by Linda Abbott
Chapter 10
Dr. Fitzgerald finished his exam of the twins. “Fred Jr. and Robert are two very healthy babies. Keep up the good work.” He chuckled. “I’m sure Annie was delighted when you named one after her husband.”
“She cried when I told her,” Dottie said. “Annie’s done so much for me. It’s the only way I could think of to repay her in some small way.”
“Where is Annie, by the way?”
“Gone to Nellie’s house. She’s really worried about Bessie.”
Dr. Fitzgerald snapped his bag shut. “That’s my next stop.”
Robert started to cry. He quieted down as soon as Dottie picked him up. “It’s been nearly two weeks since Bessie took sick, and she doesn’t seem any better.”
The doctor retrieved his hat from the dresser. “I’ll drop by again in a few weeks.”
Dottie laid Robert back in the crib. “I may not be here then.”
“You’re moving back home?”
“I’m leaving St. Jacques. I’ve got no money and no family, and I’ve certainly got no intention of marrying anyone just to feed my youngsters.”
“You could work in one of the fish plants.”
“Who’ll look after my boys?”
“Annie’s told me several times she’d love to do it.”
“Annie’s been an answer to my prayers so far, but I can’t depend on her forever.” Dottie blinked back tears. “She’s on in years and not up to caring for two babes on her own.”
“Yes, you have a point there. Maybe Fred’s brother will help out.”
Dottie shook her head. “Seth’s got his own family.” She wrung her hands. “The truth is, Dr. Fitzgerald, I wants to leave St. Jacques to get my youngsters away from fishing.”
“Where will you go?”
“St. John’s. Mother Patrick said the nuns will give me a room and help me with the twins until I gets myself settled with work.” Dottie’s tears flowed freely now. “There’s no way my babies will end up like their pa, if I can help it.”
“It won’t be easy for a widow with two small children to find work.”
“I’ll scrub floors on my hands and knees for twenty hours a day if that’s what it takes to rear Fred Jr. and Robert.”
The doctor tugged on his right ear, a habit of his whenever he did serious thinking. “I’ll write to some of my friends in St. John’s. Perhaps one of them will find suitable work where you and the babies can live.”
Dottie wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “Thank you, Dr. Fitzgerald. I really appreciates this.”
Bessie lay against a pile of pillows Nellie had stacked at the headboard to ease her cough. Nellie peered down at her sleeping daughter, a female version of Harry.
“How’s she today?” asked Dr. Fitzgerald.
Nellie spun around, startled.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “Annie asked me to come up.”
“This is the first time she’s slept in two days. The cough keeps her awake and gives her a pounding headache. She’s whiter than chalk and has grown awful thin.” Nellie dabbed the perspiration on Bessie’s forehead with a cloth. “Look at the dark shadows under her eyes.”
“Her recovery is rather slower than I’d like,” Dr. Fitzgerald admitted.
“It’s been almost two weeks. She still got a fever and—”
“Her fever’s down some, a little,” Dr. Fitzgerald interrupted, “and Annie said she has fewer night sweats.”
Nellie took a deep breath. “I have to force her to eat. I know you don’t want to tell me the truth about my little girl.”
Dr. Fitzgerald stroked his chin. “I will admit that Bessie is showing all the symptoms of tuberculosis.”
Nellie flinched. “Sam and Marie have been real upset since young Brian Whittle told them his brother Charlie was exactly like Bessie before he died.”
“Nellie,” Dr. Fitzgerald continued, “I’m still not convinced it isn’t a bad bout of pneumonia.”
“What are her odds if she does have consumption?”
The doctor touched Bessie’s cheek with the back of his hand. “One in four survive.”
Bessie coughed and opened her eyes. “Ma, is Joe home yet?”
“Anytime now, sweetie. Dr. Fitzgerald wants to check out your lungs again.”
Bessie coughed each time she took a deep breath for the doctor. He tapped her on the nose after the examination. “Annie tells me you haven’t eaten a thing for two days. What’s that about?”
