Catherine read entry after entry, until it seemed the unseen lady whom neither of them had known was there with them.
“John brought me a rose today. It was the first one of the spring. I cannot say how it touched my heart. He has always been a kind husband, but this little act of love quite overtook me. I do love him so. It pains me sorely to see him struggle with bitterness. He will not acknowledge it, but I know it is there. If only I had some way to undo what has been done. His war wound gives him sleepless nights and pain-filled days. I ache along with him. But I feel the deepest and most sorrowful injury was done to his soul. He cannot forgive those who inflicted his wounds. Daily I pray that God will aid him. His anger is much too heavy a burden to bear.”
Nicole, in turn, told the story of her overland journey to Charles’s estate in western Massachusetts, the drama of Gordon’s arrest, his coming to faith, their growing love. So much to share that the hours drummed away as swiftly as the horses’ clopping hooves. Even when they stopped at midday and took a quick lunch within the forested shade, they still talked.
They rounded the final corner far too soon for either of them. The ship appeared through a break in the trees. Too soon Carter tethered the horses and pointed the waiting sailors toward the wagon’s load. Nicole found herself reluctantly releasing the reins and turning to her mother. Too soon.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am.” Carter approached, holding his cap. “We’re all right happy for you and the skipper. And we wish you great joy, ma’am. Great joy indeed.”
“Thank you, Carter. May I introduce my mother, Madam Harrow. Mama, this is Carter, the bosun.”
The two acknowledged the introduction, then Carter said, “The captain is asking that we all board this vessel. He is hoping to make the Cobequid passage and be well down Fundy before daybreak.”
“Very well, Carter. Thank you.” She turned toward her mother. “I must honor the captain’s wishes, Mama.” Her smile was tremulous.
“Of course.” Catherine was already climbing down from the wagon. “Come with me for a moment, please.”
She led Nicole up a gentle rise to where a point of land rose above the tree line.
“It occurred to me that I might be able to …” She panted as she climbed swiftly up to the ridge that pointed like a finger out into the Cobequid waters.
“Mama, what?”
“Yes! There it is! I am certain of it!”
“Certain of what?”
“Come, stand beside me.” Catherine pointed out over the waters to their right, away from the ship, farther along the narrowing bay. “Do you see where the waters curve out to the next point, just like this one?”
“Yes, but—”
“See where the earth lies bare? Where the forest has been cut back and the new fields readied for planting? Look at the big rock there at the forest’s lowest edge.”
“The forest rises in a series of steps.”
“Exactly!” She pointed a trembling finger. “Now look at where the third step extends out.”
A thrill ran through Nicole’s frame.
“I do not travel this far from Georgetown very often. But my connection to the returning Acadians has brought me down this way a time or two. And I still remember the lay of the land from my early days.” Catherine nodded firmly. “That is the meeting place; I am sure of it.”
“Where you and Louise—?”
“You may call her Mother, my dear. I do not mind.”
“Two mothers, bound by the tragedy. …” Nicole murmured, staring across the sweep of forest and field.
“Two friends, two daughters, four lives,” Catherine added softly.
“A thousand tomorrows, and still it is not enough,” Catherine said as their arms enfolded each other in a last embrace. “That is both the joy and the woe of love.” She drew back and looked into Nicole’s face. “The years you grew up away from me, the nights I lay a different child into your cradle, still I felt my heart connected to yours. Wherever you go, my daughter, my heart is with you.”
Chapter 22
“The new governess will be arriving Thursday midday,” Charles announced as he peered through his spectacles at the letter he held.
Judith already had thanked God for this answer to prayer in the days since the news of Miss Paige had come from London.
“I do not know who is anticipating this the most,” she confessed, “John or me.” She paused for a moment, then said, “Do you know what John asked me this morning?”
“I could never guess.”
“He said, ‘Nana, are you changing color for winter?’
” Charles frowned in puzzlement, then threw back his head and laughed. “When we were out riding the other morning we saw a hare.”
“Yes, he told me. He said, ‘Uncle Charles said that God helps the hare to change color in winter so it can hide from its ‘emmamies.’ ”
“ ‘Emmamies,’ ” repeated Charles with another chuckle. “That is more difficult to pronounce than the correct one.”
“When I told him that I was not getting ready for winter, nor am I plotting a way to hide from my ‘emmamies,’ he said, ‘Then why is your hair two colors?’ I told him that it used to all be one color—just like his. We had to place our heads side by side and peek into the looking glass together. He smiled at first, but then he reached up and touched my hair. And he said, ‘Why did you ask God to change it?’ ”
They laughed together.
“How did you answer him?”
“I am not sure. It caught me off guard. I’m afraid I did not give him a very satisfactory explanation. I said that hair changes color as one grows older, or some such thing.”
“I see nothing wrong with that answer.”
“Perhaps not. But I’m hopeful this new nanny will be able to help with all those ideas and thoughts and questions he has. I … I rather cherish his innocence. To him everything that happens, large or small, is all God’s doing. I rather like him to see things that way. I trust Miss Paige can protect that innocence. It is a treasure, do you not think?”
