There was little conversation throughout the rest of the meal, the only noise coming from the clatter of silver against china. As soon as Margaret finished her supper, she pushed herself away from the table. “Please excuse me,” she said crisply and marched up the stairs to her room.
She had enough misgivings of her own about the changes taking place in her life without adding to them from the opinions of the other boarders.
❧
Three days later, Mikal whistled his way up the sidewalk and appeared at the front door of Miss Priscilla’s Boardinghouse.
Izzy was beside herself with excitement. She opened the door and eyed the carriage waiting at the end of the walk. “Oh, sir, come in. Just have a seat in the parlor, and I’ll tell Miss Margaret you’re here.” She went bounding up the steps, calling at the top of her lungs, “Miss Margaret! Miss Margaret! Your gentleman friend is here!”
Margaret tried to still the sudden tremors that racked her body. Mikal was here at last, and her new adventure, for better or for worse, was about to begin! Her eyes circled the now familiar room. Once she left, there would be no turning back.
She opened the door a crack and saw Izzy literally jumping up and down with excitement. “Just tell him to have a seat in the parlor, Izzy. Tell the gentleman I will be down in a few minutes.”
“Yes’m, I did that already. I’ll go see if he wants tea.”
Margaret closed the door and folded her arms across her chest, willing her heart to stop pounding. She yanked off the simple gingham dress she had put on this morning, along with her muslin pinafore, and stuffed them both into her trunk. Lifting her blue satin gown from the trunk, she began to dress with care. She stepped into her crinolines, slipped her dress over her head, and adjusted its redingote over her bouffant skirts. Using a button hook, she fastened her best leather shoes around her ankles and put her everyday ones in her trunk. She was beginning to feel like a real lady again!
She carried a small valise with the few things she would need during the trip, knowing that her trunk would be placed in the ship’s storage until she arrived in Apalachicola. She tried to appear calm as she walked down the stairs.
Mikal, hearing her descending footsteps, rose from his chair in the parlor and stood at the bottom of the staircase to meet her. “Oh, Margaret, you do look lovely! Are you ready to leave, then?”
“I’m ready, Mikal. Is there someone who can help with my trunk?”
“I’ll take care of everything. Let’s get you settled in the hackney, and I’ll ask the driver to help me bring down your trunk.”
Margaret sat on the plush upholstery of the covered carriage and watched Mikal and the driver struggle to load her trunk on top. The Rosada sisters, Lucy White, Izzy, and even Miss Priscilla herself all stood on the porch to watch.
As they drove away, Margaret could hear Miss Hope sobbing aloud, and Lucy doing her best to quiet her. She held her lace-edged handkerchief out the window and waved to them until the horse-driven carriage turned the corner and erased them from her sight.
Margaret felt an unexpected tug at her heartstrings, as though she were leaving her real blood family. These people had been her only family for the better part of a year, and now she knew that she would probably never see any of them ever again.
“Are you all right?” Mikal asked, sensing her distress.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s just all so new, and a little frightening, too.”
He took her hand. “I’m sure that it must be. You’ve been through a great deal of stress since you left Savannah. But I’m also sure that you’re doing the right thing now, Margaret. Trust me; you’re going to like living in Apalachicola, and I–I’m going to be very happy to have you there.”
“Were you able to find the supplies for my bonnets?”
Mikal’s face broke into a broad grin. “I can hardly wait to unpack the boxes and show you what I brought. Velvets and satins, ribbons and laces, silk flowers, and even some of the newest hat forms to cover and trim. Your hats and bonnets are going to make you famous someday, Margaret Porter!”
She had to smile at his enthusiasm. “Well, I doubt that I will ever be famous. I’ll be perfectly satisfied just to be the proprietress of a respectable millinery business. Do you really think I can do it?”
“I don’t have a doubt in my mind! When we get to Apa-lachicola, I’ll take you to the Mansion House Hotel and arrange for you to have a room until we find you a more permanent place.”
“A hotel? Won’t that be terribly expensive? I don’t have—”
“Quit worrying about your finances, Margaret. This will all be considered an expense of our new business. This is not a gift, or even a loan. I consider it an investment in what is to become a very profitable new enterprise for both of us.”
“Oh, Mikal. I just hope I won’t disappoint you.”
“I’m not concerned about that. Look, Margaret. We’re coming up to the docks. There’s the Windsong secured at the second mooring. Get ready to board. I’ll have someone put your trunk in the storage area while I show you to your cabin.”
❧
Margaret had almost forgotten how bouncy the sea could be. Lying on her bunk in the small cabin, she could see the big harvest moon through the porthole over her bed. Her stomach felt slightly queasy, and she wondered whether that feeling was brought on by the rolling motion of the boat or whether it was simply the result of so much excitement.
How long would Mikal stay in Apalachicola before he sailed away again? She would need his help to find someplace where she could work. Suppose he left her stranded there in that unfamiliar city with no one to call on for help. He had told her not to worry, but that was easier said than done. He was not the one who would be left on a strange street corner without enough money for even a loaf of bread. Oh, what was she getting herself into?
