And waiting.
“I’m not very good at faith,” she said aloud.
“Aren’t you?” he asked.
She shook her head no.
“Where do you get your strength?” he asked.
“From the hope that—” she stopped.
“Well, then.” He lifted his brows. “Hopeisa kind of faith, isn’t it? And, you are very good at dwelling in hope.”
Dwelling in hope. She liked that.
Shewasvery good at hoping. Who else would have waited for an absent husband forthirteenyears?
She glanced up. “I may be too good at hoping, in fact.”
“My dear—” he stopped abruptly, and his smile disappeared.
“What is it?” she asked.
He placed a finger over her lips, tilting his head as if encouraging her to listen.
They were no longer alone.
Silently, she pulled her legs up to her chest, and he drew his dark coat over her petticoats, whose light color practically screamed in the moonlight. Even in this, he was thinking of her.
He was her Chev but changed.
Together, they inched back into the shadows.
A few more moments passed before she heard them distinctly.
Voices. Men’s voices.
Wedged between the rock and his body, she could see nothing, but the sound of the voices grew louder.
~~~
Pen moved back into the shadows entirely without sound. What Chev could not hear, he could feel. She tucked her silver-blonde hair beneath her black wool cloak, even as he’d covered her petticoats with his, both ensuring nothing light-colored would accidentally reveal their position.
He placed the strange sense of connection—of comradery—it was like the bonds he shared with his naval brothers...the knowledge that one did not work alone, but in concert.
In trust.
As captain, he held the primary responsibility for his crew, but he worked with confidence, knowing he was not alone.
He experience the same with Pen.
He could work, knowing she would be working beside him, thinking with him, beyond him, even.
As with his fellow officers, he could trust her to fill gaps he missed, making their combined defenses impenetrable.
In the past, he’d failed to understand their mutual dependence. Failed to trust her strength. This time, he vowed, would be different.
The voices were close now—men, moving not-so-silently through the night, their whispers fizzling like ash into the darkness.
