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clenched his jaw. He’d wanted to do more for his brother. So much more.
    “And Father,” Mrs. Barnes continued, “thank You for bringing Luke home to us tonight.”
    Luke flinched. Candlelight flickered off the old woman’s face, casting her in a golden glow that made her look much younger than her sixty years.
    “Amen,” John repeated then eagerly helped himself to a piece of fish.
    Their meal passed with laughter and pleasant conversation, during which Luke listened with rapt attention to John’s rendition of his visit to the town library that day with Mrs. Barnes. Embellished with mad adventures that involved fighting off a band of gypsies and an encounter with a fire-breathing dragon, the story could match any found in Aesop’s fables. The lad had an overactive imagination. And Luke wondered if perhaps he’d be a writer someday. Whatever he did, he’d no doubt be far more successful than Luke.
    Then, per John’s request, Luke regaled them with one of his adventures at sea, all the while wondering whether he’d ever have any new stories to tell.
    Soon after, Luke found himself sitting beside John as he lay in bed.
    “You know you don’t have to tuck me in. I’m not a baby anymore,” John huffed.
    “No, you’re not.” Though he had been just one year old when the responsibility of parenting had fallen solely on Luke. “You’re almost a man. I can hardly believe it.”
    “Will you work on your ship tomorrow?”
    “Yes, if you work on your studies with Mrs. Barnes.”
    John’s face soured. “But they are so boring. I want to be with you.”
    Luke raised his brows. “If you’re going to be a sailor, you must be able to read and write and calculate numbers. Every captain I know who is worth his salt has a good education.”
    “Truly?”
    “Indeed.” Luke drew the coverlet up to John’s chin.
    “Will you come home tomorrow for dinner?” The pleading in John’s voice stung Luke.
    He wiped the hair from John’s forehead. “I’ll try.”
    John gave him a placating smile that said he didn’t believe him. The boy was growing up too fast. Luke planted a kiss on his forehead then mussed up his hair. “Get some sleep.”
    Grabbing the lantern, Luke headed for the door.
    “I love you, Luke.”
    Luke halted, emotion clogging his throat. “I love you too, John.”
    Down in the parlor, Mrs. Barnes filled Luke’s mug with coffee then poured herself a cup and sat down in her favorite chair—a Victorian rocking chair—beside the fireplace where simmering coals provided a modicum of heat. A wooden clock sat on the mantel, its time stranded at 9:13. Luke stared at it, willing the hands to move. But they remained frozen in place. Hadn’t it been working fine just that morning?
Lud.
That was all Luke needed. Something else broken in his broken-down world.
    “I’m glad you came home tonight,” Mrs. Barnes said. “That boy adores you.”
    Luke sipped the hot liquid, enjoying the exotic smell more than its bitter taste. Yet the coffee soothed his throat and settled in a pool of warmth in his belly. “He means the world to me.”
    “Then come home more often.”
    “You know I can’t.”
    “Can’t? Or won’t give up your gambling and drinking?” Mrs. Barnes set down her cup on the table beside her and picked up her knitting as if she hadn’t just chastised her employer. A large Bible perched proudly beside her steaming mug. Luke never saw her without it.
    “I win more than I lose.” Luke shifted his boots over the wool rug, trying to rub away the guilt.
    Mrs. Barnes gazed at him from kind brown eyes that seemed far too small for her round face. Gray curls, springing from her mobcap, framed her like a silver halo. “I know a great deal of responsibility was laid upon your shoulders at only seventeen, but—”
    “And I have kept us alive since,” Luke interrupted, his ire rising.
    “I’m not disputing that.”
    Leaning back in his chair, Luke glanced over the parlor, which boastedof