Because You're Mine(22)

The wind freshened, and she smelled the marsh. Its salty scent drew her out to the waving sea grass, past the lagoon and camellia garden, until the house was in the distance. She should have put some shoes on. Her bare feet were wet with dew. The sound of the ocean grew louder, but she would need a flat-bottomed boat to get out to the waves past this marsh.

Disappointed, she stopped and let her gaze sweep the horizon. Was that a pier? She drew nearer and saw that a rickety structure ran out over the marsh to the waves. Watching where she put her bare feet, she walked to the pier.

Some of the boards were missing, and it didn’t look safe, but she tested it with one foot.

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you, not in your condition,” a voice said to her right.

Alanna peered into the shadows of a large cypress tree and saw a black woman seated on a quilt. “Cheers,” she said, moving closer to the woman, who looked to be weaving a basket.

The woman had one of those ageless faces, the dark skin smooth and unblemished. She wore her white braids wrapped around her head like a coronet. White shorts revealed long shapely legs, and the red tank top revealed muscular arms. Sandals lay discarded on the quilt.

She put down her basket and patted the space beside her on the quilt. “Rest, little one. I’m Hattie Bellamy.” She held out a slim hand, sinewy with muscle.

“Alanna Co—, um, Kavanagh.”

Hattie smiled. “Caught him, did you?”

“Not exactly.” Alanna sank onto the soft quilt and studied the basket. “It’s quite lovely.”

Hattie picked it up. “I’ve done better. Your man lets me grow sweet grass out by the lagoon. I picked this a few days ago and dried it, but I think it needs to dry a bit more.”

“I love this one,” Alanna said. “Such a beautiful shape, like a boat. What will you be using it for?”

“I don’t know yet. Its purpose will come to me.” Hattie studied Alanna’s face. “You’re a little bit lost, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Alanna admitted, not willing yet to say more though she’d warmed instantly to the woman.

“Irish, I hear.” The woman picked up her basket and began to weave the grass into it again.

Alanna found watching her most soothing. “Guilty, I am. Irish through and through. Have you lived here long?”

“Born here.” Hattie squinted through the trees. “You can just see my tiny place through the trees.”

“You live on Kavanagh property?” Alanna was sure Barry’s property went clear to state land.

“I was your man’s nanny once upon a time. His mama deeded over the old place for as long as I live.”

The woman must be older than Alanna thought. “There’s so much about the family I don’t know,” she said. “I thought Barry’s mother was dead. Now I’m finding she’s very much alive and most likely will be outraged he married me.”

“She’s been wanting a grandchild. I suspect she’ll be pleased once she gets over the shock.”

Alanna shook her head. “It’s not Barry’s child.” She found herself pouring out the story. Hattie listened with an impassive face. When Alanna was finished, she realized her cheeks were wet, and swiped at the tears. “Sorry.”

“Lass, you got troubles. Miss Patricia won’t take well to this situation.” Hattie hesitated. “And there’s darkness in that house. Scares me. You have anywhere else to go?”

Alanna shook her head. “Thomas’s reach is long. Only Barry can protect me.”

Hattie put down the basket and gripped Alanna’s hand hard enough to make her wince. “You listen to me, lass. Watch yourself. Things aren’t always what they seem. People aren’t always what they appear. If you sense danger, you come to me. Just run right out of that house and head for my cottage.”

Alanna smiled even though she could tell Hattie meant every word. “I don’t think anyone would be harming me,” she said. “Unless you’re talking about the banshee.”

The older woman snorted. “That banshee doesn’t worry me. It’s the flesh-and-blood folks who do the most damage.”

A low sound in the background began to escalate in volume.

“What’s that?” she asked, tipping her head to one side to listen. “A dog?” The whine intensified when she rose and approached a line of flowering shrubs. “Here, boy,” she said.

“Prince won’t come out,” Hattie said. “He’s scared of humans, ever since . . .”

“Ever since what?” Alanna asked, glancing back in time to see Hattie snap her mouth shut.

“Never you mind. It’s not important.” She nodded toward the bushes. “The dog’s a stray and fears humans.”

Alanna crouched in the soil and held out her hand. “Come here, boy,” she said softly. She’d never met an animal she couldn’t charm. When the dog didn’t respond, she thrust her hand into her pockets, searching for something to offer him to eat. They were empty. She turned back to Hattie. “Do you have any food?”

The woman nodded and reached for a battered red cooler just off the quilt. She lifted out a sandwich and handed it to Alanna. “Won’t do any good though.”

Alanna unwrapped the turkey sandwich and broke off a small piece of meat. The bread wasn’t good for dogs. She went back to the shrub and held it out. “Here, boy, come on now. I won’t hurt you.” She placed the bit of turkey on the ground so Prince could easily grab it if he came out from the bushes, then she settled down to wait.