“Is he dead? Like my Mum?”
“Of course not, dear girl. He may be ailing but he’s very much alive. See his chest rise with every breath?”
Molly pulled the quilt down to his belly and leaned in. Any closer and she’d rest her chin on his ribs. Finella looked away from his naked chest.
“How long before he wakes?”
“Not long. I hope.”
Finella had no idea, really. She prayed warmth and shelter would bring him ’round soon. There was nothing else she could do for him, foolish man. Fancy working in the rain until completely exhausted and gripped by fever. What possessed an individual to do that?
“Will he sleep here all night?” Molly tucked the quilt under his feet. “Where will you sleep?”
Finella shrugged. She didn’t know that either.
She didn’t know why he’d brought the shells into the yard, didn’t know why he labored with a task that made no sense, and didn’t know when he’d wake to explain himself.
She had about enough strength left to settle into a chair to keep from falling onto the floor herself. She pushed the lamp to the centre of the table and laid her head on her arms. Just for one minute. Enough to close her eyes and let her shoulders slump a little.
*
Murmuring voices woke her much later when firelight illuminated the room. At first, Finella fought to understand where she was. She opened her eyes to see Molly’s bed, empty and missing not only an occupant, but its blanket and pillow. Whispers came from near her feet.
“So, you weren’t dead?”
“No, silly. Nowhere near dead.”
“But, we carried you in. And took off your clothes. Like when Mum died.”
“You did? You and Finella?”
“Yes. And she made soup, but only I ate it.”
Finella’s face burned and she was glad for the shadows where she hid.
“Finella didn’t eat?”
“No. Her stomach has a headache.”
Shadrach chuckled softly. “Where is she now?”
“Sleeping, up there.”
Finella imagined two sets of blue eyes looking at the underside of the table and folds of her skirt. She kept her feet rooted to the floor.
“Will you still sleep here? Your face is cooler now.”
“No, I’ll sleep in the skillion. Soon as I get myself there.”
He moaned, and the sound of shuffling soon faded into a soft grunt and thump.
“Which, I don’t think I can manage tonight.” One more rustling noise and she hoped he was on his back again. “But I wouldn’t mind a cup of water. Can you get it, Molly?”
Finella squeezed her eyes shut. In no time Shadrach gulped his drink.
“Thank you. You’re a good girl, Sunny.”
“Want soup, Shad?”
“Maybe later.”
The cup clunked and came to rest on the tabletop before more shuffling and then another long silence.
Had brother and sister fallen asleep together? Should she risk a quick tiptoe to Molly’s bed? Finella bit her lip and waited.
“Shad?” Molly snuck in with another question.
“Mmm,” he replied after a long silence.
“Why did you bring shells? Are they for me?”
He drew a long, deep breath before answering.
“For you, Miss Molly. Always for you.”
“Hmmm.” Molly sounded satisfied. Perhaps she would drift off to sleep now.
Finella waited for longer than she thought a person could sit slumped at a table. Until she could not bear the tingling in her frozen feet another minute. She wriggled her toes and knew unless she traded the chair for a bed she would be no good to either Molly or their patient in the morning.
With only the faint crackle of the fire to mask her movement, she crept to Molly’s bed, grateful the child had left behind a thin quilt.
With Shadrach in the room, she would remain dressed but she slipped out of her shoes and into the vacant bed. Who knew what urgency might call her in the early morning hours. With Molly and Shadrach nestled together, she’d snatch an hour of sleep and check on them soon.
Under the cover of dark she heard Molly’s soft snoring.
A log slipped in the fire and hissed.
And then silence, until Finella heard a short, deep sigh.
“Molly can have a pocketful. The rest are for you, Dandelion.”
17
“Cooee!”
A knock on the door tossed Finella from her sleep. She turned her feet for the floor and hit wall. Where was she? She turned the other way, and tripped over her shoes.
