by his naivete.
How could anything truly be all right? At least seventeen people were dead, buried in graves that would never bear their names. More probably rested at the bottom of the sea, their remains picked over by fish and whatever creatures made their home beneath the frigid waves. Their families would never know what had become of them, would never have a grave to visit, their farewells left unsaid. And she was here, on Long Island, alone and pregnant, and utterly dependent on the Wilders, who bore no obligation to her. They were kindly strangers, but how long could she abuse their hospitality?
“I don’t know where I come from, Ben. I don’t know where I was going,” she cried, his ridiculous chivalry having unleashed something feral in her. “I may have been traveling with someone, but I can’t even recall their name. It might have been one of the men buried in the churchyard, or someone who went down with the ship. It may have been my mother, or sister, or friend,” she wailed, now nearly hysterical. She was shaking from both cold and emotion, desperate to release some of the feelings bubbling away inside her, but she couldn’t tell Ben about the child, not yet. She couldn’t share her secret with anyone, not until she clearly recalled its father and the circumstances that had led her to the doomed ship. Peregrine, her mind supplied helpfully.
Ben drew her to him and held her close as she wept, her fists pressed into his chest. His body was warm, his tone soothing as he tried to reassure her again and again that he’d look after her and keep her safe. After a time, she stopped shivering, her tears drying as the storm of emotion passed and hope began to raise its head, like a lone crocus pushing through the snow. She had recalled her name. She supposed that was a huge step toward regaining her memory, but nothing more had come with the knowledge, at least nothing concrete. Peregrine might be the name of a ship she’d seen before, or a vessel her impaired memory associated with the man who’d fathered her child. He might have been a sailor, a man of business, or even a soldier, for all she knew. Or maybe her father had gone to sea on a similarly named ship. The Peregrine could even be the name of a tavern. The name by itself meant nothing without the context in which she’d known it.
“Come, let’s get you home. You are soaked through,” Ben said gently, as though sensing that the worst of her grief had passed. He took her hand and pulled her along, their feet sinking into the damp sand and leaving deep footprints. “Ma was worried about you,” Ben said. “She thought you looked upset when you left the house. Has something happened?” he asked carefully.
“No. I suppose it all got to be too much,” Jocelyn replied.
“You can’t give in to despair,” Ben said. “I won’t let you.”
Jocelyn forced a smile to her lips. Ben was so kind, so steady. Her heart instinctively warmed to him.
“It was just a moment of weakness,” she said. “I’m glad you were there.”
“I’ll always be there for you, if you let me,” he replied, his voice husky, his eyes pleading with her to let him in.
“Ben, I—” she began, pulling away from him.
“Don’t say it. I understand. I’m a patient man, Alice,” he said gently, but she could see she’d wounded his pride. What was she supposed to have done? Jocelyn fumed inwardly. She was in no position to make promises, and he had no right to ask anything of her, not when she couldn’t recall anything of her past. Surely he understood that she might not be free, or did he think the shipwreck had erased all her previous commitments and she could simply start over? Oh, if only it were that easy, Jocelyn thought as she trudged after Ben.
By the time they returned to the house, thunder clapped in the distance and flashes of lightning split the sky. Jocelyn’s teeth chattered with cold, and her feet were wet and muddy, her hair hanging in wet sheets.
“Get out of those wet clothes and get warm,” Ben ordered, his tone gruff, then turned on his heel and walked toward the barn.
Jocelyn walked into the house and ran up the stairs before anyone could ask her any awkward questions. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she felt as if she’d