The women did share a hearty laugh over his affected brogue. Because his speech was always so proper, it made his teasing all the more humorous.
Maeve sliced the flat cake into equal portions and passed a piece to each. She’d sensed his eyes on her more than once that day. As soon as she’d gotten to the dispensary that morning, she’d felt foolish for wearing this dress. His appreciative gaze had relieved her discomfort—until Kathleen had pointed out the dress was made for a much younger person.
Maeve had no idea how one could tell—except that the bodice fit so tightly—but she supposed someone who knew about fashion would know. Neither Aideen nor Mrs. Kennedy had remarked.
Truth be told, she was having difficulty breathing and couldn’t wait to change for the night. It had been worth the discomfort to hear Flynn’s praise, however.
She reached for the empty pan, but Bridget brushed away her hand. “I’ll do these dishes. I played games and read with the Atwater girls all day while you worked, so you go for a walk and enjoy the night air.”
Maeve straightened. She wasn’t going to argue with that.
“Will you join me for a walk around the deck?” Flynn asked.
Aideen extended a shawl, and Maeve accepted it. “That sounds nice.”
As they passed fires, more than one person greeted the doctor.
“Will you call on Kathleen yet again tonight?” she asked.
“Yes, I want to check on her once more.” They walked at a leisurely pace. “I’m missing something, and I can’t figure out what it is. I have diligently sought out any others with the same symptoms. There are none. A contagious disease takes three or four days from the time of contact to reveal itself.”
“Then it’s not contagious.”
“We can’t be sure.”
“Her mother’s fine, she is.”
He sighed. “I know. Yes, I know. It’s completely frustrating.”
A streak of lightning zigzagged across the distant sky. A moment later thunder sounded in the distance.
“Not another storm, I pray,” she breathed.
“It’s miles away.” He rested his arm on her shoulder and drew her close. “And the wind isn’t blowing it this direction. Are you afraid of storms?”
She liked his nearness. “We never had many to speak of at home, but no. I simply don’t like the idea of being stuck in a cabin below with others who are frightened.”
“Perfectly understandable.” They stopped at the rail and gazed out across the water, and he dropped his arm to her waist. “My Johanna didn’t like thunderstorms. And she was deathly afraid of spiders.”
“She wouldn’t have liked to clean some of the places I’ve cleaned, then. How did she feel about pigs? We had one neighbor who kept two pigs and left them to wander in and out of her house through the open door.”
“Johanna wasn’t a farm girl. She would probably have run them out.”
“I tried that when I was there for the birth of one of her children. The pigs just laid down in the doorway and wouldn’t budge.”
“Were they young pigs?”
“At one time, but not by the weekend I was there.”
“Johanna had a cat. A white one, with long silky fur. Even after Jonathon’s birth, she would let him jump up and lie on her lap, and she’d stroke his head.
“She used to plan dinner parties down to the last detail. Four courses followed by coffee and dessert in the sitting room. She played the pianoforte for the guests. What a picture that was.”
Maeve understood that all this was new to him. Remembering his wife, thinking of his child. She’d encouraged him to lift the cloak he’d kept over his past and let himself feel, and he was doing it.
“Once I married her, I never expected to find myself alone again.” His voice held a wistfulness and regret she’d never heard before. “I didn’t expect to be sailing across the Atlantic again and again. I don’t know how I got here.”
“Escaping, most likely. Running away.”
“What a coward I’ve been.”
She edged away so she could look into his face. “Not a coward, Flynn. You turned your pain into worthwhile endeavors. Look at all the good you’ve done. Your efforts to improve ship conditions everywhere are saving hundreds of lives every day.”
“I didn’t do it alone.”
“Why don’t you stop and give yourself a little credit, instead of considering your work part of your punishment?”
Without replying, he speared her with a censuring look.
“You’ve allowed yourself very few comforts,” she pointed out. “Compared to the life you’re used to, these ships are barren. I dare say you wouldn’t be eating what you ate tonight if you were at home.”
“I no longer have a home.”
“What about your house in County Galway?”
“I signed the deed over to the nuns. It’s now a foundling home.”
“That was a generous thing to do. Another worthwhile gift.”
“It was also cowardly. I never had to face the rooms where my son spent his few short years of life.”
“Part of your punishment,” she guessed.
“My son deserved to live.”
“Yes, he did.”
“I should have spent the rest of my life with Johanna, watching him grow up and become a man.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
She’d been foolish to imagine Flynn had any true interest in her. He’d had the love of his life and lost her. Maeve was no society wife. She didn’t know the first thing about dinner parties. She was a simple foolish girl.
“It’s time I took myself off to bed, ’tis.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maeve hurried away to the cabin. Her sisters had arrived ahead of her and were already changed.
“Please help me out of this dreadful dress,” she said to Bridget.
“You looked so pretty. The doctor couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“You’re reading too much into things,” she warned her sister. “He’s still very much in love with his wife.”
Sleep eluded her yet another night. Maeve gave up trying to sleep, dressed in her familiar plain attire, went for fresh water and made her way to Mrs. Boyd’s stateroom.
