“About Grover? He’s a fine horse, no question. I can’t deny I’ve become fond of him.” Christopher forced a smile onto his face. “We’ve become friends sharing our living quarters.”
Josiah stared at Christopher with undisguised hatred.
“Is there something I can do for you, Doctor?” Christopher asked. “Did you get the bundles I picked up for you at the apothecary today?”
“I did get my order, yes. What business are those bundles of yours, boy?”
“No business at all. I just thought perhaps there was a problem.”
“And what makes you think I have a problem?”
It was clear to Christopher that Josiah was not interested in a logical conversation. He cleared his throat and tried to defuse what had become an unexpectedly tense situation.
“I don’t, sir. My apologies if I misspoke. What can I do for you?”
“What you can do is remove yourself from my property. Your debt is paid here.”
Christopher was disheartened to hear this but not entirely surprised. He knew Josiah wouldn’t keep him around forever, in spite of the free labor he was getting. He’d never hidden his feelings about his former patient, although Christopher had never understood what he’d done to offend the man.
“I understand,” he said. “I’m grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me to make reparations to you and your wife. I’ll make arrangements to leave and will be gone as soon as possible.”
“You’ll be gone now.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. I want you gone now.”
“In the dead of night? It’s pitch black outside.”
“Are you afraid of the dark?”
“No sir, but..”
“No buts. This is my home and I make the rules.” Josiah glanced around the barn. “It’s not as if you have anything to pack up, is it? So get out. Off my property and out of my home.” Josiah sneered. “And away from my wife.”
Christopher tried unsuccessfully to swallow his anger. “That’s what this is about then? Mrs. Winslow?”
“It’s not about anything but the fact that I’ve had enough of you and I want you off my land. I don’t need a squatter here.” Josiah turned away and waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “You wanted to make amends to me and you have. Now get out. I don’t want to see you here in the morning.”
Josiah departed the barn, but not before he grabbed Christopher’s lantern and carried it out with him. Christopher fumbled in the dark trying to find the hat and gloves Mr. Mayhew had given him. He’d need all the warmth he could get out on the road at this hour.
He wanted to take the blanket Stella had given him along, but resisted the urge to do so. As angry as Josiah was, it wasn’t difficult to imagine him accusing Christopher of stealing. Christopher buttoned up his coat and tried to glance around the barn. He could no longer see the horse, but he could hear him.
“Goodbye, Grover,” he said into the dark. “You’re a much better fellow than your owner.”
The horse whinnied and stomped the ground with his hoof in response.
Christopher walked outside into the night and lifted the collar of his coat up around his neck. Although it was cold enough for his breath to be visible in the frigid air, he was in luck as the night sky was crystal clear and the blanket of stars provided more light than he expected. He walked to the road and looked back at the house noticing a lantern go out in the bedroom window. Josiah had obviously retired for the night.
Christopher felt a pang of jealousy as he imagined Josiah warm in bed beside Stella. He wondered if Stella knew of Josiah’s decision to get rid of him. He couldn’t say for sure, of course, but he liked to believe she didn’t.
He looked up and down the empty road and wondered which way to turn. As always, he felt drawn to the sea. He’d heard Stella talking of the harbor in Chilmark called Menemsha, and he wondered if it was similar to his home of Galway and the harbor he loved. He didn’t know where Menemsha was, but he knew one direction led “down island” towards the towns of Cottage City and Edgartown. Since he’d never come upon Menemsha in his travels that way for Josiah, it was logical to assume the other direction was the way to go. If nothing else, he’d eventually find his way back to Mr. and Mrs. Mayhew and Aquinnah.
Christopher took one last look back at the Winslow house and said a silent goodbye to the beautiful girl inside. The “cailín álainn,” as he’d called her. He wondered if she’d ever learn what he’d meant. He doubted it, as it was unlikely to find any other Gaelic speakers on this overwhelmingly Anglo island.
He walked out onto the road and headed towards what he hoped was Menemsha, walking quickly to keep warm and in the hopes that he’d make it to his destination by daylight. He felt sure he’d never see his “cailín álainn” Stella Winslow again.
****
“Good morning, Josiah,” Stella said as she prepared breakfast. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” Josiah said, sitting down at the table. “Better than I have in a long time.”
“I’m glad for that. I’ve got coffee ready for you.”
Stella moved to the table and poured a cup of hot coffee for her husband. She removed two additional mugs from her cabinet and set them on the table next to her plate.
“Are you expecting company?” Josiah asked.
“Why do you ask?” Stella asked, confused.
“Do you need two mugs of coffee for yourself?”
Stella looked at the mugs in front of her still puzzled. “No, of course not. I’ve just got this down for Mr. Casey. I bring him his breakfast after we eat. You know that.”
Josiah shook his head as he took a sip of coffee. “You won’t need to be doing that any more. Mr. Casey is no longer staying with us.”
“What do you mean? What’s happened to him?”
“Nothing’s happened to him. I sent him on his way is all. He’d paid off his debt and I told him so.”
Stella suddenly felt unable to breathe. “He was here last night. I brought him dinner when he returned from picking up the medicines you ordered.”
