Read Online The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons by Barbara Mariconda - Free Book Online Page A

stood, adjusted his trousers, and shrugged his wide, thickset shoulders. His fingers twitched, as though itching to do something.
    Not wanting him to realize he’d been observed, I backed several yards down the narrow hallway, and as I did so the door eased itself shut. I took a deep breath, feigned a cough, then walked forward, shuffling my feet. The door opened just as I approached, and Quaide appeared, his face as slack and blank as usual, a rolled chart tucked beneath his arm.
    â€œCap’n needed a map,” he mumbled. His face registered no expression at all, not a shred of guilt or discomfort revealed in his hooded eyes.
    â€œReally?” I asked through thin lips, pressing the pages of numbers against my chest. Had I not observed him tinkering with the safe, I might have believed that retrieving the map had been his only mission.
    If Quaide noticed the ice beneath my words he didn’t let on. “Yeah,” he said. “A map.” He ducked through the doorway and walked past.
    I watched his hulking form retreat, his heavy boots thumping up the stairs and disappearing into the sunlight. I was left in the dim corridor, staring at the hatchway door swinging in his wake. What was he up to? A chill rippled through me as I called to mind his onshore meeting with the scar-faced scoundrel and the mysterious green-eyed man, their gesturing toward our ship, the memory of money changing hands, and Quaide’s ongoing, thinly veiled contempt for me. None of it boded well.
    A sound behind me made me jump.
    â€œGood lord,” Marni said, placing a hand on my arm. My shoulders dropped and I exhaled loudly. She took me in with a penetrating glance. “You’re as tightly wound as a spring. After your triumphant display of steely composure up there in the rigging I’d have thought nothing could fluster you.”
    I turned to my friend and greatest supporter and took a deep breath. “Marni,” I said quietly, “there’s something I need to tell you. Up until now I wasn’t sure it was important, but . . .”
    â€œGo on then,” she said. “But not here.” She glanced about. “Let’s go to my stateroom.”
    I followed her down the narrow hallway into her room. It was spacious compared to mine, and closely resembled our parlor back home. Fine oak paneling, detailed with carved, scrolled designs, a brass-and-crystal chandelier overhead. Oriental carpets in rich hues and furniture in the fabrics Mother so loved—brocades and velvets. Strange how Marni seemed as much a part of this space as Mother, the room embodying the strong, calming presence both of them evoked. Marni was right, as always. Having our conversation here in this sanctuary would be better.
    Marni closed the door securely behind us. “Sit.” She looked at me closely. “It’s Quaide, isn’t it?”
    Judging from my raised eyebrows, she continued. “Surely one can’t help but notice the resentment he hauls around like an anchor. I know everyone’s been leery about him from the start, but we’ll get to that. There’s more, am I right?”
    I nodded. Bit my lower lip.
    â€œAll right,” she said kindly. “Out with it.”
    I took a deep breath. Stared into my lap. “Something happened back in port,” I began. “In Boston.” She watched me steadily with those translucent eyes of hers.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œWe should’ve told you, Georgie and me, but . . .”
    â€œYou’re telling me now. Go on.”
    â€œWhen you and Addie and Walter went to the dry goods store, Georgie and I took a walk along the pier. Looking at ships and all the sights . . .”
    â€œNothing wrong in that.”
    â€œYes, but . . . well . . .”
    She inclined her head just slightly and leaned forward in the chair, eyeing me steadily. She nodded for me to continue.
    I swallowed once. Twice.