The Liars

by Ida Linehan Young

  As they neared Water Street there were more horses, carts, and foot traffic to contend with. Workers were making their way home for the evening, and some businesses had already closed. The overcast sky put a grey hue on everything it touched. John picked up Beatrice and sped up as he hurried toward the boat at the far pier. Beatrice’s hair was flying all around his face, so he kept his head low, while Alice scurried along beside him. They hurried up the gangway and onto the boat, where they were greeted by one of the crewmen who came to the rail, spotted them, and waved. Danol waved back. They weren’t too far behind.

  “Erith, I have a couple of things to do,” Danol said. “I’ll take a cart before they’ve all left for the evening and pick up the trunk on my way. I won’t be long. Save me some supper.”

  With that, he was gone.

  “Who’s hungry?” Erith asked.

  “Me, me,” Beatrice said. They all laughed as Erith showed them to the galley.

  23

  Danol flagged down a buggy driver. “Heading home, Tom?”

  “I always have time for you, Mr. Cooper.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Hop aboard,” Tom said. “Where to?”

  “The Constabulary office,” Danol said.

  “Not many of them boys around, Mr. Cooper. You can tell by the thieving on the docks of late.”

  “Where are they gone?”

  Tom flicked the reins on the horses. “Chasing some feller who escaped prison, I hear.”

  “Yes, I heard about that, too.” They chatted about the weather for the rest of the ride. When they got to the headquarters building, Danol gave Tom the address for the trunk and asked him to pick it up and come back for him.

  Inside the building, the place was almost empty. One lone constable sat at the desk near the entrance.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  “Cooper, Danol Cooper,” he said as he stretched out his hand to the young man.

  “I’ve heard of you. How can I help you, Mr. Cooper?”

  “I was looking for Jeffries. Is he around?”

  “No, sir. He and a dozen more were dispatched to the Holyrood and Harbour Grace area. He left yesterday.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “Who knows? Orders were not to come back without that murderer. Folks are spooked, and with good reason.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He escaped a few months ago. The missionaries caught him on the Labrador. He beat this woman something shocking, they say. Never heard if she made it or not.”

  “Why was he after the woman?” asked Danol.

  “Seems it wasn’t her he was after. It was her sister. The woman’s husband came home and kept him from killing her. At least at the time. Like I said, that could have changed,” the young constable said. “He just gave up right there and then. Quiet as a lamb, they said. He was in jail for killing the man’s brother. A week later, they were bringing him to Twillingate for court, but there were high winds, so the boat veered for Harbour Grace. The storm was blowing something fierce, so they took shelter in Harbour Main for the night. In the morning, the prisoner was gone.”

  “Tell Jeffries I have the sister, Alice MacDonald, and her family on my boat, the Angel Endeavours. I’m heading to North Harbour.”

  “You must be mistaken. I don’t believe that’s her name, sir.” The constable looked through some papers. He read a few lines. “Her name’s Nancy Martin.”

  The constable showed Danol the notice. “Nancy Martin. I see,” Danol said. “Well, whatever that paper says, she says she’s the one the prisoner is looking for. Can I leave a note for Jeffries?”

  “Sure, but I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “That’s fine, I’m in no big hurry.”

  The constable handed Danol some paper and a pencil. Danol scribbled a note and took an envelope from the basket on the front of the desk. He put Jeffries’s name on it, sealed it, and handed it back to the officer, who took it and turned to a wooden wall unit behind him. He scanned the names at the top of each section until he found the right one, and he stuck the note inside.

  Danol thanked the young man and left. Tom was waiting when he went outside. When they arrived at the wharf, he paid the man, told him to be careful, and hefted the trunk. At the top of the gangway, he handed it off and instructed his crewman where it should be stored.

  24

  Danol had one more thing to take care of before heading to the galley. He made it just before the meal was done.

  He pulled in on the bench beside Erith, and the cook brought a plate of fish. He reached for two slices of bread from the middle of the table and joined the conversation. When Beatrice began to yawn, Danol got his newest crewman, Peter’s son, Eddy Nolan, to show them where they’d sleep. Beatrice hugged them before John and Alice bid them a good night and took her to their cabin.

  “You were gone a long time just to get a trunk,” Erith said once they were alone.

  “I stopped to see what Jeffries knew about this Ezra fellow, but he’s out in Conception Bay somewhere,” Danol said.

  “Are you on watch tonight?”

  “No, I’m all yours tonight. You’ve had a long day. You must be tired.”

  “I’d like to go up on deck for a while,” Erith said. “Just to sit and enjoy the night air.”

  “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked teasingly.

  “If I said no, would it matter?” Erith smiled playfully.

  “Depends how long I’d have to get you to say yes.” He winked.

  “Makes me almost want to say no to find out.” Erith laughed. He reached for her and she made a swat at him, feigning outrage. They fell into an easy conversation. She collected the dishes while he finished off his plate before he followed her up on deck. A light drizzle had started.

  “Where are the packages, Danol? There’s something I need.”