“Coming,” she shuffled to the door and blinked at the figure standing there, a wicker basket on her hip. “Mrs. Lawson?”
“Let me in, girl. Rain’s let up but my core is ice frozen.”
Finella swung the door open. “What a surprise.”
“For you, or me?” The older woman stomped her feet and shook her shoes clean. “What happened out here? Did you people have a sand storm?” She took in the room. “Or should I ask about in here first?”
Clothed yet disheveled Finella knew her hair hung round her shoulders in its usual morning mess and a quick glance of the room told the same story.
Mrs. Lawson’s widening eyes roamed from one unmade bed to the other, stripped of all its bedding. It didn’t get any better at the table, with its tangle of half dried clothes. Above the fire, a rope sagged with Shadrach’s shirts and trousers.
Mrs. Lawson bent at the waist. “And what have we here?”
Naked to the chest, Shadrach lay in a twist of quilts right where Finella had left him, on his back beside the fire.
Or what should’ve been a fire, had Finella not overslept. She died a little death to see what surrounded her in the cold light of a new day.
Mrs. Lawson tilted her head and shoulders to peer at Finella. “I’m sorely interested to hear what’s going on at my feet here, but first, I want to know where Molly might be.”
Molly?
Finella spun back to Shadrach. Molly’s blanket lay wrapped around his bare feet.
“She was right here, all night.” Finella’s heartbeat roared in her ears. She searched the room in vain.
If Molly were not asleep beside her brother, where was she? She sidestepped Mrs. Lawson and opened the door.
“Molly,” she yelled into the morning mist. “Molly!”
She stumbled back in for her shoes.
Shadrach sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Um…” he looked from one woman to the other before his eyes rolled back like one not meant to be awake from whatever malady had caught him. “What…?”
“If you’re not fully dressed, my boy, you’d best stay put.” Braver than Finella, Mrs. Lawson spoke first. “Looks like our Molly’s gone for a morning stroll, if I’m not mistaken.”
Shadrach’s eyes flew open and shot blistering inquiry at Finella.
She fumbled with her laces. “Molly was right here.” Of all days to sneak out.
She grabbed her shawl, as well as Molly’s, and ran for the skillion.
Shells snapped under her feet, breaking into smaller pieces on her way across the yard to Shadrach’s door. She flung it open, hoping the girl would be asleep on his pallet or busy nosing around.
Nothing.
The cold room offered boxes and the unmade mess of Shadrach’s bed.
She ran to the outhouse, kicking the door open with ease.
Empty.
“Molly. Where are you? Do you hear me?” She pushed her voice to its limits. “Molly!”
She followed the new gritty path through long grass to the hen house. But only chickens squawked and peered at her for scraps.
Where else then? Puffing, she ran past the house and beyond. She’d never been this far before. A deep puddle had separated the house from the barn since the day she’d arrived.
But today, a long stretch of broken shells fanned out from where she stood, all the way to the barn door.
Tiny shards stuck to her shoes, but not once had she stepped in mud in her search of the outbuildings.
The barn door opened and Molly tiptoed out, the end of her messy braid in her mouth. She clutched the front of her dress, bulging with what Finella imagined a generous helping of shells.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Finella doubled over for breath.
“Shad said they’re for me. The shells. Look.” Hands already occupied with her loot, Molly pointed with her toe. “They’re everywhere.”
Newly laid tracks glistened like foam washed up from the sea. As if woven through, seaweed and sand made up the other elements of the tracks, but it was, in essence, a walkway of shells, designed to link every door on every building of Shadrach’s farm.
No thin smattering, sprinkled in haphazard fashion. These paths lay thick and wide. The puddles filled, the long slip marks completely erased. Shadrach must have worked for days collecting all this. Had he left even one shell on the beach?
“I went all over,” Molly marveled. “The outhouse, then the hens. I found a purple one there.” She rummaged in her stash and held up a scrolled shell with mitered point. “Then I came here, but only Old Lou’s in the barn.”