She ran her fingers over the smooth leather binding of her Bible and slipped it beneath her pillow. There was not enough light to read by, but it was comforting to know that she held God’s words in her hands. And it was even more comforting to know that God held her, Margaret Porter, in the palms of His hands.
As the moon rose higher in the sky and was no longer visible through her small, round window, she lay in the darkness and whispered her prayer. “Dear Jesus, thank you for loving me when I know I don’t deserve to be loved. And thank you for staying beside me and being my friend, because I surely am going to need a friend to help me get through the days ahead.”
At last she lapsed into a dreamless sleep as the Windsong plowed steadily onward through the Gulf of Mexico, carrying Margaret closer and closer to her new home.
❧
By morning, Margaret began to feel better. None of her troubles seemed quite as monumental in the light of day as they had in the still, dark night. Her stomach had quieted and she was beginning to feel hungry.
She slipped into the dress she had removed the night before and buttoned her high-top shoes. She remembered from her last journey where the dining room was located. Just a bowl of oatmeal and perhaps a piece of fruit would be nice.
She opened her cabin door and stepped out on the deck to greet the first day of the rest of her life.
eleven
For four days the Windsong bounced over the choppy, blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Margaret stood on the deck, holding to the railing to keep her balance, and strained her eyes for a sight of land. But all she had seen since leaving Tampa were the endless, white-capped waves that pounded the sides of the boat and sent a stinging spray of salt water across the decks.
She had only seen Mikal once or twice during the journey, and although she had met the seven other passengers, she still felt terribly alone.
A young man and his wife told her they had come from South Carolina to claim and settle on a piece of land in south Georgia. Their travels would take them up the Apalachicola River into an area reported to be abounding with fish and wild game. Hearing reports of the rich, red soil
found there, they planned to establish a farm. They were an interesting couple, but they kept mostly to themselves. The other five passengers, all men, seemed preoccupied with the various business ventures on their minds, none of which held any interest for Margaret. Apparently they were all connected in some way to a group called the Apalachicola Land Company.
She was about to return to her cabin when she saw Mikal striding toward her across the deck, a smile widening his lips. “Enjoying your trip?” he asked her.
She wasn’t sure how she should answer him. Enjoy? Did he think that for her this was simply a pleasure trip? “I–I’m finding everything satisfactory, thank you,” she finally blurted. “How many more days will it take us to reach our port?”
He noted the dark circles growing beneath her eyes. “You’re ready to plant your feet on dry soil, aren’t you? We should see land by late this afternoon. We’ll be dropping our anchor just off St. George Island.”
“You mean we aren’t going straight to Ap-Apalachicola?” She stumbled over the strange sounds of her new home. “What is on St. George Island?”
“Not very much, actually, except for the lighthouse.” Mikal leaned against the rail and propped one foot on the lower bar. “Just a lot of sand dunes and old Indian mounds and, of course, pine trees and palmetto bushes. It’s a great place to find unusual shells, though.”
Margaret gave an exasperated sigh. She did not come on this tiresome journey to look for shells. “Then why would we bother to stop there at all?”
“St. George Island is just across the bay from Apalachicola. We’ll have to wait there for a paddle wheeler to come and take us the rest of the way in. The Windsong draws too much water to cross Apalachicola Bay.”
“Then will we get to the town by nightfall?” She looked up into his earnest blue eyes for her answer.
“We’re going to try.” He inched closer to her so that their arms touched, and Margaret felt that familiar tingle run up her spine, the sensation she kept trying to ignore.
“I–I suppose I should go to the cabin and prepare to diembark.”
“What’s to prepare? All you have to do is pick up your little valise and walk down the ramp. Are you trying to get rid of me?” He grinned, revealing his perfectly spaced, glistening white teeth. His eyes crinkled merrily at the corners as though he enjoyed some secret joke. Margaret had to resist an impulse to run her fingers over his smooth, sun-bronzed cheeks.
“Get rid of you? No, of course I’m not.” She turned her eyes to the sea and tried to introduce a safer topic of conversation. “When will you show me the supplies you brought from New York for my hats?”
“As soon as we find a place where you can set up a shop. I already have an idea about that, too, but there’s someone I have to speak to about it before I can make you any promises.”
“You know someone with a room I could use for my shop? Oh, tell me about it, please,” she teased.
Mikal’s brow creased as he tried to decide how much he should tell her before he checked with his friend John Gorrie. “I can’t promise anything, Margaret, but last year a friend and I bought a building on Market Street. He was to sign up tenants for the stores while I’ve been away, but if one of them is still vacant, perhaps we might be able to set something up for you there.”
“You own a building in Apalachicola?” The difficult word was beginning to roll more easily off of her tongue. “Would it be in a good location for my business?”
“I think it would be perfect. Market Street runs right through the heart of the business district. You’d be sure to gain a wide exposure. But if we find those units are already leased, we’ll find you something else. Just keep the faith.”