  “They’re in the medical room. Tell me which one, and I’ll get it for you.”

  “There are a lot,” Erith said. “I’d like to get it myself.”

  “If you’re sure. The room is on the way, but wait for me there.”

  Danol checked on the men while Erith went below. He caught up with her just as she was coming out of the medical room. “Got it,” she whispered.

  “It’s only us back here,” he said softly.

  “I’ve never been in the main cabin before. You’ll have to show me the way.”

  Danol took her hand and led her along the narrow hallway. The boat gently rocked beneath them. At the cabin door he told her to close her eyes. He opened the door and guided her in. Her chin lifted slightly as she caught a hint of something in the air.

  “Okay, open your eyes.”

  He watched her face as her lids fluttered. Then her mouth dropped, and she stared wide-eyed at the scene before her. Danol smiled.

  “Is this what took you so long?”

  “Partly, yes. Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” Erith said. “Where did you get so many candles?”

  “I must confess, all of this, or most of this, was Mary Ro’s wedding gift to us,” Danol said as he motioned around the room. “The candles, the pillows, the bedding . . . it was all her idea. She even placed them. She said I wouldn’t understand.” As he gazed upon her face, milky and shimmering in the glow of the candles, a visceral, raw, and primal emotion lay siege to him, almost taking his breath. A burning hot sensation gathered in the pit of his stomach and blazed through him. He tenderly touched her face with the tips of his fingers. Danol almost pulled back, so overcome was he by something foreign yet intoxicating and beguiling.

  “But I think I do.”

  Danol stared, taking in every inch of his bride. “I hope you know how much I love you, Erith Cooper.” He sig
hed. “I plan to tell you every day.”

  “I’m counting on that, more than you know,” Erith said as she pressed tightly to him and buried her head in his chest. She trembled, and he tightened his embrace. He had to remind himself to breathe.

  “The flowers were my idea. That was the secret Beatrice mentioned today. She helped me pick them out.” Danol grabbed the floral bouquet from the table and handed them to Erith. She drew deeply on the scent of them.

  “That’s the nice smell that was in the air. They are beautiful, Danol.”

  “Nothing compared to you.” He caressed her upturned lips with his thumb. Then he kissed her.

  “I have one more room to show you,” he said as he gently pried his lips off hers. “As much as I’d like to have you in my arms all night, I believe that women have needs they must attend to. Mary kept beating that into my head for weeks leading up to the wedding.”

  Erith laughed. “She told me the same thing. Poor Mary and Peter. It didn’t seem fair to leave everything to them.”

  “Mary’s in her glee,” Danol said. “She’s probably bossing people around right now.”

  “Oh, Danol, if she ever heard you . . .”

  “I know. I will always have a healthy fear of Mary Ro,” he said. They both laughed. He wasn’t kidding. But truth be told, Mary was the reason he had asked Erith to marry him. She was a good friend. He had been too stubborn to come to that conclusion on his own. Without Mary, Danol figured, he’d be alone for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t be spellbound by whatever had taken over him right now. Right at this moment, he was glad he was kind of afraid of her. He grinned to himself and nuzzled the top of Erith’s head.

  “Danol, it might sound odd, but I feel so good about Beatrice. We had a lovely day. She is such a sweet child. Whatever the MacDonalds are mixed up in, they love her, and she loves them.”

  “She is indeed a beautiful child. There is no doubt that they love her.” He wanted to say more but decided to wait for a better time. He guessed that Erith’s intuition was aligned with his about the MacDonalds.

  “Now, about that room,” she said.

  “Yes, the room.”

  He guided her around the table and chairs that were situated near the entrance to the cabin. A few steps farther on, he pushed on what could have been mistaken for a part of the wall but instead was the door to a small room fitted with a wash basin, a toilet, and running water from a barrel overhead. Danol had modernized it all on his last trip to Boston. An elegant table and matching wrought iron chair were nestled between two large oak closets. A small lamp cast a glow on the mirror with combs spread out on a fancy tray beneath it. The floor had a small, woven, multicoloured rug. Draped over the chair was the heavy flannel nightdress Erith had worn on their wedding night. A pair of slippers were pushed in beneath it. Candles burned on either side of the wash basin, and a jug of hot water scented by some sort of oil that smelled like wild roses sat in the corner.

  “This is the best I could do,” Danol said. “There was supposed to be a tub, for a steaming hot bath, but with the need to leave so quickly, it was overlooked.”

  “It’s all beautiful, Danol.” Erith pecked his lips, grabbed the package she’d fetched from the medicine room, and closed the door.

  25

  Danol put the fragrant lilies in a vase of water on the table and blew out some of the candles from the window ledge above the head of the large bed. He hoped the room wasn’t threatening to her. Erith didn’t need that after the day she’d had. He blew out the candles on the table and turned out the wicks of the lanterns in the corners of the room, leaving two candles burning on either side of the headboard so his bride could see where she was going. Pulling back the white lacy coverlet, another of Mary Ro’s doings, he lay back on the pillows and waited for Erith to come out.

