by Joann Simon
"Yes, go ahead. We'll be right in."
When he was gone, running ahead on eager little legs Jessica took her husband's arm. "I haven't seen him this excited in a long time."
"It is such a wonderful feeling for me to be with Kit-to teach him, guide him, hear his boyish questions-as wonderful as having you again." Suddenly he cast her a mischievous look. "You know I, too, feel quite worn from the day's adventures. I wonder if it would be possible for mother and father to sneak away for a bit of a nap."
'I think that can be arranged." She laughed.
"I do not intend to let you sleep, you know "
"All the better."
CHAPTER 11
A cold, damp breeze blew off the river as they stood bundled on the deck of the schooner, Kit on tip-toes, gripping the rail; his mother and father behind him, each with a hand on one of his shoulders. Despite the cold wind, the sky was clear on that December day, the weather still warm enough that the river was not ice-locked; and in the distance beckoned lower Manhattan Island, clearly etched. It was a picture very different from the one Jessica had viewed in the twentieth century—far more tranquil than the future scene of sky-tickling structures and all-encompassing blocks of brick and stone; but to Kit, who'd never seen such a concentration of buildings and activity, the sight was awesome, as evidenced by his gaping jaw and his efforts to hike himself farther up the railing for a better view. "Careful, sweetheart." Jessica tightened her grip on his shoulder. "I don't think you'd care to go swimming today."
"He will be all right." Christopher said proudly. "We have talked of safety on the ship. So what do you think, my love? Quite a difference from what you last saw."
"I almost like this better, but then you know I've always enjoyed things of the past."
"Myself included, I trust." He laughed.
"You in particular, though you're making yourself sound like a relic."
"As long as I do not behave like one."
"Far from it, though I'll be sure to increase your ration of vitamins should I notice any symptoms."
He lowered his voice for her ears only. "Vitamins have not yet been invented, my dear." "Then cod liver oil. I'll dose you with Kit's tonic." "An excellent incentive to stay young. Over there"—he motioned with his hand—"just below Trinity Church steeple, is our humble abode. You cannot see the house from the water, although you will be able to see my business offices when we dock."
"Daddy, Daddy!" Kit was tugging on Christopher's coat sleeve, then enthusiastically pointing downriver.
"Look! 'Nother boat!"
"Ah, yes, and a fine one. A merchantman, and from her direction, just putting in from overseas. Wait until we dock, Kit, I will walk you and your mother along South Street and you will see more ships than you will be able to count."
They were coming in closer to the docks now, the schoon-or's captain shouting to the crew. On this occasion Christopher had left the sailing of the vessel entirely in his captain's competent hands.
"How do you think your friends will react to Kit and me?" Jessica was slightly nervous about the upcoming encounters.
"Though the news had to come as a shock to them, they will accept you. Both Mawson and Bayard are good men . . . good friends, and they will like you, if that is what is doubling you—but then again, how could they help but like you?"
"I believe you are prejudiced on that account."
"A shade. But you have nothing to worry about. I hope you will be happy in New York, Jessica. It's far different from the life you are used to, but our stay here is only temporary."
"I'll like it—I am sure of that already."
They stayed on the schooner's bow until the heavy moor-ing lines were cast over the side to be secured to the dock pilings. Only then did they move midships and descend to the wharf. Their luggage would be brought up in a while by the crew and strapped on to the carriage Christopher had instructed the first mate to hire for their trip to his house. As they moved up the wet wooden planking of the wharf, Kit's chatterings were silenced as he gazed, eyes wide, from one scene to the next, from the line of three-story brick buildings facing South Street, to the tall, trimmed masts standing proud along every wharf and slip. Christopher acted as a tour guide, pointing out the various importers' offices and those of the well-known shippers; and he directed Kit's eyes to some of the finer vessels. Despite the clutter of stacked cargo, and the smell of tar and animal droppings and other litter in the gutters, which even the brisk salt scent in the air could not disperse, Jessica was charmed by the cobbled street; the many-paned front windows of offices; the excitement of errand boys running by; dray wagons rumbling to collect goods; the seamen, off-vessel for a night's revelry, winding their way toward the nearest tavern; the prosperous businessmen, shipowners, and merchants in tall beaver hats and caped greatcoats moving through the crowd, pausing by a vessel or stack of cargo to converse with ship captains and agents. It was all so invigorating.
