had visited since their father’s death three years before.
Hannah pulled back the woolen blanket on the bed, then eyed the woman’s dress. “Wait,” she told Ben. “Set her down here.” She pointed to the braided rug covering the wooden planks. “Now step outside,” she instructed him.
“What for?”
“Her clothes are wet, and there’s sand everywhere. Out with you,” she said with mock severity.
Ben left the woman on the floor and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Of course, his mother was right. She couldn’t be put to bed in wet garments. When he was called back in, the woman was clad only in a cotton shift, her arms and legs bare. Ben tried not to stare, but the outline of her breasts was clearly visible through the thin fabric, and he could make out her nipples and a dark shadow between her legs.
“Quit gawping and lift her onto the bed,” Hannah admonished him.
Ben lifted the woman and laid her down gently, standing back and watching as his mother brushed the woman’s hair out of her face and covered her with the blanket.
“There now,” she said softly. “You just rest now. Take all the time you need. You are welcome here.”
“She can’t hear you, Ma,” Josh said. He’d come upstairs and was leaning against the doorjamb, watching his mother with a look of consternation on his face.
“And how do you know that?” Hannah asked. “You can hear things when you’re asleep.”
“No, you can’t,” Josh replied stubbornly.
“No? Just the other day, you told me that the wind and the sound of the rain woke you,” Hannah reminded him. “Isn’t that so?”
Josh rolled his eyes. “I suppose. Well, I hope she hears you and wakes up soon. I want to hear about the shipwreck.”
“I doubt she’ll want to talk about it. It must have been horrible,” Hannah said as she ushered Ben and Josh out the door. “Poor thing. I can’t begin to imagine what she must have been through.”
Ben followed his mother downstairs and into the kitchen, where he sat at the table. He hadn’t had his breakfast that morning and was now ravenous. Hannah set about frying bacon and eggs while Ben buttered a piece of bread and gulped down a glass of cold milk. Josh followed his example, grinning at his brother from across the table. He took out the watch and held it up by the chain, watching it swing slowly from side to side like a pendulum.
“Think it’ll work once it dries out?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What’s that you got there?” Hannah asked, turning just in time to see a ray of sunshine reflect off the gold casing and send a beam of light onto the wall.
“I found it on the beach. It’s made of gold,” Josh gushed. “I want to keep it.”
“Well, you can hold on to it for now,” Hannah said, “but if there are more survivors, you might have to give it back. It may belong to one of them.”
“Yes, Ma,” Josh muttered.
Ben took another bite of bread. He didn’t think there’d be any more survivors. Just the one.
Chapter 6
The sunlight streaming through the window seemed unbearably bright, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut. Her temples were throbbing, the pain bringing tears to her eyes, and a dull ache seemed to radiate from the back of her skull, making it painful to lie on her back. She carefully turned onto her side, facing away from the window, and gingerly opened her eyes. She was in a small room in what appeared to be an attic. There was just the narrow bed, a three-legged stool in place of a bedside table, and a pine chest of drawers. An unlit candle stood on the stool, the holder made of pewter.
She reached out and touched the back of her head, instantly yanking her fingers away. She had a lump the size of an egg that was tender to the touch, the pain shooting into her head like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes felt gritty, and there was an odd taste in her mouth, like she’d eaten something very salty and hadn’t washed it down with a drink, leaving her mouth and lips unbearably dry. She allowed her hand to trail downward, her fingers brushing the soft linen of the well-worn shift and resting on the thick wool blanket. Where was she?
Who was she? The question came unbidden but required an immediate answer, one she didn’t seem to have. No name sprang to mind. No place of