As the captain gave the command to pull, Jonah’s younger brother, George, ran into the barn. His freckled cheeks puffed as he caught his breath. “Jonah! Mother needs you!”
Jonah dropped the rope and rushed to George. “Is it Father? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Mother wants you to check his splint and…” George’s eyes followed the rope system up to the beams.
Captain Frakes picked up the rope Jonah had dropped and offered it to George. “You’re about fourteen, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Last month.”
“Good. Fourteen is considered a man on a ship. You’ll take your brother’s place on the rope.”
Jonah nodded at his eager young brother and brushed his hands together as he walked away. He grabbed his coat from the hook on the wall, shook it out, and threw it over his shoulder as he left the barn. When he reached the house and began to climb the porch steps, Marian’s father lumbered toward the door carrying a bundle of fleece. Jonah opened his arms. “Do you need help with that?”
“No,” Mr. Foster replied. “Just hold the door.”
Jonah glanced at the bundle as he followed Mr. Foster into the house. “Are you spinning all the wool from your flock before we sail?”
Mr. Foster spoke over his shoulder. “We’re spinning as much as we can. I have Benjamin washing the fleece in the yard, and my daughter has been in the veranda at the spinning wheel since dawn.”
Jonah imagined Marian alone for hours in the cramped and cold veranda, spinning wool fiber into yarn. He wanted to see her and told himself it was only because he had confided in her. He could not let it matter that she was pretty and pleasant. His will had sustained his focus through years of study, and he intended to keep his admiration for her under control, considering his plans. While in his mind he determined not to become captivated by Miss Marian Foster, his feet followed Mr. Foster through the kitchen, down the hallway, and past the staircase in the foyer.
Mr. Foster was humming O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing as he turned sideways to squeeze the load of fleece into the space near his daughter. Jonah stopped at the parlor doorway. He peeked between the stacked crates for a glimpse of Marian but only saw Cecelia, her younger sister. Feeling idiotic, he moved quickly back to the staircase. Though no one saw him, he silently cursed himself for his foolishness and directed his steps toward his parents’ room to check his father’s splint.
* * *
Marian carried another basket of combed wool fiber into the veranda. She swapped it for the empty basket that was on the floor beside her younger sister. As she stepped to the pile of washed fleece, she tripped over a loose yarn ball in the cramped veranda corner, but caught herself by leaning against a cedar trunk. If the confinement of an overcrowded house was throwing off her balance, she couldn’t imagine how spending nights in the bunk deck of a ship would affect her. It was all leading to her dream of botanical expeditions in a new land and that is where her focus must remain no matter how uncomfortable her body felt. She let out a frustrated chuckle.
Cecelia looked up from the spinning wheel, frowning. “It’s too cluttered in here. Why doesn’t Father carry the washed fleece upstairs to you? He knows you are doing the combing. He’s just making things more difficult.”
“Go easy on him, Ce. He’s trying to let Mother rest.”
Cecelia huffed and stared at the wool fibers in her hands as she fed it into the bobbin. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“I know. We all are.” Marian selected a few chunks of fleece from the pile and laid them in her basket. “Would you like me to do the spinning and you can comb?”
Cecelia shook her head but didn’t look away from the yarn. “I’d rather spin. Besides, you should stay upstairs. Mother will want you in the room when she awakens from her nap. She always wants you there.”
Marian ignored the slight bitterness in her sister’s voice and walked away. “Come and get me if you change your mind.”
She carried the fleece back upstairs then gripped the glass knob and opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. Her mother was sleeping on the only elevated bed in the spacious room. Luggage lined the perimeter of the room, stacked as high as the wainscot in some places. The space was tidy considering five people who were used to having an entire house were sharing one room.
She laid the basket on one of the feather mattresses on the floor beside her parents’ bed. She missed their farmhouse, but they only had three more weeks at the Ashtons’ property before the group set sail. Looking forward would keep her in good spirits. She must keep looking forward.
Catherine sucked in a breath with an inverted scream and sat up, clutching her pregnant belly. Chunks of fleece scattered as Marian leapt onto the bed beside her mother. “What’s wrong?”
Catherine panted. “It was a dream… a horrid dream.”
“You’re all right.” Marian caressed her mother’s arm in consolation. The memories of her stillborn siblings flooded her mind. Ignoring her grief and the residual shock from the tragedies, she focused on pulling her mother from the pit of despair. With one finger, she moved Catherine’s disheveled hair off her face. “Which dream was it?”
After a long exhale, Catherine began to rub her abdomen in slow, rhythmic circles. “The one with Bobby.”
Marian stared at the oversized roses printed on the Ashtons’ guestroom wallpaper; a barbed green stem trailed each rose. “Please don’t say his name.”
“Reverend Colburn says it is comforting to speak of our departed loved ones.”
“Not when it’s a dead baby.” Marian immediately regretted her words and wished she could pull them back from the air. She wished even more that her mother wouldn’t name children until they were born and confirmed alive, but she kept that to herself. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
“No, you’re right,” Catherine began to weep in the way that was meant to tear Marian’s heart from her chest. It always worked.
