A Light For My Love Read Free

drifted up
through the floor. Added to that were the smells of fish, beer, and
whiskey, all overlaid with a trace of opium smoke.
    Jake smiled. The Blue Mermaid was like any of
the other fifty such establishments in Swill Town—dirty, crude, and
raw. But to him it felt like home.
    “By God, I don’t believe my eyes! Jacob
Chastaine!”
    Jake turned to see Pug Jennings vault over
the bar, an amazing feat for a man of Pug’s short stature. He
plowed through the crowd, and when he reached Jake, he gave him a
hug that crushed the breath right out of him. The saloon owner
stood not one inch over five feet, but in his compact body he had
the strength of a bear. Any patron foolish enough to challenge him
came to regret it when he found himself on his duff in the street,
his broken nose bleeding into his lap.
    “Lemme look at you,” Pug said in his gravelly
voice. His entire face lit up with an ecstatic smile as he held
Jake back at arm’s length. “I can’t believe it’s you. You sure got
big since you’ve been gone. But I knew you. I’d know you anywhere.
When did you get in?”
    Jake laughed with honest pleasure. Here, at
least, someone was glad to see him. Even if it was Pug Jennings,
and even if this was the Blue Mermaid. Thank God, it looked the
same, right down to the painting of the coy nude that hung on the
back wall. “Early this morning. It’s good to see you, Pug. I wasn’t
sure you’d still be here after all this time.”
    “Of course I’m here. Where would I go?” he
questioned, waving Jake toward the counter. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
The little man returned to his post behind the crowded bar,
playfully slapping one of the saloon girls on the rump as she
passed. He stepped up on an eight-inch riser that ran behind the
bar and brought him up closer to Jake’s height.
    Jake let his gaze wander around the place,
recalling the man times he’d sat on the end bar stool when he was a
kid, drinking root beer and hiding from the truant officer. No one
had thought to search for a youngster in a dockside saloon. Pug
hadn’t nagged him much about skipping school. It had been plain
that he took for granted Jake would end up a fisherman like his
father, Ethan Chastaine.
    “Hey, you gob!” Pug snapped at a sailor
passed out with his head on the scarred oak. He reached over and
shoved the man’s arm until he stirred. “Go sleep it off somewhere
else and make some room here.” The sailor dutifully roused himself
and staggered to the door.
    Pug set two glasses on the bar, then unlocked
a cabinet and produced a dark bottle. “This calls for the good
stuff.”
    Jake chuckled again, taking the vacated space
at the counter. He remembered “the good stuff.” On his fifteenth
birthday Pug had declared him a man and bought him his first scotch
right here. Quinn’s aunt Gert had thrown a fit when she found out
about it.
    Pug poured them each a hefty measure, then
raised his glass to Jake’s. “To bowlegged women.”
    “To bowlegged women,” Jake repeated, clinking
his glass to Pug’s.
    The little man leaned a beefy arm on the
counter. “How is it that you’re home after all this time?”
    That was a good question, Jake thought. Since
the morning he left, he’d wondered if he’d ever see Astoria again.
After all, he’d had no reason to come back, even though his memory
had turned toward this town nearly every day for the past seven
years.
    Then, five months ago, in a New Orleans
saloon a lot like this one, a small miracle had occurred. And it
had changed everything—his status, his future, his possibilities.
He’d had to return.
    Jake took a big swallow of the smoky,
peat-mellowed whiskey. “That big barkentine tied up at
Monroe’s?”
    Pug nodded. “I saw her. She looks like a real
lady.”
    “She is,” Jake agreed. He put his elbows on
the bar and leaned forward. “But she needs some work, so I brought
her to Monroe. Then I’ll be looking for a cargo for her.” Jake
smiled with a sense of