The Ghosts of Aquinnah

by Julie Flanders

  “Are you planning to stay on here in Menemsha?” Stella asked, changing the subject.

  “Through the summer, if Mr. Lambert will have me. I hope to be able to leave in the autumn.”

  “And go where?”

  “To Savannah.” Christopher smiled. “I still want to go where it’s warm.”

  Stella’s heart sank and, to her surprise, she struggled to fight back tears. She cleared her throat and forced a smile onto her face. “I do hope you’ll be able to make it this time,” she said.

  “I hope so, too.”

  “I thought perhaps after your last sea voyage you might decide to make our island your home.”

  “It wouldn’t be a bad home,” Christopher said. “But back in Ireland I always dreamed of going to the warm sunshine. I remember hearing about Florida and thinking it sounded like paradise.”

  “It gets warm here in the summer, you know,” Stella said, unable to stop herself. What was she thinking trying to convince him to stay on the Vineyard? What purpose could it possibly serve?

  Christopher laughed. “I’m looking forward to finding that out for myself.”

  He finished his last bite of biscuit and returned his attention back out to the sea. “I suppose I should be getting back to work now.”

  Stella jumped from the bench as if she’d been shot. “Of course. And I should be heading home.”

  “I wish I could walk you back,” Christopher said sincerely. “It’s a long walk for a lady carrying a heavy basket.”

  “I’ve walked it many times,” Stella said.

  Christopher reached out and touched Stella’s shoulder. “Thank you for keeping me company while I ate my lunch,” he said.

  Stella’s heart rate quickened as his hand seemed to burn through her cape and dress. Feeling like a trapped rabbit, she backed away from his touch. “You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.”

  “Good day then,” he said, his eyes never leaving Stella’s face.

  “Good day to you, Christopher.”

  Christopher reluctantly turned away and headed back towards Mr. Lambert’s shop and the piles of clams that were waiting there for him. Stella watched him walk down the narrow dirt road and fought the urge to run after him. She scolded herself and prayed that no one was around to witness her behavior. What would they think of her? And worse, what would Josiah think?

  She turned on her heels and headed back down the road towards home. While she tried to force Christopher from her mind, there was one thought she couldn’t banish. It propelled her forward and lightened her steps as she walked. She now knew where Christopher was. And she couldn’t wait to return to Menemsha.

  ****

  Stella's heart fluttered with anticipation as she watched her husband hitch Grover up to the buggy and head out to Cottage City to pick up yet another medication order. She couldn’t understand why he was ordering so much more than usual, but she knew better than to ask questions about his practice. She noticed him wincing as he climbed into the buggy and was certain he was once again in pain, but whenever she'd asked him if he was feeling poorly he'd denied it and in fact scoffed at her questions. She'd finally given up after her offer to help hitch up the buggy had nearly resulted in Josiah giving her a backhanded slap across the face.

  Now she couldn't deny that she cared little about whatever was afflicting Josiah. All that mattered to her was that there was no way he'd return from his trip to Cottage City before evening. Which meant she had plenty of time to walk to Menemsha and back.

  Stella hurried into her kitchen and filled a basket with the extra bread and biscuits she had made the night before. Josiah never paid attention to what she cooked as long as he had his own meals. It had been easy to prepare extra baked goods and set them aside in her bread drawer. She added a chunk of cheese from her ice chest and closed the basket.

  Stella tied her bonnet under her chin and tossed her cape over her shoulders. She didn't think she really needed the cape since the spring had been unseasonably warm, but decided it was better to be safe than sorry. As she walked towards the road, she heard Henry running behind her. The dog gently nudged the back of her legs, as if he was reminding her that she had forgotten him.

  “You stay home, Henry,” Stella said, ruffling the dog's furry head. “I'll be back soon.”

  Henry barked and continued to follow her. Stella stopped walking and pointed towards the porch.

  “Henry, go home.”