“That was wrong of me to say, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry.” Marian tried to take her mother’s hand, but Catherine pulled it away and put it back on her belly. “Mother, I’m sorry. Everything will be fine. You said yourself that this pregnancy felt different than the last three. I’m sure the baby is healthy and strong. You have a new son or daughter on the way. I’ll soon have a new little brother or sister. Everything will be all right. We are sailing to a new land and a new life. You’ll see. It will all be wonderful.”
Catherine sniffed and looked at her with a pained expression that easily could be mistaken for a smile. “Do you really think so? With me being pregnant and going on a ship? Do you think it will be safe?”
“Of course, I do. Father says it is safer to be on a ship at sea for a couple of weeks than in a wagon rattling across the county for months to claim a homestead. Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you every moment during the voyage.”
She tried for a second time to take Catherine’s hand, and this time she let her. Relieved, Marian almost sighed. “Cecelia and I are doing all the spinning before we sail and while we’re on the ship, we will make sure you are as comfortable as possible.”
“You say that now, but you will both want to stay up top and I’ll probably have to stay on my berth because of the motion.”
“We will stay with you.”
“You might, but Cecelia can’t. Mrs. Owens wants all the children to continue their school lessons during the journey. She says it will keep them occupied.”
“Mrs. Owens is right. Cecelia should continue her schooling. But I’m done with mine. I won’t leave your side, Mother, I promise.”
“You’re a good girl, always eager to serve. I’m not sure how I’d manage without you.” She gave Marian’s hand a squeeze then pointed at the pitcher of water on a three-tiered washstand in the corner of the room. “Get me a drink of water.”
Marian dashed from the bed, eager to help her mother, but the pitcher was empty. “I have to go fill it. I’ll be right back.”
Catherine threw back the quilt and dropped her feet to the floor. “Never mind. I’ll go myself. I want out of this room anyhow. The ladies will be starting supper. I might as well help while I still can.” She stepped to a dressing mirror and gathered her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck then smoothed her dress and left the room.
Marian walked to the window and lifted the edge of the curtain. The gray of the overcast sky matched her mood. Everything would be all right; she had to believe it herself if she was going to convince anyone else. Her breath steamed the windowpane, obscuring her view of the yard.
She dropped the curtain and left to fill the empty pitcher. As she stepped into the dim hallway, Jonah slipped out of his parents’ room. He slowly closed the door, one hand turning the knob, one hand controlling the door, fingers splayed. Once it was closed, he leaned his back into the wall and dropped his head against the imperial blue striped paper. His sleeves were cuffed over his forearms, but his waistcoat was buttoned, leaving a hint of the formality the other men in the group had abandoned. When he noticed her, he pulled away from the wall and squared his shoulders.
Assuming Doctor Ashton was resting, Marian tried to control the click of her heels on the long hallway. As she approached the staircase, intending to go downstairs, Jonah gave her a slight smile, so she passed the stairs and walked to him. “May I ask you something?”
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Yes, of course.”
“Since you will be our physician now—”
He lifted a hand and whispered, “It is only temporary.”
“Yes, of course,” she replied at an equally quiet volume. “But since Doctor Ashton is injured, my mother will need you if...” It was too difficult to say aloud. She waited for the lump in her throat to release.
Jonah’s brow furrowed. “Do you think there is something wrong with your mother or the baby?”
“No… not yet.” She didn’t mean to reveal her doubt, so she tried to cover with a mild grin and optimistic tone. “I’m sure everything is fine.”
He slipped his hands into his pockets, emitting casualness, and inclined his head toward her, engendering concern, but he continually glanced at the stairway behind her. “Marian, I know about your mother’s medical history. She has asked my mother to serve as midwife again. I won’t intervene in the delivery unless it becomes necessary.”
Marian nodded, comforted by his understanding of the situation. “If it does become necessary, which I pray every waking moment that it does not, but if you must intervene, are you comfortable with that?”
“I am fully trained in obstetrics if that is what you mean.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s good to know, but I’ve been there with her during her last three deliveries and—” Her voice cracked. She looked down at the empty water pitcher in her hands. “Those babies were my siblings—two girls and a boy—all born dead. Mother is thirty-eight years old now and pregnant for what she and my father swear is the last time. She depends on me and I’ll be with her for this delivery too, but if this baby is stillborn...”
Jonah’s brown eyes glanced at the stairway again then back at her. He put his hand on her shoulder, neither drawing her closer nor holding her off. “If she goes into labor before my father resumes his duties, I will do everything in my power to help her and the baby, I promise.”
“Thank you.” Marian began to look away, but Jonah held her gaze. She felt the heat from his hand though the fabric of her sleeve and hoped he intended more than comfort, but that hope felt wrong, considering the seriousness of their conversation. He was only reassuring her with a friendly touch.
