by Lorin Grace
Save her, he thought to himself. But, starting to realize that what his parents were suggesting might be the only answer, he asked, “How soon should we wed?”
“As soon as it can be arranged.”
Samuel reeled at the answer. They’d planned to wed near Christmas time, before he’d called off the engagement, but the thought of wedding the pale woman who lay inside was so unethical. Whoever heard of marrying a woman in such a state? Shouldn’t she recover first? “Shouldn’t Lucy get some say in this? I don’t think she knows I am even in the house. Who would believe we spoke our spousal vows?” Samuel hedged.
“Unfortunately, you cannot do as we did, exchanging vows verba de praesenti. It is illegal in Massachusetts. The Reverend Woods frowns on unsanctioned marriages. He’ll insist on officiating. Or the magistrate can come.”
Elizabeth’s father? Never! Better the stoic reverend than the pompous magistrate. At least Reverend Woods was discreet.
Emma squeezed Thomas’s hand. “You know the reverend would insist. Remember the fuss he caused when he found out we’d married under a snow-filled sky with no witnesses?”
Thomas smiled. “We listened to an entire month of sermons condemning the practice of common-law marriage and were forced to appear before the magistrate to pay a long-overdue fine. The expression on his face when your ma told him we went for a long sleigh ride and thought we might be in New York was priceless.” Thomas and Emma shared a smile.
Samuel cleared his throat. The idea had disaster written all over it. The silence around them lengthened.
His father broke it. “Son, either marry her or come home. I can’t have you ruining Lucy’s reputation or your own.”
“We could wait until she is better. Who would know?” Desperation marked Samuel’s words.
“We would, and all it would take is one word from your little brothers before every gossip from here to the coast is talking about it.” Emma shook her head.
“The magistrate could charge you with fornication if his wife and daughter pressed him.”
Father would think of that. Magistrate Garrett was quick to fine those who broke the tiniest of laws.
“You love me enough that you don’t want me to go in there and possibly die.” His mother seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “The question your father is asking is—do you feel enough for Lucy that you want her to live and do so without a shadow over her for the rest of her life?”
“I haven’t… We haven’t… I should have,” Samuel mumbled, realizing he didn’t sound much different than his five-year-old brother when he wanted a sweet.
Thomas raised a brow. “What did you say, son?”
“I will marry her.”
“Good, I will discuss this with the Reverend Woods. Since your intentions were posted three months ago, there should be no problem performing the ceremony tomorrow.” His father did not mention contacting the magistrate.
Samuel’s mouth hung open. “T-tomorrow? Lucy is quarantined! She isn’t even conscious!”
He assumed his acquiescence now would be enough as they would be engaged. He wasn’t sure Lucy even liked him anymore. Marriage to an unwilling wife would be a nightmare. Lucy hated to be compelled to do anything. More than once he had been the recipient of her defiant chin when he hadn’t been his best self. Once, he’d ordered her to let him fish in peace. She’d left only after tossing rocks into the pond. She would make his life miserable. He could taste the burned and undercooked meals he would endure as penance while he waited for forgiveness.
He needed more time. Maybe she would wake long enough to be coherent and they could discuss the matter. Inspiration struck. “Where can we wed? No one should come in the house.”
“Just bundle her up and carry her out to the porch. The reverend will need to see you together for a moment.”
“But if she is still unconscious, even the minister can’t call it a marriage.”
“Then Sarah will be her proxy,” Emma quickly answered back.
“Sarah can’t be a proxy. She is five.” Samuel rolled his eyes. “The little chatterbox could say anything.”
His mother bit her lip as if she might laugh. “True, she is young, and when asked if Lucy favors you, she will speak the truth. And I am confident Sarah will repeat enough to convince everyone that Lucy favors you.”
In embarrassing detail.
If Lucy had any feelings for him still, Sarah would make them much larger than they were, just like she and Matthew had embellished their story when they reported Elizabeth’s kiss. His mother seemed sure Lucy did still care for him. But Ma had not seen Lucy’s face when Elizabeth had sidled up to him in church last month, possessively claiming his arm.
Disaster? No, it would be worse than a catastrophe. Was it even possible to endure the silence as long as he knew Lucy could inflict it? She hadn’t spoken a word to him for over two years the last time she was upset with him, far surpassing her record of three weeks when she was seven. Once, she had resorted to the trick of speaking through another. “Joe, will you please tell your older brother to stop staring at me? His attentions are not welcome.” Had it not been out of desperation, he doubted she would have ever spoken to him. She’d come upon him first when sent to fetch his mother when Sarah was born. By the time she’d remembered she wasn’t talking to him, Sarah was a week old. Reluctantly, she continued to speak to him when he promised to never tease her again. He teased her a million times in his mind, but never once had he acted upon his imaginings.
Samuel put both hands behind his neck and bent his head forward. Oh, God, what is the right thing to do? I can’t let Lucy die, but to force her into a marriage without her consent… He waited for an answer. The snort of his father’s horse broke the silence. Please stop this insanity if it be wrong.
