“Why all the little walls of earth?” He’d never seen a garden quite like this one.
“The soil here is so sandy, the water would wash away if we didn’t trap the moisture inside to nourish the plants for a while before evaporating.” She knelt and picked off a leaf from a bushy plant and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger. When she extended the leaf for him to sniff, he leaned down to take the crushed leaf and inhaled a sharp tang of mint.
“We use that in the kitchen as well as for tea and some tinctures we use for patients in the mission infirmary.”
“Where you were treating released slaves a few days ago?”
“Yes.”
“I was wondering…”
“About what?” She gave him a suspicious look.
“I noticed that day in the infirmary structure. You seem to be able to communicate with multiple tribal members?”
“Of course.”
“How did you learn so many languages? I wish I had an officer with even a third of the grasp of tribal speech you have.”
“Until I was five, I lived in my father’s barracoon up the Rio Pongas. Slaves from many tribes moved through there. They were in such misery they’d talk to even a small girl like me. I’m not sure how I learned. I merely listened and picked up on what they were trying to say. They would point to things and teach me a word.”
“And your father?” Chris stopped, suddenly tongue-tied, unable to summon the words of even his own language. “He allowed you to talk to them?”
She gave him a bittersweet smile. “The man who owned my mother, and fathered me, rarely acknowledged my existence. He was too absorbed in finding new ways to inflict cruelty.”
A shout from one of the boys working a patch of dark green kale pulled Rachel’s attention away from the decidedly uncomfortable conversation he’d pulled her into.
He raced up to them with a handful of a dark green, leafy vegetable. “Do you think Mrs Chelly would like some kale for today’s stew? It’s ready for cooking.”
Rachel crushed the leaves in her hand and raised the greenery close to her nose. She took a long breath and smiled as if deeply pleasured. “Yes, Mingo, take a bunch up to the kitchen.”
Chris stopped breathing for a moment. He’d give anything to be the reason for that look on her face.
When the boy ran back to pick more kale for the mission cook, Rachel abruptly turned to him. “Would you like to see the fruit orchard on the far side of the garden, down by the creek?”
“Won’t your father wonder why we’re not back yet?”
Her face took on an impish smile. “He’s the one who made up a silly story to send us down here.” She turned and started walking toward the creek. Her next words floated back over her shoulder. “He’s never waited until this late in the week to write a sermon since I’ve known him.”
6
Rachel pulled down a branch of a sweet orange tree and plucked two ripe, bumpy fruits. She handed one to Captain Halloren before deftly peeling the other one and then reaching for the one he was clasping with a bewildered look on his face. She peeled that one as well and placed the juicy innards in his hand.
When he gave the ugly orange a skeptical look, she made some soft Abile hen noises. “Buck, buck, buck…”
“You’re making chicken noises again.” He gave her an odd look. “And the chickens aren’t even here.”
“I’m scolding you, just like Abile would. These oranges taste wonderful. Try one.”
He tentatively slipped a pale yellow section into his mouth. His first bite caused juice to dribble down his chin. He handed Rachel the remaining sections and pulled a handkerchief from inside his jacket. He looked around quickly as if checking to see if anyone had noticed an officer in the King’s Navy doing something undignified.
When he attempted a clumsy dab at the dribble, Rachel snatched away his handkerchief and took over the cleanup herself. When she turned her gaze from his sticky chin, she was caught in the heated look pouring out of his dark brown eyes.
“Miss Berry…”
“Please call me Rachel.” She turned her head to take in all of the orchard. “There’s no one here to be scandalized, and I like you, Captain Halloren. You’re not at all like the rest of the officers who come to the mission. I think you truly care about the people you bring to us. I don’t think you see them the way the others do.”
“Then you must call me Chris.”
