Stella shook her head at her own foolishness. She was letting fear get the better of her. There was work to be done before nightfall and she shouldn't be wasting time eavesdropping on her husband. If he opened the door and found her this way she'd never be able to explain her behavior.
Scolding herself, she went back to the kitchen and finished cleaning up before heading outside to feed her sheep and to brush and groom Grover. She brought along some carrots she had saved for Grover while preparing dinner and stuffed them into the pocket of her dress. As always, her animals made her smile, and she quickly forgot about her worries over Mrs. Poole's visit.
The sun was nearly set when Mrs. Poole and Josiah emerged from the house. Stella sat on a bale of hay in the barn and brushed the mats from Henry's fur as she watched her husband escort Mrs. Poole to her waiting buggy and driver. Stella's fear had returned while she waited for Mrs. Poole to leave her home, and her anxiety now increased with each minute that passed.
Josiah held Mrs. Poole's hand as she climbed into the back of her buggy, and Stella was sure she saw him grimace in pain as he bore the brunt of the shopkeeper's weight. He showed only smiles to Mrs. Poole though and waved as she and her driver drove off down the road. Stella's hand froze in Henry's fur as her husband turned around to face the barn. Even in the rapidly darkening evening, Stella could see the contempt on his face as his eyes met hers.
Sure he was headed for the barn, she braced herself for a confrontation. But instead of walking towards her, Josiah turned instead for the front door and walked briskly inside. Stella got up from the hay and said a quick goodnight to the animals before heading back into her kitchen.
She took a deep breath as she went indoors and tried to prepare herself for what she was sure would be an angry tirade from Josiah. But to her surprise, he was nowhere to be found. She walked to his office and found his door closed and the light from the oil lamp glowing underneath the door.
Stella tip-toed away from the office and headed for the bedroom she shared with her husband. Perhaps her nerves had gotten the better of her and she had merely imagined the look on Josiah's face. Surely he wouldn't let the issue go if Mrs. Poole had indeed told him about Stella's meetings with Christopher.
She quietly changed into her dressing gown and gratefully slipped into her empty bed. With luck, Josiah would not wake her when he decided to retire himself. She tried again to convince herself that his apparent anger when Mrs. Poole had left had simply been a product of her imagination.
But no matter how hard she tried to believe it, she knew what she had seen when Josiah had looked at her. And she knew she had seen anger. More than that, she was sure she had seen hatred.
****
Two days passed before Stella knew she was right about what she had seen. Josiah barely spoke to her, but he treated her cordially and in the business-like manner normally reserved for strangers. He never once met her gaze and, to her relief, never touched her in their bed. In fact, he never touched her at all. The tension in their home grew with each passing hour.
And then exploded on the afternoon of the third day, when Josiah returned from visiting patients. He ignored her when she came outside to unhitch Grover and feed him, brushing past her and going into the house without a word. When she finished with the horse and came inside, he was waiting for her in the kitchen.
Stella stopped short, startled at the way her husband was staring at her, his face a hideous mask of unsuppressed fury.
“Josiah?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”
Without a word, Josiah strode across the kitchen and slapped her across the face.
Stella gasped in pain, and tears instantly sprung from her eyes. She cradled her burning cheek in her hand and stared up at her husband. Before she could speak, he slapped her again, this time across her other cheek.
“You want to know if something is wrong?” he asked. “Does that give you an answer?”
Stella backed away from him, pinning herself into the corner of the kitchen. He followed and towered over her, glaring down at her with a rage that made her tremble with fear.
“Josiah,” she said, her voice choked with sobs. “What...”
He smacked her again before she could finish her question.
“Be quiet!” he yelled.
Stella screamed as he grabbed her arm and twisted it around her back as he leaned into her.
“You don't think I know what you've been doing?” Josiah asked, his breath hot and foul against her face. “Parading around the island like some sort of strumpet?”
“Josiah, please...”
“I said be quiet! You shan't insult me by pretending you don't know what I'm speaking of.”
Stella let out a squeal of pain as he twisted her arm again.
“Mrs. Poole told me all about your trips to Menemsha,” he said. “Told me how you've been meeting that God-forsaken mick behind my back. Did I not warn you about making a fool of me?”
“I haven't. Please...”
“Shut your bone box, woman! I went to Menemsha this morning,” Josiah said, spitting out the words as if they were poison in his mouth. “Your mucker was out on the boat with Lambert but I talked to some of the village folks. I heard all about your visits there. Bringing that boy food and giggling at him like some godless hussy. I won't have it, Stella, do you understand me?” He twisted her arm again until Stella let out a cry of pain. “I won't have it!”
Josiah let her go and tossed her to the kitchen floor. To Stella's surprise, he doubled over and clutched his stomach in pain. She stared at him, afraid to speak. Josiah recovered himself and stood straight again, towering over her as she cowered on the floor.
“Get up,” he said.
Stella shook her head. “Please, Josiah...”
He grabbed her arm again. “I said get up!”
Josiah pulled Stella to her feet and shoved her against the wall. “You'll pay for this, Stella,” he said. “You and that boy both. You'll pay for this.”
