by Paula Reed
*
When he left, Faith set her conscience and shame aside and picked up a plane. She quickly discovered that using the instruments was not as easy as it looked. It took awhile for her to figure out just how to get the best results, but she knew what to do, and soon they began to feel natural in her hands. She puzzled a bit over poor fitting joints, but found that a few small pieces of the company’s best stationery, trimmed flush with the wood, tightened them up nicely.
Her father had oft spoken of the way that working with wood calmed his spirit and soothed his troubled mind, and she found that she understood how this was so. The smell of wood shavings, the sharp crack of the hammer, these things brought crisp, clear memories to her. She could see Noah and Isaiah as they worked together and teased one another. She thought of David’s childish hands carefully performing some small task, mayhap smoothing a rough edge or tapping a tight joint into place with the help of a brother, striking fingers as often as wood.
She thought of her school days, when she would sit upon a high stool in the joinery and practice reading from the Bible while her father listened. Whenever she paused, unable to even begin to pronounce some difficult word, he would supply it without looking up from his work, and she was ever amazed. He seemed to have the whole of the Good Book memorized.
Once, she had wanted to be like that. In an effort to grab hold of her parents’ unshakable faith, she had memorized countless pages of scripture. In the end, it had availed her naught. It was not her religion that she missed. It was her family.
Chapter 27
Geoff found her on the floor, next to their upside-down table, plane in hand, as she industriously shaved the bottom of one of its stout legs. A tendril of hair fell over her brow, and one silken leg had escaped from beneath her skirt. God, she was a fetching sight.
“Where did you get the plane?” he asked. Her resourcefulness never ceased to surprise him.
“I borrowed it from Stuart Abrams.”
“Abrams? Why, he’s the surliest man I’ve ever met, and avaricious as well. What did he charge you?”
“Nothing. I smiled very sweetly at him and told him that my father was a cabinetmaker so I knew how to use and care for the tools. And I may have mentioned something about how very fine he looked in his coat. He was only too happy to help.”
Geoff shook his head and grinned. Crouching beside her, he captured the errant tendril between his fingers. “What’s this? Using your fair face to bend some hapless man to your will? It sounds like wicked, wicked pride to me.”
“I think there’s little Jesus Himself wouldn’t do to hold this table steady.” To prove that it had been worthwhile, she accepted his help in upending the thing, and they stood back to admire its level surface and solid stance.
“‘Tis a miracle,” he said.
She looked with pride upon her handiwork, but the look faded and sadness replaced it. At the tears that misted her eyes, Geoff wondered if perhaps the shabbiness of their home bothered her rather more than she would say.
“What was it like, your home?” he asked, guessing rightly what occupied his wife’s mind.
“I have oft spoke of my family,” she said, and moved to fetch a broom to sweep the shavings.
“Aye, but what of your house?”
She leaned on the broom and looked off into some distant memory. “Well, ‘tis a sturdy clapboard house. Father built it, so it is snug and warm, every plank fitted tightly so that the winter chill is hard pressed to find its way in. There is a keeping room with a hearth and sitting area to one side, and a table and chairs on the other. Many a lively discussion took place ‘round that table, and many an argument between siblings mediated by Father.”
Geoff tried to imagine her life, so very different from his own. He had lived in a gaudy brothel, surrounded by squabbling women and boisterous men.
“Is it large?” he asked.
“Comfortably so, downstairs. At first, Noah and I shared a big chamber upstairs, and mother and father had one of their own. We shared that room with a screen for privacy until we were seven and Isaiah came along. Father walled off a little room, more like a cubby, really, and that became mine. ‘Twas fortunate that the fourth and last child was a boy as well, for my room would never have fit a sister!”
“Did it bother you, having to take a much smaller space?”
“Oh nay! ‘Twas cozy and comforting. I think I would have been afraid to sleep in a big room without my brother, but there was no room for monsters and demons in my little cubby.”
“Then this does not strike you as so very poor a home?”