  The dog wiggled and ignored her command. He ran ahead of her and stopped on the road and looked back at her as if he was waiting for her to catch up.

  Stella couldn't help but laugh. “So you won't do as you're told?”

  Henry barked and wagged his tail in response.

  “Alright, you silly dog. You can come with me.”

  Stella reached the road and walked briskly in the direction of Menemsha with Henry running along at her side.

  “Do you want to see Christopher, Henry?”

  Stella laughed as the dog cocked his ears as if trying to understand her question.

  “Mr. Casey,” she said. “You remember him, don't you?”

  Henry barked again and ran ahead of Stella on the road. Stella's pulse quickened as they came to Mememsha creek and she could see the village in the distance. She hoped Christopher would be taking his lunch at the usual time.

  She soon saw him standing on the dock talking to Mr. Lambert as they hauled the morning's catch from the Lambert boat. Christopher was hard to miss in his yellow oil-cloth fishing jacket and pants. Stella watched as he slipped out of his outerwear and left the clothing in a pile on the dock. She smiled as he walked off the dock and headed for the general store. Stella stepped up her pace and urged Henry to do the same.

  “Christopher,” she called out.

  He turned to her and smiled. “Stella. Good day to you.” Henry ran to Christopher and jumped at his legs. “And Henry,” he said, scratching the dog's ears. “How are you, boy?”

  Stella gestured towards Christopher with her basket. “I brought you some lunch. And some extra food for dinner, too.”

  “So I can skip sea biscuits for today?” Christopher asked, continuing to pet the wiggling dog.

  “And for tomorrow as well, if you eat wisely.”

  Stella reached Christopher and let out a deep breath as she looked up into his smiling face. His brown curls were as out of control as always, and he now had a growth of dark stubble on his cheeks and chin to match his hair. She had come to enjoy her meetings with him so much that she'd even learned to ignore the stench of fish that clung to him.

  They sat down on the bench that Stella now considered their own, and Christopher hungrily removed the food she had brought him from the basket. Henry begged for a handout but quickly settled on the ground at Stella's feet once she shot him a stern reprimand. Stella removed her cape and soaked up the spring sunshine. She couldn't remember when she'd felt more content.

  “Your eyes are beautiful when the sun hits them like that,” Christopher said.

  Stella turned the familiar shade of red that always accompanied her meetings with Christopher. “Thank you,” she said. “It's a beautiful day, isn't it?”

  “Perfect,” Christopher said, his gaze never wavering from her face.

  “Did you and Mr. Lambert have a good catch this morning?”

  “We did. There are plenty of clams and scallops waiting for me this afternoon.”

  “I wish I could stay here and help you.”

  “You wouldn't say that if you'd done the work. It's difficult.”

  “I know all about hard work,” Stella said. “I have my own waiting for me at home.” Stella shuddered as she thought about the basket of laundry and the pile of sewing that needed to be completed. She had to be careful to make sure most of her work was done when Josiah got home so he wouldn't ask any questions. Stella rubbed Henry's back with her foot. “Though at least I have Henry to keep me company.”

  “I have company as well,” Christopher
said, pointing to a group of cats who were prowling the dock. “See those cats? They come to Mr. Lambert's every day waiting for the spoiled fish we toss out. The big black one is my favorite. I call him Cian.”

  “Is that an Irish name?”

  Christopher nodded. “It means ancient. That cat is an old soul, I think. I can see it in his eyes.”

  Stella grasped the bench with her hands and swung her feet back and forth in front of her. “We have cats around the barn,” she said. “They come and go, but they keep the rats away for us.”

  “I'm very familiar with your barn cats. I made their acquaintance when we shared our sleeping quarters.”

  Stella frowned. “I'm still ashamed of that. Josiah was wrong to make you sleep in the barn when we have perfectly good rooms in the house.”

  “It was fine with me. Like I said then, I've slept in much worse places.”

