Night Winds (24 page)

Shae cringed as she sank to her knees in cool, salt water that rippled as the raindrops slapped it. Strange, how it would make a difference. Soaked through as she was, she could barely imagine that a swim would leave her any damper.

Squinting into the skies, Shae felt her stomach flutter with apprehension at the storm
. Though she’d been in Port Providence eight years, she’d experienced four storms bad enough to be called hurricanes. The worst, four years ago, had collapsed the Catholic church her mother once attended and killed several men. She shivered at the memory and hoped that this one wouldn’t be as bad.

She skirted what appeared to be the deepest portion of the street and continued wading toward her goal
. There, just two blocks from the overpowering grandeur of the Lowells’ Fairwater Haven, stood a lesser, if still lavish, home. Villa Rosa, which she now remembered from one of Ethan’s droning travelogues as the name of the Payton home.

Just now, the roses for which the house was named were bowed against the same deluge soaking her
. Floating petals softly blanketed puddles collecting beneath each bed.

Shae shivered uselessly, wishing for a warm blanket of her own
. As she imagined the heat of Phillip’s body pressed against her, she quickened her pace. She might not achieve that goal, but as soon as she found Phillip, she would beg at least a warm bath and dry clothing. Hot food would be even better. She hadn’t eaten since the poor meal she’d shared with him last night
Trailing sodden skirts, she trudged up onto the front porc
h
and was nearly run over by a solid, middle-aged woman stepping toward the stairs. The woman froze and stared at her.

Shae wasn’t surprised
. She doubtless looked like a drowned rat.

Sweeping cords of wet hair from her face, Shae gathered what little dignity she could muster
. “Is Mr. Payton at home?” she asked, as if soaked young women came calling every day.

“You’re her, aren’t you?” the woman asked
. When Shae could think of no suitable answer, she continued. “I’m Mrs. Kelso. I run the Paytons’ house. You must be Miss Rowan.”

Confused by the reaction, Shae’s answer was the barest nod.

“Doctor Payton just stopped by to get a fresh horse. He said something about going to look for you at your father’s. He lef
t
didn’t care a jot about this rain. I tried to tell him it was too foul, but he wouldn’
t
”

“

He went to my father’s?” Shae echoed. She thought of the box, left on the bed at Lucius’s. Had Phillip seen it there? Had he come to the same conclusion that she had last evening? If Phillip confronted her father . . .

“I must borrow a buggy!” Shae insisted.

“Of course you can’t. We’ll get some coffee into you, Miss, and let me get some towels and blankets. You’re soaked through to the bone!” the older woman scolded. “I was just about to take some things to Miss Lydia at St. Michael’s, but she can wait a bit.”

“Lydia
? Phillip’s sister? She’s alive?” Shae asked.

Mrs. Kelso nodded, eyeing her curiously all the while
. “A bit banged up, I understand. But how did yo
u
?”

“

Please,” Shae interrupted, “I must go to Phillip right this instant!”

“I couldn’t let you go out
. We’ll send a message to someone in authority down at Dr. Payton’s office. We should leave this to the men. Come in. I’ll find you something dry and fix you some hot soup.”

Though the offer sounded like a holiday in heaven, Shae ignored it
. “You say you were about to leave to see to Lydia? Then there’s a buggy ready?”

Mrs. Kelso nodded
. “I suppose it’s nearly ready now. I was just expecting Adam to bring it down here from the carriage house.”

A gust of wind sprayed both of them with a shower of blown raindrops, though the two stood far under the overhang.

“I’m going to find Phillip.” Shae backed toward the steps. “I’ll be borrowing that buggy.”

“I don’t think yo
u
”

Shae didn’t wait to hear what Mrs. Kelso didn’t think
. By the time the housekeeper finished her statement, she was halfway to the carriage house.

*

One of the older nuns popped her head into Lydia’s small room and peered at them through the most delicate pair of spectacles Justine had ever seen. “We’ll be filling up before we know it. I’ll have to put people into your room, Miss. They’ll need a place where they can rest.”

In spite of her small stature, the nun’s stern voice convinced Justine she was ready to do battle for those people if need be
.

Outside, the wind howled past the windows; thunder muttered endlessly
. It felt good to be inside a strong brick building. Though she hated the idea of sharing space with strangers, Justine could begrudge no one shelter. She nodded her assent.

Lydia’s eyelids fluttered
. As Dr. Tuttle had suggested, the warm milk had put her right to sleep. “Of course,” she murmured.

The nun nodded and left the room.

“I should have gone back home with Mrs. Kelso,” Justine said. “I’ll just be in the way here.”

Lydia rubbed her eyes and pushed herself upright
. “I’m glad that you’re here now. After everything that’s happened, I feel so anxious. I wish that Phillip were here too.”

“I wonder where he is now.” Justine wished he would come back and take her home
. She wanted to be surrounded by her own things and the people that she trusted.

“He’ll come as soon as possible
. I’m sure of it.”

Justine nodded miserably and glanced once more at the door. “How many strangers do you think she’ll bring in here?”

“I shouldn’t think more than a few would fit. But it doesn’t matter. It’s only for a while. How long could this storm last, after all?”

Justine glanced nervously toward the door
. Why hadn’t she gone home? Now, with the storm raging, there was no question of leaving. She’d have to stay here, among strangers fleeing the high water.

Total strangers
. She wondered how she could bear their sympathy.