“Nay, Geoff! Whatever made you think it would?”
“‘Twas not what I had envisioned for us.”
“Patience, my love,” she chided while she resumed sweeping. “In time you’ll build your company and we’ll find another home. I assure you, I am happy to be with you; the place matters not. Still, I would be lying if I did not say I would as soon live a bit farther from the noise and bustle someday.”
“That reminds me—I have good news,” he ventured carefully. Her face brightened, and she looked at him expectantly. “Giles and I have taken the last order we need to fill Destiny’s hold. We’re bound for Boston by the end of the week.”
For a moment it seemed her heart stopped beating. Boston. Home. Geoff and Giles had both made it clear that she was welcome to sail with them whenever she would. She could not help but wonder, would she be as welcome with her family?
Her aunt and uncle had heard nothing, but of course, letters were slow and uncertain. ‘Twas possible a reply was on its way. ‘Twas possible there would be no reply, no further word, ever. Many a night, on the voyage to Jamaica and at her aunt and uncle’s, Faith had tossed and turned sleeplessly, wondering whether she had made the right choice. Now, gazing at the man who seemed ever delighted with her, scowling in disapproval only when he sensed that she was not being true to herself, she knew that she would make this choice a thousand times over, whatever the cost.
“What troubles you?” he asked. “We needn’t be apart. You’ll come, too, won’t you?”
“Aye. It is only that much has happened since last I saw Boston Harbor.”
“Aye, that’s so, but think of all you’ll have to tell your family.”
“Then you had thought to visit them?”
Geoff sighed, exhaling his own doubts and uncertainties. “To be sure. I am of two hearts about it, I confess. I rather imagine they will want to know that you are well and to meet your husband.” The thought that had plagued him all week surfaced, and he gave her a guarded look. “Perhaps you are not eager for that meeting.”
Faith sighed, too. “Not entirely. I told you of my aunt. She was disowned for marrying a Catholic. You do not even count yourself a Christian.”
He shrugged. “Tell them I am Anglican. Mayhap they will not be perfectly content with that, but surely ‘twill satisfy them.”
Faith sank into a newly repaired chair. There were still times when their separate upbringings opened a chasm between them. “I am not even prepared to count myself Anglican, much the less you. Lying is a sin, Geoff.”
“Mayhap they will not ask,” he offered. She arched her brows at him. “There’s naught we can do about it now,” he said tersely.
“And naught else I would do. There’s nothing I have done that I would change. What I have gained will simply have to help me accept what I may have lost.”
He stood behind her where she sat and eased the tension from her shoulders with firm but gentle hands. His touch, as ever, sent delicious warmth coursing through her.
“It may be that all is not lost. Even as you miss them, surely they miss you, and though they may be rigid, you have oft told me of the love among them. They may yet yield to see you well and happy. Either way, know this, whatever you face at home, you do not face alone.”
“If only they could know the depth of contentment I have found with you, they would know this is as it should be.” S
he paused and placed her hand on his. “I do not know if I can ever convince them.”
“Come to bed, love. We’ll yet find some way to take your mind from your worries.”
Leaning her head back, Faith smiled up at him. “I think I will ever feel a little thrill when you call me that.”
He gave her a seductive smile. “What? Love? Well then, come with me, love, to our shabby but ample bed, love.” He pulled her up and across the room. “Where I shall show you, love,” he tugged on the laces of her gown, “just how much I mean it, love.”
Together they sank onto the bed. He took her mouth against his and his warm hands pushed her gown and then her shift from her shoulders. Those hands moved on, lightly grazing the sides of her breasts, and her nipples hardened in response. In her ear he murmured delicious suggestions, every so often breaking the rhythm of his speech as he repeated the endearment over and over, causing her giggle against the side of his neck.
Both groaned in frustration when they heard Mr. Abrams enter the office below and call out.
“A moment, Mr. Abrams,” Geoff replied loudly.