Charles nodded, “A treasure indeed,” he said with feeling.
They went to the nursery together to introduce little John to his new nanny. The young woman had arrived in midafternoon the day before, after a long and tiring journey, so after a brief welcome, she had been granted the remainder of the day to rest and get settled in her new quarters near the nursery.
Judith had decided that one would not describe Miss Paige as beautiful, but she had china blue eyes, which looked very large in her small face. And when she dared to smile, her thin features seemed to be lit from within. Judith felt almost motherly toward this tiny waif of a girl.
“She’s but a child herself,” she whispered to Charles after Howards, luggage in hand, had escorted the young woman to her room.
Charles merely nodded, seeming deep in thought.
“I would be tempted to send her right back to London if …” he began but did not finish.
“If?” prompted Judith. “If we were not desperate?”
Charles turned to her, shaking his head. “No, my dear. If shewas not.”
Judith nodded her understanding. The young woman had no home of her own. No place to go.
“Of course we shall keep her,” she said warmly. “After all, she is an answer to prayer. If she does nothing more than play the pianoforte for John, she will be worth her keep.”
“She is more likely to play with him, I am thinking,” Charles quipped.
Judith smiled. “The new nanny is not quite that young,” she had said.
Now as the three entered John’s nursery room together, Judith could see that the young woman was nervous and uncertain about this encounter. Judith whispered, “I’m sure the both of you will get on famously,” and she smiled as reassuringly as she could.
“John,” said Charles, and the boy lifted his head from his building blocks. “We have brought someone for you to meet. Would you stand, please?”
&n
bsp; John stood. His small hands clasped behind his back and his head dipped shyly. Judith moved forward to place an arm around John’s shoulder. “Remember, we talked about Nurse having to leave?”
He nodded and peeked a glimpse out from under tousled hair.
“This is your new nanny, Mistress Paige. Would you greet her, please?”
Obediently John took a tentative step forward, took another peek at her, and extended a hand. “Good morning, Miss,” he managed to say.
Miss Paige had also stepped forward. Judith saw her hand reach out, and as the two hands met, something extraordinary happened. The young woman’s entire face lit up with her smile, the blue eyes came alive, and the cheeks suddenly flushed with a rosy color. John smiled back at her.
Judith heard a heartfelt, “Oh, I have always wanted a little brother.”
“I’m not very little,” John was quick to say, but his tone was matter-of-fact.
“Of course you’re not. I didn’t mean …” The new nanny was now on her knees, pulling John into her arms. Surprisingly he did not resist.
“Oh, pardon me, ma’am,” she said, quickly standing to her feet, her cheeks crimson.
But John reached out to take her hand. “Do you play the pianoforte?” he asked, looking into her face.
She merely nodded.
“Could I hear it?”
The girl looked at Judith for an answer.
“We shall have some music this evening,” Judith was quick to say. “After our supper.” She turned to Mistress Paige. “I will bring the former nanny in to talk with you. She is gathering her things. She will show you the rooms and give you instructions as to the workings of the nursery. Tea will be served at four. Today you will take it together here by the fire. In the future I will relieve you so you may take your tea with the staff.”
She nodded in understanding and agreement. Judith had a sudden pang at the thought of all this young woman had lost and the rather daunting circumstances she now faced. She felt sure the young girl had never been sent to the kitchen to tea with staff in her entire young life.
“Please,” Judith continued, softening her tone, “if anything confuses or troubles you, do not hesitate to speak to me. You are here to care for young John. He is a good child, so your task should not be burdensome. But we … we also wish you to be happy here.”
It was not the speech she had intended. She wondered what Charles was thinking. He had not spoken since they had first entered the room. She felt his hand on her elbow now gently urging her toward the door.
Once in the hall, she dared to look up at him. His face was quite sober. “She is but a child,” he managed, shaking his head.
“But … she is … is a sweet young thing,” Judith put in.
“A child looking after a child,” he said. “It will be you caring for young John.” He nodded toward the nursery. “And the young miss too, I am thinking.”
“I can—”
“Seems I will need to write another letter to London—to get a nanny for the nanny.” But his manner didn’t seem overly concerned, and Judith could not suppress a chuckle. Charles looked at her a moment, then joined in the merriment.
As promised, they all gathered in the front parlor that evening, and Charles carefully—and a bit ceremoniously, Judith thought—removed the covering drape from the instrument. She could not take her gaze from John’s small face. She watched his eyes grow large in wonderment, too awed to even smile. “Can I touch it?” he whispered.
When Charles nodded, the boy moved forward, running a hand over the rich wood, then trailing his fingers lightly over the ivory keys. Charles allowed the boy time to explore, then reached down and lifted him. “I think it is time to listen to some music. Shall we let Mistress Paige play for us?”
John nodded.
Charles took his seat beside Judith, the child still in his arms. He settled John on one knee and nodded to the girl.
