Christina had already cried all the tears she could possibly shed, but grief wouldn’t pay her piling debts at the modest inn she called home. Her charade of joy had to continue, singing in bustling Portsmouth, England for any possible money given by an appreciative ear.
Unbeknownst to her a tall dark figure stood watch in the shadows…with a very appreciative ear.
Inspired by: “The Phantom of the Opera”. Available on Amazon Kindle.
https://www.amazon.com/Too-Deep-Inspired-Phantom-Opera-ebook/dp/B09ZYFMD6M
If you like clean romance and adventure on the high seas (with a healthy dose of danger), you just might love this faith-based work inspired from a classic story by Gaston Leroux.
Curious? I’m posting the first chapter for free below: (Copyright 2022 by Elaine Runmore, All Rights Reserved)
“In Too Deep”
October, 1586
A stranger fiddled with the lock on the door of the local smithy, coat pulled up to avoid the vigilant eyes of the Royal Guard. The blacksmith had left ten minutes ago, but that was not who he had come to see. The heavy door protested but finally opened enough so the man could slip inside the darkened shop. He stood watch at the window with the best view of the street, angling his body to stay just out of sight. An ethereal voice floated to where he hid and listened, a haunting melody begging to be heard among the common noise of an even commoner street. One day he would introduce himself to the girl singing for a mere pittance of what she deserved, but he had no intention of interrupting her song, even for just a minute.
A quiet shuffling under a nearby table caught his attention. A dirt covered little girl looked up at him and then darted back under her makeshift shelter. The stranger took one more look at the street before he walked over and softly asked, “How did you get in here?” The girl whispered her answer, a glint of curiosity showing in her big brown eyes.
The man smiled. “Well aren’t you clever? How would you like to help me get a message to a special friend of mine? I’ll pay handsomely for your trouble…”
The little girl eagerly shook her head yes.
Christina sang to anyone that might stop and listen. Some of the passers-by would spend a minute listening to the melody she had written from a lifetime of loss, eyes misting at the strange Gaelic words but somehow understanding the feeling behind them. She finished and opened her eyes once again to reality. The upturned hat at her feet held only a small handful of coins.
“Tis the only blessing of your passing, if only to miss seeing your little sister brought so low,” she thought and imagined what Killian would say. He would strike up his fiddle and push her to continue singing, though most of the onlookers seemed to be of an even lighter purse than she. Her dark bronze hair tumbled over her blue corseted dress as she reached for the hat to prevent a clumsy horse and carriage from running over it. As mud splattered her dress she wondered if she would have enough to continue living at the Royal Crown tavern for much longer…
Seeing a small street urchin staring at her across the street, Christina decided one last song, one her mother always sang her to sleep with, would appropriately be her last that evening, as a gift for the little orphan girl. Drawing in a long breath, she closed her eyes and gently sang the old Lullaby of the Sea. As the last note flowed from her lips a familiar longing for her family tugged at her. She opened her eyes, the little girl was gone. Christina felt a pang in her heart, she was only slightly better off than that child was. She felt the cold wind warning of winter blowing in from the Channel. Her childhood dream to travel the ocean had long since died when her parents succumbed to consumption and her brother was lost at sea. Still stuck in her regrets she looked down again at the hat and thought she saw something odd out of the corner. A small black bag was tucked in the fold and she wondered how she had missed it before. She opened it and in shock discovered it was full of gold coins and a small note. The flowing Victorian script it contained simply stated, “A friend is nearby.”
Eight year old Bree ran as fast as her dirt covered legs could carry her back to the smithy. “I did it sir! I left the bag for the pretty lady!” She looked for the man she had just met inside the shop, still quite talkative. “She sings just like I think me mum would before she died.” A wave of sadness came over her features.
The voice in the shadows answered, “Thank you poppet, but please in the future be more careful around strangers, many a man might wish you harm. Do you have anyone who looks out for you?”
The girl slowly shook her head. “No, me father died shortly after me mum, he drank a lot of his special medicine but his breath always smelled funny and he acted really strange when he did.” The stranger nodded in grim understanding. “The Holy Heart Church just off the square, do you know it?”
The child shook her head in agreement. “The nuns will take you in, ask for Sister Louisa. Tell her Alec sent you. This is for your trouble. Go, and please take more of a care.” The man gave her another bag, similar to the one he had entrusted her to deliver.
The child opened it and cried “Blessings upon ye!” As she scurried off the figure continued to watch Christina look furtively up and down the darkening street. He agreed with something the young girl had said, but he was fortunate enough to know that the woman several yards away from him did in fact sing just like his own mother had, once upon a time. Just after pulling the door closed to leave he overheard raucous laughter. Assuming it was a crew from a late ship, he turned into an alleyway just out of sight when a shock of red hair caught his eye. Alec couldn’t help his curiosity and followed a few steps behind, avoiding the crew. His foot caught an unfortunate rock that catapulted into the man’s shiny boots. The recipient of the pebble turned, his face searching the empty streets behind his men. Alec was close enough to still recognize the man’s face. He wondered what that redhead was back again for, and so soon. Alec headed to an inn, lost in his thoughts when he passed the dining room and a voice woke him from his musings. A giant of a man with a laughing face gave him a comical look as he called out, “Where ya been?”
Alec paused just before he reached the stairs. His first mate Benjamin always poked his nose where it shouldn’t be so he responded with the first thing he could think of. “Jack is back in the city.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “But he was here in the summer and we managed to avoid him, why is he back after only three months? Do we need to move the crew for the winter?”
Alec shook his head. “No, the Brownings won’t say anything and they already ordered supplies for us. We will lay low. Tell the men not to talk when they go out and to not cause any kind of trouble with the Royal Guard, especially Charles.”
Ben chuckled, “You don’t have to worry about that young pup, but I’ll tell him.” Alec avoided smiling until he reached the top of the stairs leading to his room. Ben didn’t suspect a thing.
Christina could hardly believe this stranger’s generosity, part of the gold would easily pay her debts and lodging for the entire winter. She looked around as she stood up, taking one last unbelieving glimpse at the coins in her hand, and tucked them away as she hurried home before anyone saw the treasure she carried. Winter was starting soon and she brushed several flakes of snow off of her cape and walked back inside her modest dwelling for the night. She nodded to the barmaid Anna and climbed the stairs, eagerly unclasping her dirty cape and wincing at the mud and snow she tracked in, knowing it couldn’t be helped but not wanting to add to Anna’s duties. Christina’s room was small but she was used to it now, the pain of grieving her new station in life now fully accepted. She had barely kicked off her shoes and fell onto her pillow before she was on her desperate nightly journey to dream about her long lost brother. Even if it meant enduring the nightmares that often plagued her sleep, horrific visions of him clinging to the side of a ship, waves threatening to swallow him whole and her unable to reach for him…she welcomed them all. Because Killian would always turn his full face to her at the end of the dream and give her a look that said he still loved her. Strangely every time she had this experience, it would end there. Maybe on some deep level she was secretly holding onto some false hope, but there was no way to know for certain. Christina had once known a widow who had waited years for her husband missing at sea to come home. Offers for her hand in marriage had come, and they had gone, but still this woman firmly believed her long lost love would come home. Eventually the older woman died and while Christina had ached for her, she was worried about becoming just like her.
Just as she dozed off she whispered her nightly prayer that Killian was still somehow out there, alive…