The Lightkeeper's Woman

Unshed tears burned her throat. “I’ve no choice in the matter. I must find Captain Pitt.”

Mr. Sloan shook his head as he straightened. “Too bad.”

Alanna almost laughed at the irony. For two years she’d avoided the idea of facing Caleb. Now when he was so close, she met one roadblock after another, almost as if the fates didn’t want her to see him.

She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m not leaving until I see him.”

The innkeeper shook his head. “It don’t work that way here, missy. You tell me what you want, then I’ll decide if I talk.”

Sighing, she realized she’d have to give Sloan a little information. “My father passed on recently. He left the captain a package, and I’m here to deliver it to him.”

“What kind of package?”

Alanna pulled a small teak box from her cape pocket and set it on the table. It measured six inches by six and was fastened tightly with a polished brass lock. It was the same box her attorney had mailed to Caleb, the same box he’d returned. “This kind.”

A bit of the wariness faded from Sloan’s sharp gaze as he stared at the box. “Give your parcel to me. I’ll run it out to the island the next time I take the captain’s supplies.”

Alanna remembered Caleb’s terse response to her letter. I want nothing from you or your father. We are finished. The fire that had driven her hundreds of miles from home burned anew. “I intend to deliver it to him myself.”

The creases in his leathery face deepened as his eyes narrowed. “Ain’t this desire of yours to see him a little late?”

So, Caleb had told Sloan who she was. Defensive, Alanna raised her chin. “There are things you don’t know.”

Mr. Sloan shook his head as he appraised her. “You’re trouble.”

“If you think your unwillingness to help will chase me away, you are very wrong. One way or the other, Mr. Sloan, I’m going to see the captain.”

“Suit yourself, but you’ll get no help from me or anyone else in this village.” He turned and walked away.

Alanna rose, her napkin clutched in her hand. “Mr. Sloan!”

“You won’t find anyone to take you.”

“I’ve no intention of causing trouble for the captain.”

He waved away her words.

Frustrated, she glanced toward the bar where five seamen openly stared at her. In a voice loud enough for all to hear, she said, “I need someone to take me to the barrier. And I’m willing to pay.”

Realizing she’d addressed them, the sailors dropped their gazes into their tankards.

“None of them will do it,” Sloan said from behind the bar.

“I just want to give him this box, then I will leave him in peace.”

“Leave the captain alone,” a sailor shouted.

“Aye, he’s a fine man who don’t need the likes of you messing up his life,” another sailor said.

She stared at the roomful of grim faces. “I mean him no harm.”

“Go away,” several sailors shouted. Shocked by their anger she turned to Sloan. “I just want to give him this box.”

Sloan shook his head. “Since the captain’s been manning the lighthouse, he’s saved a lot of lives. Everyone in this town can claim a friend or relative who’s been rescued by the captain. That’s all anyone in Easton cares about. I can tell you now no one will take you to the captain.”

She opened her mouth, ready to argue, when she caught sight of a seaman moving away from the bar toward her.

The man was a weather-beaten old salt who wore loose-fitting pants, a stained shirt and pea jacket that smelled of fish. He’d tied his long gray hair at the nape of his neck with a piece of frayed rope and sported a bristly beard that reached halfway down his chest. “You really looking to go to the outer banks?”

Alanna hesitated. Rougher than Mr. Smoots, the man looked like a pirate and likely had the morals of one. She wouldn’t have considered his offer if she weren’t in such a hurry to return to Richmond. “Yes.”

Sloan’s scowl darkened. “Get back to the hole you crawled out of, Crowley. The lady don’t need your help.”

Alanna bristled. “Don’t listen to Mr. Sloan. I do need to book passage to Barrier Island.”

The seaman set his half-full tankard of ale on her table and sat down. “Let’s talk then.”

Sloan cursed. “Don’t be a fool, lady. This ain’t the kind of man you want to deal with.”

Alanna took her seat. “Thank you, Mr. Sloan, but I can take care of myself. You may go now.”

Sloan stared at her. “You is as hardheaded as Caleb says. Fine, go with Crowley. You two deserve each other.”

Alanna’s heart pinched. Caleb had said she was hardheaded? She wanted to ask Mr. Sloan what Caleb had said about her, but pride wouldn’t allow it. Working the tightness from her throat, she shifted her gaze to Mr. Crowley. “Can you take me to the outer banks, Mr….”

The old man stared at her as he sipped his ale. “Ain’t no Mister. Just Crowley.”

“Alanna Patterson.” She was grateful her voice sounded steady.

“I’ll take you across the sound, if you’re paying.”

Alanna tightened her hand around her reticule next to her plate. “I’m offering two bits.”

Foam from his ale clung to his mustache and beard. “Make it five dollars.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Five dollars! I don’t have that kind of money!”

Crowley eyed her rich cape trimmed with a thick brocade border. “Fine. Find someone else.” He started to rise.

Alanna knew he was likely her last chance to see Caleb again. Clearly no one else in town was offering help and soon she’d be married and there’d be no going back. She dug out a rumpled bill from her purse. “I’ll pay you one dollar.”

Crowley paused. “I can’t hear you.”

Fearful others would hear she carried cash, she lowered her voice. “All right, two dollars. But it’s all I have left.”

He sat back down. “Done.”

Alanna pushed the dollar across the sticky table toward him. “I’ll give you the second dollar when we return.”