At first the notes came a bit haltingly, though John was captivated. He leaned forward, his eyes holding steadily to the movement of her fingers. It was not long before her nervousness was gone, and the slim fingers moved over the keyboard with confidence. Her eyes closed and her body gently swayed with the rhythm. Judith did not recognize the piece, but the music stirred her soul.
Charles too seemed lost in the music. His arms held John, but he leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, head nodding ever so slightly to match the tempo. Judith wondered if the piece was one his mother had played for him as a child.
It ended all too soon. John’s hands clapped together and he cried out, “Do it again.”
Charles stirred then. “Where are our manners?” he chided softly. “We request—not order. Would you like to request that Mistress Paige play another piece?”
“Oh yes. Play another one,” John called, then corrected himself. “Please, would you play another one?” he asked in a quieter tone, but his eyes were still dancing.
Two more pieces were heard before John’s bedtime. He was assured that a concert would be a part of their evenings in the future.
“Please, God, bless Mama and Papa,” he prayed as he knelt by his bedside that night, “and bring them back soon so they can hear the pianoforte too.”
Amen, echoed in Judith’s heart as she bent to tuck him in.
Chapter 23
Nicole brushed a loose strand of auburn hair back from her cheek and stared down at the large leather-bound book in her lap. Light fell over her shoulder through the cabin’s rear windows onto the page. She read the text again. “Those who go down to the sea in ships, who do business on great waters, they see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. For He commands and raises the stormy wind, which lifts up the waves of the sea.” She raised her head and looked out at the wind lifting up the waves. That imagery was certainly clear enough.
She could hear Gordon’s voice calling instructions to the crew above on the decks, and their feet hurrying hither and yon to carry out his bidding. “He commands” also presented a mental image as she considered her husband’s authority over his men and nature’s obedience to its Creator. “He calms the storm, so that its waves are still” seemed particularly comforting to her heart that morning.
Their way south from the Bay of Cobequid had been sped along by a late-spring storm, to Gordon’s great relief but Nicole’s occasional dismay as the ship heeled far over, then righted itself, only to be repeated as waves pounded its sides. “Then they are glad because they are quiet,” she read aloud. “So He guides them to their desired haven.” She couldn’t help but smile at the welcome sound of the last phrase, and she said it again softly. A desired haven. That is what I am seeking, she told herself.
Certainly her marriage to Gordon had brought her a long way toward that haven for her heart. His love and care for her were evidenced in everything he said and did. But the future still loomed uncertainly in the distance. They were now on this mission for the Americans, and it would bring them face-to-face with life-threatening danger. If the Almighty should bring them through unscathed, they would arrive in Louisiana, her childhood home, and to the family of her childhood. Is that where Gordon and she would find their ultimate home, that haven for which she yearned?
“Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!” she read slowly. Well, that is something I can do, I will do, she concluded, whether or not I know how God will guide us, or the way He will bring us to the haven.
A knock on the cabin’s door brought her to her feet. “Yes?” she called.
“Begging your pardon, Ma’am,” came the voice through the door. “The captain be requesting your presence on deck.”
“Very well, I will be there shortly,” she told him. She set aside the book, tied her bonnet on her head, and pulled her cloak around her. Above her she heard the sound of feet stomping to attention. Ah yes, it was the Sabbath, and as was custom, the shipboard rhythm was changed for the day. The decks had been
scrubbed, frayed lines replaced, sails carefully examined in preparation for the Lord’s Day. She knew some vessels even carried a clergyman or occasionally a surgeon who also was a man of the cloth.
Nicole climbed the stairway and emerged into the sunlight and several rows of seamen, all in their finest togs. Gordon stood before them in his uniform, and he gave her a brief nod as Carter stepped forward to escort her to a bench. After she was seated, Gordon called the men to ease, and they found various places to seat themselves about the deck.
Gordon opened the Bible and began reading from the book of Daniel, the story of the young man sent to his death in a lions’ den but whom God saved to become a prince of Persia. Gordon’s second selection was from the epistle to the Hebrews, and finally he read a Gospel text from Luke. He closed the book, and there was a long silence. Nicole thought he was finished.
“Some of you know hymns written by a pastor from London,” Gordon finally began, “a gentleman named John Newton.” There was a stirring of recognition around her.
“What you may not know is that John Newton once was a sailor like we are.” The murmur across the deck held astonishment. “I have had occasion to study this man’s life, for there is much about the man that both comforts and challenges me. He was of small beginnings, as am I. With little formal education, he served upon a merchant vessel for eight years before His Majesty’s Navy demanded his services. He was press-ganged onto a man-of-war, the Harwich. He attempted to escape when the ship berthed at Plymouth, but he was captured and publicly flogged.”
Again there was a rustle among the sailors. Many of them had been press-ganged when this ship was taken, and they still bore the scars of both lash and chain. “When his time was up,” Gordon continued, “he joined another vessel bound for Africa. He took service under a slave dealer. He rose to captain of his own vessel and became known for his unbelief, his rage, his blasphemy, his merciless command of both his seamen and his slaves.”
The Beloved Land Page 14