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| Digital art by Renata Lechner Photography by Cathleen Tarawhiti Model - Danielle Lightfoot |
Chapter 1
1846
The ocean
seemed to have a temper. It wasn’t calm and serene as it had been just the day
before. Rather, the waves were rolling in against the rocks so furiously the
whitecaps seemed to bubble as they broke and attempted to reform with the next
in succession. It would not be a good
day for her husband to return, not with the sea so angry. It would be better if
he waited until tomorrow when perhaps the ire had died down a bit, and the
water would welcome him back to solid ground, at last, with the gentleness he
so deserved after such a long and tumultuous journey.
She could
only assume it had been tumultuous or else he would have returned by now. He
was long past due, having reached the apex of the appointed amount of time many
months past. But she knew he would be there any day now, any moment. And that
is why she sat sentinel by the window, rarely leaving her post, watching and
praying for him to return.
The view
was a bit obstructed, and it seemed that many of the clippers that came in
looked similar now that time had passed. There were occasions when she was
certain she spied the Mary Ann
nearing port, but after waiting hours for her husband to disembark and make his
way home, she would be forced to accept that the ship she had been watching
must not have been his. And so she continued to watch for hours, craning her
head when necessary to get a better view, sometimes late into the night when it
was much more difficult to see and exhaustion blurred her eyes. Eventually, she
would give up and find her way across the room to her bed, steadfast in her
belief that tomorrow would be the day her husband would arrive home.
It would be
horribly boring, maddening even, if it weren’t for her baby to keep her
company. Even now, as she watched the
waves toss about and spray the seagulls with salty brine, she glanced down at
her sweet angel’s face where he lay sleeping in the bassinet beside her. She
reached down to stroke his cheek softly, afraid she might wake him. His blond
curls poked out of his snow white bonnet, and he cooed a bit in his sleep. He
was such a happy baby, such a peaceful little soul, and she couldn’t wait for
her husband to return so that he might hold his son at long last.
“Madam?” a
voice was calling nearby.
She startled, not aware that anyone
else had entered her room, and turned to address the woman. “Oh, please be quiet,” she whispered sharply.
“You mustn’t wake the baby.”
The woman drew up her shoulders and
took a deep breath. “Madam, are you done
with your dinner plate, or shall I leave this bit for later?” the woman asked
through clenched teeth.
She looked at the plate curiously.
Had she eaten dinner already? Was it that late in the day? It seemed like it
should still be morning. There wasn’t
much left on the plate, only some bread crust and some other unrecognizable
scraps. She wasn’t even sure what she may have eaten for dinner, assuming she
must have been the one to eat whatever had previously occupied the plate. She looked up into the impatient eyes of the
woman who had the mysterious plate thrust at her in a clenched fist and finally
managed, “I’m finished, thank you. That should be all.”
The woman nodded at her sharply,
and then offered a small cup to her. “Your medication, madam,” she said, her
lips drawn into a straight line.
She looked at the medicine for a
moment. She really didn’t like taking it; it made her feel—odd. “Must I?” she asked with a sigh.
“Come now, Mrs. Edwards,” the woman
insisted, forcing it into her hand. “You
know how he gets when you don’t take it. And please don’t cause another uproar.
I can’t handle any more of that today.”
She dropped her eyes, and took the
medicine, absently wishing the help would stop calling her that name. She didn’t bother to voice her annoyance
again, not after that reminder. Sometimes it was better to just remain silent
and endure. Once her husband returned, she wouldn’t have so many hardships to
bear. She took the medicine, swallowed it
down, and took a sip of water.
“Very good, madam,” the woman
nodded. “I shall be back in a few hours to check on you before bedtime. Is
there anything else you require?”
“No, that will be all. Thank you,
Scarlet,” she replied.
The hard look was back about her
face again as she turned to go, shaking her head and mumbling, “My name is not
Scarlet.”
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