Five Sisters

by Leen Elle

  "I didn't mean to, I just . . ."

  "It's not so hard to forget about stupid ol' Nathaniel West, is it? I don't make much of an impression, do I?" He slipped the marbles back into the sack and looked up at her. His gray eyes were ablaze with a fiery she recognized from their previous meetings. "When you're talking and laughing and having a merry old time with loads of handsome sailors, it's not hard to forget about poor Nathaniel, is it!"

  "Please don't be angry," Gail pleaded, "I didn't forget you I just . . ."

  "You didn't forget me? If there's one thing I hate Gail St. James, it's a liar! And you've lied twice to me today! You told me you'd come back after dinner, but you lied! You told me you didn't forget, but you're lying now, aren't you? Tell the truth! Who wants a friend that's going to lie to them! I certainly don't! So take back your stupid marbles!" He threw the sack at Gail, hitting her square in the chest.

  Gail didn't know what to say. If she'd known that what she'd done would hurt him so much, she would have made sure she remembered. But alas, it was too late for that now.

  "I'm sorry," Gail murmured, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

  "You haven't hurt me. You've forgotten me. Now get out of my room this instant and leave me be!"

  Gail backed out of the room, closed the door, and ran straight to her bed. She buried her face beneath the covers and just lied there, motionless, but thinking. For a few moments the room was silent, but then Gail heard footsteps on the stairs. They stopped at the bottom, and then began to walk into the girls' bedroom. Gail knew from the soft, almost inaudible, humming, it must be Emy.

  "Are you alright, Gail?" she asked slowly, peering up at her sister who was now looking like an ostrich with its head beneath the surface.

  Gail removed the blankets, leaving her head a mass of messy, tangled auburn locks.

  "He hates me," she whimpered, "I thought everything was going so well, but I've ruined it. He hates me again."

  Emy climbed up ladder opposite to Nora's bed and sat with her feet hanging over the edge, "What's happened? Who hates you? You're not talking about Nathaniel, are you?"

  Gail nodded and told Emy all that had happened in one long breath. Once she was through, Gail lied back on the bed and buried her face in her pillow.

  Emy thought the situation over a second before asking wearily, "Well you can't really blame him, can you?"

  "What do you mean?" came Gail's muffled voice.

  "Oh, I don't know . . ." Emy began, "It's just that if I'd been through all he's been through I wouldn't want to be forgotten either. His parents don't even think about him; they go off to parties and social events, dancing and laughing and never once thinking about their poor son. Just imagine if you'd been born with whatever disease he has. Mother and father would have been at your side every instant of the day, worrying about your health, taking you to every doctor they could find, and making sure you never felt terribly dismal or bored. They would never, ever, not in a million years, forget you.

  "Nathaniel thought you were very nice, I suppose, after you came to play checkers with him and he was hoping very much to see you again. He never once imagined that you'd be like his parents and forget him so easily just because you'd found some enjoyment in listening to the sailors tell some silly little jokes."

  Gail rolled over and faced the ceiling. Strands of red hair covered her face.

  Emy sighed, "I don't know what you can do about it know though. He seems rather stubborn and it'll be hard to gain his trust again. I suppose you could try to get him to play a game again, if he seemed to like it. But I'd wait until tomorrow, when's he's not so angry."

  "Yes, I suppose you're right," Gail agreed, "I'll go back tomorrow."

  CHAPTER 10

  A Troubled and Doubtful Mary

  "Would you like something to drink, Mary?" asked Cary, kneeling down beside her chair.

  "That would be lovely," she replied, fanning her dark eyelashes coquettishly, "Lemonade, please."

  Cary rushed off, but Mary still found herself surrounded by three other sailors, each of them eager to dote upon the young beauty. Sara had warned Mary against leading the men on when she couldn't ever pursue anything with them, but Mary quickly dismissed her sister's concerns, saying she wasn't truly doing anything wrong.

  "Such a horrible day," Mary pouted, "Wherever has the sun gone?"

  "'Spect a storm's coming soon," examined Dick Cohen, "S'about time."

  "How bad are the storms out here on the ocean?" Mary asked, a bit of uncertainty in her voice, "We're not going to, you know . . . tip over or anything, are we?"

