Blog Tour: Sneak Peek at The Eternal Sea
The tidal wind lifted the ivory lace collar of her mother’s mossy green, layered linen dress as she walked down the wharf. She was embarrassed to admit it, but when
Oscar had not come to visit her at the house, not even once since they’d been back, she’d gone down to the harbor to see him. She’d hid behind the corner of a chandlery and watched him work, trying to think of a way to approach him without feeling or sounding needy.
“What are you doing here?”
Camille spun around. Oscar stood over her, yet another storm in his eyes.
“I’m looking for you.” She wished it hadn’t come out as a whisper.
“Well, you found me.”
Yes, she had, along with the dull ache inside her chest. She had to get on with it before she lost her nerve.
“Why do you want the stone so badly?”
Oscar lowered his chin and watched a few wharfies haul a barrel past them before answering.
“I need it for where I’m going.” His short, emotionless sentences were starting to crawl under her skin. “And I’ll be needing the map, too.”
The map? Oscar moved around Camille, but she caught up to him before he could pick up a crate to load.
“Quit being so vague and just tell me what’s happening with the stone.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He lowered his voice and reversed his direction, stepping closer. “It’s not over. It never was. I don’t know if it ever will be.”
Camille expected him to storm away again, but instead he stared beyond the new cutter ship that he and the others were employed to load, watching a grand East Indiaman brig three wharves down. She wanted to know why he wasn’t more eager about what a still-active Umandu might offer. Oscar was intelligent, his mind as sharp as his mouth could be at times. He just had to be imagining the possibilities.
Camille hesitated. “Isn’t this a . . . good thing?”
He cut his eyes from the new ship to her, searing her with them. “There is nothing good about any of this, Camille. I need to get back to work.”
Tired of him turning his back on her, Camille caught the crook of his arm.
“Camille?” A voice from the head of the wharf caused her to her drop her hand. “My God, is that you, Camille?”
Shock warmed her neck and prickled her ears. That voice. It tunneled all the way inside her head, where at last she placed it. Her stomach flipped and knotted. Without inhaling a single breath she turned and saw the very person she’d been dreading for months.
Randall Jackson’s flushed pink lips turned up into an endless smile.
“Thank God, it is you!”
Randall pushed by the swarm of workers and crushed Camille against his chest in an embrace.