“I’m well aware of that. I told him to leave before I came to bed.”
“You told him to leave in the night?”
“I did. I saw no reason to wait.”
Stella grabbed the edge of the table and tried to steady herself. “You saw no reason? The fact that it was the middle of the night isn’t a reason?”
“You think a man is too fragile to walk in the dark?” Josiah slammed down his mug. “Are you going to get my breakfast or am I to survive on coffee only this morning?”
“I don’t care what you survive on.”
Josiah stood up from his chair and towered over Stella with his bulk. “Don’t you take that tone with me.”
“I’ll take any tone I please. How could you do this?”
Josiah sneered. “Do what? Settle my accounts with a lodger and former patient? I wasn’t aware I needed to consult you on my business affairs.”
“It wasn’t a business matter. You hated Mr. Casey and you never pretended otherwise. Why else would you send him out into the night with nothing? On an island where he’s a stranger? God in heaven, what’s become of you? My father wouldn’t believe it.”
Josiah grabbed Stella’s arm and twisted it towards her back pinning her up against the table.
“You’re hurting me,” she gasped.
“Damn right I am. You’re not to question me again, do I make myself clear? You watch yourself, woman.” He twisted the arm again and tightened his grip.
“Stop,” Stella said. “Please.”
“It’s interesting that you’re so aghast at the fact that young Mr. Casey isn’t here anymore. Do you think I’m a fool? Or blind? Do you think I couldn’t see the way you threw yourself at him like one of your damn sheep in heat?”
“I didn’t,” Stella pleaded. “Josiah, please. You’ll break my arm.”
Josiah gave one last twist and let go, pushing St
ella towards the wall of the kitchen. She stumbled and grabbed the table to maintain her balance. Tears sprung from her eyes as she cradled her arm against her chest.
“I won’t allow you to make a fool of me,” Josiah said, wagging his finger in Stella’s face. “You’ll do well to remember you’re a married woman.”
“I wasn’t doing anything against you,” Stella said. “Mr. Casey was a friend to me, that’s all.”
“That’s all, is it? You must think I was born yesterday, you stupid girl.” He started to reach for her again, but Stella backed out of his reach.
“Josiah, please. I haven’t done anything to make a fool of you.”
Josiah stared at his wife and felt his anger rising in his chest. He fought the urge to strike her and beat whatever fantasies she’d had about that damn Irishman out of her. Instead, he backed away and sat back down at the table, where he calmly took a sip of coffee.
“The coffee’s gone cold,” he said. “You’ll need to make another pot.”
Stella returned to her stove with shaking hands. She grasped onto the stove and took a deep breath to steady herself.
“I’ll have it ready in a moment, Josiah,” she said.
Stella rubbed the tears from her face and set about making a new pot of coffee.
****
Christopher hauled the net of clams from Mr. Lambert’s boat and tossed it onto the dock next to the rest of the day’s catch. Sweating in the bright sun of the early spring day, he took off his oil-cloth coat and stepped out of the water-repellant pants he had worn on the boat. It felt good to be out of the cumbersome clothing now that he was back on dry land.
Rolling up his shirt sleeves, Christopher grabbed the clams and carried them towards Mr. Lambert’s shop. Later, he’d scrub the shells to make sure the clams were ready to be sold and toss any scraps to the cats who regularly visited the fish market. For now, he just needed to soak them in water while he grabbed a bite to eat for himself.
While fishing was hard work, Christopher couldn’t have been more grateful for his job with Mr. Lambert. He knew he had made the right decision in choosing to come to Menemsha when Josiah Winslow had so unceremoniously kicked him out of the Winslow barn. As he’d hoped, the fishing village reminded him of home, and the smells of fish and salt water combined with the chattering calls of the village seagulls often made him feel as if he had landed back in Galway. Farming was not for him. He’d always known he belonged on the sea.
Mr. Lambert had given him a room above his shop right after Christopher first arrived in Menemsha. Lambert had been getting ready to take his boat out to fish when he’d seen the young man trudging into the village in the early morning hours before dawn. When Christopher had explained his predicament, Lambert had offered him a room in exchange for help with his fishing business. Christopher had been thrilled to accept.
Now, Christopher had earned enough in wages to be able to start putting some money aside after he paid Mr. Lambert for his room and board. He planned to continue to work and save throughout the upcoming summer and hoped he’d have enough money in his pocket by the fall to once again buy a ticket for Savannah. He wanted to get away from New England before the winter cold returned.
Christopher whistled softly to himself as he walked to the village’s general store where he intended to buy a fresh supply of sea biscuits for his lunch. He stopped in his tracks as he saw a woman walking up the wooden steps to the door of the store. While her face was nearly covered by a bonnet, Christopher would have known her petite frame and the auburn hair that escaped her bonnet anywhere. Stella.
He quickened his pace and caught up with her before she could enter the store.
“Mrs. Winslow,” he said.
Stella froze as she heard the sound of his voice. She turned around, her face breaking into a broad smile when she saw him.
“Mr. Casey. How good it is to see you.”
Christopher bounded up the stairs behind her and held the door open for her. “As it is you, ma’am.”
