Persuaded (20 page)

“Tell me not
that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.”

—Captain
Wentworth,
Persuasion

Hanna
was a bit surprised not to hear from Eli the next day. She couldn’t decide how she
felt about his silence—relieved that it gave her more time to mull Derick’s
warning over or miffed that Eli had all but declared his love one day and not
bothered to call the next.

Hanna
couldn’t forget the gash on Derick’s hand, the way he’d flexed his fingers in
anger as he told her of Eli’s phone call. She understood in that moment that
the injury was something to do with Eli, and she couldn’t help wondering if he
bore a mark of his own. Maybe that was why he hadn’t called. Or perhaps he
feared Derick’s mentioning the conversation to Hanna. Whatever the reason, Eli
didn’t contact Hanna for a few days. When he did text, it was to tell her that
he’d caught a terrible cold and planned to stay in bed all week. She responded
with an appropriate amount of empathy, asking if there was anything he needed.
His reply, that he would sleep it off and see her in a few days, confirmed
Hanna’s suspicion.

Those
particular few days were not the best of the summer. Ella and Derick went for a
long walk one evening, and though Hanna prepared herself for the announcement
of their impending nuptials upon their return, it never came. Instead Ella shut
herself in her room and didn’t emerge until the following afternoon. Her
perpetual bad mood increased her intolerance for Mary, which in turn amplified
Mary’s . . . Maryness. This put Charles on edge, and with both their parents
out of sorts, the boys were positively unmanageable, freaking out at the
unstable atmosphere that swirled around them all.

A
classroom full of five-year-olds was starting to sound good again, and that was
saying something.

Determining
that everyone needed something to lift their spirits, Hanna suggested a campout
on the beach. It seemed a little silly to sleep in a bedroll a few feet from
the door of your house, but at least it was something new. CJ and Walter were
on board right away, and their contagious enthusiasm infected the adults.
Charles got so excited that he invited all of Kelynch, oblivious to the fact
that his sister’s mood was a result of the tension with Derick.

Ella
hadn’t confided any details in Hanna, but the fact that Derick was not around
spelled out trouble in paradise. Hanna worried that her scolding was somehow
responsible for the deterioration of their romance, and yet she was simultaneously
overjoyed at no longer having to wonder what she might find walking into a
room.

The
day of the proposed campout arrived, and spirits were high. Mary and Ella even
tolerated each other long enough to help Hanna prepare tinfoil dinners for both
households.

As the
sun set, the foil packs sizzled in the coals, filling the air with the aroma of
meat, potatoes, carrots, and onions. Knowing her nephews would turn their noses
up at the menu, Hanna brought along hot dogs and marshmallows for them to roast
instead.

 Walter
was the first to conk out, right on his aunt’s shoulder. Keeping her oath to
sleep by him, Hanna bundled him up in his sleeping bag next to hers, then
turned her attention to CJ. He was still coming off his sugar and only agreed
to lie down if he could sleep next to Captain Wentworth.

“I’ll
stay here ‘til you fall asleep,” Derick bargained, casting a strained glance at
Ella, who averted her eyes and began talking to Benny.

Hanna
guessed that Derick had taken a good amount of convincing to attend in the
first place, and that he had no intention of staying any longer than he had to.
Sophie had made it clear that she would be sleeping inside tonight, and the
possibility of Mary’s roughing it was slim to none. Unless Ella stayed, Hanna
would be the only girl sleeping on the beach.

CJ
jumped onto his bedroll, bucking his legs in the air several times before
finally settling down. Derick lounged next to him, propping himself up on an
arm and sending a
help me
look to Hanna.

She
bit her lip to hide a smile.

“What’s
this?” CJ asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand and fingering the pendant
around Derick’s neck.

“It’s
called a
hei matau
,” he answered.

“What’s
a
hei matau
?” CJ asked.

“It’s
a Maori fish hook. A good luck omen for sailors to have safe sea passage.”

“What’s
a Maori?”

Derick
sighed. “If I tell you the story of the
hei matau
will you go to sleep?”

Hanna
grinned, relishing the exasperation beneath Derick’s patience.

“Uh-huh,”
CJ yawned.

“Okay,
then,” Derick began, sending Hanna a loaded look before launching into the
story. “The Maori are the native people of New Zealand and the Cook Islands.
That’s another country,” Derick added before CJ could ask.

“Well,
the legend goes that there was a boy named Maui—the youngest of many brothers.
He always wanted to go fishing with them but they never let him go along—your
typical ‘younger brother following you around’ kind of thing.”

CJ
nodded sagely, familiar with the plight.

“So,
one day Maui hid in the canoe. His brothers didn’t notice him until they were
far out at sea. They went to take him home, but it seemed like the more they
tried, the shore kept getting farther away. What the brothers didn’t know was
that Maui was a demigod—that’s like half God, half human—and he had magical
powers. Finally the brothers agreed to let Maui fish, and he dropped his
magical fish hook—the
hei matau
—over the side of the canoe.”

Hanna
found herself listening with wonder, probably more than her nephew. The
combination of Derick’s storytelling voice and the crackling fire was
intoxicating.

“Before
long, Maui had a catch. It was so big that he couldn’t reel it in by himself.
His brothers came to help him, but when they saw what they’d caught, it wasn’t
a fish at all.”

CJ’s eyes
widened. “What was it?”

“The
north island of New Zealand. The Maori call it Te Ika a Maui, which means, the
fish of Maui.”

“Wow,
cool,
”
CJ said in a reverential tone. “Where’s New Zealand?”

“Clear
down on the bottom of the earth, by Australia.”

“Did
you go there in the
Laconia
?”