Bessie looked away. “I’m not hungry.”
“What will Joe think when he comes home and finds you as thin as a sewing needle?”
“Pa didn’t come home like he was supposed to. Joe won’t either.”
Nellie sat on the bed and held Bessie’s hands. “Joe is coming home. He’ll be some mad at you for not eating on his account.”
Bessie threw her arms around Nellie’s neck. “I misses Pa,” she choked out, followed by a cough. Her rib cage dug into Nellie. “Why did Joe have to go away, too?”
Annie came into the room with a tray. “I made a batch of pancakes for my special girl.” She laid the tray on the bed and her face broke into a wide smile. “In case anyone’s interested, Joe’s schooner just docked at Burke’s Cove.”
“I told you,” Nellie said, and pointed to the pancakes. “Now eat.”
Bessie tore off a huge chunk.
“Take small bites and chew slowly,” Dr. Fitzgerald said. “You don’t want a tummy ache.”
“Doctor,” Nellie said, “come to the kitchen for a slice of apple pie I baked this morning.”
“I think Bessie should recover nicely now that Joe’s back,” Dr. Fitzgerald said while Nellie poured tea for both of them. “She fretted about him not coming home and it delayed her recovery. The manner in which she lost her father would scare any child.”
Nellie dropped into a chair. “What about the next time Joe leaves? Bessie will be haunted every time he’s on the Banks.”
“Indeed,” Dr. Fitzgerald said softly. “She’s been introduced to tragedy much too soon.”
“All the families of the Marion crew have,” Nellie said. “If it takes the rest of my life, I’m going to find out why Ike and the French captain hated each other.”
The back door swung open and Joe came in. Nellie’s heart jumped into her throat. He’s different, she thought. His youthful happiness had dulled with Harry’s disappearance, but now it seemed dead, burned out forever.
“Ma, how about a cuppa tea?” Even his voice seemed older, coarser.
“Sit yourself down,” Nellie said.
Joe laid his duffle bag by the door. “It sure is good to be home.”
“I’ve got other patients to see today,” Dr. Fitzgerald said. “Joe, I’m pleased to see you back safe and sound.”
The doctor was just out the door when Joe turned to Nellie. “Who’s sick?”
“Bessie got pneumonia right after you shipped out. She’s a lot better.” Nellie passed Joe his tea. Her eyes lingered for a brief moment on the cut, bruised, and cracked hands that reached for the mug.
“Was it what you expected?” she asked quietly to hide her deepening sadness.
“Sorta.”
Annie swooped into the kitchen. “You’re a bright light on a foggy day,” she said, hugging Joe to her. “Go up to Bessie’s room. She’s bursting at the seams to see you.”
“She’s been afraid you wouldn’t come back,” Nellie said.
When Joe poked his head around her bedroom door, Bessie’s squeal echoed throughout the house. That night she ate supper with the family for the first time in two weeks.
“Back to bed,” Nellie said, when Bessie tried to follow Joe and Sam out to the wharf after supper. Nellie watch
ed her sons through the window. Both quiet. Both staring out to sea. The first stars had begun to sparkle when they returned. Sam went to bed and Joe joined Nellie in the living room.
“The house wasn’t the same without you,” Nellie said, knitting the heel of a sock by the glow of a candle.
“Before Pa left he had a long chat with me about fishing and my future,” Joe said.
Nellie continued to knit. “He never said a word to me.”
“Pa told me Uncle Joe had the same chat with him at my age. Tried to talk him out of fishing. Pa told me to finish school.”
Nellie sighed. “Did he tell you that he and Uncle Tom had decided to leave fishing for good? Uncle Tom even got a job as a cook in St. John’s.”
Joe nodded and looked up at his parents’ wedding portrait. “Pa was right. Fishing is some hard . . . and lonely. Bessie took sick because she was scared for me.”
Nellie thought she saw tears in her son’s eyes, yet she couldn’t be sure in the faint lamplight.
