This is late and I have no excuse. Enjoy!
Chapter Fourteen
Dearest Roy,
I hope this letter finds you alright. I have sent you numerous over the years, however they have all been returned to me. But I continue to write to you because…well, there are not so many people to talk to here. None that understand me the way you do, at least. The only one who comes close to you is James.
Do you remember James? He was only a boy the last time you saw him, just barely fourteen years of age; gangly and tall and skinny as a stick. But lovely…quite lovely. And very smart, I think. He's studying law right at this moment and is betrothed to Elizabeth Saunders, whose father is a Lord. I delivered her sister's child just last week; she's a lovely girl, I suppose, if a bit empty-headed.
And James is just darling, he really is. I help him with his studies in exchange for help with my deliveries. He doesn't know much about birthing, but he has always been a good sport about it.
I have not told him much about our relationship and my family; as far as he knows, I am an orphan. I cannot tell him about where I come from; it is too dangerous.
I do not even feel safe writing it down, but you already know.
I hope you are doing well. I heard you have found a ship of your own and are travelling the sea, as you have always wished. I hope this to be true and that you are truly happy.
Write back at your earliest convenience.
Deepest regards,
Jo
Kate let the letter—the first of very many—flutter to the better, atop the rest, all of them yellowed with age and ink. Through her window, she could see the first rays of light over the horizon, the red sun rising slowly over the water.
She'd spent the better part of the night reading—and re-reading—her mother's letters, of which there were plenty, but none were Montgomery's responses, nor did any of them contain her mother's elusive past, but for the mention of her teenaged father.
There were no dates on the letters.
Kate surmised that they dated to just a few years before her birth, though.
In them, her mother described Kate's father's dissolved engagement and the beginnings of their courtship afterwards. She wrote about her own pregnancy and the difficulty involved with delivering other children while suffering through the side effects of carrying Kate. And how she had to recover for nearly a month after her birth. Kate felt tears in her eyes as her mother proclaimed, quite largely, "I would not trade a day of it, however; not for anything in the entire world."
The letters, as predicted, ended somewhere around her ninth birthday, with the promise to right as soon as she had any information; though on what, Kate did not know. Johanna's letters steered carefully clear of anything specific, her fear of anyone but Roy Montgomery reading the letters mentioned several times.
What was she so afraid of? Kate thought to herself as she began folding up the letters, stroking the weathered paper gently as she placed them, neatly stacked, back into the box.
What was left, besides the letters, were a few things that only proved to confuse Kate further; a pair of knitted baby booties—she assumed to be hers—a silver chain with a gold ring—with an engraving she could not quite read—and two small figurines—one dark-skinned and the other light-skinned, their genders ambiguous.
Her attention kept going back to the ring, however. It had a small jewel encrusted in it, the color of blood, and now glinted in the sunlight that shone through the small window. Something sparked in Kate's memory at the sight of it, like a memory of some kind. She felt as if she'd seen this ring before; perhaps in her youth?
She had a flash of herself, running around the house as a toddler, always mischievous and energetic, bursting through the door of her mother and father's bedroom, while Johanna sat at the small vanity in the far corner. She startled as little Katie popped into the room, giggly as she runs into her mother's legs, tripping over her own skirt.
Johanna smiled down at her and scooped her up, raising the baby above her head, pressing a kiss to her little button nose and then set her down in her lap, facing the mirror.
In her mind's eye, Kate could see the surface of the little table, covered in shiny objects that her tiny hands had just itched to touch. One particular object seemed to outshine the rest and Kate remembered the feeling of her chubby toddler hand reaching out for it, closing around cool metal, her fingers running over the stone embedded in it.
Johanna had not been angry and had even smiled down at the little girl, pressing a kiss to her brown curls. She helped Kate slip the finger around her thumb—and even then it was far too big for her little hand—before showing her where, on Johanna's hand, it was to go.
Her left ring finger; her marriage finger.
Kate's eyes widened as she comes back to herself, her heart beating faster as she placed the memory of this ring. It was her mother's wedding ring!
But how…?
How would Captain Montgomery get such a precious item? Especially since she was almost positive that her mother would have been wearing the ring at the time of her death…
Did he know that she was going to die? Did she know?
So many questions raced through Kate's mind as she stared down at the ring in her palm, the silver chain attached to it slightly rusted with age and exposure, but firm still. Kate fingered it as she pondered the mystery behind it and its presence here on the ship.
A knock on the door, however, interrupted these thoughts and Kate immediately closed the box, locking it as she placed it back onto its shelf. The ring and chain were still on the outside and Kate slipped the ring onto the latter, before slipping it over her head and beneath her shirt.
There was another knock as Kate tugged on her coat and retrieved her sword.
"Captain?"
Her heart stopped at the sound of Castle's voice outside her door.
"Captain, are you awake?" He was whispering, as if his knocks wouldn't have woken her in any case.
"Yes," she found herself responding, as she unlocked the door and opened it, coming face to face with the man who made her chest tighten with something she couldn't quite name. "Can I help you, Castle?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
He held up a small black journal; she recognized it as one of those that Tory had bought.
"You weren't on deck this morning," he said, "so I supposed you took the morning for yourself."
Kate nodded, glancing at the window. The sun had only just risen; he was usually not out on deck until late morning…
At her furrowed brow, he chuckled. "I woke early," he informed her, "and could not fall back to sleep; I thought I would deliver the book a bit sooner, but I found Paulo still at the wheel, half asleep."
Kate nodded. "I suppose I should go relieve him," she murmured, frowning. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally drained from her night spent reading a story she'd put off for so long—and didn't even have in its entirety—but she would not let him know that, nor anybody.
After all, she'd gone without sleep before. Today would be no different.
She hoped.
Tucking the book into her coat pocket, Kate made to follow Castle out, but was stopped by the larger man.
"Captain?" he said, looking down at her with concern in his eyes. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, Mr. Castle," she replied, furrowing her brows. "Why do you ask?"
"Because, well," he cleared his throat, "your feet are still bare, Captain."
Kate looked down, feeling her face flush at the sight of her bare toes, dirty and rough, pressed against the cracking wooden floors. She cleared his throat and looked up at him, straight in the eye.
"I'm aware," she said, calmly, before sauntering past him and climbing the ladder to the deck, grimacing against the splinters that entered through the soles of her feet.
Lanie would have to pull them out later and she was bound to get an earful from the younger woman, but shoes were not worth the humiliation of what was likely to be a very cocky grin aimed her way.
As it was, she could feel it burning a hole in her back as he watched her ascend. She sighed.
It was going to be a very long day.
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