Above Rubies (Uncharted Beginnings Book 2) Read online

  A tug on Olivia’s sleeve drew her attention down to little Jane Cotter, who wanted to show off the lace cuffs her big sister had made her. Olivia fawned over the pretty lace, much to Jane’s delight.

  At once, Doris and Wade Vestal both squeezed past the crowd to get to Olivia. Wade had his reader tucked under his elbow. Olivia was hesitantly pleased that he’d taken his schoolbook to church, though she hoped Reverend Colburn hadn’t noticed. Doris greeted her with a tight hug and bounced a little as she spoke. “I’m so looking forward to our lesson tomorrow!”

  “I’m glad you are.”

  “Hannah told us you’re going to teach us how to make soap.” Doris unfurled her arms from Olivia’s waist but held her hand. “Will it be bubbly soap?”

  “Not this kind.” She smiled at Doris. “But I’ll show you how to make it smell nice.”

  Doris glanced back when her father called her and Wade to the door. She frowned. “We have to go home now.”

  Christopher Vestal held one of his toddlers and Hannah had the other twin by the wrist. David stood behind them, scowling. Wade went to his father, but Doris didn’t let go of Olivia’s hand.

  Olivia’s heart sank while she watched the Vestal children assemble to go home without a mother. She knelt to be eye level with little Doris. “Thank you for coming to see me. I will be at your house after lunch tomorrow, and we will have such fun making soap.”

  Doris gave a sad nod and left with her family.

  Olivia felt her own mother’s watching eyes. When she rose, Mary inclined her head. “I’m proud of you.”

  “What for?”

  “The children are quite fond of you, and it sounds like you are figuring out what they need.”

  Olivia wanted to say that what the Vestal children needed was their mother back, but Reverend Colburn’s sermon still rang in her ears. She shrugged. “They are in God’s hands. We all are.”

  “And we all need each other.” Mary patted her arm and turned to greet Mrs. Cotter.

  Already dreading tomorrow’s visit to the Cotters’ house, Olivia didn’t want to spend any more time around Mrs. Cotter than she had to. Still, she was curious as to what the woman might say.

  Olivia glanced around the room, pretending not to listen. Her siblings were scattered throughout the chapel, chatting with other youngsters, and her father stood a few feet away, discussing stonework for an oven of some sort with Mr. McIntosh. Gabe was at the front of the church speaking with two of the elders.

  Mrs. Cotter prattled on about cooking. Her chipper tone was a stark contrast to the one she used in her home, at least whenever Olivia was there. Mary listened attentively as Mrs. Cotter detailed her family’s love of her custard recipe. The more Mrs. Cotter boasted about making cheese and whipping cream, Olivia wondered how much her mother would listen to before her suspicions were raised.

  Finally, when Mrs. Cotter mentioned churning a barrel of butter, Mary’s brow contracted and she spoke up. “I’m surprised you can spare so much milk with one cow and a family of nine. Our cow doesn’t give milk half the time.”

  Mrs. Cotter’s spine straightened, and her eyes moved rapidly from side to side.

  Mary continued. “When it was just the cow, I thought maybe someone’s calf was getting loose and drinking from her, but now one of my hens is missing too…”

  Mrs. Cotter raised a finger as if an idea had suddenly come to mind. “It sounds as though someone is stealing from you.” She lowered her voice. “And I suspect that someone is Benjamin Foster. Remember, Benjamin stole the guns when we were on the ship and threw them overboard. And Benjamin did start the fire that destroyed the chapel’s wood. He is a mischievous young man and might be stealing food now too. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

  Mary held up a hand, halting the gossipy speculation. “Now, let’s not accuse anyone.”

  “Benjamin Foster is a troublemaker.” Mrs. Cotter’s voice cracked. “If anyone else mentions milk or hens or anything being stolen, I will expose that boy for the thief he is.”

  “No need for that.” Mary dropped her hand and took a step back. “Let’s forget I mentioned the milk.”

  “I’ll be keeping an eye on that boy.”