“Maybe I should finish my book learning. I can work in the fish plant after school.”
Nellie wanted to get up and dance a jig.
“If it’s all right with you, Ma, that’s what I’ll do. Like Pa said, the Grand Banks ain’t going nowhere.”
Nellie’s knitting needles clicked faster. “That’s a good idea.”
“Pa promised to give me his wooden seal on my first trip out. I kept thinking about it the whole time.”
Nellie smiled. “He surely treasured that little sculpture.”
“See ya in the morning, Ma.”
Nellie heard herself hum as she finished the sock heel and was astounded by it. She truly believed she had forgotten how. She continued to hum on the way up the stairs but stopped abruptly and stared down the hall when she heard Joe and Sam talking.
“Joe, what made you tell Mom you changed your mind about fishing?”
“I was thinking of Bessie.”
Nellie tiptoed past the boys’ partially open door but stopped when Joe spoke again.
“I’m going back to the Banks once I finish school for good.”
“But you said it was hard and lonely.”
“Hard work don’t matter none. I was lonely because I’m still missing Pa. He was supposed to be with me.”
I’ll change your mind, Nellie thought. Mark my words.
Joe spent the next two days with Bessie. Her fever returned to normal and she coughed less and less. The third day she went outside to play with Marie. They’d hardly gone through the door when Marie ran up the stone path and burst into the kitchen.
“Mrs. Myles,” she said, her eyes wide and filled with tears.
“What’s wrong?” Nellie asked, looking past Marie. “Is Bessie all right?”
Bessie appeared in the doorway and bent over, hands on her knees. “I’m all right, Ma,” she said between gasps. “I tried to keep up with Marie.”
“Dr. Fitzgerald warned you not to run for at least a week.”
“Is it true?” Marie said. Her cheeks were flushed. “Have I gotta go live in an orphanage?”
“What? Who told you such nonsense?”
“Johnny Dunn and his friends said that’s where all youngsters go when they got no relatives to look after them,” Bessie said.
“Marie may not have any relatives, but she has us. People who love her like she was family.”
Bessie looked at Marie. “See, I told ya. Those stupid boys don’t know what they’re yakking on about.”
“Go play in the shed and don’t pay any more heed to such nonsense,” Nellie said. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
The girls whizzed around Mother Patrick, who stood in the doorway. “I’m pleased to see Bessie back to herself.”
Nellie smiled. “Joe’s return worked a miracle.”
Mother Patrick pulled a white envelope from her robe. “Sorry to say I’m the bearer of bad news concerning Marie. This arrived this morning from Montreal, Canada.”
Nellie’s fingers shook as she pulled out the letter. She read silently.
Mother Patrick:
My name is Sheila Jones. Ike Jones was my brother. I have only just been informed of his passing and was quite shocked to learn he was the captain of a fishing schooner. As my niece’s mother is also deceased, it is my duty to care for his child.
My brother’s lawyer, Mr. William Fleming of St. John’s, gave me your name as a contact person in St. Jacques. I am busy at the moment so cannot come immediately, but I hope to arrive in your community by late September.
Please advise the family where my niece is staying that she will live with me. Thank you in advance for your assistance.
Sheila Jones
Nellie threw the letter on the table. “Ike’s sister seems as pleasant as a sack of rotted, spongy potatoes!”
“She does come across as somewhat stuffy.”
“Cold-hearted, you mean. It sounds like she’s making a business deal. She doesn’t even say Marie’s name.” Nellie rubbed her forehead. “Most likely doesn’t know her name.”
Mother Patrick folded the letter and jammed it back into the envelope.
“What are we going to do?” Nellie said. “I can’t let Marie go. She’s scared to death of leaving us.”
“We have time to figure something out.”
Nellie paced across the floor. “I’ll allow this Sheila Jones has never laid eyes on Marie before. Marie for sure has never mentioned her.”
