by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
He bowed his head and offered a silent prayer of thanks for his food and his homecoming.
The first bite of his mother’s biscuit put him in euphoria. The outside was golden brown, the bottom firm, and the top soft and flaky. The inside was pure white and separated into tender layers. The wholesome, nutty flavor answered some craving he’d had for four years. Bread! So simple yet so exotic. During the last two months on shipboard, he’d had hard, crumbling biscuits with traces of mold. He’d gone ashore briefly in Boston a week ago, but the bread in the tavern he’d patronized was almost as dry as the sea biscuit.
He chewed slowly, looking at the hole he had bitten from the side of the biscuit. None of the shipboard food had come close to this. And a platter full of them awaited his pleasure, if he could hold them.
“Don’t you want some butter?” Mother asked. She pushed the blue china butter dish closer to him, but he shook his head.
“It’s perfect. Perhaps tomorrow or next week I’ll put butter on one.”
She smiled, and he was glad to see the old look of affection and satisfaction she’d habitually worn when watching her menfolk eat.
“If only your father had lived to see this day.”
He searched her eyes and saw that her grief was well banked.
“On the last leg of my trip home, from Boston up to here, the ship’s captain told me Father had died.”
“I’m sorry you learned it that way.”
“Oh, he was good about it. He’d known Father for years. In fact, I had met him before at the warehouse. They’d done business together for a long time. Captain Stebbins, out of Searsport.”
“Of course.” His mother took the seat beside him. “He’s dined in this house.”
Edward nodded. “He expressed his condolences to you as well. When did it happen, exactly?”
“Last July. Your father collapsed at the office. Jacob sent for Dr. Bowman right away, but it was too late. His heart, the doctor said.”
“I’m so sorry. If I could have done anything to get word to you, I would have.”
“Of course you would. Your father was crushed when we heard that you were dead. We both were, if the truth be told. Jacob came to visit us as soon as he returned home from the voyage and shared his memories of the time he had on shipboard with you before the storm.”
Edward nodded. “We got along well. I was glad Jacob was on the ship. We spoke many times of how things would be when we came home. But we thought we’d sail back to Portland together on the Egret with a huge profit for Hunter Shipping.”
“I … blamed your father for sending our only son off on a long voyage like that.” She reached toward him quickly. “Please don’t despise me.”
“I never could, Mother.”
“I admit that when we got news of your death, I was bitter toward him at first. But after a while, we worked through our sorrow, and I asked your father to forgive me. He was always a generous person, and so, of course, he did.”
He patted her hand. “That’s like Father. Your reaction was natural, I’m sure.”
She rose and refilled his coffee, and he sipped it, savoring the rich flavor. “Mother, I’ve been told that Jacob is running the company now.”
“Well, Mr. Daniels is still there. He heads the accounting department. Has three clerks under him. And your uncle Felix runs the warehouse. But yes, Jacob has been invaluable to Hunter Shipping.”
Edward nodded. “I’m glad he was there.”
“When your father died, he helped make a smooth transition in the management of the company.” She sat down opposite him and held his gaze. “You see, we believed you were dead, son, so your father took Jacob into the office and mentored him in the trade. He’d decided to let Jacob take over the company when he was too old to run it anymore. Felix Price was agreeable, and it seemed the best your father could do since his only son was gone.”
“I understand.” Edward took another sip.
“But then, last year your father’s heart gave out and he died. No one expected him to go so soon.” She blinked at tears, and her voice trembled. “He was only fifty.”
“So … what is the status of the company now?”
She sniffed and went on with a steadier voice. “Your father signed paperwork before his death, allowing me to own it. I’ll be honest with you: I encouraged him to leave it to Jacob with the provision of a lifetime allowance for me. But your father wouldn’t hear of it. He had the papers drawn up all legal about three years ago, after we’d given up hope you would ever be found. He told me that when he was gone I could do as I wished, but he wanted to keep the company in the Hunter name while he lived.”
“And you didn’t change that after he died?”
“No. I do respect Jacob, but somehow I just couldn’t do it. I kept putting it off and thinking I’d take care of the transfer a little later.”
“I’m surprised you were allowed to own the business.”
“Well, your father made sure it was all legal. He left 10 percent to Jacob, and 5 percent to Mr. Daniels. He’s been a good and faithful employee for more than forty years.”
“And you hold the rest?”
“Yes, but I shall transfer it to you tomorrow. You must take me around to the office, and we’ll see about the papers. There’s a lawyer in town now. If you think it best, we can ask him to draw them up.”
“There’s no rush, Mother.”
“Yes, there is. I want things as they should be. I know it has irked Mr. Daniels that technically I have the final say in business decisions. He and Jacob have to come here and tell me everything they plan to do before they can execute an idea. Jacob has been very courteous.
Well, they both have, but it’s been awkward.”
“I’m not sure I’m qualified—”
“Now, don’t start that, Edward.”
“But I didn’t finish the training my father sent me to undertake.”
“Nonsense. You’ve always had a good head for business. You spent years in the office with your father before you went away. You practically apprenticed in the warehouse. You’ll take your proper place in this company. Period.”
