Ship of Dreams (17 page)

Her green eyes twinkled. "I'll make an adventurer of you yet, Mr. Bradford," she declared.

Before he could respond in kind, the gangplank was opened and they had all they could do to avoid being separated by the near stampede in that direction. Knowing how eager Della was to see the city, Kent guided them to where the other first class passengers had gathered, to be among the earliest to disembark. The steerage and second cabin passengers were restrained by the stewards while the wealthier folk crossed the gangplank first. Kent couldn't help noticing Della's small frown as they passed Mrs. Benbow among the waiting crowd.

Almost the moment they set foot ashore, the travelers were accosted by dozens of local tradesmen, chattering in Spanish as they thrust their wares forward. To Kent's surprise, Della answered one or two of the nearest in the same language.

"You speak Spanish?" he asked in amazement.

She glanced back at him and nodded. "A bit, anyway. There are quite a lot of Mexicans in California, you know. I found it useful to be able to communicate with them."

Good for business, he presumed she meant, but still he could not help but admire her resourcefulness. Every time he thought he knew her, she found new ways to surprise him.

"Is there anything here you'd like?" he asked then, indicating the various wares the natives proffered, from cheap beads to pieces of fruit. She hesitated, and he remembered she had little money with her. "My treat, of course," he added quietly.

Della gave him a long, enigmatic look, then nodded. "That green scarf is lovely," she said, pointing. "And perhaps a bunch of bananas to take along on the train?"

The natives knew enough English to transact business, so Kent was easily able to purchase the sheer green scarf, bordered in deep blue, and a large cluster of golden bananas, all for well under a dollar. With a flourish, he presented them to Della, who accepted them with a smile and an exaggerated curtsey.

They had only a few minutes to look around them at the mellow stone buildings and the picturesque ruins beyond.

"It's a shame we can't stay here for a day or two," Della commented. "This place is so interesting, I'd love to have time to explore it."

On his trip west, Kent had thought the city of Panama a dirty, impoverished place, though its long history compensated to a degree for what it lacked in elegance. Seeing it through Della's eyes, he realized there was far more to it than he'd perceived—or been willing to perceive—before. Now, however, they were obliged to hurry on to the train station, where they were to board momentarily.

They found themselves seated with the Eastons when the train pulled away half an hour later.
 

"I'm so pleased to see that you two have worked out whatever problems you were having," Addie confided to Della as the train gathered speed.

Both Kent and Della looked at her in surprise. "Problems?" Della asked.

Her husband frowned warningly, and Addie looked rather abashed. "Well, perhaps not problems, precisely, but I could not help but notice a restraint between the two of you that seemed most unusual for a newly married couple. Today, however, I could see it was gone. You both look so much happier. I couldn't help but think you had resolved something between you."

Della put a hand on her arm. "I thank you for your concern, Addie, and you are quite right. There
were
a few issues causing occasional friction between us, but we have learned to deal with them. You'll excuse me, I know, for not going into more detail."

"Oh, certainly! I did not intend to pry, you know. I merely wished to congratulate you on your newfound happiness." She squeezed Della's hand, and Kent saw Della return the pressure.

A moment later, she glanced at him, a hint of alarm in her eyes. He felt precisely what she must be thinking. Had they been so obvious, both before and now? Apparently so. No wonder Nelson Sharpe had been suspicious! It would seem neither of them was as proficient at acting as they had believed.

Now, however, all was resolved, he told himself, draping an arm along the back of the seat, across Della's shoulders. They would marry as soon as possible, he was determined, making their fiction truth. Of course, he would have a bit of unpleasantness to deal with when he reached home, but it would be nothing to signify. He and Caroline had never been in love, nor was his mother in a position to dictate whom he should marry.

Della leaned her head on his shoulder most satisfactorily as she watched the exotic scenery flit by. Yes, this felt right—as though she belonged here, next to him. He breathed a sigh of contentment.

A moment later, however, Della sat up and leaned forward. "Parrots! There are some of the parrots you mentioned. Oh! And something large just moved in the underbrush there, but—no, it's gone now. I could not see what it was."

For the rest of the four hour trip, Della paid more attention to their surroundings than to him, but Kent didn't mind. He enjoyed her excitement, vicariously sharing it. Under her influence, he could almost feel himself loosening up, shaking off the staid conservatism on which he'd prided himself for the past ten years and more. It was a freeing feeling.

By the time they reached the terminus at Aspinwall, Della had identified two different species of wild cats, a wild boar Ansel Easton claimed was a peccary, and dozens of parrots. Her eyes shone with the experience. Tonight, Kent vowed, he would introduce her to further delights.

The
Central America
, the steamship that was to take them the rest of the way to New York, was already waiting at the docks in Aspinwall—a city the natives called Colón. It was very similar to the
Sonora
in size, shape and even coloring, with a gay red stripe running the length of its nearly three hundred foot black hull. As they approached it, Della let out a small sigh, but whether of resignation or admiration, Kent was not certain.

"Are you tired, darling?" he asked her.

Her eyes widened, and he realized belatedly that the endearment had slipped out involuntarily.

"No, not really. I was merely wishing we could have a lengthier stay on land before steaming off into the sea again. Not ... not that I'm reluctant to reach New York, of course."

