Page 100 of Love's Christmas Hope
“Rebekah,” Gilbert’s voice held a warning note.
Rather than look at her husband, Rebekah kept her gaze pinned to Isaac, eyes narrowed accusingly.
Sisters. He supposed it was nice to have his back for a few months, but it would be even nicer if she needled her husband instead of him. “I haven’t done anything other than try to be kind and helpful and occasionally question her when troubles come up, as any sheriff would. That’s it.”
Rebekah glanced down the street toward where Miss Brogan had disappeared into the bakery and furrowed her brow. “Is she really that frightened of you?”
“I wouldn’t call her frightened, but she’s never been comfortable with me, no.” He tucked his notepad into his shirt pocket, since Rebekah didn’t seem about to let him get back to work anytime soon.
“Is she that way with everyone?”
“Ah…” He scratched the side of his head. “She’s a mite better with Elijah than she is with most men, but besides him…”
Rebekah bit the side of her lip, her gaze still latched onto the bakery. “But I don’t understand. Things were supposed to be better for her here.” When she looked back at him, her eyes shimmered with moisture. “Coming to Eagle Harbor was supposed to help.”
He sighed. How was it his sister could be as tough as an anchor rope one minute and as soft as pie filling the next? “Help what?”
“I think it has helped, darling.” Gilbert reached for his wife and pulled her to his side. “Not everything can be fixed overnight.”
Rebekah’s shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “It’s not overnight. It’s been almost a year. I suppose I was hoping…”
“To find her married with a child on the way?” Gilbert rubbed the side of her arm and looked down at her, the gaze in his eyes so tender Isaac nearly turned his back to give the couple a bit of privacy. “You knew better than to expect either of those things from her letters.”
“Maybe not married with children, but I wanted her to be happy.” Rebekah looked up at her husband. “Did she seem happy to you?”
“I…” Gilbert shook his head and sighed. “Not really, no, but we only saw her for a few minutes, and it seemed like she’d had a difficult morning.”
Rebekah turned back to Isaac, her shoulders sagging. “Does she seem happy in Eagle Harbor?”
Isaac coughed. “I… ah, don’t really know her well enough to say.”
But that had been her choice, not his.
Her words from last winter drifted back to him.If such a thing as a good man exists, Sheriff Cummings, then I’m sure ye’re one of them. But me, I’m just not the type to make a good wife. I don’t think I’ll ever be, at least not anymore.
The snow had sparkled around them that day; the previous evening’s dusting of several inches still lying pristine over the town. Her hair had flamed against the whiteness, a single, unmistakable splash of color so vibrant he’d nearly reached out and fingered one of the flyaway strands hanging by her ear. Even now, in this wretched humidity, he could almost taste the crisp winter air on his tongue, almost smell the wood smoke curling up from nearby chimneys.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Rebekah took a step closer to him, myriad thoughts churning behind hazel eyes the sameshade as his own. “Has being in Eagle Harbor helped her or not?”
He clenched his teeth. “I already said I don’t know. I don’t even know what being in Eagle Harbor is supposed to help her with in the first place.”
Rebekah and Gilbert shared a look, but neither spoke.
He raised his hands, only to let them fall back to his side. What was it about Miss Brogan no one wanted to tell him? “At least tell me what happened to her in Chicago.”
There wasn’t any question that she’d been hurt in some way. He’d figured that out the very day she’d arrived last summer with Rebekah. She’d been too skittish to even say hello to him then.
Rebekah’s shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “If it were up to me, I’d tell you. But it’s her story, and she probably doesn’t want you knowing.”
“Yet both of you know.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue.
Rebekah looked up at Gilbert, but Gilbert just pressed his lips together.
Fine, then. He had work to do. Both of his deputies were supposed to head this way after they were done questioning those who lived near the bank. And he should have been searching the alley already.
He rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t yet have evidence of a crime being committed, but so far the clues were all pointing in one direction—a direction that seemed utterly impossible. But with a ship docking abnormally late and men running boxes away from the harbor in the dead of night…
He couldn’t possibly have smugglers in Eagle Harbor, could he?