Edward managed a smile. “All right, Mother. I shall do my best and pray that you won’t regret your decision.”
“Now tell me about Abigail. You said you saw her this evening.”
He sat back and drew a deep breath.
“Yes, I saw the whole family.”
“And what did she tell you? Did you know that she was affianced to Jacob when you saw her?”
He bit his upper lip and picked up his spoon. “No. But I learned it soon after.”
“I assume you want to claim your right as her betrothed. What did she say?”
“She didn’t say much of anything. I believe she was in shock.”
His mother clucked in disapproval.
“I shouldn’t have gone there today.” He sighed and put his hand to his forehead. “I ought to have come directly here and sent word there, instead of the other way around. Then she would have had time to compose herself.”
“Was it very awful?”
“Frustrating. I had to give her father an account of my whereabouts for the last four years, since the Egret sank.”
“That’s a tale I want to hear soon but not tonight,” his mother said.
“It’s soon told. I was on a small, isolated isle in the Pacific. Dr. Bowman found it fascinating. And Deborah!” He looked up at her and smiled involuntarily. “I was overcome by the change in her. She was just a child when I left, but now she’s—”
“A woman.”
“Yes, indeed.”
His mother nodded. “A stunning woman, though I don’t believe she knows it yet. One of these sailor boys will steal her heart soon, I’ll warrant.”
“Oh, I doubt Dr. Bowman would allow a common sailor to call on her. He would have to be a boatswain, at least.”
“Or a second mate?”
Edward chuckled. Second mate had been his ran
k on the Egret. “Ah, well, a captain wouldn’t be too good for her. She’s very outspoken. Not at all pretentious, but with a bearing that’s almost regal. In the best sense of the word, of course.”
His mother said nothing but got up to serve the dried plum pudding.
Chapter 4
The next morning, Edward walked to the graveyard near the church, accompanied by his mother. She had given away most of his old clothing, but she’d kept a few things that had belonged to his father. He wore a hat that he’d often seen his father wear and a suit that hung on him.
“You’ll need to have some new shirts and drawers,” his mother murmured. “Perhaps I can find some muslin and linen this afternoon.”
Edward felt the blood rush to his cheeks. She was his mother, but still. One thing it would never be proper to discuss with her was his island wardrobe. Hearing her plan what he would wear for linens and woolens here in Maine would be embarrassing enough.
“Don’t overdo, Mother. I’m not used to a large wardrobe.”
“I’ll have Jenny help me. You’ll be going to the office and meeting lots of businessmen. You look as peaked as a crow’s beak, and you can’t impress clients if you’re wearing clothes two sizes too large. Perhaps I can take in that suit, but that black wool is too hot for summer. It will do in the fall, but you must have something decent to wear now.”
Edward didn’t argue. It was just nine in the morning and only mid-June, but already the sun beat down on them, making him sweat beneath the layers of wool and linen. He’d supposed the northern climate would seem cool and refreshing to him after years in the tropical sun, but already he was finding the summer uncomfortably warm. Besides, his mother would undertake assembling a new wardrobe for him whether he liked it or not.
He opened the gate to the churchyard, and they walked between the monuments, mostly flat slabs of slate or granite standing in the turf. Each of the families associated with this church had an area where their dead were buried. Some had one large family marker with smaller stones delineating the individual graves.
The Hunter family plot was dominated by a big, rectangular granite stone. Several generations were buried near it, from the first Hunters who had settled in colonial times to the most recently departed. Deep purple violets grew at the foot of the stone in a hardy bunch, and the name HUNTER was deeply graven on it.
His mother led him beyond the older graves to a marker that read JEREMIAH HUNTER, 1769–1819, BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER.
His father’s grave. Edward bowed his head for a moment in silent anguish, then stepped closer. His heart lurched as his gaze caught the line chiseled lower on the granite slab.
EDWARD HUNTER, 1796–1816, PRECIOUS SON.
He gulped for air and felt his mother’s strong hand grasp his elbow.
“Are you all right, son?”
“Yes. It’s … a bit unnerving to see my own name there with Father’s.”
“I’m sorry. I had that done after your father died, in memory of you. There’s nothing buried there for you, of course. I can ask the stonecutter to chip it off.”
“No, just leave it, and someday someone can change it to the proper date.”
Edward took off his hat and fell to his knees. He placed his hand over the letters that formed his father’s name. Dear Lord, thank You for the parents You gave me. Help me to live up to their dreams.
Edward took his mother home and left her in the care of Jenny, the hired girl. In the short time he had been home, he had learned that Jenny expected to be married at harvesttime, and his mother would once more have to find and break in new household help. Already she was putting the word out at church and throughout her social circle. Edward doubted it would take her long to find another maid. His mother was not demanding, and the chores of the small household wouldn’t overtax a woman.
He was glad she had the sturdy house his grandfather had built. It was not as grand as some built by sea captains and shipping magnates, but it was comfortable. The two-story building was sided with pine clapboards, and two masonry chimneys flanked the small observation deck on top. Like many a seafaring man, Edward’s grandfather had spent much time watching the harbor, and Grandmother was often found on the deck, gazing out toward Casco Bay when the captain was at sea.