“As far as I’m aware, Ike never mentioned having a sister,” Mother Patrick said. “Along with the letter, that tells me they weren’t very close. I’ll write Mr. Fleming. Maybe he can shed some light on this Sheila Jones.”
Nellie’s voice quivered. “Ask him if Marie can stay with me. Losing her would be like losing one of my own.”
Mother Patrick tut-tutted. “This isn’t the time for Marie to be torn away from people who love her and whom she’s known for most of her life.”
Nellie clenched her fists. “None of this would be happening if Ike and the French captain hadn’t acted like spoiled youngsters. This mess makes me want to know even more.”
“Sadly we may never learn the reason why,” Mother Patrick said. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “What good would it do, anyway?”
Nellie was quick to answer. “Peace of mind.”
“I’ll write that letter as soon as I get back to the convent,” Mother Patrick said, already halfway out the door.
There’s got to be someone who knows what the two men fought about, Nellie thought. An idea sprang to mind. She grabbed her shawl and sprinted up the hill to talk to Eloise McEvoy.
Nellie ran into Eloise as she was coming out of Young’s General Store. “Mme. Myles,” Eloise greeted her. “Bonjour. ’Ow are you?”
“Coping,” she said. “Like all the other widows.”
“Quelle tragédie.” Eloise sighed. “I feel so sad for everyone.”
“I was on my way to your house to ask you a few questions, if you can spare the time,” Nellie said.
“Of course. ’Ow can I help you?”
“Maybe you can tell me something about Captain Maurice.”
“’E is a friend of my father, and my mother does not like ’im.” Eloise turned up her nose. “She thinks ’e is rude and very nasty.”
“What was the trouble between him and Ike Jones?”
“Mon papa does not know. But the first time Mr. Jones came to St. Pierre, ’e asked many people where le capitaine Maurice lived.”
“Did Ike say why he was looking for him?”
“Non. Le capitaine Maurice refused to allow M. Jones into his home. Maybe le père Jean-Claude can tell you more.”
Nellie smiled at the petite, dark-haired French
woman. “I already talked with him. Thanks, Eloise. You’ve been a grand help.”
“You are very welcome,” Eloise said, and went on her way.
Nellie ran all the way to the convent. Sister Thérèse showed the panting woman into her superior’s office.
Mother Patrick sat at her table, reviewing a new history textbook she would be using in the fall. “Sit down and catch your breath, Nellie. Then tell me who was chasing you.”
“I talked to Eloise,” Nellie blurted out. “It appears the feud between Ike and Maurice started before Ike moved to St. Jacques. Ike was so secretive about his life. He never talked about his wife to anyone, not even his own daughter.”
Mother Patrick had a faraway look in her eyes.
Nellie collapsed into a chair. “Are you all right, Mother Patrick?”
“Of course.”
“The only thing Marie knows is that she’s named after her mother. Ike has kept quiet about his past life because he’s hiding something awful.” Nellie shivered. “I can feel it.”
“Poor Marie,” Mother Patrick said. “I’m afraid to think what might be in store for her.”
“Me too,” Nellie said. “I’ll protect her no matter what it takes.” A bell rang out. “One o’clock. I must go on home and get dinner on the table.”
The door closed behind Nellie. Mother Patrick pulled a piece of paper out of the desk drawer. On it was a single sentence neatly scribed in black ink. Well, Jean-Claude, have you had enough time to consider the best course of action for Marie and Nellie?
Mother Patrick sealed the note inside an envelope and set out for Burke’s Cove.
“Mr. Marsh, see that Father Jean-Claude gets this,” she said to the trader. “Wait for a reply.”
Steve tipped his salt and pepper hat. “That I will, Mother Patrick. See you tomorrow.” His boat chugged toward the ocean on its semi-weekly trip to St. Pierre.
Mother Patrick returned home to write to Ike Jones’s lawyer, then delivered the letter to the post office herself. “How long will it take to reach St. John’s?” she asked the postmaster, a tiny man with a bald head.