  Buddy Ross laughed, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about such things, Mary. We'll be fine. You and your sisters can sit downstairs and let us men take care of all the hard stuff."

  "Well that's a relief," Mary grinned, "But I should never have been worried with such big, strong sailors around. How silly of me!"

  The men laughed, hanging on her every word, as Cary returned with the lemonade. Mary thanked him and sipped the cool drink daintily.

  "Are you really getting married soon?" Dick asked sadly.

  "Yes," Mary nodded, "But he's a wonderful man I'm sure you'd all like him very much. His name is Ethan Lindsey."

  "What does he do?" Noah questioned.

  "He's studying to be a doctor," replied Mary, "But he's still got a few years of schooling left to go."

  "But you don't want a schoolboy, do you, Mary?" Buddy stuck his chest out, "You want a strong sailor, that can protect you."

  Mary giggled, "And whatever do I need protecting from?"

  "From everything. From storms and from burglars."

  "From escaped convicts and psychos."

  "From bears and lions."

  Mary flashed a bright smile, "What imaginations you do have!"

  "Does this Lindsey know how lucky he is, to have a girl like you, Mary?" Cary asked, taking her hand.

  "Would he care very much if you didn't get off at Brighton?" his brother Noah pondered, "Would he care if you came along on another voyage with us?"

  "Of course he would!" Mary laughed.

  "We wish you could stay with us, Mary," Buddy said, his eyes wide and earnest, "You're always welcome to come back on Ol' Vi with us if things with this Lindsey man don't work out."

  "You're all very sweet," Mary sighed, with a smile, "But I can't stay with you. I could never live on a ship forever. I need a home."

  "But if this Lindsey turns out to be some sort of creep, do you promise you'll come back?"

  "He's not a creep, Cary!" Mary laughed, "And he's never going to be a creep."

  "But if he does . . ."

  "If he does, then I'll make up my mind when it happens. But I can assure you that I won't forget your offer," Mary said, "But by that time you probably won't even want me anymore! You'll all have wives and children of your own."

  "No, we'll wait for you, Mary," Dick replied, "And besides, most of us probably won't even be getting married anyway. We'll just stay on this ship like hermits and never have a family, like Charlie."

  "It's not such bad life really," Noah agreed, "If you think about it."

  "We can just stay on here and travel around till the day we die," Cary nodded.

  "Sounds good to me," Buddy affirmed.

  "But that's a terrible life!" Mary argued, "Don't you ever want to fall in love and have a family and a house?"

  "We've already got a family," Dick replied, "We're all like brothers and Charlie's the kind uncle who lets us live with him. And we've got a house too. Violet's the only home I've got. And love . . . Well, I suppose it'd be nice to fall in love, but it's not so easy when you rarely have the chance to meet women. You and your sisters are the first girls we've lived near in years."

  Mary smiled softly, "Maybe it's not such a bad life after all. Sometimes, I must admit, it does sound rather appealing to stay here with you boys and never have the responsibilities of being a wife and a mother."

  "That's the spirit!" Cary
whooped.

  Mary continued, "And sometimes I think that perhaps Ethan isn't the man for me. Perhaps we're rushing into things."

  "But I thought you said you loved him," Buddy replied.

  "I . . . . I do," Mary nodded, but her voice was hesitant.

  A strong gust of wind billowed the white sails and blew Emy's light brown waves behind her as she looked out over the front of the ship. Dark, angry clouds hung overhead and the ocean was dark with mysterious waves.

  Emy had been sulking around the ship for days, and today was no different.

  She'd known for some time now that she was in love with him. It didn't come as a surprise, for she'd known since the first day they met. But suddenly she felt as though she was simply a silly girl caught up in a case of unrequited love.

  She'd never felt so foolish and naïve in her entire life. How could she have ever thought that someday he might possibly love her back? Besides the fact that he was several years older than her and quite a bit more handsome, she'd also barely spoken more than a few words to him. He thought she was just a silly young girl, quite and reserved, and Emy knew he would never love her as she'd once hoped.

  She used to dream that perhaps one day they'd fall in love, get married, and have children, but that dream had long since fled from her mind. He could never love her.