So that was it. Not that he blamed her. Though he would do everything he could to shield her from the inevitable unpleasantness there, he knew she wouldn't be able to escape every barb directed her way by his mother and Caroline's friends—and perhaps Caroline herself. Clearly, she knew it, too. "We still have at least ten days," he reminded her gently.

She nodded vigorously, then smiled up at him with an expression that made his heart beat faster. "Yes, we do. And I intend to make the most of every minute!" If there was a hint of desperation in her tone, Kent dismissed it as the product of nerves—very natural, given their situation.

They stepped off the train and waited with the others while the baggage was loaded onto carts.

"It's a lovely ship," Virginia Birch commented, "but I can't say I'm anxious to be afloat again so soon." It was apparent from various murmurings that most agreed with her.

"Still, it means we're but ten days out from New York now," said Addie Easton. "I'm very much looking forward to arriving there."

"Oh, so am I!" agreed Mary Patterson. "I haven't seen my sisters for more than a year, and Gwendolyn had her first child while I was away. I can scarcely wait to see my little nephew!"

That brought forth a clamor of recollections from those who called New York home, or who had frequently visited there and had acquaintances in the city. Della, not surprisingly, remained silent—and so did Kent, observing her. She looked more somber than he had seen her, frowning abstractedly in the direction of one of their fellow passengers, a retired judge who stood swinging his walking stick as they waited to board.

"Regrets?" he asked gently, for no one's ear but hers.

Immediately she shook off her seriousness and smiled. "Regrets? Never!" she declared. "New York sounds like just my sort of city—big and bursting with new sights and sounds."

He continued to watch her for a long moment, but her smile never wavered. Finally, he nodded. "Yes, I think you'll fit in there quite well. I find I'm very much looking forward to showing you around my home town."

The group started toward the ship then, urged on by one of the stewards, who seemed most anxious that they not deviate from the schedule by so much as a minute. The
Central America
was to sail at four o'clock, and not a moment later.

As they stepped on board, Kent was struck by the ship's familiarity. "I could swear this is the same steamer I took from New York back in February, but it can't be," he commented aloud. "How many ships are on this route, does anyone know?"

"Just two, I believe," said Nelson Sharpe from behind him. "Why?"

Kent shook his head. "I was simply marveling at the similarity between them. This ship is similar to the
Sonora
, of course, but it appears virtually identical to the
George Law
, on which I sailed from New York to Panama six months ago."

Sharpe burst out laughing. "I would imagine that it does! It's the same ship, m'boy. They re-christened it two months since, when Mr. Law left the United States Mail Company. Politics, you know."

Feeling rather foolish, Kent grinned back. Had Sharpe noticed the difference in his relationship with Della, as Addie Easton had? And if he had, would that subdue his suspicions or raise new ones? He realized he'd been unconsciously avoiding the man ever since his remark about the Irish a week or more ago.

"Will our cabin be in the same area on this ship that it was on the
Sonora
?" Della asked him then, interrupting that disturbing train of thought.

"Let's ask one of the stewards," he suggested, seizing on such a plausible reason to again put distance between himself and Nelson Sharpe. He preferred not to think about what the man's reaction might be once they reached New York, if he should discover Kent had not previously broken off his engagement.

If anything, their cabin aboard the
Central America
was even more luxurious than their previous one had been. Della exclaimed with pleasure over the larger trunk, in particular. The moment they were alone in it, she threw her arms around him, as though to demonstrate that this cabin would be just as enjoyable, as well.

Before he could follow up with more than a heated kiss, however, the dinner bell rang. They'd have to leave their unpacking—and more pleasurable pursuits—for later.

As they left their cabin, the Eastons joined them again. While the women chatted animatedly, Ansel said to Kent in an undertone, "I'd have insisted on waiting for the next steamer, had I known before we boarded that this one had been rechristened."

Kent recalled the old superstition that it was unlucky to change the name of a ship or boat. For a brief moment he felt a finger of premonition touch his spine, but impatiently shrugged it off. He was not, after all, a superstitious man.

"You surprise me, Easton," he said teasingly. "I thought you firmly grounded in reality. At any rate, try not to alarm the ladies with talk of ill-luck."

"Of course not," Easton agreed, but he frowned as they proceeded to the table.

*
           
*
           
*

CHAPTER 12

The Sun now rose upon the right:

Out of the sea came he,

Still hid in mist, and on the left

Went down into the sea.

—Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

 
Della sighed. She would much rather have stayed in the cabin, alone with Kent. Ten days was such a brief time to have together and despite his assurances, she could not convince herself that she could depend on having more than that. Which meant she grudged every moment not spent enjoying each other.
 

The dining salon was nearly full already. The tables were laid out much as they'd been on the
Sonora
, and Della took her accustomed place beside Kent, surrounded by their honeymooning friends. As there'd been no opportunity for a proper lunch on the train beyond the fruit some of them bought in Panama, everyone was hungry. After just a few eager bites, however, forks began to slow.

"It would appear there's one area in which this half of the voyage may not measure up to the first," Robert Patterson commented, voicing the general opinion. Indeed, the food—on this first evening, at least—was noticeably inferior to what they'd enjoyed aboard the
Sonora
.

Della nearly said that she'd had far worse, but caught herself in time. The others didn't know about her years in the mining camps or the periods of poverty she'd experienced. Particularly if Kent hoped to extend their charade beyond the voyage, she'd best keep those details to herself.