  Christopher thought back to the day Stella had invited him to stay at the Winslow home, remembering Josiah's words and the spare rooms for the children he expected to have.

  “Dr. Winslow made a comment about children and the rooms in your house, as I recall,” he said. “It upset you.”

  “His goal was to upset me.”

  “What did he mean by that remark?”

  Stella glanced up at Christopher and shook her head. “I shouldn't talk about such things with you.”

  “I apologize if I've been too forward.” He took a bite of cheese and followed it with some of Stella's bread. “The food is wonderful. Thank you.”

  “You're welcome. I can't have you eating those biscuits every day.”

  Stella stared out at the harbor and watched as more fishing boats returned from their morning trips.

  “I haven't been able to give Josiah any children,” she said quietly. “I've lost them all.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “He resents me for it, I know. He wants a son so badly.”

  Christopher put down his food and followed Stella's gaze out to the sea. He felt awkward and had no idea what to say, and silently cursed himself for bringing up such a delicate and uncomfortable subject.

  “His first wife was with child when she died,” Stella said.

  “What happened to her? Did she die of consumption like your parents?”

  “No, she died in childbirth actually. Neither she nor the baby survived.” Stella paused and let out a breath. “Josiah was devastated, I know. He loved her.”

  Christopher felt the pain in the words she left unspoken. Her husband didn't love her.

  “He was different back then,” Stella continued. “He was a friend of my father's and he and his wife Lillian visited our house quite often. When my parents died I had no one.”

  “So that's how you ended up married to him,” Christopher said softly.

  Stella turned to face him. “Josiah wanted another wife after Lillian died. And he wanted to expand his practice. My parents' land was very valuable...”

  Christopher met her gaze. “That's not a very romantic story.”

  Stella scoffed. “It's life though, isn't it? There's nothing about life that's very romantic.”

  Christopher thought back to the loss of his mother, when he'd found himself alone and penniless in a country fraught with turmoil.

  “No, there's not.”

  Henry rolled onto his side and offered his belly to Stella. She smiled and continued to rub him with her foot. For the briefest of moments, she thought how romantic life actually would be if she could stay here with Christopher like this forever.

  “You two here again?”

  A woman's voice from behind them caused both Christopher and Stella to jump. They turned and saw the shopkeeper Mrs. Poole staring at them, her hands on her ample hips. Both leaped to their feet.

  “Mrs. Poole, hello,” Stella said. She lifted her basket from the bench. “I've just come to buy some more flour from you.”

  The other woman eyed her quizzically. “You do go through a lot of flour these days, Stella.”

  “Doing a great deal of baking,” Stella said. “I think it's the spring weather. It brings me such energy.”

  Mrs. Poole nodded, clearly unconvinced. “No biscuits for you today, Mr. Casey?”

  “Not today, ma'am,” Christopher said. “Mrs. Winslow was kind enough to share her lunch with me.” He knew there was no point in lying. The food was on the bench for anyone to see.

  Including Henry, who saw Mrs. Poole's arrival as an opportunity to steal the block of cheese Christopher had left with his bread. Stella caught him and pushed him from the bench, secretly glad the dog had given her an excuse to look away from the accusing eyes of the shopkeeper.

  “Henry, you behave,” she said, sitting back down on the bench and turning her back on Mrs. Poole.

  The shopkeeper snorted and turned back towards her store.

  “Good day to you, Mrs. Poole,” Christopher said.

  “And to you, Mr. Casey.”

  To Christopher's immense relief, the woman disappeared inside the store. He sat back down on the bench and quickly packed up his bread and cheese in the towels Stella had provided for him.

  “I suppose I need to be getting back to work now,” he said.

  Stella tried to keep her hands from shaking as she smoothed the fur on Henry's head. “I was wrong to come here and visit you. I should have known better.”

  “No, it's fine,” Christopher said.

  “You don't know the way people are here. They love to talk.” Stella thought back to the night Josiah had pinned her to the wall. “I should have thought of this before. This was a terrible mistake. Josiah will find out...”

