by Linda Abbott
More stars sprinkled the sky as evening progressed into night. The full moon’s face deepened, the only witness to Nellie’s slumber. She shivered and hugged her knees to her chest. The cold air tugged at her face and woke her. The house was quiet, peaceful. Nellie got up to close the window, undressed, and slipped under the covers again, asleep almost the second her head touched the pillow. The next sound she heard was Bessie entering the room.
“Ma, wake up. Breakfast is ready.”
Nellie peeled her eyes open and squinted against the blaring sun. “What time is it?”
“Seven. The captain wants to get an early start to the day. There’s so much he wants to show us.”
Nellie sat up. “I’ll be down in a minute.” She slid off the bed as her daughter skipped down the hall. A decanter of fresh water had been placed on the bureau with a cloth and scented soap. Ten minutes later, Nellie appeared in the kitchen.
“Bonjour,” Maurice said with a smile. “I asked Mme. Dubois to make blueberry pancakes. The children told me it is their favourite.”
Nellie didn’t realize how hungry she was until the first mouthful. Chocolate sauce and whipped cream made the meal even more pleasurable.
“This morning we are going to visit the boulangerie, the bakery. M. Ledoux will show us how he makes bread and croissants fresh every day. Then we go to the patisserie, the cake shop, to see how the delicious pastries you have eaten are made.”
The morning passed quickly and Nellie was surprised how much she enjoyed the excursion. The bakery and cake shop owners treated Bessie and Marie like royalty. The girls left each place loaded down with bread and pastries given as gifts to the “jolies Terreneuviennes.”
“Jolies terreneuviennes?” Nellie said outside the patisserie.
Bessie grinned. “That means pretty Newfoundland girls.”
“All the shops and businesses close from twelve to two,” Maurice said. “We French take time to appreciate and digest our food.”
The afternoon was less hectic, with only a visit to the graveyard planned. Maurice showed Marie where her grandmother was buried. “She would have been so thrilled to know you,” he said. “I will tell you about her. At least you will understand the kind of person she was.” As they walked, he described her likes and dislikes, how she felt about children, how she loved St. Pierre.
“Oh! Oh!” Marie said. “I collects porcelain dolls, too.”
“Your grandmother had a room filled with them. I will show you after the evening meal.”
“Ma loves dolls, too,” Bessie said.
After a nap, Nellie paid Father Jean-Claude a visit while Maurice went to the Lavier home to see Louisa.
“I heard you and the children were in St. Pierre,” the priest said. “I was about to have tea and a pastry. Please join me.”
Nellie relaxed in the big armchair in the den. “It never occurred to me in my wildest dreams that I’d be here as Maurice’s guest,” Nellie said. “To tell the truth, it feels awkward. Marie and Bessie love every minute here, though.”
“Since Maurice has accepted Marie as his granddaughter, he is a different person. A happier, gentler man.”
Nellie frowned and gazed out the window.
“Tell me what’s bothering you,” the priest said after a long pause in the conversation.
“Captain Maurice has been bitter and angry for all of Marie’s life and caused a lot of trouble for Ike’s crew. It’ll take a lot of time for me to get past that.”
Father Jean-Claude smiled. “At least you are willing to try.”
“Marie deserves to know her grandfather.” Nellie described what they had done so far. “It’s time I got back. I don’t want to insult Mme. Dubois by being late for supper.”
Roasted chicken with baked potatoes, carrots, green beans, and the best gravy she’d ever tasted filled their bellies. Bessie and Marie, unable to keep their eyes open, toddled off to bed right after the meal. The captain invited Nellie to sit with him in the den. She was tempted to say no, but reconsidered for Marie’s sake. She stared at the wall of books behind him, avoiding eye contact. She hadn’t gone through any of the books in Ike’s den. I must do that when we move in, she thought.
Maurice lit a pipe. “We had a wonderful day,” he said, puffing out a cloud of smoke. “Marie is a happy child like her mother was.”
Nellie nodded in agreement. “She’s always been like that.”
“Your daughter treats her like a sister.”
“My boys do, too.”
Maurice laid his pipe in a marble ashtray on the side table. “Mme. Myles, thank you for giving me the opportunity to spend time with my grandchild. I will treasure these memories forever.”
You don’t deserve it, Nellie itched to say.
“Marie’s happy. That’s what matters.” Nellie yawned. “Think I’ll go to bed. See you in the morning, Captain.”
“Dormez bien, Mme. Myles. Sleep well,” he added in English.
Nellie heard Maurice climb the stairs. The floor outside her door creaked when he passed by. The grandfather clock in the entranceway chimed eleven times. She rolled over onto her side. Two hours in bed, eyes closed, trying to empty her mind, and she still couldn’t sleep. The grandfather clock chimed midnight. She got out of bed and decided to go to the den to see if there were any books written in English. A lantern glowed at the end of the hallway and brightened the way down the stairs. Another shone in the hallway to the den. The house was warm despite the cool night.
