by Amy Rognlie
“I’m afraid I need to get back to my ship, but thank you anyway,” Ben apologized. “Raine, may I speak with you a moment?”
Raine’s aunt and uncle graciously excused themselves, leaving Ben and Raine alone. “I need to stay on the ship tonight, Raine. The crew is waiting for some last-minute instructions from me before I turn the ship over to the first mate and they take their leave. I’ll be back to see you at the end of the week. That should give you some time to get settled in and. . .”
“But I’ll miss you!” she blurted. She lowered her eyes in embarrassment, and he knew she missed the tenderness he couldn’t hide at her impulsive words.
Lifting her chin, he saw a hint of tears shimmering in her dusky green eyes. “I’ll miss you, too, love,” he murmured, pulling her into his embrace. Feeling her soft lips tremble beneath his, he kissed her deeply, the scent of her warm skin making his blood pound. He put her from him then, breathing hard. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he whispered huskily.
She gazed up at him, her heart in her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that, Raine,” he groaned, longing to crush her to him again.
She touched her fingertips to his lips. “I’ll see you soon, Ben,” she whispered.
He waved from the carriage, the light scent of lilacs still clinging to his senses. If you had any sense, you’d marry that woman right now.
❧
Raine waved as Ben’s carriage rolled away from her. You are entirely too attached to that man, she scolded herself as she watched him turn the horses. She stood rooted to the spot until he was out of sight. Entering into the dim coolness of the foyer, she braced herself for the barrage of questions that was sure to come.
“Raine! Who is Ben? Is he a captain of a ship? When did you. . .”
“Whoa, Grace.” Uncle John chuckled. “Let’s let the little gal get settled before we interrogate her.”
Raine smiled at her uncle gratefully, enjoying his Ameri-canized accent. “We’ll have a heart to heart talk later, Auntie Grace. I promise.”
“I’m sorry, dear,” her aunt apologized. “It’s just that we’re so glad to see you, and your Ben is so handsome, and. . .”
Uncle John winked at Raine. “Why don’t you go and see about that lemonade while I help Raine with her things?” Giving his wife no time to reply, he started up the stairs. “Coming, Raine?”
Raine nodded. “We’ll be down in a minute, Auntie,” she called to her aunt who had already disappeared down the hallway.
❧
“So. Start at the beginning, Raine.” They were all seated at the enormous oak table with tall glasses of lemonade.
“It’s a long story,” Raine warned them.
“We have plenty of time,” Grace assured her. “Besides, we haven’t seen you in years.”
“Well, let’s see,” Raine began. “You two moved to America in. . .”
“1886.”
“So that was while Mama was still living and. . .”
“We’re so sorry we couldn’t come for her funeral, Raine,” Grace interrupted again. “I felt so bad being so far away at a time like that.”
“I’m sure you would have been there if you could,” Raine said soothingly. “We surely felt your prayers.”
“How’s that scalawag brother of yours?” Uncle John asked, as though he were trying to change the subject tactfully. “We haven’t heard much news about him lately. ’Course we haven’t heard much news at all.”
Raine stared at them. Was it possible they didn’t know about Paul? “Papa didn’t tell you about him?” she asked cautiously.
“No.” Grace looked puzzled. “The last we heard, he was sailing, and we assumed that he was happy and well. Oh dear, did something happen to him?”
Raine stared at her aunt. Something is wrong here. . .“How did you know Paul was a sailor?” she asked in a strained voice.
“Why, your papa told us in one of his letters a few years back. Raine, are you ill, dear?”
Raine was trembling. How could Papa have known where Paul was? Could he have known all this time? Why didn’t you tell me, Papa? Oh Paul. . . A wave of darkness rushed over her.
“She’s so pale, John.” Raine heard her aunt’s hushed voice.
“Shh, she’s coming to.”
Raine sat up, feeling like a hive full of bees was buzzing in her head. Realizing she was no longer at the table, she looked questioningly at John.
“You fainted, honey. I carried you to the sofa.”