She wouldn't have minded walking farther, but Christopher reminded her that by now their carriage should be waiting. He turned them back, scooping his son up into his arms as he directed them through the busy crowd, off South Street onto Burling Slip.
"My offices are right up here, Jessica. The carriage should be waiting out front. There is not time to take you through today, but I will bring you and Kit back soon for a tour."
She'd already seen the gilded sign, C. D. Enterprises, hanging over the next doorway. "I didn't realize your offices were so big. You have this whole building!"
"Yes. The upper floors are the warehouse. I do not mean to boast, but it is going quite well."
"I'm proud of you."
"Thank you, my love."
The carriage stood at the curb, the driver next to the horse's head, looking out for them. But before they could approach, a well-dressed man stepped out of the door of
Christopher's office and looked up and down the slip. Seeing them, he wared, his face breaking into a grin.
"Dunlap! I have been waiting for you to pull in. They told me at the schooner that you were out walking."
"Good to see you, Bayard. You received my letter, I take it."
"I did indeed!" Bayard closed the distance between them and took Christopher's outstretched hand. "And quite a surprise. I see you made it home safely." As he spoke, his eyes flashed between Jessica and Kit, curiosity evident in his expression.
"A pleasant trip. I apologize for any shock I caused you. Had I any idea of the events that would come to pass, I would not have kept you in the dark for so long. But let me introduce you. Robert—my wife, Jessica.
Jessica, my very good friend Robert Bayard."
Jessica smiled as Bayard took her hand. "How do you do, Mr. Bayard. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Robert, please, and the pleasure is mine. Your husband has indeed been keeping secrets . . . but charming ones. Allow me to welcome you to New York—welcome you back, should say. I understand you and your husband once resided here."
"Yes, and I am glad to be back."
"And this, Robert," Christopher continued, a wide smile on his face, "is our son, Kit. Kit, shake hands with Mr. Bayard."
The boy, still held in his father's arms, shyly complied, and Bayard grinned. "I must say, Dunlap, the resemblance is remarkable. How do you do, young man. This must be quite an adventure for you."
Kit, timid with the stranger, only nodded his head affirmatively.
"He quite enjoyed himself on the trip over," Christopher put in. "Had his sea legs right from the start."
Bayard chuckled. "An admirable trait in a son of yours, who will no doubt be in the shipping business one day."
"Have you spoken to Mawson?"
"He came by my office yesterday as soon as he'd received your letter. Your news had taken him off his pace a bit, although apparently you had once mentioned to him some painful episode in your past."
"So I did; I had forgotten. I went into no detail at the time."
"Well, with work go
ing well on the vessel up at Cor-lears, he will probably be on hand at the house to welcome you. We both realize you all will want time to settle in, but I did think I should come down today to greet you and your refound family."
"That is very kind of you, Robert. Our carriage is waiting to take us home. Why do you not come along to the house with us—or do you have other business?"
"If you do not think I am intruding, I will be delighted to ride with you, but only to your door, then take my leave."
"Come along, then."
In a moment they were all seated in the closed carriage. As Christopher turned to call through the sliding window behind him to tell the driver to proceed, Bayard looked over to Jessica.
"Although your husband says my intrusion is not minded, are you sure you do not object? I realize you must be tired from your journey."
"I do not mind at all. I'm delighted to have you with us, in fact. Christopher's told me what a good friend you have been to him."
"I am flattered that he should think so—and also eaten up with curiosity. Your husband's letter, though detailed, still left my head spinning with unanswered questions. Tell me, this was truly a chance encounter?