*

Phillip rapped hard on the front door of the Rowan house. The hat he’d picked up at home hadn’t done much to protect him from the rain, and the horse he’d ridden had splattered his trousers with wet mud. Beneath his jacket, he still wore the same ruin of a shirt. Yet as he stood dripping on the front porch, he didn’t give a damn about propriety. He only wanted to see Shae, to reassure himself that she hadn’t come to harm.

The lack of an answer and the raised voices he heard from inside did nothing to reassure him
. Women’s voice
s
he would swear it. They were shouting. He strained his ears, but against the steady thrumming of the rain, he couldn’t make out any words.

Again he pounded, even harder this time
. From somewhere in the house, he thought he heard a door bang. Several moments later, a stout woman finally opened the front door and peered through a narrow opening. He recognized her as Shae’s Aunt Alberta.

“I beg your pardon,” she apologized
. She looked embarrassed, as if she realized that Phillip had heard her shouts. “Our maid picked just this moment to create the most atrocious scene. A bit of rain and the ungrateful little Negress demanded to go home to see to her brood. I can’t imagine what she thinks she’s paid for!”

Collecting her wits, she narrowed her eyes at Phillip
. “Yo
u
you’re Mary Shae’s friend, aren’t you?”

“Phillip Payton
. We’ve had the honor of meeting, if you’ll remember.” Phillip bowed slightly at the waist. Despite the appalling way she dealt with household help, it wouldn’t hurt to get her on his side.

He could have sworn he recognized suspicion in the woman’s eyes.

“My niece is out visiting,” Alberta insisted.

“If you’ll pardon me, I believe she’s here.”

“Of all the presumptuou
s
” the woman huffed. The narrow opening began to close, until Phillip stuck his foot inside it.

“Get out now!” she shouted
. “I’ve told you, she’s not here. And even if she were, you certainly aren’t welcome!”

Though it flew in the face of everything that he’d been taught, Phillip stood his ground
. He didn’t enjoy frightening old women, but he would swear that she was hiding somethin
g
something that might mean Shae was in danger.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her, “except inside to check on Shae.”

“Let him in.”

Phillip couldn’t see the owner of the deep, resounding voice, but he knew that it must be King Rowan.

Rowan continued, his every syllable a threat. “I’d like to meet my daughter’s lover.”

*

From her previous experience, Shae had grown accomplished at the task of stealing buggies. She slipped easily past Adam, who was occupied, from the looks of him, by an attempt to pick a stone or shell from the hoof of a white gelding. A pair of sorrel horses stamped beneath the porte-cochere. Already harnessed to a covered carriage, they seemed impatient for the drive, no matter what the weather.

Shae hopped into the carriage, released the brake, and flicked the reins
. The sorrels didn’t protest, but leapt into a canter as if they appreciated her haste.

Glancing back, she saw the young coachman staring after her, mouth open, too shocked to even cry for help
. Guiltily, she waved and hoped that the housekeeper would explain.

The two horses didn’t slow their pace, though their red-brown coats quickly darkened to deep chocolate with the rain
. They splashed gamely through deep puddles, throwing back so much mud and water that Shae might as well be riding in an open cart. But it hardly mattered, wet as she already was. All she cared about was finding Phillip quickly.

Despite the poor condition of the streets, the spirited team made short work of the trip to the Rowan house
. As she pulled into the area beside her family’s home, she noticed that even here, seven blocks from the water, every ditch was full, and in low spots, the floodwaters stretched across the street.

A dark shape, clad in a familiar dress of worn blue cotton, darted from the back door
. Eva hesitated in the stable’s overhang.

Shae climbed out of the carriage and into shin-deep, standing water
. She pulled open the stable door and quickly ducked inside.

Eva stood in the doorway, her eyes darting toward the street.

“Eva, what are you doing out in thi
s
”

“I be leavin’, Miss Shae, and if you have any sense, you’ll stay gone
. Fool woman tells me I fired if I go check on my boys. Damn waves poundin’ up the street,” she gestured angrily toward where, in the distance, gigantic crests crashed along the gulf shore, “and she thinks I wanna scrub floors.”

“Maybe you should bring your boys back here,” Shae said hesitantly
. She wondered as she said it how her aunt would react to that outrageous suggestion. And with what she had to tell her father . . .

“Ain’t no shelter here for me
. Maybe you could stay though. You kin, after all. But I’m gonna find some safe spot, don’t you worry. I take care of my boys fine.”

“Eva, take the carriage
. I’ll hitch Delilah for you . . .” Shae unlatched the mare’s stall door, but wondered if that was a good idea. Delilah, who had always feared storms, twisted and churned inside her box stall like a demon. She thought of gentler Samson, then remembered her father saying he was lame.

Eva shook her head
. “No, ma’am. I’m not takin’ no carriage. I ain’t never even drove no horse. I thanks you, but I’ll make my own wa
y
like always.”

Before Shae could respond, the wiry, black woman had already left to run from overhang to overhang in the direction of her alley shanty.

In a moment, all thoughts of Eva vanished as Shae noticed something she hadn’t seen before. A gray horse tied to the wrought-iron fence in the shelter of a live oak tree. Could it be Phillip’s?

Her heart pounded almost as fast as raindrops fell
. If that were Phillip, she must get inside at once. Not only to warn him about Ethan, but to prevent him from confronting King alone. Shae rushed to the back door and slipped through stealthily, for every nerve in her body screamed a need for caution.

Despite her fear, she felt relieved to get inside, to hear the driving rain from within this dubious shelter
. But in a moment, other sounds stole even that small comfort. The sounds of voices, low and angry, in the parlor.

Leaving a damp trail in her wake, Shae crept forward.

*