  He must have dozed off, because he was startled when the latch clicked on the door. Erith was backlit by a lantern, and for a moment he thought she was shrouded in a fog. He was confused and shook his head. Then he noticed the flannel nightdress he had strung over the back of the chair was still there. His eyes fixed on her again.

  A gasp escaped him, and he shot up from the bed. He stumbled for his boots, which he now realized were poorly placed, and kicked them to the side. “My God, you’re a vision,” he mouthed as he made his way toward Erith. The sky must have cleared, because the bluish splendour of the luminescent moon spilled through the windows above them and cloaked her in what could only be described as a halo. Flickering candlelight cascaded over her like a waterfall. It stroked the satin that barely covered her. She reached for him.

  “If this is a dream, I’d better not wake up,” he whispered. “Not now. Not ever.”

  Danol groaned when their fingers met and intertwined. What was happening to him? She moved closer, and it felt like her body seared him where they touched. His legs melted beneath him. He staggered backward, trying to stay upright.

  Erith was moving with him, moving for him. The flames from the candles danced across her features, reflecting both fear and wonder in her wide-eyed naivety as she offered something sacred. The backs of his legs met the edge of the mattress.

  “I’m tired of being afraid, Danol. I want to know the look that Mary and Peter share. I want to be your wife.” Erith gently pushed him. She had total power over him. He reached for her as he fell back onto the bed. She was like a white-hot flame as candlelight shimmered across her on her way to him.

  Her features softened in the moonlight. She was vulnerable—yet she was powerful. “Show me, Danol.” Her breath was hot and soft on his ear. Her lips moved on the skin along his jawline. “Show me.”

  Danol was lost. The kind of lost he hadn’t felt before. The kind that there was no finding his way back from. The kind that he didn’t want to find his way back from. The kind of lost that, he suspected, only came with loving Erith Cooper. He wouldn’t be the same again.

  When he awoke, she was stirring against him. He opened his eyes, and she was smiling shyly. Her cheeks reddened, and he reached out to tenderly stroke her face.

  “What a beautiful vision to wake up to,” he said. “Please tell me that I wasn’t dreaming.”

  Erith leaned over and kissed him. Emboldened, she kissed him between each word. “It . . . was . . . not . . . a . . . dream . . .” Breathlessly, she moved her lips from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his mouth. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  He grabbed her and rolled her on top of him. “Well, thank the heavens for that. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.” Danol grinned up at his beautiful wife. “By the way, it’s a new day. I love you, Erith Cooper.”

  They showed up for breakfast long after the boat had left St. John’s.

  26

  North Harbour, St. Mary’s Bay

  “The day Danol told me Beatrice was alive was everything that I had hoped for and made me very happy,” Erith said. “If he had told me she died, I would have been sad and mourned her once more. If I had acted on the hope that I’d get her back without regard to anything else, I would have been thinking about myself.”

  Alice nodded. “But sometimes hope is all you have,” she said. “It’s what gets you through hard times.”

  “It certainly does,” said Erith. “But sometimes it keeps you in hard times without you realizing it.”

  “So, does that mean that you had no hope of seeing Beatrice again?”

  “Not at all, Alice. I look at hope as a privilege that requires great care in its use. If I had been lost in hope with constant thoughts of Beatrice, then I would have missed being part of the life of the three little children whom I love so much. I would have missed Danol. I would have made my children sad, Beatrice sad, and both of you sad, because that hope would have been about me.”

  “You must think me a fool,” Alice said.

  “Of course
I don’t,” said Erith. “I am grateful every day that you saved Beatrice. I understand the fear. I thought about Beatrice every day from the day my stepmother gave her away. But I had to be careful that the thoughts didn’t fill me and leave room for nothing else.”

  “Even with everything that is happening, you are not wary about her being with us?”

  “Even with everything that is happening.” Erith squeezed Alice’s shoulder. “You can’t hope for things to be different in the past because of how things have turned out. Hoping and wishing and worrying are all tangled up together. They can rob you more than you know.”

  “So, you’re saying stop sitting here and fretting,” Alice said. Erith nodded and smiled. Alice smiled, too. “How about I put some bread in rise for you today?”

  “I would like that. The kids have been asking for sweetbread. Does Beatrice like sweetbread?”

  “Very much so.”

  Together they got everything needed for the chore laid out on the table in the kitchen. “I’ll leave you to it, Alice.”

  The girls ran in, donning their hats. “Mr. Danol and Daddy are taking George and Tommy over to the yellow house. They said we could go if we asked,” Beatrice said hopefully.

  Alice looked at Erith, but Erith didn’t acknowledge the question in her eyes. “You go have fun,” Alice said. “Stay out from underfoot, you hear? Do what your daddy tells you.”

  “Yes, Momma,” Beatrice said.

  Annie, her pigtails in disarray beneath her hat, skipped over toward Erith and hugged her leg. “I’m going with Danol. He said to tell you.”

  Erith bent and kissed her cheek before straightening her hat. “You do as Danol says.”

  “I will. Can I call him my new daddy now? Or maybe just Daddy.”