You have been living with a family in Connecticut, thinking your husband lost at sea?"
"Yes, it was utterly by chance that we . . ."
Jessica and Christopher took turns filling in the gaps in Bayard's knowledge during the following minutes; he from time to time shaking his head in amazement, posing another question.
"Quite incredible," he remarked at the end. "It is a story many would find difficult to believe. Which reminds me of some news I have on another front." The last was said almost to himself.
"What news is this, Robert?"
"I should not have spoken. This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. Perhaps if I dropped by your house tomorrow?"
"You may speak. Jessica and I have no secrets."
"That may be, but what I have to say will not brighten the mood. Tomorrow would be a better time, and also ..." Bayard glanced significantly at Kit, who might have been glued to the window, so absorbed was he in the passing scenery. He seemed not to be paying the slightest heed to the adults' conversation.
Just the same, Christopher agreed with the need for caution. "Perhaps you are right. It would be better to finish this discussion later. In any case, I believe I have an inkling as to your news. Pertaining to a warning in my letter?"
Bayard nodded.
"Has Nathaniel Wilson had anything to say?"
"Not to my knowledge, although it might be wise to speak to him at your earliest opportunity."
"I had intended to. I shall call tomorrow." The carriage slowed; stopped. "Well, here we are, Jessica, Kit. .
. your new home."
Jessica looked eagerly out the window at the respectable brick dwellings lining the road. Though not an ostentatious area, it was obviously a well-kept one, the sidewalks unlittered, the front doors bearing a clean coat of paint.
Bayard jumped out first, followed by Christopher, who reached up to give Jessica a hand, then lifted his son to the curb.
"This is our house, Daddy?" Kit said excitedly. "Big house . . . but no grass. No trees."
"You will fmd a nice little yard in the back for play; it boasts a tree or two. And your mother and I will take you to the park, where you will have grass and trees galore. You are sure you will not come in for a moment, Robert?"
"No, I thank you. You will have enough to do without a guest underfoot. Let us speak tomorrow . . ."
"Then thank you for greeting us, my friend."
"My pleasure. Jessica, your husband is clearly a most fortunate man. I hope you will number me among one of your friends in New York."
"Without question. You'll come and have dinner with us soon?"
"I would be honored."
Christopher grasped his friend's hand. "You and I will talk tomorrow then, Bayard."
"Yes. The three of you, do have a good afternoon." And with a tilt of his hat he set off up the sidewalk.
"Well, my love," Christopher smiled. "Let us get inside before we become chilled."
Christopher unlocked the front door and swung it open, motioning Kit and Jessica into the small front hall; the driver followed on their heels with the luggage. When Christopher had paid the driver and closed the door after him, he turned to pick up his son and put an arm about his wife's shoulders. "Here we are at last, all together in our new home. 'Tis a good feeling." He hugged them both. "I guess Mawson is not about after all . . ."
"Ayuh, I'm here, and good to see you, man." The words were spoken by a husky, dark-haired man who stepped in from the doorway to the right of the hall. "Sure set me back a peg or two with your news." His brown eyes were frankly staring at Kit and Jessica. "So this is your family. Would appear to be one to make a man proud."
"And that it does. Willis, I would like you to meet Jessica . . . my son, Kit."
"Pleasure," Mawson said, extending a large hand to Jessica. "Your husband's sure a tight-mouthed one, keepin' secrets from us all."
"I can imagine you were a bit surprised." She laughed, immediately liking the man and his straightforward honesty.
"Can't say I'm not happy for you—just takes a bit of getting used to." He now went to Kit, still in his father's arms. "Fine lookin' lad. How d'ya do there, son? Mind shakin' a hand as big as this one?" It was the right approach, and Kit grinned. "Got the parlor all warmed up for you," Mawson motioned. "Should be nice and cozy by now."
