to put in her pocket. Knowing she wouldn't like what she saw, she grabbed her mirror anyway and grimaced at the red rim around her eyes. She was never a pretty crier. She put it down and attacked the hairpins that had clung to her hair with the viciousness of a harpy, tossing them into a container one by one. After towel drying her hair and smoothing it down with the brush, she threw it into a side braid. When she finished, she braced herself against the wall to keep her balance and tapped her finger on her lips as she thought of a way to escape.
The cabin was boring: a bed for one, with a faded green quilt on top; bare, dull-white walls; a vase with some wilted flowers on top of a small table that teetered with every exaggerated movement the boat made; enough room for her luggage in the corner, and a washing area was the extent of her quarters. Contrary to other boats she had sailed on, the steamboat's doors faced inward. She reasoned Richard would have one of his deputies guarding the door, even if she could unlock it.
Her eyes focused on a window framed with faded curtains that matched the faded quilt. Too high for her to reach, it faced the elements, rain pelting against the glass. She shoved the only chair in the room under the window to pull herself up. Just as she reached the latch on her tiptoes, the ship heaved to one side again, and Laurie, along with the vase on her table, took a tumble. She scrambled to the bedside and huddled next to it on the floor, not daring to consider crawling into bed.
She sat with her fists clenched in her lap and tears flowing down her face. Feelings of anger, betrayal, and pain washed over her just as the ocean washed over the outer decks. Perhaps if I'd acted more like a lady, she thought as she gritted her teeth, then Richard might not believe I'm mad. He's just like Da. Like Sherman too. Father in Heaven, please help me! Why do I always have to say what I think? Why can't I keep it together like other women? Please, help me out of this, and I promise, I'll learn to be as docile as Sister Agnes and the other nuns tried to teach me. Amen.
Fear gripped her heart, and she gasped as it squeezed. Her breaths came in short, hurried spurts. She closed her eyes and focused on her shallow breathing until it became deeper and more methodical as she willed her heart to calm down. Her thoughts slowed, and a soothing voice that sounded oddly like her mother said to her heart, "Wait until the ship docks." She listened for a few seconds more and decided that perhaps the storm was a blessing. Now that she knew Richard's plans, she would be in a harbor and have a better chance to escape.
The sea flung the ship to its side, and this time when it righted itself, she grabbed a pillow from the bed and returned to her huddled position on the floor. Asylum my big toe, she thought and laughed while sobbing at what Sister Agnes would have to say about that.
The boat lurched again, and it occurred to her that maybe she should be a little more worried about living through the storm. Richard was a lot of things, but foolhardy was not one of them. Laurie grabbed the rosary beads from her pocket and wrapped it around her visibly shaking hand. She made the sign of the cross and began her prayer. Within moments of completion, she fell asleep.