Faith moved to tug her clothes back on, but Geoff stayed her hand and smiled at her in a way that set her heart thumping. Making no effort to straighten his own disheveled garments, he tripped hastily down the stairs.
Faith blushed and buried her face in the sheets. Surely their neighbor would discern her husband’s dishabille, and it was likely he would reason out why. ‘Twas the middle of the afternoon! What would he think?
When Geoff returned, he pounced playfully onto the mattress, immediately picking up where he’d left off.
“I believe Abrams was disappointed that I was the one who returned the tools,” he commented, shoving her skirts down past her hips.
“I’m quite sure he knew what we were doing,” Faith chided, though she made no move to stop him. “You should have tucked your shirt in.”
“Poor devil,” Geoff commented. “I s’pose I shouldn’t rub it in. He can only dream of this.” He nipped at her breast, but she pushed him away, her cheeks pink again.
“Did he say anything?” she asked.
Her husband grinned. “He asked if you had accomplished everything that you had hoped. I told him that we were in the middle of one last task, but that I had just the tool for the job.”
She cried out and struck him on the arm. “Nay, you did not!”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Nay. I did but tell him that you had wrought wonders with our pitiful furniture.”
She relaxed in his arms, and indeed, let him take the worries from her mind.
Chapter 28
The voyage back to Boston was entirely unlike Faith’s journey away. Of the original crew, only the cook, Mr. Bartlett, chose to stay with Geoff and Giles. The others were either unsuitable for a legitimate merchantman or had no desire for such an unexciting vocation. The new crew consisted of men who liked not the rigors of navy life nor the danger and bloodshed of piracy. There was no doubt that they were a coarse lot, but they worked hard enough and were somewhat more trustworthy.
It seemed that thirty-six hours of seasickness would be a predictable part of Faith’s traveling, but beyond that, her body adjusted. It was far less traumatic when she could stay above deck, her eyes fixed firmly on the horizon to minimize the effects. As the captain’s wife, she was afforded every courtesy and the highest respect. Far preferable to spending four weeks in but two gowns, she embarked upon this adventure with two trunks of clothes. A wide-brimmed straw hat and cotton gloves protected her fair skin from the sun, allowing her more time on the open deck. At night, the lower decks were not strewn with the sleeping forms of sailors. Far fewer were required when fighting and possibly capturing another ship was not a consideration. The men all fit comfortably into the hammocks hung in the crew’s quarters.
The cozy familiarity of Geoff’s cabin had its own differences. There was nothing shy or desperate between its occupants, only the natural conclusion of days spent by a man and a woman seduced by mild breezes, sapphire waters, and warm rains.
With the help of both Giles and Geoff, Faith learned to use the backstaff, sextant, compass, charts, and stars to map their course. In time, they hoped to be able to buy Giles a ship of his own, and Geoff would welcome a new navigator, especially one who warmed his bed, as well. Best of all, this new training gave her plenty to do to occupy her time, and she soon found herself falling in love with the sea. Geoff laughed and said they’d make a sailor of her yet, if only she’d learn to give a proper cussing. She and Giles exchanged sly looks. If only he had heard her one day on the docks of Port Royal.
Where they had once traveled from the chill of an early New England spring into the warm embrace of the Gulf Stream, now they left sunny climes and rounded Cape Hatteras, with its inhospitable waters, to meet the crisp beginnings of autumn. The weather changed in other ways as well. Storms were more worrisome in the hurricane season, so when the ocean waves became violent, and the horizon before them dissolved into a solid gray mass of sea and sky, the crew worked diligently to skirt the worst of it. Trusting Geoff and Giles to keep them safe and on course, Faith rode these storms out below, saying a little prayer for good measure.
At last they neared the Massachusetts coast. Though Faith had come to love the lush tropics with their exotic flora, her blood quickened at the sight of dense forests licked by tongues of autumn flames that colored the leaves. Soon, the woods would erupt into a conflagration of reds, oranges, and golds, ere winter stripped them bare. It was a crisp time of tart apples to eat and leaves to crush underfoot. Aye, for all the beauty and blessed warmth of her new home, she would ever miss the changeable land of her birth.