  “Enjoy your custard today, Cora. Good day.”

  “Good day to you, Mary.” Mrs. Cotter poked her nose into the air and crossed the room to Peggy and her other daughters.

  Olivia watched Mary’s face and waited for her mother to make eye contact, hoping to give her a look. Mary only leaned in and whispered, “Let’s hope no one else has a dry cow or a missing hen or that woman will do her best to ruin Benjamin.”

  It wasn’t fair for Benjamin Foster to always get the blame when something was amiss in the settlement, especially when there was no reason to believe he stole anything. He’d kept to himself since the incident with the fire two months ago.

  Olivia wished she could tell her mother that a thief had been milking the Vestals’ cow too, but she couldn’t spread news from one house to the next. She held back a frustrated sigh. “Do you find it interesting that the person with excess food is the person casting blame?”

  “Interesting, but not conclusive.”

  “Does Mrs. Cotter seem different to you since we settled here?”

  Mary sent her a sidelong glance then started picking invisible lint from her dress sleeves. “It happens to women sometimes. Probably a hysterical condition. Maybe her womb is tipped.”

  “That is no excuse for her to—”

  Mary bristled. “Not in church, please.”

  Mrs. Cotter and Peggy stood on the other side of the room, whispering and looking at Gabe. He had his back to them, speaking with Jonah and Henry. Whatever he said stirred a raucous laugh from the men. Olivia wanted to join them.

  He glanced back and met her gaze. He watched her for one long moment then excused himself from his conversation. When he passed the Cotters, Peggy brushed her hand along his arm and said something with a coy smile. Her dainty lace cuffs swallowed her limp wrist. Olivia imagined leaping across the pews and choking Peggy Cotter with the delicate trim. Instead, she kept her focus on the man she was falling in love with.

  Gabe ignored Peggy’s advance and kept walking along the outer aisle of the chapel toward the back where Olivia stood by her mother. Half of her wanted him to scoop her into his arms in front of everyone and half of her wanted to avert her eyes so he might leave her alone in the crowd. That was the half that used to win, but the new feelings that stirred inside her were beginning to overpower her insecurities. She rarely had occasion to speak with him now that it mattered, and her anticipation grew with each step he took closer.

  He paused near her father then held up a finger to her and mouthed don’t leave.

  She nodded and watched expectantly for his next move.

  Her mother leaned in close. “Your father told me about their conversation.”

  “Hm?”

  “Gabriel has your father’s blessing. It’s about time you—”

  “Shh, not now Mother,” Olivia spat as Gabe and her father came over.

  Richard put an arm around Mary, jauntily. “I’ve invited Gabriel to our house for supper.”

  “That’s a very fine idea,” Mary said with delight spreading across her face.

  Richard wrapped his callused fingers around Mary’s shoulder. “But first he is going to take Olivia to see his house…. what is built of it so far anyhow.”

  “Oh, how lovely.” Mary smiled at her.

  Gabe put his hand to Olivia’s back. “That is, if you would like to.”

  “Of course she wants to see the house you’re building!” Richard’s unusual display of excitement drew attention from those nearby. “Take your time, Gabriel. Take your time and show her the house and the property. You want to go, don’t you, Livy?”

  Her cheeks felt like they had been splattered with molten lava. She wanted to disappear into a puff of smoke and seep between the floorboards unnoticed. “Yes, of course.”
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  She managed an inelegant goodbye to her overjoyed parents and walked out of the chapel with Gabe. The cold winter air took the heat out of her face. She waited until she was at the bottom of the stone steps to look at him. He slapped his hat onto his head and buttoned his overcoat. The crisply ironed collar of his shirt paralleled the strong line of his jaw.

  The chapel door closed, muffling the voices of the crowd inside. Gabe scrunched his nose and grinned sheepishly. “I had no idea your father would become so… elated. I’m sorry that was awkward for you.”

  “Oh, don’t be,” she said as she slipped on her gloves. “I’m growing accustomed to embarrassing moments in the chapel.”

