She peered into the shadows surrounding him. “No Ruby and Jett?”
“They remain behind to fret my aunt.”
This she didn’t doubt. “Can I fetch you a drink?”
“Nay.” He came nearer, head turned toward the river’s edge where the fireflies were the thickest. “Is Shay fire-fishing?”
“Aye. He seems to need no sleep.”
“He’s safer here than at James Towne. No unruly sailors or sots.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew something that was all a-rattle as he passed it to her. “Needful seed.”
“Nicotiana tabacum?” she teased. “Sweeter than the breath of fairest maid, said one poet.”
“None of the noxious weed, nay.”
“Thank you. Mother will be especially grateful. We’re anxious to start planting in the morning, test your upriver soil and see what grows here.”
“Tobacco foremost.”
“I shall leave that to you. And Oceanus, in time.”
“Mayhap sooner than later. He’s due to arrive any day. You should see the nursery—” He halted, as if uneasy delving into such personal matters. “His bedchamber resembles a small battlefield, complete with wooden soldiers and a rocking horse and all manner of amusement.”
’Tis not play-prettieshe needs, but you.
She held her tongue. She’d not repeat her foolish foible upon his return about leaving Oceanus behind. Nor follow with another wrenching apology.
“A welcoming home awaits him.” Her heartfelt words seemed to ease him. “I’m sure you’ve left no stone unturned as to his coming.”
“And you?” He looked toward the house, light framing the windows.
“I sense I shall feel at home here too. Moving seems to havegiven Father a new vision, new hope. And as I said, Mother is ready to plant a garden.”
She gestured to a makeshift bench made up of barrels and a wood plank. They both sat, a respectful space large enough to fit Shay between them.
“Why do I ken there’s more than what you’re saying?” He leaned forward, hands fisted. “Are you homesick?”
“Homesick for James Towne? Nay. I simply long for a more settled life,” she confided. “One in which I don’t fear some tattooed warrior or skulking malady might rob me of those I love.”
“Life in this New World has always been full of obstacles and dangers.”
She looked up. The stars seemed bright and sharp as glass away from the smoky haze of town. “Do you ever feel the tug to return to Scotland?”
A thoughtful pause. “Scotland has its own pitfalls, starting with a ship’s passage. If we’re to win this new land, we must stand firm right where we are. Raise sons and daughters to come after us and carry on what we have started.”
“You must think me a spoilsport with all my murmurings.”
“You’re no spoilsport, Selah Hopewell. Simply a lass in need of a fresh apron and a good night’s sleep. One who has better things to do than sit with a Scotsman when they both must rise before first light.”
She looked to her apron, knowing it was a soiled, wrinkled mess even in the humid dark. She pulled at the strings, then balled the apron between her hands. Neither of them made a motion to go. That solaced her too. The space between them had shrunk by half now. Had he moved? His face was cast incraggy profile, the scant, silvery light giving her a glimpse of the aging, bearded man he might one day become.
Another bittersweet pang shot through her. Time was so fleeting. Yet all of life’s uncertainties seemed sweetened by company. Starlight. The dwindling close of a busy day. She dug in her pocket and produced his handkerchief, clean and folded into a tidy if wrinkled square.
Holding it out reluctantly, she offered its return. His hand did not rise to meet it.
“Mightn’t you keep it?” Pitched low, his voice held a rare poignancy. “Though I hope you have no need of it.”
Oh, I shall indeed have need of it. When you take your leave tonight. When Oceanus arrives. When Shay goes.