How embarrassing. She had never fainted before in her life. Suddenly recalling the conversation that had prompted her shock, she buried her face in her hands.
Aunt Grace enfolded her in a firm embrace. “It’s going to be all right, Raine. Go ahead and cry.”
A dam broke inside of Raine at her aunt’s motherly touch. Silent weeping gave way to great heaving sobs. It had been so long since she had felt another woman’s comforting touch.
Finally collecting herself, she looked up at her aunt. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Do you feel like talking about it, dear, or do you just want to rest now?” Grace’s concern was evident on her face.
“I’m fine now.” Raine gave her a watery smile. “It was just such a shock.”
“I’m afraid we don’t understand what’s going on here, Raine,” her uncle said.
“I don’t know if I understand either, Uncle John,” Raine said wryly. “But I’ll explain what I know.”
She started at the beginning, describing the circumstances that led to Paul leaving home. Tears of anger stood in Grace’s eyes as her niece recounted the story.
“I’d like to take that brother of mine over my knee,” Raine heard her mutter at one point.
“After that,” Raine concluded her story, “I received one letter from him that was postmarked in Boston, but that was all until Ben brought me the locket.”
Grace sat up abruptly as Raine ended her story. “Boston!” She looked at her husband. “Remember that time I thought I saw him outside that—” She broke off and her forehead puckered.
“You thought you saw Paul?” Raine asked eagerly. “When?”
Grace shook her head. “It was some years ago. I was looking out the window of the carriage, on my way to the dressmaker’s, and I saw a man come out of a tavern. He was. . . well, from the way he walked, he was obviously under the influence. But when I first looked at him, I thought I recognized him. He looked just like Paul—but it was so quick. I told the driver to stop and go back, but the man, whoever he was, had disappeared. When I got home, your uncle told me I must have been imagining things, and I put it out of my mind.” She shook her head again. “So he did come here, just like your father told us. Why wouldn’t he have come to see us at least once?”
“Father said. . .? You knew. . .?” Raine’s head whirled with confusion. Suddenly it was all too much for her. “I think I need to get some rest,” she said apologetically. “Maybe a good night’s sleep will help me sort all of this out.”
“I think that’s a good idea, dear.” Grace patted Raine’s cheek softly. “We can talk more tomorrow. Why don’t you just head upstairs, and I’ll. . .”
“Wait, Grace.” John put a large hand on each woman’s shoulder. “I think we should pray before Raine goes upstairs.”
Raine nodded gratefully. “I would like that very much, Uncle John.” She dashed away a tear, and joined hands with her aunt and uncle.
“Dear Father,” John began, “thank You for bringing Raine here safely. You are so good to us, Lord. Now I ask that You give us peace concerning Paul. Let Raine especially feel Your peace this evening, and allow her to have a restful night’s sleep. Please minister to Paul wherever he is. Keep him safe, and draw him continually to You. . .”
Raine felt a sense of peace wash over her as she listened to her uncle’s heartfelt prayer. “Yes, Father,” she whispered.
“And touch the young man Ben wherever he is tonight,” her uncle con
tinued. “Let him feel Your love in a way he’s never felt it before. Thank You for hearing us, Father. In Jesus’ name, amen.” John cleared his throat. “Now, off to bed with you, young lady!”
“Thank you, Uncle John.” Halfway up the stairs, Raine couldn’t resist turning around. “Why did you pray for Ben?” she asked curiously.
Uncle John winked. “Good night, Raine.”
Raine didn’t think she’d be able to rest at all, but sleep overtook her quickly, the words of her uncle’s prayer ringing in her ears.
❧
“Rise and shine!” Raine’s eyes flew open. The sun was streaming in through the window, and Aunt Grace was knocking on her door.
“Come in, Auntie,” she called.
Grace perched on the side of Raine’s bed. “How did you sleep, dear?”
“Very soundly.” Raine grinned.