Stella blushed and walked into the store ahead of Christopher.
“How are you?” she asked. “Are you staying here in Menemsha? Do you have a job here?”
“Yes, I am and yes, I do. And, I’m very well, thank you. And you?”
Stella ignored his question. “Who are you working for?”
“Mr. Lambert. I rent a room above his fish market.”
“I’m can’t say I’m surprised to hear that,” Stella said. She grinned and wrinkled her nose. “The smell of fish is all over you.”
Christopher grinned. “I don’t doubt that. We’ve been clamming this morning and I just got off the boat not 15 minutes ago.” He pointed towards the basket Stella carried in her arms. “What brings you here to the store today?”
“I need flour and sugar,” Stella said as she navigated the aisle filled with large barrels of dry cooking ingredients. She pulled canvas sacks from her basket and prepared to fill them.
Christopher grabbed the scoop from the barrel and filled it with flour. “Allow me,” he said.
Stella held the bag open. “Thank you.”
After filling the bags, Christopher took the now heavy basket from Stella’s arm and placed it on his own.
“I can carry that myself you know,” Stella said.
“I do know that. But humor me and allow me to carry it for you.”
Stella blushed again and her smile widened. “Your arm appears to be healed,” she said.
“Mostly. It still aches now and then, but I’m sure that will pass in time.”
“And your hand?”
Christopher held up his hand in response. “See for yourself.”
Although it was clear Christopher would have a scar for life, the gash was now closed and the wound completely healed.
“You’ll have a scar there,” Stella said.
“I don’t mind. It’ll be a reminder of my nurse.”
Stella didn’t think her face could turn any more red. She hoped Mrs. Poole and the other customers in the store didn’t notice. “And what are you here to purchase for yourself, Mr. Casey?”
“Sea biscuits for my lunch. And probably for my dinner too, come to that. They’re the cheapest item Mrs. Poole sells here.”
“They’re not exactly tasty though, are they?”
“They taste alright. I’ve certainly had worse.”
Stella couldn’t stop herself from thinking how much she would like to cook for Christopher and fix her mother’s recipes for him. She’d lost count of how many times she’d imagined him at her table since Josiah had kicked him out of their home.
The two paid for their respective items, and Christopher carried Stella’s basket outside to the store’s porch. He gestured at the bench next to the store.
“Do you have time to sit here with me while I eat my biscuits?” Christopher asked. “If you can stand the smell of me, that is.”
Stella laughed. “I do have time, yes. And the sea air helps hide your odor.”
Christopher laughed in return. “I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever been told I have an odor. I suppose everyone else has just been polite.” He grinned down at Stella. “I thought you had better manners, Mrs. Winslow.”
Stella cringed at the name. “Would you call me Stella, please?”
“I’d be honored. If you’ll call me Christopher.”
“Of course.” Stella paused and chewed on her lip. “I’m glad to see you,” she said. “I’ve wanted to apologize to you.”
“For what?”
“For my husband’s behavior when he forced you to leave our home.”
“He was well within his rights. There was no reason for me to continue to impose on your hospitality.”
“He had no right to send you away in the dark of night. Before I could even..” Stella shook her head.
“Before you could even what?”
Stella stared up at Christopher. “I wanted to say goodbye to you. He had no right to deprive me of
that.”
Christopher resisted the urge to reach down and brush away the strand of hair that had fallen into Stella’s eyes. “I wanted to say goodbye to you, too,” he said.
“It wasn’t like Josiah to behave in such a way. He hasn’t been himself.”
Christopher thought back to his conversation with Mrs. Luce at the apothecary, and his own surprise when Dr. Winslow had sent him to pick up more orders of pain medication on the day he’d asked him to leave the Winslow home.
“Perhaps he hasn’t been well,” he said.
“If that’s so he hasn’t shared it with me.” Stella shook her head. “He doesn’t share anything with me.”
Christopher stared out towards the sea and wondered, not for the first time, how Stella had ended up married to Josiah. He’d learned his lesson though and wouldn’t ask her again. He looked towards the west and saw the Gay Head light in the distance, its beacon bright even at the height of the afternoon sun.
“I look up there quite often and think of Mr. and Mrs. Mayhew,” he said. “And of the men who rowed that boat out to save me. I owe them all so much.”
Stella followed his gaze towards the lighthouse. “I haven’t seen Mrs. Mayhew since you were rescued. I miss her.”
“I’ve been meaning to walk up there and visit them,” Christopher said. “Now that I’ve got some money in my pocket I want to pay them for their kindness.”
“You know they don’t expect you to pay them.”
“Maybe not, but I expect it of myself.”
Stella’s mind wandered as she continued to stare at the lighthouse. She imagined visiting Mrs. Mayhew with Christopher. They could walk to the lighthouse together and have dinner with the Mayhews then watch the sun set over the sea from the top of the cliffs.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Christopher said.
Stella jumped, startled by the intrusion of his voice into her daydreams. She had nearly forgotten where she was.
“I’ll decline that offer, thank you,” she said. “I fear if I told you you’d be sure I’m no longer of sane mind.”
“I doubt that.”
The Ghosts of Aquinnah Page 9