Page 18 of The Searching Songbird

“Of course,” Grady agreed, his dry tone suggesting he knew exactly what Draven was capable of. “I'll spread the word 'round, make sure the boys in town know Willie isn't to be bothered.”

“Appreciate it.” Draven finished off the last of his drink and stood, pulling his cap back down over his eyes. “And congrats on the boy. Be sure to give Mary my best.”

“Yer leavin' already?”

“Got a ship to catch. Don't wanna be late.”

“Well, alright. Ya take care, ya hear? And don't wait six months 'fore comin' round again. Mary's been missin' that face of yers.” He paused. “Well, maybe not the one ya've got now, with that rat's nest growin' all over it.”

Draven chuckled. “I promise to shave next time. For Mary's sake.” He tipped his hat at his friend before turning to leave. “Take care, Grady.”

Out on the street, he headed straight for the ship. Hopefully, he'd get back before the target and be able to hide out for the remainder of the day. Or maybe the remainder of the trip.

Only three days left until they arrived in Flores.

Chapter Ten

Okay, Lily, you can do this. Just open the door and walk in as if it were the most natural thing in the world for you to be here.

Lily took a deep breath in, one hand pressed against the swinging door that led to the mess hall. Then, before she could lose her courage, she pushed it open, exhaling in a loud whoosh as she stepped into the room. A long, wooden table filled most of the space, with benches on either side. Benches that were occupied by the ship's crew, as well as Draven, who all seemed to look up as one and stared at her as if she'd grown two heads.

“Um, excuse me. I... I didn't mean to disrupt your meal. I was just hoping... that is, I would very much like it if I might... take my meal with you?” She twisted the fabric of her skirt with her fingers as she looked around at their confused faces. A blush heated her cheeks, but she forced herself not to look down at the floor. “If that wouldn't be too much trouble, that is,” she added, wishing she'd waited until later that evening to seek Mr. Grant out.

She was saved from further humiliation, however, as Kenny's familiar freckled face popped up from among the men. “Course you can, Miss Lily. Ain't no trouble at all.” He looked around the table at the others, his voice challenging. “Is it, guys?”

That seemed to startle the others into action, and they all began to stand, shuffling down the bench to make room. One of the serving boys stood and ran into the ship's galley, which was connected to the mess hall. He quickly returned with a steaming bowl and fresh hunk of bread on a small plate. He brought them over to the table as Lily gratefully took a seat next to Kenny.

“Thank you so much. It smells delicious!”

She smiled up at the boy as she accepted the food. Draven was sitting on the opposite side of the table, and she turned her smile in his direction as the boy went back to his seat. “Mr. Grant, I must admit, I was hoping I might run into you here.”

The man stared back at her, his expression unreadable. “That so?”

She felt her smile falter a bit at his gruff tone. “Why, yes, I... I, um, wanted to thank you for your assistance in the market earlier.” She forced out a light laugh. “I had landed myself in quite the pickle. I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't arrived when you did.”

“I told you before, it was nothing.” He ripped off a piece of bread and dunked it into his stew. Shoving it into his mouth, he glanced toward the door, as if wondering how soon he could extract himself from her company. She watched him for a moment before letting her own gaze drop to her food.

“Well,” she said softly, scooping up a spoonful of stew. “I appreciated it none-the-less.” Sipping the savory stew, she turned her attention to Kenny, who was telling one of the other men about her performance in the market earlier that day.

“You shoulda heard her, Dom, she was great. I ain't never heard anythin' like it.”

“Great, huh?” The big man looked over at her, giving her an appraising look. “Wouldn't mind hearing that myself. Think we can convince ya to sing fer us tonight? Weathers s'posed to be nice 'n clear.”

“I think that could be arranged, assuming someone can play for me?” She raised her eyebrows in question. Dom ran a hand over his bald head and grinned self-consciously.

“I know my way round a fiddle. Nothin' fancy, but good 'nough for the boys, if ya think that would suit ya?”

“A fiddle will do quite nicely. I accept.” She glanced over at Draven. “What about you, Mr. Grant? Do you play anything?”

He paused his eating long enough to give her an annoyed look. “No, I don't.” Pushing his empty bowl forward, he started to rise. “Think I'll turn in,” he muttered, stepping over the bench.

“What?” Kenny cried out in protest. “But it's barely eight o'clock. Don't ya wanna hear Miss Lily sing?”

“It's been a long day,” he replied, casting Lily a sideways glance. “I'm afraid that pleasure will have to wait.”

She started to dip her head in acknowledgment, when a sudden wave of dizziness rolled over her. Placing her hands on the table, she tried to steady herself, but the room continued to swirl around her as darkness crept into the edges of her vision.

Vaguely, she heard Kenny and the others as their concerned voices surrounded her, but she couldn't quite make out the words over the strange static that was filling her ears. Panic clawed at her chest, and she squeezed her eyes closed, fingers digging into the soft wood of the table.