by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
Your father and I watched you mourn and weep over that young man for three years. No one can fault you in your devotion to him. But now you’ve got beyond that.”
“But, Mother, it’s Edward.” Deborah grasped her mother’s arm, fighting the unbearable confusion that swirled inside her.
“Well, yes, dear.” Her mother glanced at her, then back at Abigail. “Of course we’re thrilled that he has returned, but your sister hasn’t entered into this betrothal with Jacob lightly. It’s not something to cast aside—”
“But she loved Edward first.” Deborah saw the agony in her sister’s eyes as she spoke and clamped her lips together, determined to say no more on the matter. This was Abigail’s dilemma, not hers. Still, she couldn’t imagine a better surprise than to learn that Edward, whom she’d always adored, was still alive. Deborah had been only fifteen when the news of Edward’s death came, but she had felt her heart would break along with Abby’s. He was such a fine young man. Deborah knew that if she ever gave her love to a man, he would be a man much like Edward Hunter.
“Couldn’t Father just tell him?” Abigail pleaded.
Mother frowned. “Really, Abby! I sent Elizabeth around to ask your father to come home as soon as he can, but he has no inkling of the situation. And he might not be able to leave his office for some time if there are a lot of patients. You mustn’t keep that young man waiting.”
Abigail stood and walked with wooden steps toward the looking glass.
“Your face is pale,” Mother murmured. “Let me help you freshen up. Debbie—” She turned, and Deborah looked toward her. Mother’s usual calm expression had fled, and her agitation was nearly as marked as Abigail’s dismay.
“Debbie, go down and tell Elizabeth to take him some—no, wait. Elizabeth’s gone to fetch your father. You help your sister finish her hairdo, and I’ll go and greet Edward myself and see that he has a glass of cider. Don’t be long now, Abby.”
Mother swept from the room, and Deborah approached Abigail’s chair.
“Would you like me to pin up the last few locks?”
“Oh, would you?”
Deborah reached for the silver-backed brush. Her gaze met that of her sister in the wall mirror. “Try to smile when you greet him, Abby. You look like a terrified rabbit.”
“Oh, Debbie, I’m not sure I want to see Edward.”
“That’s silly. You’ll have to see him sometime. He’s home to stay.”
Tears escaped the corners of Abigail’s eyes and trailed down her cheeks. “But it’s been so long. Debbie, I was seventeen when he left.”
“I know.” Deborah sank to her knees and pulled Abigail into her embrace.
Abby sobbed and squeezed her, then pulled away. “I’ll ruin your dress.”
“Here.” Deborah reached for a muslin handkerchief on the dressing table and placed it in Abigail’s hand.
“If only Mr. Hunter hadn’t sent him away,” Abigail moaned.
“You know he wanted his son to learn every aspect of the business before he began running it,” Deborah said. “Edward was preparing to take over when his father retired. His commission as an officer on the Egret was intended to give him the experience he’d need to head a shipping company. The men wouldn’t have respected him if he’d never been to sea.”
“I know, but he’d been on one voyage with his father already. Why did Mr. Hunter have to send Edward on that horrid voyage to the Pacific?”
Deborah sighed. “Maturity, Abby. Experience. Look at Jacob. He was a lad, too, when the Egret left. But now he’s a man, and he understands the business perfectly, so he’s able—” She stopped and looked into Abigail’s stricken face.
“What will happen at Hunter Shipping now? They’ve given Jacob the place Edward would have had if he’d lived. I mean, if he’d—oh, Debbie, this is too awful, and I’m confused.”
“There, now, you can’t keep crying. Your eyes will be puffy and bloodshot. And you can’t blame Mr. Hunter. The news devastated all of us, and it was his own son who went down with the Egret in that brutal storm. Or at least, we all thought he did. Jacob and the other men in his boat survived, and we all praised God for that. You can’t hold it against Mr. Hunter for taking his nephew into the office afterward, when he thought his only son was lost.”
“Edward’s drowning broke his poor father’s heart.”