  No matter what anybody said she knew what the truth was. She knew that if he were to ever marry a girl by the name of St. James, it would be her sister. Never her. Never Emy.

  Curled up in Charlie's chair, with a sweater around her shoulders and her hair tied back, Sara was contently reading without a care in the world. She could hear the sailors whistling in the distance, as they worked, and the ever so silent "tick-tock" of the clock upon the desk.

  With a creak, the door of the office opened and Charlie entered. His graying, light brown hair was rather floppy and rumpled and the drab navy sweater he wore had a hole on the sleeve.

  Sara looked up, "'Afternoon, Charlie. Am I in your way?"

  "No, no," he shook his head, and held up a role of parchment, "I just wanted to put this away."

  "What is it?"

  "A map."

  "Can I see it?"

  Charlie nodded and walked up behind her, removing the string that held the map in a role and spreading the paper out upon the desk in front of Sara. The parchment was old and withered, and the ink was fading, but it still served as a rather reliable map.

  Charlie's hand rested on Sara's shoulder as he pointed to a dot on the left side of the map, "There's Laraford. And here's Brighton," he pointed to a dot on the opposite side of the paper, "So we . . ." his finger trailed along a large open space Sara knew must be the ocean, "Are somewhere around here."

  "How long do you think it will take to get there?"

  "Depends on the weather," Charlie replied, "But I'm expecting us to arrive in around two months. Perhaps a little longer."

  Sara nodded.

  "Why?" Charlie grinned, "Are you tired of life on the sea already?"

  "Oh no, no, no," Sara replied, smiling back, "I love it here."

  Charlie raised an eyebrow skeptically.

  "I do! Really, I do!" Sara assured, "I'll admit that it took a little while to get used to, but I love it here now. I could live here forever if I had to."

  "And how are your sisters faring?"

  "Well . . . ."

  Charlie laughed.

  "No, it's not so bad," Sara grinned, "I think Gail's doing fantastically. She loves acting like the little pirate and climbing up to the crow's nest and fishing as if she's one of the sailors. But that's no surprise to you, I suppose."

  Charlie shook his head, and smiled.

  "And Nora's doing alright as well, I think. But Mary . . . Well, Mary's just not used to being so confined in one space. She misses Ethan terribly too, so that makes it harder. And I believe Emy would rather be on land by now as well. She likes the stability of a firm ground beneath her feet, not the uncertain ocean. She misses having her privacy too, I think, because it's not so easy to be alone on a ship with sixteen sailors, five girls, and one captain, is it?"

  "No, it's not," Charlie agreed, picking up the map, rolling it back up, and tying it with string.

  "You've got a bit of a hole there, haven't you?" Sara said with a small grin, pointing at the sleeve of Charlie's sweater.

  "Yes, I suppose I have," Charlie agreed, scratching his head.

  "If you like, I could mend it for you."

  "Oh you don't have to do that."

  "No, really. I'd like too. It'll give me something to do, and it's no trouble at all. I could . . ."

  But Sara wasn't able to continue, because at that moment the door opened and with a gust of wind a white-faced Nora entered.

  "I'm sorry if I've interrupted anything," she said quickly, "But Mary is, er . . . Well, she's not feeling so well and she wants to see you Sara."

  "Is it bad?" Charlie questioned.

  "No," Nora shook her head, "No, it's not very bad, I can assure you, Charlie. She's just . . . She's got a bit of a headache, is all."

  Sara stood up and followed Nora downstairs and into the girls' room. Emy and Gail were already sitting beside Mary's bed. A lump beneath the blankets and a mass of dark curls was all Sara could see of Mary.

  "She won't tell us what's wrong," Nora explained, "She just keeps mumbling about Ethan and marriage and saying she wants to see you, Sara."

  Sara nodded, "Alright. I'll take care of it. You girls go on upstairs, alright?"

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. Quite sure," Sara replied, "She'll be fine. Don't worry."

  Her three younger sisters walked slowly and rather unwillingly out of the room and shut the door behind them, leaving the room silent enough that Sara could hear soft, muffled sobs coming from Mary's bed.

  She walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, and then brushed a few ringlets out of Mary's face. Her sister's eyes were red and tear-stained and she looked more miserable than Sara had seen her in years.