Moonlight flooded in through the den window and shone on the bookcase. Nellie began at the top shelf and ran a finger along each book. All French titles. She continued downward in the same manner until she came to the bottom shelf. Two English books: Huckleberry Fin and Treasure Island. She chose Treasure Island and blew dust from the cover. She turned and caught her toe on the edge of the rug, stumbling into the desk. A half-full cup of tea sloshed around. Some of the cold liquid seeped into the papers on the bare desk and dribbled down into the top drawer.
Nellie scooted to the kitchen for a cloth. She wiped down the desktop and pulled open the drawer, relieved that it was empty. Very little tea seemed to have spilt inside. To be sure, she hauled the drawer wide open. An object the size of the palm of her hand was wrapped in a linen handkerchief at the very back. She was about to close the drawer when something about the shape made her pause. Nellie unfolded the handkerchief. Her heart thudded like a herd of frightened, runaway horses. Her mouth dried up. Sweat broke out all over her body.
She sprinted to her room and dressed quickly, sneaked out the front door, and raced through the streets. Her ragged breathing was the only sound audible in the quiet night. In the darkness and in her haste, she tripped often and almost tumbled into a ditch on the side of the road. She reached her destination and pounded on the door.
A groggy Father Jean-Claude opened the door. “Mme. Myles, what has happened?”
Nellie struggled to catch her breath.
The priest gently took her arm and led her inside. “Come in. I will get you something to drink.” He sat her down in the den and got her a brandy. “Drink this,” he said, and put the glass into her shaking hands. “Then tell me why you are so terribly upset.”
Nellie gulped down the alcohol. It burned her throat. She laid the glass down and took out the object she’d found in Maurice’s desk. She couldn’t find the right words.
“Is that what has you upset?”
Nellie nodded.
“It is a pretty sculpture,” the priest said, as if talking to a young child. “Too bad the right flipper is missing.”
“This is the proof that Maurice killed the Marion’s crew,” Nellie blurted out. She jumped to her feet and paced back and forth in front of Father Jean-Claude.
“Please, Mme. Myles. Sit down and explain what you mean.”
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Nellie obeyed and sat on the edge of the armchair. “This wooden seal belonged to my husband, Harry.” Her voice shook. “His father made it for him when he was a boy.”
“I do not understand. Why has it upset you?”
Nellie held the seal to her heart. “Harry had this with him on the Marion.” Tears ran down her face. “I found this tonight in Maurice’s desk.”
“How did you come—”
“We both knows how it got there!” Nellie interrupted. “Maurice rammed the Marion and killed the crew.” She glanced at the wooden seal. “He took this from Harry.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he’s a hateful man who doesn’t care what happens to innocent people,” Nellie snapped. “He lied to me and to Marie, even used his dead daughter’s letters to get what he wanted.”
She stood up and paced once more.
“Maybe we should confront le capitaine with this. Give him a chance to explain.”
Nellie spun around to face Father Jean-Claude, her eyes dark, her cheeks ablaze. “He took the seal from my husband when he killed him. He doesn’t deserve to spend another second with Marie.”
The priest got to his feet. “Please forgive me if I appear to side with Maurice. I only hope for the sake of Marie that you are mistaken.” He blessed himself. “From what you have told me, le capitaine may well be responsible for the disappearance of the Marion.”
“I best get back before he suspects anything,” Nellie said.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t want Maurice to know I have the seal. I can’t think about any of this until I’m home in St. Jacques.”
“In the morning I will ask Maurice if I may go with you to visit la mère Patrick.”
“Thank you, Father. I’ll feel safer with you on board.”
The priest accompanied Nellie to Maurice’s door. The house was quiet and wrapped in darkness; he was reassured her absence hadn’t been discovered, and then returned to the rectory. Nellie put the seal back in the drawer with the intention of retrieving it again just before she left the house for good.
The next morning, when Nellie woke from a restless sleep, the sky was overcast and there was a moderate wind. Nellie was more tired than she had been when she went to bed.
“We will attend mass at ten,” Maurice said at breakfast, “then depart for the trip back to Newfoundland.”
Nellie felt anger and disgust at the very thought of the captain inside a church. However, she made it through the meal without drawing undue attention to herself.
Father Jean-Claude approached Maurice outside the church. “I have a favour to ask. May I come along with you to St. Jacques this morning?”
“I am surprised by the request, Father. You rarely go there.”
Nellie held her breath.
“I would like to visit Mother Patrick.”
“She’s not well,” Nellie said, to save the priest from inventing an excuse. “It’s nothing serious. I told Father Jean-Claude she’d like to see her dear friend.”
“Of course,” Maurice said. “We leave in one hour.”
The sky was still overcast when they set out, and the wind had died down to a gentle breeze. Father Jean-Claude kept Marie and Bessie occupied, which allowed Nellie time to think. Would the authorities in Newfoundland or St. Pierre accept the wooden seal as proof of his guilt? Nellie doubted it. Who would take the hysterics of a grief-stricken widow over that of a rich and powerful French captain?
“The girls are busy with their small round coloured glass,” Father Jean-Claude said, and sat on the bench next to Nellie. “How are you doing?”
She looked around to make sure they were alone. “My family was happy before Captain Maurice took it all away.”