Faith! That word again. Whenever Mikal was beside her, she could almost believe in the things he told her, but whenever she was alone, she found them much harder to accept. But now, leaning against the deck rail with his arm touching hers, Margaret’s tensions and loneliness melted away, and a feeling of peaceful contentment swept over her. Mikal always seemed to come up with a solution for every problem she encountered. Very soon now, if she could rely on his words, she would be starting her new life in an exciting coastal city, making and selling her hats and bonnets to the affluent society who lived there. And even though she knew that Mikal would be away much of the time traveling between New England and the gulf coast, at least their paths were sure to cross whenever he came to Apalachicola. After all, they were business partners now.
The wind ballooned her satin skirts, and the salt spray dotted them with moisture. Her hair tumbled about her face so that she continually pushed it from her eyes, and the deck rocked and swayed in a perpetual motion that made it difficult to maintain her balance. But in spite of all of this, she had a strong premonition that this special day would be forever etched in her memories as a turning point in her life.
❧
When the Windsong dropped anchor off the shore of St. George Island, Margaret yearned to set her feet on firm, solid ground, but the captain had given orders to stay aboard until morning. They would spend the night on the ship in these inland waters calmed by the barrier island, and at first light, one of the paddle wheelers would come to transport them across the bay.
Margaret was disappointed. She had set her hopes on seeing the city where she had cast her fate. Another day’s wait seemed an eternity, and the flickering lights across the bay only served to intensify her impatience. Couldn’t they at least get out on St. George Island and walk around on land for a bit? She had posed the question to Mikal when he found her on deck, staring morosely across the bay as a rhythmic sweep of illumination danced across the water from the lighthouse tower.
“The mosquitoes would carry you away,” he told her. “Besides, it might not be safe. The remote location of St. George Island makes it an ideal hideout for outlaws, runaway slaves, or even Indians.”
That was enough to convince Margaret that she wanted to remain on the schooner. She doubted that outlaws would be interested in any of her meager possessions, and she was not afraid of poor runaway slaves, but Indians—well, now, that was another matter. The hair on the back of her neck raised just thinking about them.
She slapped at a mosquito who had chosen her arm for his supper. “Are the bugs always this bad?” she asked.
“Sometimes they’re much worse,” Mikal said. “Perhaps you should go below deck and try to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow is sure to be a very busy day.”
Margaret was so filled with excitement that she was not sure she could sleep at all, but she returned to her cabin and slipped out of her dress. She laid it across the end of her bed so that it would be ready for her when she woke up in the morning.
She listened to unfamiliar sounds echoing across the bay from the harbor: the blast of a steamboat whistle and shouts that floated across the water on the chill autumn air. Her bed swayed back and forth on the gentle ripples, rocking her until she drifted into unconsciousness. In her dream, she was surrounded by hundreds of unfinished hats, and angry customers were shouting and grabbing for them while she sat in a corner, frantically trying to complete them.
❧
“All aboard,” the steamboat captain commanded. Margaret and the other passengers walked across the gangplank to board the three-decked paddle wheeler that would take them across Apalachicola Bay.
“Steady,” Mikal said, taking hold of her elbow. “We don’t want to have to jump in and pull anyone out of the water.”
Margaret climbed the companionway that led to the upper deck in order to get the best possible view. She had never ridden on a paddle wheeler before, and she wanted to have every exciting moment stored in her memory. Standing against the rail of the upper deck, she could see the captain in the wheelhouse and the tall smokestacks that belched out great clouds of black smoke as the boat eased its way across the bay. And all the while, she could see the busy port of Apalachicola growing larger and larger before her eyes.
She grabbed the rail to keep f
rom falling when the paddle wheeler touched the shore with a gentle jar. Crowds of people were milling around the docks to meet the incoming boats, people who were soon to be her neighbors.
I’m here at last, she thought. I’m home!
twelve
Mikal hailed a carriage and asked the driver to give him a hand with Margaret’s trunk. He carried his own few belongings in a small canvas bag, and Margaret carried her valise. “To the Mansion House Hotel,” Mikal told the driver.
“That sounds so grand, Mikal. I don’t need anything fancy.”
“It’s the best place to stay when you come to Apalachicola. You’ve had a hard trip. You deserve to pamper yourself a little.”
Margaret leaned forward for a better view of the busy Apalachicola streets. She found them fascinating, with no similarity at all to the quaint little village of Tampa. Activity buzzed all around her. As they rode away from the waterfront and entered the residential areas, the horses’ hooves clip-clopped along the wide brick streets, past homes that reminded Margaret of Savannah. She fought back the tears that sprang unbidden to her eyes. Her own home had been similar to many of the homes she passed along the oak-lined avenue.
The carriage stopped in front of a two-story brick edifice. The sign informed her that this was the Mansion House. “Stay here in the carriage until I make the arrangements,” Mikal told her.
She slumped back against the plush burgundy upholstery. It felt so good not to be rocking and swaying! And it was good to sit back and let someone else do her planning for her. But this hotel looked terribly expensive, and in spite of Mikal’s words of assurance, Margaret knew that she would have to look for more modest accommodations at once.
After several minutes, Mikal returned with a hotel attendant, and together they began to unload Margaret’s trunk onto a small, wheeled carrier. The attendant rolled the trunk into the hotel, and Mikal helped Margaret down from the carriage. “Your trunk will be placed in your room. You’ll be safe and comfortable here,” he said. “Later I’ll join you for supper in the dining room.”
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