“Yes.” Deborah picked up the hairbrush and began once more to pull it through Abigail’s tresses, then pinned her hair up quickly. “If only Mr. Hunter had lived to see this day.”
“He would be so happy,” Abigail whispered.
“He certainly would be. There.”
Abigail examined her image in the mirror, blotted the traces of tears from her cheeks, and stood.
“I guess it’s time.”
Chapter 2
Edward, what a joy to see you again!” Mrs. Bowman bustled into the parlor, and Edward jumped up.
“Thank you. I’m grateful to be here, ma’am.”
She set down the tray she carried, took his hand, and smiled up at him. “Abigail will be right down. She was surprised at the news, of course. You understand.”
“Of course.” He sat when his hostess sat, perching on the edge of the upholstered chair, and accepted the cold glass of sweet cider she offered him.
“You must have been through a nightmare.”
“Yes, ma’am. A very long nightmare.” He wondered if he ought to launch into his story or wait until Abigail appeared.
From the hallway, he heard the front door open and close, and his hostess sprang up again. “That must be Dr. Bowman. Will you excuse me just a moment, Edward? I know he’d love to see you.”
Edward stood up but said nothing as she hurried from the room. This was getting increasingly chaotic. All he’d wanted was a glimpse of Abigail’s face and a moment alone with her, but he should have known he would have to wade through her family first.
The murmur of voices reached him, and then Dr. Bowman’s deep voice rose in shock and pleasure. “What? You don’t mean it!”
Abigail’s father strode across the threshold and straight toward him, his hand outstretched in welcome.
“Edward! What a wonderful surprise!” The older man shook his hand with vigor, and Edward eyed him cautiously. He hadn’t changed much. Perhaps his hair held a bit more gray. His square face bore the interested expression that inspired confidence in his patients. Edward had always liked the physician but was somewhat intimidated five years earlier, viewing him as his future father-in-law. His persistence and diligent labor in Hunter Shipping’s office and warehouse had finally convinced Dr. Bowman that he was acceptable husband material for Abigail. Her father had relented and permitted the engagement just before Edward left on his voyage.
“It’s good to see you, sir.”
“Sit down.” The doctor waved toward his chair, and Edward resumed his seat, more nervous than ever, as Dr. Bowman took a place on the sofa.
Mrs. Bowman, who had entered the room behind her husband, gave Edward a nod and a smile. “You’ll excuse me, won’t you? I must go and give some instructions about dinner to the hired girl.”
“You’ve moved your practice out of the house, sir?” Edward asked.
“Yes, I’ve got a small surgery down on Union Street now. Convenient for the patients, and it saves the family the disturbance of all those people coming to the house. The short walk there and back gives me some exercise.”
“You look well, sir.”
“Thank you. I can’t say as much for you.” The doctor looked him over with a professional eye, and Edward tried not to fidget.
“So, tell me: What happened to you when the Egret foundered? And better yet, what miracle has restored you to us now?”
Edward decided that an abbreviated version of his adventure was in order. He would probably have to tell the story many times in the next few days, but short of Abigail herself, Dr. Bowman might be his most important audience.
“Well, sir, we
’d done our trading and were ready to start home. Almost four years ago it was. We hit bad weather, which is not unusual, but it was a wild gale. The storm buffeted us about, and we lost a great deal of rigging; finally the mainmast went down. The captain could see the ship was lost, and he urged us all to get into the boats.”
The doctor placed his elbow on the arm of the sofa and leaned his chin on his hand, watching Edward with his avid dark eyes.
Like Deborah’s eyes, Edward thought. Always searching. Wants to know everything.
“Your cousin Jacob told us how you had to abandon ship,” Dr. Bowman said.
“I heard he survived. I’m thankful for that,” Edward said. “Jacob led the first boatload, and they got away from the Egret in the yawl. I held the longboat near the ship until the captain came down. He insisted on seeing all the men down first. It was difficult….” He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the howling wind and the boat lunging on the waves. In his mind he saw young Davy Wilkes leap over the side of the ship and land half in, half out of the longboat, with his thighbone broken.
