Uncharted Promises (The Uncharted Series Book 8) Page 4

  He was more than kind. He was charming and gracious and thick shouldered, and she was still sitting there with her mouth open and her pencil hovering over the page. “Ah.” At least she’d managed one syllable intact.

  He left the doorway and strode to her little table, his every advancing step upping the pace of her heart. Without taking his eyes off her, he lifted the dinette chair opposite her, turned it around and sat, propping his arms on its back. “Even if I don’t end up getting to keep the job, it’s all worth it for three months of your food.”

  Her face felt hotter than it did when she worked over the stove during summer. She wanted him to keep talking, to keep complimenting her, and at the same time she wanted to change the subject to get the focus off of her. She could tuck away his warm words and remember them during the cold nights to come.

  He seemed to be waiting for her to answer, and all she could do was blush and fidget with her pencil. She had to say something, but what? I’ve been dreaming about your gray-blue eyes for months? There’s open land across the road, so let’s build a house there and make babies?

  This was absurd!

  He was a fellow human being. A newcomer to Falls Creek. He was simply trying to make friends. Her friends had always been her family—her sister really, but she could welcome him as easily as her father used to welcome guests.

  She laid down her pencil. “We’re glad you’re here. I am at least, and Eva and Solo too, I’m sure. And Leonard has been very much looking forward to your arrival. If you knew my father, how he used to be before his mind started to… I’m really sorry about what happened.”

  He reached across the table and touched her hand, easily, comfortably. “It’s all right.”

  It wasn’t right at all, but she dare not speak poorly of her father. She glanced down at Isaac’s hand and he withdrew it. She hadn’t meant for him to move away, nor had she been ready for him to touch her in the first place.

  “I’m not offended by your father. I’ll work hard to win him over.” He lowered his volume even though no one else was downstairs. “And Eddie won’t last the week.”

  “He won’t?”

  He shook his head once. “He isn’t motivated.”

  “Did he say that?”

  “He didn’t have to.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “When I went to the barn to do the evening milking, Eddie was nowhere to be found. I saw him later, sitting on the bunkhouse porch, whittling.”

  “He did just arrive today. Maybe he didn’t plan to start work until tomorrow.”

  “No motivation. See?” Isaac spread his palms, his forearms taut with the muscles of a man used to physical labor. “He has never managed a farm, barely did chores back home. I can tell. Me, on the other hand, I’ve been doing this my whole life. And I worked with Leonard when I was here in March. I know what he expects.”

  Sybil connected the dots in Isaac’s logic. “And you are motivated to keep the job.”

  “Very.” He gave her a half-grin and dropped his voice an octave. “And mad bulls couldn’t chase me off after three months of your cooking.”

  Between the look he gave and the affectation of his voice, she felt as though she was supposed to laugh. But he didn’t move. Was he serious or was he trying to be funny? After a moment of watching her, he chuckled and looked away.

  Her hand felt empty, so she picked up her pencil again. “I’m still sorry you have to go through this. And Eddie. And Eva.”

  Isaac rested his arms over the back of the chair again, slouching a little in relaxation. “I felt bad for your sister too. Seems like she knows her stuff around here.”

  “She does. She took over the office work after Mother left, and she’s made most of the decisions around here since Father started losing—”

  “His mind?”

  Hearing the words so bluntly from a near stranger made her balk. “I was going to say losing his memory. But yes. It has been hard on all of us.”

  He didn’t speak, but his eyes were watching her so intently she almost looked away. In them she could see the dream of her perfect future, but also a man she didn’t really know. Perhaps she had let her imagination go too far after she first met him. Maybe his compliments on her cooking were merely that. Here she’d conjured up the image of their joined future, their children, their lives together, and he simply enjoyed her food.

  Eva had been right. She shouldn’t give her heart away quickly. Still, something inside her wouldn’t stop longing to be with him, held by him, loved by him.