The homesickness that had hidden somewhere deep within her became an intense ache, and yet she dreaded what must come. When they at last arrived in Boston, she hesitated to stroll the docks as she once had. She stayed close to Geoff and Giles as they arranged to sell the rum, sugar, indigo and other goods that filled Destiny’s hold. Days passed, and she had yet to even shop among the merchants who daily gathered outside the Boston Town House, much less visit her home.
“Are you not sick to death of endless talk of prices and deliveries?” Geoff asked her as they ate the third meal in as many nights at the inn where they were lodging.
“If I’m to be your helpmate on voyages, I must know all aspects of your business,” she replied.
Geoff rolled his eyes. “You cannot fool me, love. You are hiding. Can we not at least take our meals at some other establishment?” He glanced around the nearly empty common room. “There are plenty to choose from, and this place is not the best, I assure you.”
Faith studied her hands, which clasped and unclasped with a will of their own in her lap. “I know. I’m well aware that no one who knows Boston well eats here. But what if someone I know should come to town and take a meal before they return to their home? It is a common practice.”
“Is that not a part of why you came here, to see people that you know? Look at me, Faith. This cold New England air seems to be turning you back into a Puritan.”
“Nay, not a Puritan, but what? ‘Tis so very different here, Geoff. Religion is everything. What am I?”
“You are Faith.”
“Faith the faithless.”
“Because you chose not to have your beliefs handed to you by pompous, arrogant clergymen? Good God, is this about that insignificant little speck you were betrothed to?”
She winced a bit, hoping he didn’t see, but he caught the tiny gesture. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m much better about it these days.”
“I know, and I appreciate it.”
“Well, there you have it, love. You may not have found a church that suits you, and you may not always know exactly what you believe, but you keep your Commandments and hold me to them as well, like it or not. You’re a Christian, Faith. More Christian than many who sin all week, then sit in a pew every Sunday and consider that adequate hom
age to their God. What more can they ask?”
“I suppose I had better find out,” she said, her voice resigned. “If you can spare the day, mayhap we should take a ride tomorrow.”
It was still dark when Faith rose and chose a modest and relatively simple gown of deep violet raw silk. The neckline was high and edged with lace that concealed much of her throat. Long sleeves were gathered into three puffs and banded with black satin ribbons, the same ribbons that also trimmed the bodice. The effect was both fashionable and subtle. She wore her hair in an uncomplicated knot and finished the outfit with a small cap that matched.
Geoff made fewer concessions, wearing the elegant lace and fabrics fashion demanded. Still, his royal blue coat and black breeches would not be entirely out of place, despite the fact that they were of luxurious velvet. He pulled his hair back into a queue, downplaying its sensuous texture.
They hired a coach just after sunup and rode in silence while the familiar road passed by the window. It seemed to Faith that she knew it only from some fantasy and not from years of having traveled it. When she saw the first little cluster of buildings at the edge of her village, she drew back from the window. Better to see her family and gauge her welcome before anyone saw her. If she were waylaid by a neighbor, someone would surely alert her parents ere she could speak with them, and that might go badly.
They passed the church, a solid clapboard building that dominated the main road running through the center of town. To her relief, Owen Williams was inside or absent altogether. A quick glance at her husband’s face suggested that he shared her sentiments.
All around them, the village bustled with activity. Even those who lived in the town proper kept some animals, chickens, goats, perhaps a few pigs, and the air was pungent with their presence. Women tended to these while their husbands and sons tended to business. It was mid morning, and the sounds of hammer and anvil rang out from the smithy.
Although Aaron Jacobs’ wood mill lay on the outskirts of town, the sound of planks being cut from raw timber carried to the coach, and Faith wondered if Aaron had found a suitable bride.