“Did the captain survive, too, then?”
Edward opened his eyes, shaking off the memory. “At first he did. We had eight of us in the longboat. Jacob had a dozen or more in the yawl.”
“Fourteen came home.”
“That many? I’m glad. I knew a few drowned in the storm, trying to get into the boats. And we lost four men from the longboat before we reached land.”
“Starvation?”
“Lack of water, mostly. One boy died of his injuries, and we lost one man over the side in rough water the first night.”
“Jacob told us that after your boats became separated during the night he and his crew sailed on for several days, and then another ship picked them up.”
“God be praised,” Edward murmured. He had often prayed for his comrades and wondered whether they had escaped death.
A stir in the doorway drew his attention, and he realized that Deborah had returned. As he jumped up, she smiled at him, and again he felt the infectious warmth of her presence.
“Well, girls. About time,” Dr. Bowman said.
Edward saw then that another young woman was entering behind Deborah, hanging back as though reluctant to break in on the scene. Her eyes were lowered, but when she glanced up as she came forward, he caught his breath.
“Abigail.” His pulse hammered.
Deborah stepped aside, and Edward met Abigail in the middle of the room. She looked him in the eye then, her mouth a tight line and her eyelids swollen.
“Hello, Edward.”
He reached for her hands, and she hesitated a moment, then let him take them. She hadn’t changed, really, except for the shy, sorrowful air she bore. She was as lovely as he remembered. Thinner, perhaps, and more fragile. She had lost the gaiety he always associated with her. Indeed, Deborah exhibited far more pleasure at his appearance than Abigail did.
“I’m so glad….” She turned away abruptly and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve. “Forgive me,” she sobbed.
Edward cleared his throat. “There’s nothing to forgive. I realize this is a shock, my dear.”
“There, now, sit down, girls,” said their father. “Edward was just telling me how he and several others escaped the shipwreck.”
“Do tell us,” Deborah begged, guiding Abigail to sit with her on the sofa. Dr. Bowman took another chair, and Edward sat down again. “Your boat also was spared by the storm, then?”
“We drifted for two weeks.” Edward glanced at Abigail, who was surreptitiously wiping away a tear.
Mrs. Bowman returned, and in the pause she asked, “Shall I bring tea?”
“Not for me, thank you,” Edward said.
“Nor me,” said the doctor. “It’s too close to dinner.”
The young women shook their heads, and she slipped into a chair near her husband.
“Please go on, Edward,” his host urged.
“Well, sir, we had a small sail and a rudder, and we steered for the nearest land we knew of. We took on water constantly, and I was sure we would all perish. But finally we fetched up on an island.”
“What island?” Dr. Bowman asked.
“A small one west of Chile, sir. Far west. It is called Spring Island after the water available there. It has been charted for many years, but not many go there, as it is off the usual shipping lanes.”
“Four years!” Deborah stared at him, her lips parted and her eyes glistening. “You stayed on that remote place for four years?”
He nodded. “Nearly. I hoped we would be rescued soon, but after a few weeks we grew discouraged. We were just too far off course for most ships. The one that finally came had also suffered damage and put in for fresh water and a chance to make some repairs before resuming its voyage.”
“The ship that rescued Jacob Price and the others searched for your party,” Dr. Bowman said.
“Aye. I expect they did. But we’d gone a long ways before we struck land.”
“How many of you were there?” Deborah asked.
“Four of us were left when we first landed. But …”
“Some of them died?” the doctor asked softly.
“Yes, sir. Alas, I was alone the last two winters.” Edward’s throat constricted, and he wished they would not ask him any more questions. Eventually he would have to tell all, but for now he wanted only to forget the island and gaze at Abigail.
She had said nothing since they were seated, and Edward wondered at her reserve. She had never been boisterous, but neither had she cringed from him as she seemed to be doing now. This was not going at all as he had imagined.