Ashamed for being infatuated with the man who would be her mother’s doctor, she scolded herself for her immaturity. He wasn’t staying with the settlement, so falling in love would only lead to heartbreak. But no matter what she told herself, standing near him, alone and connected in the dark hallway on a gloomy afternoon, she was fully aware that if he even breathed a hint of attraction to her, every joint in her body would go limp. The empty pitcher she held would hit the floor with a crash, the room would go round as her dizzy head spun, and she would soften into a puddle of spineless flesh and melt down the crimson carpet of the staircase, one achingly grand stair at a time. When she reached the bottom step, all that remained of her would be a calico dress, shards of the broken pitcher, and her teeth clamped in a blissful smile.
“Marian?” Jonah removed his hand, regaining her attention.
“Pardon?”
“I asked if you got any sleep last night.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for staying, I mean going… with us on the voyage. I know you would rather be back in Pennsylvania, finishing college, but you cared enough to stay. Everyone is glad you are here. It’s comforting for all of us, and I just wanted to thank you… for my mother’s sake… and mine.”
Jonah’s expression relaxed. “Then it’s my pleasure—”
Three little girls ran up the stairs, screaming playfully. As Marian lifted a hand to stop them, her young brother barged into the foyer below, arms outstretched, holding a garter snake.
“Girls, shush! Doctor Ashton is resting,” Marian said. “Ben, take that creature outside and let it go!”
She descended the stairs and followed Ben to make sure he did as he was told. As she walked through the foyer, Peggy Cotter sauntered from the kitchen to the parlor.
Peggy gazed up at Jonah and smiled, eyelashes batting, as she passed through the foyer. “Hello, Jonah.”
Jonah barely flicked a glance at Peggy then looked back at Marian. He pushed his hair off his forehead and grinned at her, leaning on the balcony rail, as she walked away.
Chapter Six
The oak door of the captain’s cabin banged shut behind Jonah as he entered. It dimmed the sunlight that shone in from outside the sterncastle of the ship. An inch under six feet tall, Jonah couldn’t stand erect without contacting the low ceiling that formed the stern deck above.
He set a crate of medical supplies on the planked floor then slid the brass latch on each narrow window and pushed them open one by one. Cold salty air whirled through the cabin, rustling the leaves of the blueberry plants the captain treated like pets. A layer of nautical maps covering a Davenport desk beneath the windows began to flutter in the breeze. Jonah grabbed a sextant and laid it atop the maps, stilling all but their corners.
The bottom cabinet between the door and the starboard berth was empty, as Captain Frakes had said it would be. Jonah began to load it with the contents of his crate, keeping the bandaging and sterilizing agents he would need in an emergency at the front of the cabinet.
After one dull knock, the cabin’s door creaked open. Gabriel dropped his head, avoiding the crossbeam. His thick shoulders lurched forward as he walked into the room. He glanced around the cabin and raised his wooly eyebrows. “This is luxurious compared to the family bunks. Have you been down below yet?”
“Yes, briefly.” Jonah slid his mahogany microscope box to the back of the medical supply cabinet. “I’ll be sleeping down there with the rest of you unless I have a patient.” He looked up at Gabriel. “Did you need something?”
Gabriel bent over the charts and inspected the sextant. “Your family is waiting for you on the spit. Your mother said she wants your family to board the ship together.”
The happy ceremony his family was making of leaving their home only made Jonah long for the days when his world made sense. He had been raised to get a good education and to finish any task he began. Leaving the country seemed to contradict those directives. He looked back into the cabinet and muttered, “I’ve already boarded the ship.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.” Jonah closed the cabinet doors and picked up the empty crate. He would join his family as they had requested, but a protest of the unfairness to him and his siblings threatened to break through his normally reserved manners.
He stepped to the door and motioned outside with his free hand.
“You will have to leave with me. Captain Frakes is a very private man. He said he only wants medical staff in here.”
“Right, well, enjoy your fancy office. I’m better at the ropes anyway.” Gabriel flashed a toothy grin that reminded Jonah of their school days. He bent and walked out of the sterncastle then stood straight as Jonah passed him. “I can’t wait until Olivia sees me out here reefing the mainsail. By the time we get to South America, she’ll be ready to marry me.”
Jonah remembered how as children they used to frequently mock romance. He glanced at Gabriel. “Is that what you want now? To marry Olivia Owens?”
Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? There are only eight families and we have to start a whole new society. We all have to do our part. You know, be fruitful and multiply. You’ll have to pick one of these girls… just not Olivia.”
“I’m the ship’s physician,” Jonah said as he switched the empty crate to the other hand and reached for the gate in the ship’s railing. “That’s the sum of my contribution to this venture.”
Jonah’s family was waiting for him on the dock across the gangway. His mother and Sarah, wearing broad smiles, waved him over. The brim of a felt hat shielded his father’s face, but he held out his crutch and gave it a jovial spin. George was staring up at the ship’s topsails. Isaac and James were play wrestling behind their parents. Excited children ran past Jonah as he descended the gangway and walked toward his family; two herding dogs with tails wagging followed the children.
Doctor Ashton wedged his crutch under his armpit and held his hand out to Jonah. “This is it, son! The moment I’ve dreamed of for years.”
Aboard Providence Page 6