He raised his head and dropped his hands to his side. “Bring Reverend Woods in the morning, and we will be ready. But first, we must take care of the graves.” It seemed disrespectful to wed under the bodies of Lucy’s mother, stepfather, and younger brother. “Will you bring my brothers also? I don’t think the ground is frozen, but there will be quite a bit of digging.”
Thomas nodded and gave Samuel a look of approval, the look Samuel had desired since returning to Boston. Odd that he would get his father’s approval for doing the right thing in the wrong way.
Emma broke the silence, gesturing to a hefty basket. “It is enough to feed you and Sarah for a day or two. The small crock is beef broth. I will bring more as long as Lucy is ill.”
Samuel took the basket. “Father, can you send John and Joe this afternoon or early tomorrow?” Samuel asked. “Lucy has been unable to tend to everything in the barn since—” The sentence faded away as Samuel gestured toward the roof. “Anyway, the stalls need a good mucking, and I don’t want to leave Sarah alone with Lucy for the time it will take to do it.”
“I’ll bring all the boys. Mark can help in the stable, and the others can help with the digging of the graves. Anything else?”
“I can’t locate the herb box. I am sure Mrs. Marden owned one.”
“She owned a nice carved one,” Emma confirmed.
“I found some ginger tea. Could you send over some peppermint, willow bark, and anything you think might help?”
“Is that what they taught you in school? Home remedies?” asked Thomas.
“No, Pa, but they did teach us that sometimes herbs can work as well as bleeding a patient.”
Emma harrumphed. As a midwife, she often voiced her disdain about how doctors thought removing blood could cure anything.
“And, Ma, will you pray Lucy lives and forgives me?”
Samuel turned back into the house, his shoulders burdened by more than his mother’s heavy basket.
Seven
Sarah rocked in the chair next to
Lucy. Samuel stared at her. How was he going to explain the wedding to Sarah?
Setting the basket on the table, Samuel reached up to rub his head again. Mother always said if he worried too much he would rub the hair clean off. For a moment, he wondered if he might be bald before his wedding.
Sarah came to inspect the basket.
Her smile widened as Samuel unloaded ham and baked beans, potatoes kept warm in a towel, a crusty loaf of bread, and slices of shortening bread. There was also a fresh shirt for him.
Sarah clapped her hands and hurried to set the table.
Samuel poured the broth into a small pot and set it on the coals to heat; he would try to feed it to Lucy after giving Sarah supper.
He was tempted to tell Sarah about tomorrow’s wedding now, but Lucy deserved to be told first, even if she could not hear him.
The day dragged on with Lucy shivering, then burning up, Sarah napping, Sarah needing to visit the privy again, and Lucy shivering again.
Samuel developed a new empathy for his mother.
Only the barn improved. Pa sent the twins over, and they spent the afternoon mucking and cleaning out the rancid structure. Although the barn needed more work, the stalls no longer reeked of neglect.
Supper was brightened by Sarah’s chatter. He hadn’t realized there was going to be a momma barn cat soon. Sarah insisted Samuel read the Bible before tucking her in with a warm brick and listening to her prayers.
Samuel choked up as Sarah blessed “Mama and Papa and Ben in heaven” and continued, “Thank thee for sending Samuel to take care of me and Lucy.” He wondered if Lucy would be thanking God for sending him to her when she realized she would be stuck with him the rest of her life.
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“I’m going to stay up with Lucy the same as I did last night. I don’t think I’ll sleep, but if I do, I’ll sleep in the rocking chair.”
“That’s what Mama and Lucy did when Papa and Ben were sick.” Sarah raised her arms for a hug. He was amazed by the trust she showed in him. From the moment she’d seen him through the window yesterday morning, she’d accepted his being there and never doubted his help. Lucy had once trusted him—when she was five.
Once Sarah was tucked in bed and had drifted off, he stepped gingerly down the stairs lest a creak disturb either of the sleeping ladies. Lucy moaned and muttered something unintelligible as he reached the last step. By the time he entered her room, she’d stilled.
Samuel poured a bit of broth into a bowl and spooned the liquid between Lucy’s lips. He was rewarded with a cough. When he tried to straighten the quilt, she attempted to toss it off. If her eyes had opened, he would have thought she was trying to be disagreeable.
Samuel realized he was rubbing his head again and stilled his hand. There was enough to be teased about without rubbing himself bald by morning.
“Lucy, just a little bit more.” He held the spoon to her lips. “I am not sure if you can even hear me, but I’ve got a whole lot to say to you. Maybe if I say it now, you’ll remember when you wake up and won’t be too upset with me.” Or at least not so irate that you chase me home.
“I’m not going to be a doctor, so people are not going to be too happy I am here tending to you. I know everyone expected me to be a doctor, but I faint at the sight of blood. Hard to imagine, but I do. Didn’t bother me all until about a year ago when we lost a young… so I was dismissed from my apprenticeship. I promise you, tonight I’m going to be the best doctor I can be. You must live.” For so many reasons I can’t even try to explain.
“I have a surprise for you.” Not exactly like your favorite maple candy.
“We are getting married in the morning.” To his ears, he sounded falsely cheerful, like his ma did when he was in trouble. He rolled his eyes. Worst proposal ever.
The one by letter was eloquent, even if he never gave her that first promised kiss.