He drew a deep breath.
“By God’s grace, I was found a few months past and carried home again.” He turned toward her father. “I don’t mean to be forward, but might I have a word with Abigail, sir?”
Mrs. Bowman looked at her husband, and the doctor stood, smiling.
“Of course. I must change my clothes for dinner. Will you stay and eat with us, Edward?”
Abigail’s gaze flew to her father, and her features froze as though she dreaded Edward’s response.
Edward hesitated. Abigail was definitely not throwing him any encouragement.
“Thank you, sir, but I must decline. I have yet to see my mother.”
“Of course,” said Dr. Bowman. “Please convey our respects to her.”
“I must go to the kitchen,” Mrs. Bowman said. “Do come see us again, Edward.”
He watched them go, puzzling over what Mrs. Bowman’s words might mean to a man who was engaged to marry her daughter. Deborah was also rising, but Abigail shot out her hand and grabbed her sister’s wrist.
“Please stay, won’t you, Debbie?”
“Well, I …” Deborah glanced at him and back to Abigail. “I need to change my clothes as well.”
“Please,” Abigail whispered, so low Edward barely heard.
Deborah swallowed hard, tossed him an apologetic glance, and settled once more on the sofa.
Is she afraid of me? Edward wondered. He knew his experience had changed him. He was thin and run-down physically, but his love for Abigail was unscathed. I must be patient until she realizes I am the same man she loved five years ago.
Deborah looked hard at her sister. When Abigail did not speak, she said, “Edward, I would like to hear more of your ordeal sometime, if it is not too distressing to speak of it.”
He nodded. “Perhaps sometime after I’ve settled in and gotten used to being home again. It was a time of great testing and hardship. The isolation …”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Deborah glanced at her sister again.
Abigail turned her attention on him, but her smile seemed to strain every muscle in her face to the point of pain.
“My dearest,” he said quietly, leaning toward her. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for speaking so frankly before your sister, but I must know—”
She pushed herself up fr
om the sofa, clapping a hand to her temple.
“I’m sorry, Edward, but I don’t feel well. Would you please excuse me?”
Edward leaped to his feet, but before he could reply, she had dashed for the door.
“Abby!” Deborah cried, but her sister was gone. Appalled at Abigail’s behavior, Deborah turned back to face their guest. “Edward, I’m so sorry. That’s not like her.”
“She must be ill, indeed.” He frowned, staring toward the empty doorway.
Deborah’s heart went out to him. The forlorn dismay in his eyes wrenched every tender inclination she possessed.
“I’ll go to her.” She reached out and squeezed his hands. “Do, please, forgive her abruptness. I’m sure she wouldn’t behave so if she were well. Perhaps you could come around again tomorrow.”
“Yes, I shall. Please convey my apologies.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”
Edward grimaced. “I’m afraid I must, or she wouldn’t have reacted so. I seem to have lost my social graces. It would have been better to take a different approach rather than to shock you all.” He took an uncertain step toward the door.
He looked so lost that Deborah gently took his arm and stayed beside him as far as the front door. He had no hat to retrieve, so she reached for the doorknob.
“Do come back tomorrow, Edward.”
“Yes, I believe I will.” Her heart ached as he turned his troubled eyes toward the stairs, then back to her. “But if Abigail is too ill to see me, you will tell me, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. I don’t want to be a bother.”
His confusion and dejection made Deborah long to blurt out the truth. Abby’s promised to marry your cousin, but we still love you. No, she couldn’t say that. She glanced toward the stairway, wishing her father would appear to take over and tell Edward. Surely they shouldn’t let him leave their house in ignorance. The whole town knew. Someone else would tell him. His mother, perhaps. He should not learn it that way.
But their father assumed Abby was doing her duty and explaining the situation to Edward herself. Perhaps Deborah should take him back into the parlor and beg him to wait while she fetched Father downstairs again. No, it was drawing close to dinnertime, and if Edward didn’t leave the house soon, he’d still be here when Jacob arrived.