Edward walked toward the shipping company’s headquarters near the docks. When he was a block from the building, a chandler paused in unloading a pile of merchandise and stared at him.
“Edward Hunter. Is it you, lad, or am I seeing a ghost?”
Edward laughed. “It’s me, Simeon. I’ve returned from the sea.”
“But I attended your funeral several years past. You can’t say nay to that.”
“Yes, I’ve been told I was mourned and missed, but as you see, I was never buried.”
A small crowd gathered as more men heard the news or came to see what the ruckus was about.
“Please excuse me,” Edward said. “I’m glad to see you all again, but I’ve business to attend to at Hunter Shipping.”
He pushed through the knot of onlookers, greeting the men he recognized, shaking a few hands, and murmuring, “Thank you so much. Good to be back.”
The company’s offices were on the far side of the warehouse, and he entered through the loading door, then stopped to sniff the air. Tea, lumber, tar, molasses, apples, and cinnamon. Now he was really home.
“Mr. Edward.” One of the men recognized him and stepped toward him, grinning.
Edward smiled and clapped the older man on the shoulder. “Yes, Elijah, it’s me.”
“Mr. Price told us you was back.” The laborer shook his head. “ ’Tis a marvel, sir.”
“Yes, indeed. Praise God, I’m alive and I’m home. Someday soon I’ll come down to the dock and break bread with you all at nooning and tell you of my adventure.”
“You do that, Mr. Edward.”
Two other workers stacking bags marked RICE stopped to stare. Edward waved then turned toward the doorway that led to the offices.
A large man hopped down from a crate and blocked his path.
“Edward, my boy!”
“Uncle Felix!”
Edward submitted to a hug from Jacob’s burly father, then pulled away, fighting for breath.
“My son told me last night you were alive and well.” Uncle Felix slapped his shoulder and grinned. “A wondrous sight you are.”
“Thank you, Uncle. I’m glad to see you’re still here and carrying on.”
“Oh yes, I’m fine. Fifty-three years old and still strong as an ox. Now, Jacob, he’s a different sort than me. Started out down here with me, but you know, he’s not made for hauling truck around the docks. He can do it, but he’s made for higher things.” Uncle Felix touched his temple and nodded. “Your father saw that, he did. Put my boy over in the office clerking, then sent him to sea. And now he’s wearing fine clothes and keeping your inheritance safe for you. Don’t forget that, boy.”
“I won’t.” Edward eyed his uncle, wondering if he’d just received a warning to take care of his family. Uncle Felix had lived his life as a laborer, first as a fisherman. After he married Ruth Hunter, Edward’s father had employed Felix at the warehouse for his sister’s sake but had privately opined that Aunt Ruth had married beneath her. Still, love is love, and Father had always managed to get along with his brother-in-law. Ruth was happy to see her husband with a job safe on land.
Felix was a hearty, jovial man and a hard worker. He had risen to the overseer’s post on merit, not just because of his marriage to the owner’s sister. His wages had allowed him to buy a small clapboard house in the better part of town, and Aunt Ruth was content. Her three daughters had all made respectable marriages and provided the Prices with an assortment of grandchildren.
“Have you seen your sister’s new babe?”
“Not yet,” Edward said. “I sent Anne a message, and the family’s coming to the house this evening.”
“Ah, she must be pleased her brother’s not drown
ed and dead.”
“I’m sure she is. It’s great to see you, Uncle Felix.” Edward shook his hand and headed for the office.
“Bring your mother ’round for Sunday dinner!” his uncle called after him.
As Edward left the warehouse and stepped into the outer room where the clerks had their desks, he stopped. Several doors led off the main room, and one of them led to the private office that had long been his father’s sanctum when he was owner and head of the company. But now the door stood open, and coming out of that office was his cousin, Jacob Price.
“Edward, I was hoping you’d come down today.”
Jacob’s greeting seemed a bit stilted, but Edward stepped toward him.
“Thank you. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“How could you intrude in your own office?”
Edward said nothing but couldn’t help looking beyond Jacob to the open door.
Jacob followed his gaze. “I was gathering up a few papers. You’ll want this office, of course. Your father’s desk and all.” He stopped and pressed his lips together.
Edward glanced around and saw that the nearest clerk, while not looking at them, had paused with his pen hovering above the ledger on his desk, as though waiting to hear what would happen next.
“Could we have a word in private?”
“Of course.” Jacob gestured for Edward to precede him into the inner office.
Edward stepped to the threshold and paused, taking a slow, deep breath. Memories of his father deluged him: the double window where his father had often stood looking out over the harbor to see which ships were docking, the shelves of ledgers that held the business records of Hunter Shipping for nearly a hundred years past, the large walnut desk his grandfather had brought from England—it was all just as it had been five years ago when his father had wished him well on the voyage.
He could almost see Father sitting behind the desk, sharpening a quill with his penknife. Displayed on the wall behind the desk were an old sextant and spyglass, mementos of the past captains Hunter, and a large chart of the New England coast.