Chapter 21
Marie and Bessie bounded across the deck of the ship. “Ma,” Bessie said, “I can see home from here.”
Maurice smiled at the girls. “Would you like to help me steer the ship into the harbour?” They shrieked with excitement and followed the captain.
The trawler docked with smooth precision and the girls droned on and on about their role in it.
“Mme. Myles,” Maurice said as she prepared to disembark, “I have to deliver cargo to Montreal. I will be away for two weeks.” He looked at Father Jean-Claude. “How much time would you care to spend with la bonne soeur?”
“I will return in an hour or two if that is agreeable,” the priest said.
“Très bien.”
The priest assisted Nellie with the bags and headed straight for the convent. Joe and Sam crooned over the chocolate and pastries.
“How’s Annie?” Nellie asked, once seated with Father Jean-Claude in Mother Patrick’s office.
The nun rolled her eyes. “She’s improved, through no fault of her own. I practically had to tie her to the bed. Don’t think me rude, Father Jean-Claude, but what are you doing here?”
Nellie took the wooden seal out of her pocket.
“Wait a minute,” Mother Patrick said. “That belongs to Harry. He never went anywhere without it.”
“I found it hidden in Maurice’s desk. He acted saintly with the girls, like he was the Holy Pope himself.”
Mother Patrick paled. “Sacred Heart of Jesus,” she said. “Could Marie’s grandfather really be a cold-hearted killer?” She stared from the priest to Nellie. “Maybe Harry lost it in St. Pierre and Maurice found it?”
“It was wrapped and hidden in the back of a drawer,” Nellie said.
“What can we do?”
“Maurice won’t be back for two weeks. That’ll give us time to decide.” Nellie stood up. “I don’t want Annie to hear about this.”
“Not a problem,” Mother Patrick said. “She’s in the first room at the top of the stairs.
Annie looked much improved after a mere two days. “How’s our mother superior been treating ya?” Nellie said.
“Like I was two years old. Now that you’re back, I can go home,” Annie said with relief.
“We’ll be ready to move into Ike’s house in a day or two.” Nellie grinned. “Why don’t you stay here until then?”
Annie leaned back into the pillows. “I knows you’re fooling with me, so I won’t get mad at ya.”
Nellie gathered up the youngsters and sent them home. Steve Marsh waited for her and Annie with a horse and cart. “Mother Patrick’s orders. Annie isn’t strong enough to walk.”
“I should’ve known,” Annie griped.
“Have you heard about the Sherman?” Steve asked. “She was fired on by a German war boat. The men escaped in the dories and were picked up a day later by a Portuguese schooner. Most of the crew is from Heart’s Content.”
“Praise the Lord,” Annie said. “Anyone hurt?”
“Guy Hays broke his leg real bad. His missus is some glad, ’cause now he’ll be on land for two months. Two men near drowned and another caught pneumonia. He’s in the hospital in St. John’s.” Steve grew quiet. “I wonders if the Marion met with the same fate?” he said after a long pause.
No! They were murdered, Nellie’s mind screamed.
“Don’t s’pose we’ll ever know,” he added.
Steve pulled on the reins to slow Winnie. She neighed and stopped at the bottom of the path to Nellie’s house. The horse chewed on the tall grass while Steve assisted Annie to the house.
“Mother Patrick’s orders,” he said with a wink when Annie tried to protest. With a cheery farewell after a cup of tea, Steve went home.
Nellie prepared salt fish and potatoes with drawn butter for supper. Joe and Sam ate like they hadn’t seen food in a week. “Didn’t Mother Patrick feed you?”
“Loads,” Sam said. “But it didn’t taste all that good.”
“Afte
r supper we’re taking the rest of our stuff to Ike’s house.” Nellie looked around the kitchen with a great sigh. “This’ll be our last night here.”
By nine o’clock most everything had been delivered to Ike’s house, and the children, along with Annie, snoozed in bed. Nellie made up the chesterfield. Tired from the long day, she fell asleep almost right away. The next morning she woke early, started breakfast, and went to the youngsters’ rooms to get them up for school, taking care not to disturb Annie. With the house peaceful once again, Nellie brought a tray up for Annie. She snored, her lips puckered like she was ready to bestow a kiss. Nellie laid the tray on the bedside table.
At ten-thirty the youngsters spilled out of school for recess. Several of them gathered around a tree stump near the cemetery. Elsa LaCroix, twelve years old and tall for her age, whispered to the group, her eyes on Marie and Bessie, who walked toward them.
“You can’t play with us,” Elsa said.
The others mumbled agreement.
“Ma said the old French captain that scuttled the Marion is your grandpa.”
Bobby Noseworthy, a fourteen-year-old, joined in. “He killed my pa.”
Marie burst into tears. “No he didn’t!”
Elsa snorted. “He did so. Everybody knows that. You even went to St. Pierre on the trawler that scuttled the schooner.”
Bobby sneered at Bessie. “You’re some traitor, going with him and all. You don’t care what the Frenchie’s done.”
“I’m not a traitor,” Bessie cried. “And I loved my pa.”
Joe and Sam ran over. “What’s the matter?” Joe said.