“Good!” Grace was pleased. “Come down and have breakfast with us before your uncle leaves for the office.” Grace paused at the door. “After all, there’s still some things we need to talk about,” she said in mock sternness, giving Raine a pointed look.
“I know, I know. I’ll tell you all about Ben. Now let me get ready for breakfast!” Raine shooed her aunt out the door. She was anxious to learn what her father had told her aunt and uncle, but the thought of Ben made her smile. She pictured his blue eyes and golden hair as she hurriedly dressed. The thought of his good-bye kiss yesterday did funny things to her insides. How could she miss him so much already?
“Well now, here’s the world traveler!” Raine’s uncle greeted her cheerily. “How did you like sailing, anyway? I didn’t get a chance to ask you yesterday.”
Raine considered the question. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be at sea all the time, but I did enjoy the voyage for the most part.”
“Especially with such a handsome man for a captain!” Grace noted.
“Grace!”
“It’s all right, Uncle John. Auntie is dying to hear about Ben, so I’d better oblige her or we’ll never hear the end of it.”
John rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I suppose.”
Grace settled into a chair, pouring herself a cup of tea. “I’m ready.” Raine related the story of how she’d met Ben and all that had happened since then, enjoying her aunt’s eager expression.
“And?” Grace prompted when Raine stopped talking.
“And what?” Raine hedged, knowing what question was coming next.
“Do you love him?”
“Grace!” Uncle John scolded again.
Raine blushed and dropped her eyes, but not before her aunt saw the answer to her question.
“I knew it!” Grace said excitedly. “Does he love you, child?”
“I think so, Auntie.” Raine answered truthfully. “We’ve never talked about it, but. . .”
“Does Captain Ben love our Lord?” Uncle John asked seriously.
Raine’s face was troubled. “Not yet, Uncle John. But he wants to.” Raine explained Ben’s past to them, her eyes softening as she remembered the yearning that had been in Ben’s voice.
“Well, wanting to know God is the best place to start,” John said thoughtfully. “I’ll be praying for him.”
Raine smiled her gratitude at the two dear people across the table from her. “I love you two,” she said quietly. “And now I need to know what my father told you.”
“Show Ray the letters from Richard,” Uncle John said to his wife. “Maybe they will help clear up some of the questions.” He got up and gave Raine a peck on the cheek. “You’re a special gal.” Kissing his wife as well, he headed for the door.
Raine looked at her aunt eagerly. “Did you save all my father’s letters?”
“I think so.” Her aunt was digging in the desk drawer. “Yes, here they are.” Raine grasped the packet of letters from her father, her heart thudding at the possibility of what they might hold.
“Here, let me help you with the dishes, Aunt Grace,” she offered, reluctantly laying the letters down as she realized her aunt was clearing the table.
“No, no, I’m fine. You just go on ahead upstairs. Take your time.” Grace fairly pushed her niece from the kitchen.
Raine sat at the desk in her room, her hands trembling. Breathing a quick prayer for strength, she slowly opened the first letter.
Dear Grace and John,
Hope this letter finds you both well. We are all fine here. Paul and Raine are doing well in school, and Ellen is. . .
Glancing at the date, Raine realized that this letter had been written long before Paul had left home. Laying it aside, she sorted the rest of the letters by date, then started reading with the ones dated the year Paul left.
The first letter she read contained nothing but chatty, newsy information about the church, the weather, and so on. The next was the same, and Raine laid it aside with a sense of disappointment. Scanning the third letter quickly, her brother’s name caught her eye. Tucked in among some pleasantries, her father had written casually, Paul has left home to find work. He’ll be gone for some time. Left home to find work! Raine was appalled at her father’s twisting of the truth. She hastily read the rest of the letter, but found no more reference to Paul. She put it down in growing anger.
The next three letters gave just passing mention of Paul, saying only that he would still be away for a while. Raine opened the next letter with a sigh of frustration, suddenly a sentence leapt out at her.
Paul is living in Boston when he’s not at sea. Perhaps he will come and visit you, but I hear he’s pretty busy.