Finella draped her with a shawl.
“You went too far, Molly. Without proper clothes and without permission. And you mustn’t suck your hair.” She looped a finger at her cheek and gently pulled the hair loose.
“I played a game, to stay on the river of shells. Look,” she raised her shoe. “See, no mud. I didn’t slip.”
Nor had Finella.
At least her foot hadn’t.
She pressed her hand to her heart. “Well, let’s follow your river back to the house, shall we? We have a patient and a visitor waiting, and I don’t think either are happy with me.”
*
“Are you telling me you carted all this from Rhyll, in the rain, yourself?”
Hands on hips Mrs. Lawson stood with her back to him and looked across the yard.
“I did.” Shadrach buttoned his shirt. The warm serge felt good against his chest. He’d have to hunt for long johns later. He grabbed a pair of trousers from where they hung and fumbled his way in.
“And you spread it all the way up the hill, and down past the outhouse?” She turned to pierce him with a look reserved for the worst larrikins she caught messing with the church bell. “How many trips did that take?”
“I… don’t remember, twenty, maybe thirty.”
“Thirty? No wonder you nearly did yourself in.” Her voice softened a little.
Shadrach wasn’t convinced he was altogether in the clear, yet. Climbing into his clothes was about all he could manage. A dizzy head forced him to slump in the nearest chair and he wiped a line of perspiration from his forehead. He needed to look for Molly.
“And all to keep Finella here?” Mrs. Lawson shook her head. “You’ve lost your mind. Or something.”
He didn’t like her looking at him. She was too good at extracting secrets he didn’t know he had.
He shrugged. “I had a shell stack ready to burn. Rains kept me from lighting it. I got an idea after she fell, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” She echoed his words. “That’s why you’re slumped here, all hollow eyed? That’s more than an idea, my lad. That’s desperation.” She peered at him and gasped. “You love her. That’s why you did this. Don’t deny it, there’s a thousand muddy shells out there singing your affections.”
Shadrach closed his eyes and wished the woman would back out the door and leave him to sort it out. He didn’t need her voicing the tremble of his heart.
“I’ll talk with Finella when she’s ready to hear it. For now, she needs to learn to trust me.”
The old woman smiled and tapped the table with her palm in one triumphant slap. “I had my doubts you were listening when I planted the seeds for this. But now I see some of my words fell where I intended.”
He shook his head at her in what he hoped looked like admonition, but let a slight smile follow in reward. If anyone was to blame, it was Finella.
For how she made him feel, and for the things he did to show her.
“You, will keep out of it.” He tried to stand and she pinned him down with a gentle prod to the shoulder.
“You’re not fit for outside today, Shad.”
“But, Molly?”
“Molly is right here.”
His neck ached to twist around and he let his eyelids close for a moment, relieved to hear Finella’s voice at the door.
“Brother, don’t be cross.” Molly knelt beside him, her face split by a huge grin. “I didn’t run away. I looked at the long, long shells.” She made a snaking motion with her hand.
Her delight did nothing to stop the steady throb in the base of his neck, but it felt good to hold her hand.
Thank God, she hadn’t gone far. It killed him to move but he had to look at Finella. To know what she thought about the yard.
But Finella busied herself at the fire. “We’ve had a rough night, Mrs. Lawson, and you’ve found us somewhat unprepared for company.”
Shadrach wasn’t fooled by her good manners. A tremor in her hand gave her away. Not one for disorder, a surprise visitor may have rattled her, but add a lost girl and sick farmer to the mix, and she’d be close to tipping over.
Finella brushed against his leg to reach for the mattress.
Mrs. Lawson grabbed the other end. “There’s nothing here Molly and I can’t fix. We’ll straighten the beds. Finella, you get the breakfast. When everyone’s been watered and fed you can tell me why you’re planning on leaving, while this foolish man courts death to make you stay.”