  "What's wrong?" Sara asked, "Nora said you weren't feeling well. Are you ill?"

  Mary shook her head and mumbled, "No."

  "Then what's the matter?"

  "I don't know what I was thinking," Mary weeped, "I don't know why I did it."

  "Did what?"

  "I'm such a fool, Sara. I didn't even think before I answered him."

  "Are you talking about Ethan?"

  "He probably doesn't even love me," Mary murmured, "He probably doesn't even want to marry me."

  "What are you talking about? He's mad about you, Mary! He's completely and utterly in love with you and nothing, not even time, is going to change that."

  "No," Mary sobbed, "No. He doesn't. He only thinks he does because he's caught up in lust and attraction and he's feeling pressured by his parents to get married and start a family. But he doesn't really love me."

  "Why in the world would you think that?"

  "Because it's true," Mary murmured, "And do you know what else I've realized? I don't love him either."

  "Mary!" Sara gasped, "I don't know what's gotten in to you but you're talking like a mad woman."

  "No, I'm not. I'm only saying what's true. I don't love him," Mary sighed, "I don't love Ethan Lindsey and it's about time I realized that. I only thought I loved him because he seemed so perfect. He was so kind and handsome and smart, that I fooled myself into thinking that we were in love. And when he asked me to marry him, I replied that I would without evening thinking on it. I felt like if I didn't I'd never have the chance to get married again. I'm already twenty-one years old, and it's not everyday that you meet a man as wonderful as Ethan. But it was horrible of me to accept his proposal when I don't even love him."

  "You're just getting cold feet, Mary," Sara assured, "You do love Ethan, and he does love you. You most certainly were not a fool to accept his proposal. Almost all brides start to regret their decision and doubt themselves at some point or another before the we
dding. You'll get over it in a few days. It'll just take a little time for you to see that you and Ethan really are meant to be together."

  "You don't understand, Sara," Mary wailed, "This isn't a phase! I don't love Ethan and I don't want to marry him and I was been a terrible, terrible fool to ever say yes in the first place. Oh whatever am I going to do?"

  Sara paused for a moment before deciding, "You're going to get some rest and we'll sort this all out later, alright?"

  "But Sara I . . ."

  "You're not feeling well, Mary, and you need to clear your head. Tomorrow I'm sure you'll forget all about this. But for now why don't you get some sleep?"

  Mary sighed, but finally agreed, and Sara left her alone to sort out her thoughts.

  When Sara returned to Charlie's office she found him sitting at his desk looking over a few papers. He wore a different shirt and his navy sweater was slung over the back of his chair.

  As soon as he saw Sara he asked, "Is Mary alright?"

  "Yes, yes," Sara nodded, "She's fine. She's just a bit . . . a bit troubled in her thoughts at the moment. But she'll be alright soon, I think."

  "I'm glad," said Charlie. He then held up the sweater, "Since you seemed rather willing to mend that hole, I thought . . ."

  "Oh yes," Sara took the sweater, "I'd love to."

  Because the hole was rather large, it couldn't simply be stitched back together but would need to be repaired with a patch. Sara fetched her sewing supplies as well as a spare piece of plaid flannel fabric from downstairs and then returned to Charlie's office, taking a seat on the old sofa. It, too, had many holes, and springs were sticking out at random spots. There were several large coffee stains upon it as well, and Sara could see that Charlie was a bit embarrassed of the battered old sofa, but Sara made sure to pay it no mind. She sat down and began to sew the flannel over the hole in the sweater's sleeve.

  Although she tried to tell herself that she was right, and that Mary really did love Ethan, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps everything Mary had said was true. She had made some great points.

  Before Ethan ever came along, Mary was always very desperate to meet someone and fall in love and get married. She felt that if she didn't find someone soon, she'd grow old alone and would become an old maid. So when she met Ethan, who was seemingly perfect- polite, amiable, attractive, wealthy, and intelligent- she and her sisters all knew he had to be the one. Perhaps Mary had forced herself to love him. Perhaps she only said yes because she knew that marrying into a family like the Lindseys would help her and her sisters live a more comfortable life, free of money worries.