A Light For My Love by Alexis Harrington Read Free Book Online Page B

come to think of it, it might
have been the east coast. Anyway, a squall came up out of nowhere,
howling like the devil's own whore from hell—"
    China winced at the language, but left the
dining room with a malicious smile when she saw the look on Jake's
face, that of a man who realizes he's trapped and is helpless to do
anything about it.
    She crossed the hall to the kitchen to help
Aunt Gert serve. There she found Susan Price, their other boarder,
slicing bread at the table.
    "Susan, you know we love your help, but
really, you don't have to work," China said.
    Susan was just a few years older than China
and her complete opposite. Hardly bigger than a child, she was
plain-faced, fragile, and fair-haired, with a temperament to match.
Her husband had been killed at sea two years earlier, when he fell
from a yardarm into the churning ocean. Months had passed before
the news of his death reached her, and when she came to live at
China's house, she was hollow-eyed, detached, and of severely
limited means. She had a talent for millinery fashion and earned
extra money making hats for Aunt Gert's friends.
    "Oh, but I don't mind," she said in her small
voice. "Edwin loves my cooking. He always wants seconds." Edwin
Price was Susan's late husband.
    Aunt Gert looked up at her from the other
side of the table, then exchanged glances with China. This had
happened a couple of times now—Susan referring to Edwin as though
he were still alive.
    "Well, we're glad for the extra hands. Come
and hold the platter while I spoon up these eggs," China urged from
the stove. The woman complied and watched China slide her cooking
spoon under the fried eggs as Aunt Gert scooped mush into a
tureen.
    "I wish we had some bacon to go with this.
What will Jake think of plain old oatmeal and eggs for breakfast?"
By way of explanation, Gert turned to Susan and added, "We have
another guest staying with us, Susan. An old friend of the
family."
    "Jake isn't going to starve, Aunt Gert,"
China said. "We've gotten along all right on this food. It
certainly is good enough for him."
    "I still think bacon or sausage would have
been nice," Gert complained. She paused and gazed at the floor a
moment, as though trying to harness a memory. "I was just thinking
about the first time Jake came to the house. Let's see, I guess he
was around fourteen years old." She let out a wry chuckle as she
resumed scraping the sides of the mush pot with a wooden spoon. "He
brought Quinn home after giving him a prize-winning shiner. Those
two boys, both of them were proud and brash. Quinn was a roughneck,
but Jake, he was just as tough, growing up on the docks the way he
did, and big for his age. I never knew who started the fight—one of
them said something the other didn't like and the fists started
flying. But for all that he was a bad boy, Jake had a kind heart in
him. I knew it right off." Gert laughed again. "Jake tried to
pretend that he was just delivering a troublesome smart aleck, but
I could see he was really worried about Quinn. And Quinn was so mad
that he had gotten beat! Remember, China?"
    China rapped the big spoon on the edge of the
pan. "Oh, I suppose."
    Did she remember? How could she forget that
dear summer morning? She and Gert had been right here in this
kitchen, helping Edna, their cook, bake cakes for the parish
bazaar. A tall, dangerous-looking boy with dirty blond hair had
come through the back door, pushing her brother ahead of him.
They'd both been a horrifying mess—filthy, scraped, and
bloodied—and still as wary of each other as two gamecocks. Jake
might have won the fight, but Quinn had given nearly as good as he
got. Jake sported a purpling bruise over his cheekbone, and his
right hand was a shambles of raw, bleeding flesh, torn across the
knuckles. He looked down at it and pulled out his shirttail to wrap
it up. One of his sleeves flapped at the shoulder where it had been
ripped away, and both boys had obviously rolled around in the
dust.
    Aunt Gert