Raine clenched her teeth. How could he? How could Papa have known where Paul was and not told her? She looked at the date at the top of the letter. She was still living at home, she realized.
Scanning two or three more letters, she felt nauseated at the trivial manner her father spoke of her beloved brother. Paul is enjoying the life of a sailor and Paul is thriving in Boston. And meanwhile Raine hadn’t even known for certain if Paul was still alive.
Abruptly, a thought struck her. What if Papa had made all of this up? What if he really didn’t know what Paul was doing all that time, but he wanted to make it sound like he did?
Hurriedly opening another letter, Raine froze as she read the first line.
Thank God, Paul survived the sinking of his ship, the Aramathea.
Raine read the words again, letting their meaning soak into her shocked brain. Her brother was alive! Putting her head down on the desk, she wept with thankfulness. Rejoicing at the news that she had waited so long to hear, it took her a few moments to react to the fact that her father must have known where Paul was all along. Her anger began to build. If Papa knew that Paul had survived the sinking of the Aramathea, then he must know where he is now, she reasoned.
Why didn’t you tell me, Papa? Why did you let me wonder in agony all this time, not knowing if my brother was dead or alive? Then a new thought jolted her. If Paul is alive, why hasn’t he contacted me? If he wrote to Papa, why wouldn’t he want me to know about it? She shook her head as if to clear out the questions. Surely Paul would want her to know where he was, wouldn’t he?
She stood up and stretched. I can’t make any sense of all this. She skimmed the rest of the letters, surprised to see that there were no more references to Paul, except in the last letter which said only, Haven’t heard from Paul in a while.
She gathered the letters into a neat stack. I guess I’ll just have to wait until Ben can help me follow the directions in the locket, she decided. It seemed forever since she had said good-bye to him in front of Uncle John’s house.
❧
“How would you like to see some of the sights of our fair city tomorrow, Raine?” John smiled at his niece later that day.
Raine nodded with enthusiasm, her mouth full of banana bread. She would be fat and lazy if she stayed at Aunt Grace’s much longer.
“First we’ll go see Paul Revere’s grave at the Old Granary Burial Ground. Then perhaps a drive down by the Charles
River would be in order. After that we’ll stop for tea at. . .”
“We don’t want to wear her out the first week she’s here, John.”
“Don’t worry about me, Auntie. I’m used to being busy.”
Though she would not have admitted it, by the next afternoon Raine was more than happy to stop for tea. In one morning’s time, she had learned more American history than in all her years of schooling. Her favorite place by far had been the Park Street Church where Uncle John regaled them with an account of the church’s colorful past.
“They call this ‘Brimstone Corner,’ ” he had said, indicating the site. “I guess that’s because of all the fiery sermons preached here over the years.” He chuckled. “Actually, I think it’s because brimstone used for making gunpowder was stored in the church’s basement during the War of 1812.”
“And this church was the place where ‘America the Beautiful’ was first sung in public.” Grace added proudly.
John nodded. “That’s true. It’s also the only church I know of that had a fountain in the pastor’s study.”
“What?” Raine lifted her eyebrows. This she had to hear.
“Yes, ma’am. A few years ago, I think it was 1895 or so, a workman in the Tremont Street Subway accidentally stuck his pick into a huge water main. A geyser spurted upwards so forcefully that it broke the windows out of the pastor’s study. The whole room was filled with mud.”
“You’re teasing me, Uncle John.”
“No, I’m not! We were there for the evening service.” He chuckled. “The reverend was not amused. He called the subway ‘an infernal hole’ and ‘an unchristian outrage.’ ” Uncle John was clearly tickled.
“That poor man.” Aunt Grace sighed. “We haven’t seen him in years. I hope he has been able to overcome the shock.”
Raine giggled.
They savored their tea, enjoying each other’s company. Soon the afternoon found them strolling along on Pinckney Street. Almost ready to call it a day, the threesome had decided to stop and admire the lovely homes that lined the famous street.