Stella let out a sob, unable to speak.
“What would your father think of you?” Josiah said. “His own daughter. No better than a two-bit strumpet making a fool of herself in front of his neighbors. With a mick, of all things.”
“He's my friend,” Stella said. “That's all.”
“Only thing worse than a cheating hussy is a lying one.”
Stella flinched as Josiah raised his hand once again. She braced herself for the sting of his slap, but heard a knock at their door instead. Josiah lowered his hand and gave her a smile that chilled her to her core.
“I told you you'd pay for this, didn't I?”
He chuckled and strode towards the front door, leaving Stella shaking and crying in the kitchen. She heard Josiah speaking to their visitor, but she couldn't make out who it was. And she dared not leave the kitchen until she could stop trembling and control her tears.
To her surprise, she heard the door shut and Josiah leave the house with his guest. She heard voices coming from the field and quickly ran to the kitchen door. She saw Josiah walking with their neighbor Thomas West, the man who had bought her father's land and sheep. And what she saw next made her stomach retch. Josiah and West entered the barn and quickly came back outside with the sheep in tow. Stella ran outside and into the field.
“What's happening?” she said. “What are you doing with my sheep?”
“Not your sheep, my dear,” Josiah said. “They belong to Mr. West now.”
Stella looked back and forth between Thomas West and her husband, no longer caring if her neighbor saw her red and tear-stained face. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Of course they belong to me. What are you doing?”
“I'm not doing anything. It's all been done. I sold the sheep to Mr. West this afternoon.”
“You can't mean this, Josiah.”
“Stella, get back in the house. You look as if you've had some sort of fit. I'll be finished with Mr. West here shortly and then I'll join you. I know you have dinner
to prepare.”
Stella ignored him and gasped in horror as Mr. West started to rope her sheep and bring them to his wagon.
“You can't take my sheep,” she said, running towards him.
“I've bought the sheep, Mrs. Winslow,” West said, obviously confused. “The doctor here told me you couldn't keep up with caring for them anymore.”
“That's a lie,” Stella yelled.
Josiah grasped her arm and held it with a steel grip.
“Stella,” he said. “You're making a fool of yourself. Go inside and get yourself together.”
He turned towards Mr. West. “I think you can see now why I told you before that my dear wife hasn't been well. She's not herself.”
West nodded and looked at Stella with pity as he herded the sheep to his wagon and tied them to the back.
“Don't forget the dog,” Josiah said.
“What?” Stella cried out. “What dog?”
“Henry!” Josiah called. “Come here, boy.”
Stella screamed as Henry ran out from the barn. “No, Josiah, please. I beg you, no!”
“A sheep herding dog belongs with sheep, my dear. You know that perfectly well.” Josiah tightened his grip on her arm.
Stella grew dizzy as she watched Mr. West put a rope around Henry's neck and place him on the front seat of his wagon. She collapsed at her husband's feet as the neighbor got into the wagon beside the dog who looked from Josiah to his new owner with fear and confusion.
“Please don't take my dog,” Stella cried. “Please.”
Josiah sighed. “Go along now, Mr. West,” he said. “It’s the vapors, like I told you. She'll be okay once she gets some rest. I do apologize for this unfortunate scene.”
Stella sobbed on the ground as the wagon disappeared up the road, her sheep in tow. She gasped in pain and fright as Josiah grabbed her arm again and pulled her towards the house.
She stumbled inside behind him with no time to catch her breath before he closed the door and threw her against it.
“I told you you'd pay, didn't I?” he said, grinning.
“How could you?” Stella said. “I hate you, you know that? I hate you!”
Josiah clenched his fist and punched her as hard as he could in the face, knocking her to the floor.
Stella cried out as he kicked her stomach. She curled into a ball, desperate to protect herself from her husband's rage. She screamed when he pulled her to her feet and trapped her against the wall.
“I'm not finished yet, Stella,” he hissed. “You'll see.”
He opened the door and threw Stella onto the porch.
“I want you out now, you hear me? I won't have strumpets in my home.”
“It's my home,” Stella cried. “It's always been my home.”
Josiah kicked her again, striking her thigh with the hard toe of his boot. “Be gone, Stella,” he yelled. “I shan't look at your filthy face again.”
Josiah slammed the door, leaving Stella curled into a ball on their porch. The sun had disappeared below the horizon now, and darkness had set in over the farm.
Stella pulled herself to her feet and clutched her abdomen in pain. She wondered if Josiah's kick had broken a rib. She felt dizzy and disoriented, and her face throbbed where he had punched her. She touched her eye, finding it half-closed from swelling.
She stumbled away from the house without looking back. She knew Josiah would be watching her through the window and she didn't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing her beg for re-entry into the home she had lived in all of her life.
She got to the road and quickly made a decision which way to turn. She knew where she was going. She had nowhere else to go.
****
Stella stumbled and tripped over a tree root as she tried to navigate her way in the darkness of the island night. Tiny pebbles tore through her thin dress and scraped her knee. She felt warm trickles of blood as she put her hand to her knee. Compared to the pain she felt on her face, abdomen, and leg, the knee was minor and nothing but a nuisance at this point.