“Yep.”

“Cool,”
CJ said again, sounding distinctly drowsy. “You have any other stories?”

“Not
tonight, little dude. Sleepy time.” CJ opened his mouth to protest, but Derick
gave him a severe look that reminded him of his promise. CJ grumpily scooted
down in his sleeping bag and was not heard from again.

Hanna
sympathized with her nephew. This piece of information felt like a gift from
Derick, a glimpse into his soul. She had often wondered about the bone-colored
pendant that Derick always wore on a cord around his neck, but she’d never
really thought to ask him about it. She found herself just as impatient for
more stories as CJ.

“Well,
I think I’m going to turn in,” Mary announced, earning an indignant look from
her husband.

“Me too,”
Ella said, keeping her eyes off Derick as she stood and followed Mary into the
house.

Charles
threw his hands up in the air, huffed in frustration. “What about our campout?”

“Let
them go,” Hanna murmured. She waited until they were inside to add, “Mary will
be a lot worse tomorrow if she has a stiff back from sleeping out here.”

Charles
shrugged, unable to argue with his sister-in-law’s logic on that point.

Sophie
stretched, leading into her own departure. “Are you boys going to be okay out
here on your own?”

“Hanna’s
staying,” Charles said, as if that solved everything. If Hanna had known she
would be the sole representative of her gender, she might have reconsidered.

Eyeing
Hanna with sympathy, Sophie said, “If the testosterone gets too much for you,
you can always come over to Kelynch.”

“I’ll
keep it in mind.” If she was going to sleep inside Hanna would prefer her own
bed, but Sophie’s invitation meant a lot.

“G’night
then. You guys take it easy on her.”

It was
by far the best campout Hanna could remember having. She and Derick talked in
hushed tones for what seemed like hours. They didn’t discuss Ella or Eli or
their own tangled past. It was a whole lot of nothing vital, but all that
insignificance meant a great deal to her. With a jolt, she realized that she
and Derick hadn’t really known each other at all ten years ago. They had been
only kids, infatuated with life and with each other.

Their
whispers gradually faded as they both fell asleep. When Hanna woke, she was surprised
to find Derick still stretched out on the sand next to CJ. Someone must have
covered him with a blanket at some point—Sophie, perhaps.

With
Walter’s early-morning babble, Derick peeped one eye open and gave Hanna a
tired smile, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He looked so much like a child to
her then: one side of his head was crusted with sand, and his hair stuck up
like the spines of a sea urchin.

Filing
the picture away for later, Hanna took Walter back to the house. Along the way
her mind settled on last night’s conversation with Derick. Being with him felt
so much different now—more, somehow—like the sequel to a favorite movie turning
out better than the original.

TWENTY-SIX

UNDONE

“Dare not say
that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death.”

—Captain
Wentworth,
Persuasion

Later
that morning, Hanna took the boys outside to play on the beach. CJ begged to
fly the kite again, but somehow, with all its failed flight attempts, it had
gotten ripped. Hanna told him she would sew it up if the boys could entertain
themselves for a while first.

Settling
down in the sand, Hanna pulled out the notebook she’d brought with along. Her
head was still full of Derick’s story from the night before, and she wanted to
write it out before she forgot any details. She jotted down what she could
remember of the tale, then started a rough sketch of Derick’s
hei matau
pendant. She wasn’t a professional artist by any means, but she’d taken the
occasional art class at the community college during her summer breaks. Her
favorite had been color and shading, and she did her best to call up the
technique she’d learned so long ago and apply it to the drawing.

Holding
it up for inspection, Hanna pinpointed several things she would like to touch up,
but her nephews were headed her way again, most likely for an update on the
kite. Resigned, Hanna set the notebook aside and picked up the kite, began
stitching, and shooed the boys away. She was about three-quarters the way
finished when a shadow fell over her, and she looked up.

“I
thought you would’ve gone back to bed,” Derick said, grinning and nudging her
leg with a foot.

It
took Hanna a moment to process the words, and to realize that he was referring
to the late night they’d both had. She might have caught on a little quicker
had she not been sidelined by the fact that he had no shirt on. He was
obviously in the middle of a run, rivulets of sweat running over his trim chest
and arms.

“Me?”
she finally replied, tearing her eyes from him and setting them back on her
work, “what can I say? Entertaining the next generation never sleeps.” She
nodded toward the boys, pulling a few more stitches through.

Derick
plopped down beside her, folding his legs beneath himself and giving her a
knowing—and inconveniently dazzling—smile. “Yeah . . . I think I got a taste of
that last night. You really should renegotiate the terms of your deal, you
know. They could at least give you dental,” he teased, bumping her shoulder
with his.

Was he
flirting with her? Hanna found it hard to swallow, as if some sort of plug had
been wedged in her throat. She tried to laugh, but it came out sounding shaky
and unnatural. Taking a moment to compose herself, she looked up at him, which
turned out to be a mistake. The sun glinted off his soaked hair, his golden
freckles, his green-gray eyes. It was almost impossible to look away  from
him, even being as jittery as she was.

That
being said, it would have been a better idea to set the kite aside, because she
felt a jab of pain when the needle stabbed into her finger. With a sharp intake
of breath, she dropped the kite and transferred her attention to the pinprick.

“Did
you hurt yourself?”

“It’s
just a poke,” Hanna said, praying that Derick didn’t notice her red face—or the
fact that he was the cause.

“Let
me see,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Not that I have a first-aid kit in my
back pocket like some people . . .” He wiped away the blood on her finger, then
declared, “Sorry, but it’s hopeless. I’m pretty sure you’re going to need a tourniquet.”