  He chuckled at her joke. “At least your parents seemed pleased.”

  “True.” She thought for a moment. “Actually, that was the first time my father has smiled at me since I interrupted the elder meeting. So I’m grateful for his jubilant reaction.”

  Gabe widened his eyes. “I’m grateful they approve of me.”

  “Me too.”

  He grinned at her but didn’t say anything.

  She lifted a gloved hand. “What?”

  “That might be the highest compliment you have ever given me.” He flipped up the collar of his overcoat. “Are you simply glad they approve of me or do you approve of me as well?”

  She faked an aristocratic tone and raised an eyebrow at him. “How terribly forward of you, sir.”

  He laughed at her affectation. “And you are terrible at pretending to be pretentious.”

  “That might be the highest compliment you have ever given me.” She echoed his words then smiled up at him. “And yes, I approve of you.”

  He took her hand as they crossed the chapel yard. As their laughter died out, she glanced back at the chapel. Peggy was standing near the window, watching them.

  Gabe glanced back too. He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about her… or her mother… or any of it. Just look forward.”

  She tried to look forward, but her eyes insisted on studying his profile. He’d pursued her for months, maybe longer and she hadn’t realized it—or hadn’t allowed herself to because of Peggy’s lies. Now the desire she felt for him roiled inside her like clouds before a storm. To think it all began the day she heard him pray.

  Being near him filled her with an intoxicating mixture of delight and devastation. It distracted her mind from everything else, and he didn’t even know. He mattered more to her now than anyone. His opinion of her meant more than anyone else’s. If she lost his admiration, she might never recover. “Just look forward,” she repeated on a breath.

  He’d taken her hand so easily. She wished she wasn’t wearing gloves so she could feel the warmth of his skin. After only a moment connected to him, she felt weightless. Her worries, the cold wind, the problems in the settlement, the monster that haunted her teaching and threatened her profession, it all settled into the recesses of her mind like a foggy memory or a forgotten dream.

  Her skirt swished as she walked with him westward on the path toward the big stream. Even under an overcast sky and with the deciduous trees dormant, the land held beauty in its majestic and mysterious grip. A fawn grazed beside its mother on a grassy slope in the distance. Birds fluttered from the silvery canopy of the gray leaf trees and glided to the tips of nearby figs trees. It would be pleasant to live near the stream, but it seemed odd for an outgoing man like Gabe to build a home away from the others. “Why did you choose to live out here by yourself?”

  “I’m not by myself. Mr. Weathermon’s cabin is nearby. He was by himself.”

  She scanned the path ahead but didn’t see any structures. “What does he do alone all day?”

  “Fishes mostly. He gathered wild blackberries until the first frost. Brought me a bucket of them once.”

  “Mr. Weathermon? I didn’t know he liked anyone but the Ashtons.”

  “He likes me because I built his cabin.” He winked at her. “All he wanted was a quiet place to retire and fish. His heart condition doesn’t allow him to do much.”

  “That seems lonely.”

  Gabe shrugged. “Jonah checks on him every day. And since the main structure of my house is complete and I’m working alone, he often walks over in the afternoons.”

  The surly former shipping tycoon rarely said a kind word to anyone but the Ashtons during their voyage on his ship two years ago. Now he rarely went into the village. She imagined Gabe going out of his way to relate to Mr. Weathermon. “It’s generous of you to accommodate him.”

  “He’s pleasant company, has a fine sense of humor,” Gabe chuckled, “and he’s finally come to faith in Christ.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  “You’ll like him once you get to know him.” He glanced behind them. “And we aren’t that far away from the village. I enjoy being out here. The fishing is good in the stream and there is plenty of space.”

  “It would be lovely to live close to the stream, especially one so wide and cold. When I was a child, I’d go swimming every summer in the river near my grandparents’ farm.”

  “I know.”

  She glanced at him. “Oh, did I tell you that already… that I enjoy swimming?”