“I am still getting over the shock myself. I know I haven’t even asked if you still want to be my wife. If you live till morning, you’re not going to have much choice anyway, no matter how sick you are. Reverend Woods is not going to be pleased I spent two nights here without a proper chaperone. And neither are the old gossips.” Heat rose to the tips of his ears. Lucy was not a lecture cadaver. Nor was she a backstreet doxy seeking free medical care from carefully supervised students.
Samuel slipped another sip of broth between Lucy’s lips. He knew he was rambling, but this might be the only chance he could ever say everything at once. Telling her now would be good practice for when he explained later.
“I made a choice. I know I’ve been exposed to whatever illness you and your family have suffered. Ma offered to stay, but I wouldn’t let her. They say I can only stay if I marry you.”
“This isn’t how I planned it.” He set the empty bowl on the floor and took one of her limp hands in his.
“I’ve wanted to marry you for years. I was trying to get my nerve up to call on you and explain the letter and everything that happened. And I hoped maybe by next Christmas you would be willing to be my wife if I could afford it by then.”
I’m trying to explain myself to an unconscious woman, and I still can’t get up the nerve to say what I must. Samuel went to refill the bowl. He paced the cabin while he waited for it to cool.
It cooled faster than he expected. He coaxed another sip of broth down Lucy’s throat. A faint moan escaped her parched lips. Samuel was sure she was completely unaware of his presence.
“I know it sounds like I’ve been forced to marry you, but it is not like that. I never wanted to call things off. But you deserve better than a failure, but… I really like you.” More than like. Adore? Admire? Love? He’d written better lines in his letters.
“Remember when I pulled your braid? You were wearing the blue dress Mr. Marden bought for your birthday. I pulled it because I didn’t know what to say. You looked so much like a girl. That sounds stupid. I always knew you were a girl, but more like my sister sort of girl. My little shadow, but in the blue dress you looked more like a woman type of girl.” Samuel trailed off, lost in the moment, when he realized Lucy was more the girl he wanted to steal kisses from rather than take fishing for trout. Or perhaps steal kisses while fishing.
“I didn’t mean to make you mad. You were happy and so different than you used to be. I thought I could tease you like the other girls. I wasn’t trying to be mean.”
“I know I explained that in our letters, but I feel the same now as I did then. I am so unsure of what to do.”
He could not recall a time when he couldn’t remember having Lucy around. She had been his little shadow for years. He knew her better than he did his sister Carrie. The day he realized Lucy could be more than a friend was a shock sweeter than finding forgotten candy in a pocket. At age twelve she’d stopped being his shadow and became his light.
Then there was the day the friendship had ended with a single tug of a braid. He had not anticipated her reaction. “Samuel Taylor Wilson, you’ve grown up just like the rest of those mean old boys.” Radiant in her anger, she’d stomped her foot. He had been dumbfounded. “You promised you would never be mean to me. You lied. I’m never going to like you again.” Then she’d turned and run. Almost two years passed before she’d spoken to him again. Thankfully, the letters they’d posted back and forth the past three years, especially those after his sister’s wedding, had restored the easy camaraderie they’d enjoyed as children, sharing their hopes and dreams.
Dreams he shattered.
“I’m pretty sure you hate me after the note and Elizabeth. I hope you change your mind, because if you never like me again, this is going to be one long marriage. If I could do it all over, I would have ridden to Gloucester the second I realized you were visiting there when I returned home. I would have run from Elizabeth’s flirting so t
he children would not have carried tales that were not true.”
He gently washed her face.
“I saw the slap when George Laurier tried to get you under the mistletoe at the Christmas ball three years ago. I should have done the same with Elizabeth, even if she was a lady.”
Barely.
“I wanted to maneuver you under the mistletoe too.” Caring for you is going to be ever so much worse than stealing a kiss under the mistletoe.
Samuel envied George the slap and wished he had been bold enough to say something to her then. Maybe they would have married last year.
Samuel filled the silence of the next hours by talking about Cambridge and the grand ships in the Boston harbor. Some of them reminded him of the stories of pirates, or privateers, as Lucy preferred to call them. During the summers, they’d play on the raft Thomas Jr. had built. While Junior wanted to act out stories of ruthless Barbados pirates, Lucy would insist they pretend to be the brave privateers who’d hoodwinked the British during the war. Samuel had found himself trapped between his older brother and best friend and suggested they be both.
He took the empty bowl and set it in the dry sink. Rewetting the cloth, he returned to her side. “I know we haven’t officially courted because of our plan to marry and return to Cambridge before I graduated. We’ve never even kissed.” He placed the cloth across her brow. “I owe you an apology for even glancing at Elizabeth. It was stupid to think if I ignored you that my problems would disappear. I didn’t feel worthy of you when I got back. Since you were not here—No, none of it was your fault. You probably thought I’d lost every bit of sense I ever had to allow Miss Garrett within ten feet of me. Carrie declined to tell me about how horrid Elizabeth had been in school until after the children told the tale of us kissing in the orchard. How did I not know about the ants or the ink in your desk? I guess until that last year you were at the dame school, so I didn’t witness her behavior.”