  Ever since Eddie’s arrival, one question had burned in Sybil’s mind. She might not get another chance to ask Isaac privately. “Where will you go if you don’t get to keep this job?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t want to think that far into the future.”

  “It’s only three months from now.”

  “Three whole months. I try not to think beyond today.”

  “Is that why it took so long for you to get here?” The question slipped out before she thought it through. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that harshly. It’s just that I like to plan everything.”

  He chuckled once. “Everything?”

  She held up the notebook of menu plans. “I have to. I’m responsible for feeding everyone here. Three meals a day. That takes planning. Don’t you plan your work?”

  He lifted one palm. “I just do what needs to be done.”

  “How do you know what needs to be done without planning?”

  “Just do.”

  “And with your life?”

  His half-grin was back. “I usually don’t plan more than a day ahead. Then again, I’m not feeding a village.”

  “Oh, Falls Creek isn’t a village.”

  He stood and turned the chair back around then slid it into place. “It might be someday.” He pointed at her notebook. “I look forward to eating whatever you’re planning for tomorrow.”

  Chapter Four

  Mid-afternoon sunlight brightened the yard outside the kitchen window as Sybil sprinkled flour across the countertop. Her dough-covered hands gripped the rolling pin while she flattened what some guests had said was the perfect pie crust. Every compliment on her cooking made her heart soar, just as it did when her mother said such things.

  Still, there was only one person she longed to impress. She glanced out the window toward the barn, wondering what Isaac would think of her apple pie tonight. She’d spent a week making every meal as scrumptious as possible, and after every meal on his way out of the inn, he paused at the kitchen doorway and said, “Thanks for dinner. It was delicious.” Or “Thanks for breakfast. It was delicious.” Or “Thanks for lunch. It was delicious.”

  Once, on Wednesday—or was it Thursday—he’d said, “Thanks for dinner. It was exquisite.” And followed it with a wink.

  What did that mean? When most of the traders winked, it meant they were lying about whatever they’d just said. Or it was the way older men joked with children. She wasn’t a child. Her mother had always said never to trust a man who winked. Was Isaac insincere?

  Goodness, she hoped not. She found few things as intolerable as insincerity. Surely Isaac wasn’t that way, like the winking traders. After all, he was thoughtful to stop and thank her for the meal. Most people thanked Eva because she served the food and cleared the dishes. And most people didn’t smile as handsomely as Isaac Owens. His extra effort to thank her gave her a little thrill each day and gave her a reason to strive to top each meal with the next.

  She cut the pastry dough into large circles using an upside down cake pan, then flopped it into the waiting pie pans. At some point, she’d cook something that would make Isaac stop at her door for longer than two sentences. Then she’d know if his compliments were sincere.

  And maybe she could detect any sign of him being as fond of her as she was of him.

  She filled each pie with prepared apples, then dabbed her pinkie into the sugar and cinnamon mixture left on the edge of the empty bowl and tasted it. Delightful! The a
roma of the three baking pies would soon fill the inn and make everyone a tad giddy when they came inside for dinner.

  Warm apple pie always did.

  As she slid the pies into the waiting oven, she heard Eva speaking with someone at the front door. Soon, more voices joined in. Even Zeke was excitedly talking to someone. A female. With a slight accent.

  Bailey!

  Sybil wiped her hands on her flour-covered apron. It didn’t do much good. She yanked off the apron and turned to the sink to give her hands a quick wash.

  Bailey was supposed to travel here with John Colburn from Good Springs, and since Revel was staying with the Colburns, it was logical that he had come too. He was supposed to start riding for the new courier system soon, which would bring him to the inn at least twice a week. Sybil had already written to her mother about it, hoping the news would prod her to come home to Falls Creek too.

  She scrubbed the drying dough from under her fingernails, her heart bubbling with excitement to see Revel. It had only been six weeks since he was here last, but he’d been so caught up with needing to rescue Bailey’s father in the mountains that Sybil hadn’t had a chance to speak with him much. How she missed her big brother! Everything seemed a little closer to normal when he visited.

