Summary: Three young women, three moments in time, one man. A look into the thoughts of Elizabeth, Inger, and Marie as they contemplate the man known as Benjamin Cartwright.

Rating: K

Word Count: 1,033

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work.  No copyright infringement is intended.

 

1828

 

“This isn’t the way home from the market,” she whispered to herself as she slid past a burly sailor carrying a loaded trunk across one shoulder. The dockyard was teeming with people. Men of all ages and nationalities grunted, sweated, and cursed as they toiled away; the life of those who chose to make the sea their profession didn’t end once their ship reached port. All manner of things needed doing from repair work to the disembarkation of passengers and goods. As the daughter of a sea captain, she knew all of this, had experienced it before too many times to count in her seventeen-years. She practically had salt water running through her veins. And yet, something drew her to the docks…or was it someone?

 

“Elizabeth, you’re being ridiculous! Turn around this instant and go home,” she told herself. She should do it. She should; but just when she made up her mind to do exactly that, she saw a pair of familiar shoulders and her mind blanked. The girl couldn’t help it. They were, after all, an impressive pair of shoulders, and were currently lacking their usual covering of a starched, white shirt. Her maidenly eyes devoured the sight before her.

 

Deeply tanned skin was pulled taut over thick muscles that rippled as they bunched, straining under the heavy weight of a barrel lifted high in the air. A moment later, they tightened again as the man they belonged to twisted and passed his burden off to another sailor standing on the gangplank.

 

Benjamin Cartwright. Her heart fluttered. Now, there was a man! Ever since her father had brought his new first mate home with him for dinner, she’d found herself thinking about him, dreaming about him. His dark hair and intensely dark eyes mesmerized her. He was…beautiful. Elizabeth had never before understood what other girls of her acquaintance meant when they called a man ‘beautiful’ until she met Ben Cartwright. His easy smile and deep voice sent butterflies pirouetting in her stomach.

 

If only—

 

A loud splash followed by raucous laughter yanked her out of her daydreams. One of the sailors had lost his balance and fallen into the bay to the amusement of his fellows.

 

Shaking her head, she turned away and started for home. It was a hopeless dream. Benjamin Cartwright saw her only as the daughter of his captain. He would never see her as more than that.

 

But still, a girl could dream….

 

~*~

1835

Placing a hand against her chest, Inger Borgstrom peered out the window as the stranger and his son walked down the steps of the mercantile and across the street, making their way to the boarding house. The girl couldn’t help it. There was something about that man that drew her to him.

Perhaps it was the deep, heart-wrenching pain she senses was in him. Even as a child, she hadn’t been able to resist anyone or anything that was hurting. Her father used to shake his head when she’d bring home another stray, injured animal, or person to nurture, but he knew it was just her way.

Clearly the man—she didn’t even know his name—and his little boy had fallen on hard times. She could understand that. There had been a period in her life, not so long ago, when her family had moved from Sweden to America, and money had been scarce, food even scarcer. She wouldn’t sit by and let someone go hungry, not if she could do anything about it. And she could.

But the look in his eyes…such serious eyes. He was too grave, much to grave. She thought he might have been in his mid-twenties, but he walked around as if the weight of the world rested solely on his broad shoulders.

She had been so sure that he would refuse her gift of soup for his son; the set of his strong jaw had revealed a wide stubborn streak. But in the end, he had taken it. It had been given freely, but Inger had the feeling that the man would find some way to repay her anyway.

What is it with men and their pride?

“Oj då!*”

Shaking her head, she turned from the window and reached for the broom leaning against the back corner of the shop. She went through the motions of straightening up, but her heart wasn’t in it. Instead, her thoughts were filled with the stranger and his sick little boy for the rest of the day.

~*~

1841

Those eyes. Marie glanced across the room and stared into their inky depths. The girl couldn’t help it. He was a handsome man with a little grey at the temples. He was sophisticated, yet with an air of honesty that was refreshing to her. She was used to people who used her, people who cared only for themselves and their wants with no thought of the needs or feelings of others.

He was a bold one. She was not fooled. She was older now, and wiser too. Handsome, bold men did not turn her head the way that they once had.

And yet…this man did. Or he did until the dazzling stranger opened his mouth and spoke the one name she never wanted to hear again.

Jean. She flinched at the name. Jean, who had been her love, her life, her husband. Jean who had believed that she had betrayed their wedding vows. Jean who had left her and their child to the machinations of his mother.

Jean who—

She shoved those thoughts back into the mental box that she had kept them in for so long, slammed the lid closed, and locked it. Oh, that she had never heard the name Jean DeMarigny! Hatred welled up inside of her, but when she looked at the stranger who had caused her so much pain by mentioning Jean, suddenly, it died.

There was just something about that man!

Shaking her head, she answered a question that André asked her and forced out a laugh, trying to focus on something, anything other than the man across the room with the soulful eyes.

It worked.

Then she glanced his way again.

~Finis

 

Author Note: *Oj då! Is a Swedish expression of dismay.

 

Tags: Elizabeth Stoddard, Inger Borgstrom, Marie DeMarigny.