“I’m glad to see you.” Estelle ushered her in. “She hasn’t been fully alert since yesterday.”
“Have you been making her drink water?”
“Yes. She doesn’t wake, but she’ll drink for me.”
“We’ll use the remainder of that bucket to bathe her now and this fresh one is for drinkin’, ’tis.”
Estelle helped Maeve bathe her daughter, preserving her modesty with a sheet as they cooled one area at a time. Maeve understood Estelle’s desperation only too well. As morning neared, she told the woman to lie on the cot they’d had set up to get some rest and promised she’d remain by Kathleen’s side.
Picking up a small Bible, she turned the lamp higher and read through the Psalms. She’d always found it interesting how David’s life had often been turbulent. He’d made big mistakes and he’d fled from Saul’s army to hide from the man’s jealous wrath, but he’d always turned to God in every situation. Some of his writings were desperate pleas and others love songs to his God.
She skipped through more familiar verses to one she’d read less times. O give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good: because His mercy endureth for ever, the verses said in repetition.
Were those words repeated so many times so that simple people like her would get the point or because they were written as a song? She read them over several times, imagining how David would have sung them.
It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man. Or in princes, the next verse said.
It was surely better, then, to put her trust in the Lord, rather than her own knowledge or in any other person. She called on the Lord in distress, too. Many times.
She read down farther, then went back to the beginning and softly read the whole verse aloud to Kathleen. “Kathl
een,” she said once she’d read it all. “The Lord is your strength and your salvation. You shall live and not die. You and I both will declare the works of the Lord and praise Him. He hears us, and He’s our salvation. We rejoice in this day and we are glad in it. God is good, and His mercy endures forever.”
Mrs. Boyd sniffled from her cot, and Maeve supposed she had overheard her.
It didn’t matter how Kathleen had treated her. Maeve was called to be at her side, to minister to her and pray over her, and so she would.
Sometime later, she must have fallen asleep in the chair, for a soft tap at the door startled her awake.
Flynn entered the unlocked door and joined her. “How is she doing?”
“The same.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Estelle rose from the cot and straightened her hair. “She’s been here half the night.”
“What baffles me,” Flynn said. “Is that no one else aboard the ship has these symptoms. It’s as though she’s been in contact with someone or something that no one else has. Which is highly improbable.”
“The two of you eat the same food,” he said to Estelle. “Share meals.”
Estelle nodded. “Even when we eat with the captain and Mrs. Conley, everyone has the same fare.”
Maeve thought back to the evening she and her sisters had dined at the captain’s table along with Kathleen and Estelle. That evening had come to mind more than once, but she’d deliberately worked to set aside the memory of Kathleen’s rude behavior.
Bridget had been so proud of her ivory bead necklace.
Mrs. Conley had purchased lamb on the island, and they’d all eaten it with no ill effects.
Maeve had purchased fruit and shared it with her sisters.
They kept going back to the fact that Kathleen hadn’t even gone ashore. What was it she’d said? She searched her memory. Something to the effect that she and Estelle had remained onboard as though setting foot on the island was beneath her. There’s nothing else of value to be found, she’d said. Only cheap trinkets made by the natives.
Nothing else?
Her memory screamed Kathleen’s words and Maeve grabbed Flynn’s sleeve.
He looked to her.
“She said she sent a sailor to purchase shellfish.”
He glanced at Estelle, who nodded. “She loves oysters. I don’t know where she got that affinity, because I certainly don’t share it. She bought fresh oysters as well as smoked, because they last longer.”
“When did she last eat them?”
Estelle shrugged. “Several days ago.”
“That’s it,” he said to Maeve and looked at Kathleen’s eyes. “The whites are a little yellow today.”
“What does that mean?” Estelle asked.
“It means her liver is struggling to handle the contamination.”
“What can we do?” Maeve asked.
“Fluid in and fluid out is her best hope.”
“She drinks for us,” Maeve told him.
“Good. Make her drink as much as you can. A cup every ten minutes. Maybe more of that gruel for her blood.”
“I’ll make it.”
Estelle sat on the chair Maeve had vacated and sobbed into her hands. “I can’t lose her. She’s all I have in the whole world.” She looked up at Flynn. “Please save her.”
Maeve’s heart dipped, not so much at the plea, but at how she knew Flynn would feel about it. He’d dealt with so much guilt already, and he was a man upon whom responsibilities weighed heavily.
Quickly, before he could react or reply, Maeve picked up Estelle’s own Bible and opened it to Psalm 118. She ran her finger down the page and then showed the verses to Estelle. “‘It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man,’” she read. “‘It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in princes.’ We do what we can do, but we’re only human. Place your trust in God now, and look to Him.”
Estelle nodded tearfully. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
Maeve stopped Flynn with a hand on his arm. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course.”
“You are smarter by far than I am. I certainly would never want to step on your toes or elevate myself.”
“Say what you like, Maeve. Do you have an idea?”
“You’re now convinced this is jaundice.”