  “No, not directly.” He slowed their pace. “One summer back in Accomack, we were all swimming at the Andersons’ place. Remember them?” When she nodded, he continued. “You were about fifteen and were there with Peggy and Marian and the Anderson girls—”

  The summer memory from her teen years flooded back. “I do remember that! The cool water felt refreshing. Mrs. Anderson had made us girls each a set of swimming clothes—dark blue tops and matching pantaloons. The older boys would hardly leave us alone. They kept going under the water and catching our feet just to hear us scream.” She laughed. “I didn’t go swimming very often after that. But I sometimes think of how good the cold water felt.”

  “It was hot that day.”

  “Odd, I don’t remember you there.” She faked a scowl. “You weren’t one of the boys catching our feet under the water, were you?”

  “No.”

  “Throwing frogs?”

  “No.”

  “Staring when we’d climb the bank wet?”

  “Probably.” He held up a hand in surrender. “I was sixteen. You made quite an impression on me that day.”

  “I’ll bet.” She laughed.

  He chuckled too. “Not because of the wet pantaloons.”

  “Why then?”

  He fixed his gaze ahead of them. “You were a totally different person out there on the bank of the river than you were in class. It was like you’d shed your seriousness and whatever that great burden was you carried around. You dropped your bonnet and the sun gleamed off your dark hair. When you jumped feet first off the bank, you took my heart with you. I knew then the only way to get my heart back was to win yours.”

  She felt her mouth drop open but closed it before he looked at her.

  “When I was building Mr. Weathermon’s cabin, I would stare out at the stream and imagine you there, swimming and laughing, free and happy in the sun and water.” He squeezed her hand. “You asked why I chose to live out here… that is why.”

  When they reached the end of Jonah’s property, Gabe lifted their joined hands and pointed. “This is my land from here to those trees to the creek at the edge of the Cotters’ farm and all the way back to the big stream.”

  The grassy path had been worn to dry stubble, and it widened as they approached the clearing. Woodchips and sawdust covered the earth. As they passed a stack of gray leaf logs and cut stone, she looked up at the house.

  “What do you think?” he asked, smiling nervously.

  In style, the house matched the other log structures in the settlement, but this was higher with two full stories. Wide openings gaped where windows and doors were needed, and a timber frame outlined where the stone chimney would be built.

  She stopped, still holding his hand. “It’s beautiful and… bigger t
han I expected. I guess I had pictured it more like the cabins in the village.”

  He chuckled once. “I learned from all the additions we had to build on those cabins. I wanted to build my home to suit a family from the beginning.”

  “A family?” she said aloud without meaning to.

  “Of course. Remember, I built by the stream with you in mind.” He gave her hand a gentle tug. “Come on, I want you to see inside.”

  The sharp minty scent of freshly hewn gray leaf lumber filled the air. He guided her through the jumble of sawhorses and splintered wood to the open doorway at the back of the house. Then he stepped up onto a tree stump that served as a stair to the threshold. She raised the front of her skirt to follow his steps, but he clasped her waist and hoisted her inside.

  Her hands reflexively dropped her skirt and gripped his shoulders. As her feet touched the floorboards, she watched his face. He kept his fingertips on her waist for a moment longer than was necessary. His lips curved in a satisfied grin. Then he let go as quickly as he’d scooped her up.

  He pointed at the ceiling as if nothing had happened. “It took six men and a system of pulleys to get the logs onto the roof. Each log weighs over three hundred and fifty pounds. Mr. Roberts came up with that number somehow.”

  “Did he?” she responded, still breathless from the surprise of him lifting her.

  “He’s a smart man. Good with figures and all of that.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Henry takes after him.”

  “Yes.”

  Gabe didn’t look at her, but she could tell he was smiling. “The upstairs will have full ceiling height instead of a cramped space like the lofts in the village cabins. You can see the stream from the dormer windows upstairs. I would show you, but I haven’t built the staircase yet. The men helped raise the structure, but the interior building is up to me. I like it that way. My father and brothers will help when they can. Jonah too. But otherwise, I’ll work on it alone all winter.”