"Then why are we standing here in the hall? Let's go sit down. Jessica, I am sure you would like some hot tea, and what about you, Kit? You are no doubt hungry. I do not know if we have such a thing as a cookie in the house, but 1 believe Mrs. Hart can find something for you in the larder." Christopher led them forward into the front parlor, its furnishings and color scheme of a masculine aspect. "Ah, there you go, Kit. Let your mother get you out of your jacket and hat, and I will have a word with Mrs. Hart about some refreshments."
He removed his own outer clothing and laid them over one of the chairs, "Mawson, I know you will keep my wife and son entertained." He winked, then departed toward the back of the house.
"Your husband's just funnin' me 'bout my social graces," Mawson explained as Jessica removed Kit's coat. "Pay him no mind."
He again turned his attention to Kit, who was standing in the middle of the room looking about uncertainly. "Got nomethin' here, son, I think you might enjoy." He reached up to the mantel and brought down an unpainted wooden model of a ship. "You like boats, I'll bet, like all lads. Brought this one out specially when I heard you was comin'. Copy of the one I'm buildin' for your dad. You come sit down on the carpet here by the fire, and you can play with it."
The boy eagerly took the model with both hands and plopped down on the floor to examine it. "Nice boat."
"What do you say, Kit?" Jessica prompted.
"Thank you."
"Welcome, son. And don't worry about harmin' it. I've no need for it anymore."
Mawson sat down in a chair near Jessica. "That was good of you," she said.
"Always like little ones," he answered shyly, "and fig-ured there wasn't much in the way of play things in this house, bachelor's quarters as it is—beggin' your pardon, was."
"Willis, I hope we haven't inconvenienced you by mov-
ing in like this. I realize you share the lease with Christopher."
"Be good havin' you. Kinda quiet 'round here with just two men. And I'm happy for Dunlap. . . haven't seen him in this good spirits since I've known him. The man's been sufferin' . . . wouldn't talk 'bout it, but I always knew there was some sad happenin' he was tryin' to forget. Put all his heart into his business, but a man needs more'n that." He paused. "You and the lad been havin' a hard time of it, I gather, workin' as a household servant."
"It hasn't been all that bad. The worst was the fear that I'd never see Christopher again. It seems almost a miracle that he should have come
to that party."
"Know he feels the same. Well, don't worry about me, and movin' into the house here. I'm out more'n I'm in . . . got a lady friend I'm kinda partial to . . . and there's plenty o' room in any case."
"Thank you. Christopher told me how you came to his aid two years ago."
"Kinda thing any decent man would do. Now I know what was troublin' him, makes more sense his tyin'
one on that evenin'. Had a bit on his mind."
Christopher stepped back into the room then. "Refreshments will be up in a moment. I also suggested to Mrs. Hart that she might want to come with us full time. She seemed agreeable, and you will need the help, Jessica. So, have you and my taciturn Yankee friend become acquainted?" He grinned.
"We have. Willis was nice enough to give Kit a model ship to play with."
Kit had risen at his father's entrance and was now happily displaying his new toy. "See boat, Daddy. I be careful not break."
Christopher knelt beside him. "I am sure you will. Did you thank Mr. Mawson?" "Yes."
"Then you go ahead and play while we adults talk, and you will have your snack in a moment."
Christopher rose and went over to sit on the coach beside Jessica. "That was good of you, Mawson. That was your working model, was it not?"
"Don't need it anymore. Work's progressed beyond that."
"Excellent. You have been busy."
"As anxious to see this vessel finished as you. First time I've designed one all myself."
"Well, you have done a fine job, and the work is going a lot faster than I ever expected." Christopher reached over and took Jessica's hand. "Tired, my love?"
"Surprisingly, not much, and even less once I have had some tea. I like the house, Christopher, what t
I've seen of it."
"Do you? That is heartening news." He laughed. "Mawson and I did what we could, but we are neither of us decorators."
"Ain't that a fact." Mawson chuckled. "More a matter of luck the way things ended up." He stretched, began to rise. "Well, I'll say good day to you both. I'm off to Abbey's for dinner."
"There's no need for you to rush," Christopher protested.