He nodded. “It’s the only diagnosis that makes sense.”
“The mariners along our coast sometimes came in contact with Chinese sailors. My mother learned that the Chinese treated jaundice with licorice or ginger tea.”
He thought a moment. “Licorice being a liver detoxifier.”
“And the ginger tea helps with the nausea and vomiting.”
“I’ll send Sean and Emmett to ask all the passengers if anyone’s brought licorice aboard. I have ginger root. It’s definitely worth a try. Good suggestion.”
Maeve headed on deck to prepare the gruel.
She remained with Kathleen and Estelle the rest of the day, following Flynn’s directions while he attended to his regular duties and stopped by every chance he got.
Maeve napped briefly on the cot that afternoon. When she awoke, she sent Estelle to sit with her sisters for supper on deck and fed Kathleen strong ginger tea.
She glanced at Kathleen’s comb and knew how hopeless the tool would be in trying to tame her hair. She had a wide-toothed comb her father had carved her years ago, and it was the only thing she could work through her curls. She worked her fingers through the mass and bound it in a fat braid. Then she washed her face with the soap Estelle had left out for her.
The lather was emollient and had an exotic smell she didn’t recognize. No wonder Estelle’s skin was so lovely and unwrinkled.
Flynn showed up a short time later. “You smell like coconut.”
“What’s coconut?”
“It’s a large hard-shelled hairy nut found in the tropics. Inside is milk and white meat. The milk is used for hair and skin products, or for cooking, and the fleshy part for cooking and baking.”
“I believe I’d like to try a coconut.”
“I should have found you some on the island. The scent suits you.”
“It does?”
“Yes. Natural, fresh. A perfume would never do you justice.” He leaned over her and inhaled.
His nearness was disturbing, as always.
Without intending to, she leaned into him and rested against his warm strength, her cheek to his chest. She closed her eyes, and the moment seemed so natural and right. He had his own scent, too, one she’d noticed many times—sandalwood and pressed linen.
His arm came around her. “You had a long night, followed by a trying day.”
His voice rumbled under her ear.
“I wanted to be here.”
“I’ll stay with her tonight, so you can go sleep in your own bunk.”
Maeve could have remained that way forever. In his arms she felt safe. It was a feeling she hadn’t known for much of her life, a security she hadn’t felt since she’d been a wee child.
She felt drained and tired. It would be nice to let someone else carry the load for a while.
That thought roused her back to her senses and she drew away. She’d only just told Estelle to put her confidence in God, not a man. God was carrying her load, and that was that.
At a sound, they both turned.
Kathleen moaned and turned her head on the pillow.
“Kathleen?” All business, Flynn hurried to her side. He touched the backs of his fingers to her forehead.
She blinked up at him. “Flynn?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kathleen stared at him. “Flynn, what are you doing in my dream?”
“You’ve been quite sick,” he told her. “We’re doing our best to help you get better.”
“Oh, Maeve!” she said, noticing her and greeting her as though she was a long lost friend. “I knew you’d co
me. There’s a package on the foyer table for you.”
“All right. Well, I’ll just get it, then.” She met Flynn’s gaze with raised eyebrows. “While you’re awake, I have some water for you.”
“Will you ask Abigail to bring tea?”
“If you’d like tea, I’ll make you a pot.”
“That would be lovely.”
Maeve helped her drink a cup of water. Kathleen settled back on the bed and closed her eyes.
“I’ll take a few minutes to go make tea and stretch my legs.”
Her sisters already had tea brewed, so she poured a container full for Kathleen.
“Your gracious sisters shared their supper and prayed with me,” Estelle told her.
“You’ll be happy to know your daughter spoke to me only a few minutes ago.”
“She did! What did she say?”
“It wasn’t so much what she said as the fact that she roused and recognized Dr. Gallagher and me.”
“Well, glory be!” Estelle said. “I’m taking this as a good sign.”
“As am I,” Maeve agreed.
The breeze on deck was balmy that evening. Maeve turned her face into it and inhaled the salty sea air.
“What is that scent?” Bridget got up and leaned over Maeve to sniff her hair, then her cheek. “Why it’s you.”
“It’s coconut,” she replied. “Mrs. Boyd let me use her soap.”
“I’ve never smelled anything like it,” Bridget said. “What kind of nut has so much fragrance?”
“It’s a very large nut, actually,” Estelle explained. “That grows on a palm tree.”
Maeve smiled and left them to return to Kathleen.
* * *
She slept in her own cabin that night, and while the room was still crowded and stuffy, she at least had her own space and several uninterrupted hours to rest.
Sean McCorkle was waiting for her outside her cabin door when she emerged. His skin had darkened from sun, and his face had filled out. He looked positively healthy. “Sean! Good morning.”
“Mornin’ to you, Miss Murphy. The captain be wantin’ Dr. Gallagher to call on the missus. She be feelin’ poorly, she is. I couldn’t find the doctor.”
“He attended a patient through the night, he did. I’ll go tell him right now. Thank you.”
The Wedding Journey Page 20