  She grabbed a tea towel to dry her hands then dashed out of the kitchen to the reception room by the front door. It was empty. The front door was wide open, letting in chilly air.

  She stepped out to the porch and looked in both directions. “Hello?”

  Two empty rocking chairs sat to the right, dutifully positioned to relax road-weary guests. To the left the porch swing swayed slightly in the breeze, its chain creaking a flat tone.

  She stepped back inside the house. Either they were in the office, being very quiet, or Eva and Zeke had followed them out to stable their horses.

  She walked through the empty dining hall to the side windows just in time to see a group nearing the stable block. Eva was talking to Bailey, who was wearing trousers and walking next to a brown mare laden with bags, while Zeke led it into the stable block. Two men Sybil didn’t recognize were following Solo, both leading equally laden horses. One man had to be John Colburn.

  John hadn’t been to Falls Creek since the last time the overseers of the Land called a special meeting, and that was when Sybil was a small child. She didn’t remember it. Eva said the overseers had been courteous but very focused on their discussions. She also said they only came together like this when something serious had happened.

  Maybe more outsiders had arrived on the shores of the Land, trying to escape the world war Bailey and Connor spoke of.

  Sybil squinted to peer into the shadows inside the stable block’s entryway. Revel must have already gone into the stall area with his horse. It would be nice if Connor Bradshaw had come too. He told the best stories after dinner. They were never about the outside world, specifically, or about the life he lived in America before coming to the Land but amusing and exciting tales that everyone enjoyed.

  Her timer dinged in the kitchen, signaling the eggs she’d boiled were ready. Just when things got interesting, she had two dozen eggs to peel and devil. She gave the people entering the stable block one last glance and returned to the kitchen.

  She usually enjoyed being alone in the house, but it always seemed desperately silent when lots of people were on the property but not inside. It felt quieter than when there were no visitors at all. Perhaps just knowing something was going on that she wasn’t a part of—couldn’t be a part of because she had work to do—made it feel that way.

  Eva could slip out of her office at any time and her paperwork wouldn’t suffer. Claudia could leave a guest bed unmade for a few minutes to pop outside. And Frederick wandered from the house to the barn half the day.

  Sybil was the only person in the family who was shackled to the work. If she didn’t time the meals precisely, either people would go hungry or the meal would be ready too soon and get rubbery from being kept on the warmers too long. Timing was everything.

  While her fingers picked the crackly shells off eggs, she watched out the kitchen window over the sink. She couldn’t see the stable block’s front door from here. She could, however, see most of the barn, all of Leonard and Claudia’s cottage, and part of the bunkhouse.

  She kept her gaze fixed on the barn. If Leonard thought Revel was here, he would limp from the barn to the stable block at his top speed, which wasn’t much, but she could tell. Leonard might be good at concealing his opinions, especially when Frederick was obviously wrong, but when it came to Revel and James visiting, he never could hide his joy.

  She stared a moment longer. No sign of Leonard. He might not be in the barn right now. Yesterday, Eva had passed along what she overheard at lunch: Isaac and Eddie spent the morning mending fences down past the creek, and Leonard rode out to supervise.

  They were probably working out there again this afternoon, too far from the stable block to know a group had just arrived, possibly including Revel.

  As the last egg half was stuffed and nestled in the neat rows on a silver tray, the front door opened again. Voices filled the reception area, echoing down the hallway and into the kitchen. Sybil wiped her hands and tossed the rag onto the countertop as she spun on her heel to leave the room. Her feet came to a quick halt. A beautiful woman with a strong build and cropped hair stood in the doorway.

  “Bailey!”

  Sybil’s favorite outsider who had escaped World War Three and made it to the Land grinned back at her. “Hey, girl! Do I smell apple pie?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Bailey’s smile broadened, showing unnaturally white and perfectly straight teeth. Though she had a satchel hanging from one shoulder and held a lumpy pillowcase tied off with yarn, she stretched out her free hand for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

  When Sybil let go, her timer dinged again. She held up a finger. “My pies need to come out of the oven.” She used a towel to protect her fingers while she lifted the hot pans. “How was your trip?”