She had to ignore all of it and focus on her goal, which was to find Christopher at Menemsha. He’d help her; she had no doubt of that. If she let her brain process what had happened back at home she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep going. She had to block out not only the physical but also the emotional anguish Josiah’s cruelty had caused her.
Stella was grateful for the stars and the clear full moon that gave her some light in the midnight sky. She followed the stars towards the sea and eventually came to Memensha Creek. While she couldn’t see the village well enough to make out the buildings, she knew exactly where Mr. Lambert’s shop was. She could find her way there using the light of the stars and the sounds of the buoys in the harbor as her guides.
Feeling overwhelmed with relief when she finally came to Mr. Lambert’s shop, Stella tripped up the wooden stairs and fell once again, this time landing on the Lambert porch. Trembling, she picked herself up and slipped inside the shop, praying she wouldn’t wake the fisherman from his sleep. She was relieved to hear snoring coming from the room at the back of the shop, and felt safe that Mr. Lambert was indeed sleeping soundly.
Stella knew that Christopher was staying above the shop, and her eyes scanned the room for a ladder or a staircase. She was once again grateful for the stars and the full moon, as their light shone through the window and illuminated a ladder that extended up to a loft above the store.
Moving as quietly as her feet would allow, Stella climbed up the ladder and peered into the darkness of the loft.
“Christopher?” she whispered.
There was no response. Stella pulled herself into the loft and sat down on the floor. She didn’t want to risk knocking into any furniture or supplies and making enough noise to wake up Mr. Lambert.
“Christopher?”
Stella could hear the heavy breathing of deep sleep and she was sure she heard Christopher. She inched forward on her hands and knees towards the breathing sounds.
She stopped when she came to Christopher’s bed, which was nothing but a mattress on the floor of the loft. She wanted to touch him but didn’t want to frighten him and cause him to yell out.
“Christopher,” she said again. “Christopher, please wake up.”
Christopher stirred on the bed, and Stella longed to be able to see him. But the loft was pitch black.
She gently reached out and touched what she thought would be Christopher’s shoulder. “Christopher, it’s Stella. Please, I need you to wake up.”
Christopher sat up with a start, causing Stella to jump and nearly fall backwards down the ladder.
“Who’s there?” Christopher asked.
“Stella. I need help.” Stella couldn’t stop the flow of tears down her swollen cheeks. “Please help me.”
“Stella! What in God’s name?”
“Shh. We can’t wake Mr. Lambert.”
Christopher rubbed his eyes and tried to shake the sleep from his head.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “What’s happened?”
“Josiah banished me from our home. And not just that. He beat me.” Stella burst into tears. “He kicked me and punched me in the face.”
“He did what?” Christopher’s voice rose and the two both froze as they heard Mr. Lambert’s bed creaking downstairs.
Christopher let out a deep breath and returned his voice to a whisper. “Josiah did what to you?” he repeated.
“He beat me.”
Christopher fumbled around next to his mattress and found the lantern he used to light the loft each evening. He lit it and held it up near Stella’s face. What he saw sent rivers of rage coursing through his body.
Her eye was swollen to little more than a slit, and the skin surrounding it was a bright shade of purple and green. Her cheeks were flaming red and blood trickled from her nose. Her top lip was split and swollen to twice its normal size.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he said.
“It w
as Mrs. Poole,” Stella said. “She came to his office for medication and she told him about our lunches. He went crazy, Christopher. He’s gone mad.”
“He’s worse than mad. What kind of man could do this to you?”
“He believes I’ve been unfaithful to him with you.” Stella collapsed into tears and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do, Christopher. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Christopher wrapped his arms around Stella and pulled her to his chest. “Hush now,” he whispered. “You’ll be alright, Aingilín. You’ll be alright.”
Christopher kissed Stella’s head and rocked her gently until her sobs quieted. He gently lifted her head to his face and kissed her swollen lips.
“We can’t stay here,” he said. “Mr. Lambert will be up soon and getting ready to go out for the morning. But I know a place I can take you where you’ll be safe until we figure out what to do.”
Stella nodded. “Take me there, please.”
“I just need to get my wages from downstairs. Mr. Lambert’s kept the money I’ve saved in his safe for me. But we’ll need it now, wherever we end up.” Christopher sighed. “I hate to think of Mr. Lambert waking up and wandering where I’ve disappeared to when he heads out on the boat. Once we get you safe, I’ll have to beg for his forgiveness.”
“I’m sorry for involving you in this.”
Christopher kissed the top of her head. “Hush with that silliness, lass. You’ve nothing to apologize for and you didn’t involve me in anything.”
He disappeared down the ladder with his lantern, and Stella sat as still as she could and prayed he wouldn’t wake his employer. She needed to get to the safe place Christopher promised her and didn’t think she could handle a setback of any sort. Now that she had reached Christopher, her single-minded determination in making her trek to Menemsha had deserted her and she was overwhelmed by the pain that wracked her body. She was now so exhausted that she feared she may simply collapse.
Stella nearly cried again as Christopher returned with the lantern.
The Ghosts of Aquinnah Page 11