Finella turned to Shadrach. “You told her I’m leaving?” Deep pink spots freckled her face.
“Finella’s leaving?” Molly frowned at him.
“No.” Shadrach patted Molly’s hand. “Well, I don’t know, but…” he looked from Finella to Molly and then Mrs. Lawson. They all stood there, looming, demanding. Mrs. Lawson cocked her head in Finella’s direction and urged him on.
Only, he couldn’t remember what it was he had to say. Or do.
He didn’t know how a low mist rolled in from outside or how the room swayed and lapped around him. He only feared what might be said over his head when his chin came to rest on Molly, only a moment before he sank to the floor.
*
“I’ve seen foolishness before, but nothing equals this.” Mrs. Lawson backed into the skillion, and Finella and Molly followed. Between them they carried Shadrach to his bed.
“Fevers and such come and go without much help. But when a man’s completely spent, dragging the ocean floor across the entire island,” they lowered him onto the pallet, “that’s crazier than howling at the moon.”
No one needed to tell Finella.
There’d been no howling. But it felt like the moon had rolled out of the sky and now sat on her chest.
Molly lay on the pallet beside him. “Wake up, Brother.”
“He will, Pet. He’s tired and poorly from working in all that rain. You be a good sister now and watch over him. If he starts to burn, you call Finella.” She looked the room over. “Won’t overheat in here in a hurry. If he’s covered and looked in on, he’ll pull through soon enough.”
She gathered her skirt and sidestepped the patient and his companion on the floor. “Finella? You and I have some visiting to do by the fire.”
*
“There’s no crime in changing your mind. You’re as free as I am to come and go from here. I’ll take you back myself if you desire, this very afternoon when Mr. Lawson collects me.” Mrs. Lawson sliced a loaf of her bread into thick chunks at Shadrach’s table. “Seems mean spirited to leave now, though. When both of them need you.”
Finella leaned her elbow on the table and pressed her knuckles to her mouth. Not much made perfect sense anymore. Not since the day when he brushed her lip with his thumb. She’d tried to shake the thought from her mind, erase the treacherous t
ingle she still felt there. But it lingered. Blossom heavy. Like a balm.
“I promised to look after Molly until my aunt arrives. And I can do that in Melbourne as easily as I can here, maybe even better. I can find work, for both of us.”
“And why is here so bad?”
“Here… it’s always wet and outside there’s…,” Finella stopped. Even with the rain, her excuse had been dealt with by Shadrach. Washed away by his labors.
“He’s paid you a great compliment. Don’t be afraid to accept it for what it is. I don’t know another man who would fight so hard for the girl he loves.”
Finella’s pulse tripped and quickened. “Do you mean Molly?”
“No doubting he loves Molly. But she’s only some of what he’s fighting for.” Mrs. Lawson pushed the plate of bread towards Finella. “I saw it in his face the minute you walked into the house today. Sometimes… men don’t know how we’ll take their words. They stumble over them in their own minds and wrestle with what they can’t say. It’s much easier to fill a barrow and push it in the rain. He’s laid the path for you, Finella. Question is, will you follow it or go your own way?”
“Am I meant to follow a path simply because a man lays it down and dares me to?”
“Didn’t you follow a path when your father set one down? Didn’t he chart a course long before you could object?”
“I trusted my Father.”
“And now it’s time to trust yourself. Shadrach’s an honorable man. There’s no way I would’ve allowed you to come out here in the bush with him if I doubted that. Remember, I knew the man you were going to marry. Shadrach is no less worthy.”
Finella closed her eyes. “What would George make of all this? Isn’t it a great wickedness, with my own fiancé in the ground such a short time, to even entertain thoughts of…” Her words jammed together.
“George had a servant’s heart, Finella. I see that in you, too. Wouldn’t he tell you to search your own heart for the way ahead, if he could?”
Like the dawn already running into day, the blush of promise rose over her.
If she dared, what would she find in the searching of her heart?
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