  Bailey pulled off the cranberry-colored hat Sybil had knitted for her in May and stuffed it into her coat pocket. A few strands of her short, dark hair rose with static. She smoothed it down. “It was awesome.”

  Sybil loved the odd way Bailey spoke. God was awesome. The view of the Land from her bedroom window was awesome. Riding on a horse for three days and sleeping on the ground? Not something Sybil would ordinarily call awesome.

  But nothing about Bailey was ordinary.

  Sybil lined all three pies on the counter, and Bailey stepped close to inhale the steamy sweet aroma. “I wish I could cook like you. Well, in theory. Come to think of it, I actually don’t want to learn to cook. I want to eat the food you cook.”

  Sybil chuckled. “It’s my pleasure to cook for you.” She glanced behind Bailey. “Who did you travel with?”

  “John brought me. He came for the overseers’ meeting. That’s why Connor didn’t come. They only allow the current overseers in the meetings or some rule like that.” Bailey pointed at the tray of deviled eggs. “May I?”

  When Sybil nodded, Bailey gulped down half an egg then took a second one from the tray. “And Reginald Cotter, the overseer of Woodland, joined us there for the rest of the trip. Do you know him?”

  Sybil shook her head. “I don’t know any of the overseers, personally.”

  “Reggie’s nice enough,” she said, still chewing. “He hated when I called him that, though. He’s sort of serious, like John. It’s probably an overseer trait.”

  “I suppose it comes with having such a serious job.”

  “Yeah.” Bailey pointed at the tray. “Okay, one more and then I’ll get out of your hair. I was famished.”

  The voices in the hallway had dispersed, some to Eva’s office, some back outside. Sybil couldn’t hold her burning question back any longer. “Did Revel come too?”

  Bailey shook her head, mouth full of food. “Couldn’t.”

  Couldn�
��t? He was supposed to be here, to live here. He was supposed to travel with Bailey to the inn and stay here forever and take charge and relieve their father and Eva, and then their mother would come back. Finally, they would be a happy family once more.

  Her stomach fluttered. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Again. “Is he coming later? What about the courier system? When will he start that job?”

  Bailey shrugged then wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “All John would tell us is that the courier system and defense training are on hold until after this overseers’ meeting.” She held out the lumpy pillowcase. “Oh, I was so hungry I almost forgot. This is for you.”

  “Me?”

  “From James.”

  Sybil loved receiving packages from her brothers. It wasn’t the same as seeing them, but it let her know they hadn’t forgotten her. Her fingers fumbled as she untied the pillowcase. At last, the knot gave way and she opened it. “It’s yarn!”

  “It’s from the farm where James works as a shepherd. He said Mrs. Foster spun it from their wool harvest. She dyed it too.”

  “It’s beautiful. And so soft.” She drew out one large skein after another and laid them on the dinette table. Three in a natural tan and three in black, one a deep red, a midnight blue, a vegetable green, and a light blue, each as soft as freshly sifted flour. “Ten skeins! This is incredible. Thank you for bringing it to me. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you.”

  Bailey chuckled. “No trouble at all.”

  No matter what the subject at hand and no matter how easy-going Bailey spoke and laughed, there was always a sadness behind her eyes, a weary ache that had taken years to instill. Sybil couldn’t imagine what Bailey’s life must have been like before she came to the Land, and she dearly hoped whatever Bailey had escaped from in the outside world hadn’t followed her to this hidden island.

  She set down the yarn and lowered her voice. “Why have the overseers called this meeting?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Did more outsiders come to the Land?”

  “Not that I know of.” Urgency filled her amber eyes. “Why? Have you guys seen anything unusual or heard anything from the traders about encountering strangers?”