  “Find out what? That you had lunch with a friend? We haven't done anything wrong.”

  “That's not what Mrs. Poole thinks.”

  “Who cares what she thinks?” Christopher said. “I never met a nastier woman. She’s a sour old hag, that one is.

  Stella stood up and threw her cape over her shoulders. “I should have known better,” she repeated.

  Christopher grabbed her shaking hands in his own. “You've done nothing wrong.”

  Stella pulled her hands away and shook her head. “I shan’t come here again,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

  Christopher stood helpless as she turned away and nearly ran from him, beckoning Henry to follow her. He watched as their figures grew smaller on the road and finally turned away as the ends of Stella's cape fluttered out of his sight. As he started to head back to Mr. Lambert's, he nearly tripped over a warm body rubbing along his legs. Looking down, he saw a large and familiar coal black cat.

  “Hello, Cian,” he said. “You wanting some cheese now, are you?”

  He opened his bundle of food and broke off a piece of cheese for the cat.

  “That's all you're getting,” he said. “I dare say I won't have any more any time soon.”

  Christopher took one look back towards the Chilmark road and, for a brief moment, he longed to run after Stella and follow her. He shook his head at his own silliness and turned instead towards Mr. Lambert's shop. Cian followed behind.

  ****

  Josiah finished his supper and stood up from the table, pushing his chair back and causing the legs to screech against the floor.

  “When Mrs. Poole arrives,” he said, “show her to my office.”

  Stella's dinner plate slipped from her hands and shattered into chunks on the floor.

  Josiah jumped at the noise. “Lord, woman, what's the matter with ya?”

  “I'm sorry,” Stella said as she bent over to pick up the plate and tried to keep her hands from shaking. “Just clumsy.”

  “I reckon so.”

  “What did you say about Mrs. Poole, Josiah?”

  “I said when she arrives show her to my office.”

  “Why is she coming here?”

  “She's here to purchase some medication for Mr. Poole. I saw her at the apothecary yesterday and she told me he slipped down the stairs and hurt his ankle something te
rrible. I told her I'd come have a look at him, but she said that wouldn't be necessary. Just needs something to get him through the pain of it.”

  “Poor Mr. Poole. I do hope he's alright.”

  “Are you done with your questions now? I have work to do.”

  Stella tossed the broken pieces of plate into the trash and finished clearing the table. “Of course.”

  Her hands trembled as she put the dishes into the pail of hot soapy water. Of all the people who could be coming to her home, Mrs. Poole was literally the last person she wanted to see. She had convinced herself that she had overreacted about their encounter in Menemsha. She had stayed away from the village and from Christopher for a few weeks now, and she was certain the whole incident was behind her. As soon as she’d heard the shopkeeper’s name that certainty had vanished.

  She jumped and nearly dropped another dish when she heard a knock at her front door. Stella dried her hands on her apron and walked to the doorway. She forced her face into a smile as she opened it.

  “Good day to you, Mrs. Poole,” she said.

  “And to you, Stella.”

  “My husband is expecting you. He asked that I show you to his office.”

  The shopkeeper nodded and walked into Stella's living room.

  “I was sorry to hear about Mr. Poole's accident.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Please give him my best.”

  “Will do.”

  Stella couldn't help but notice that the other woman never once met her eyes. And her face never showed even the slightest hint of a smile.

  She brushed past the woman and led her to Josiah's office. She knocked on the closed door.

  “Mrs. Poole is here for you, Josiah.”

  “Send her in,” Josiah called.

  Stella opened the door and nodded to Mrs. Poole as she stepped inside the office. Josiah rose from his chair and shut the door without another word to Stella.

  She stood outside the door for a few minutes, desperately trying to hear what was being said inside. She could only pick up bits and pieces, as both Mrs. Poole and her husband were talking quietly. From what she could hear, they were only talking about Mr. Poole's fall and resulting injury.