Aboard Providence Page 18

  He had slipped one letter into the book he had lent her and now felt anxious when he thought of her finding it and reading it. It was a sentimental thing to do and seemed boyish now. Maybe she would appreciate the gesture.

  He wished he knew her more, but he had spent so much of their time together focused on finding a way back to America. She’d refused to encourage him further in his desire to leave this land, but he’d refused to give up. She’d been right and wise, but he hadn’t let any of that matter when he left to explore because he’d been sure they were somewhere with a port.

  But he was wrong.

  He was a fool, striving for an unattainable goal. He would never get back to Philadelphia, never clear his name, never become a doctor like his father or his grandfather. After all his work to avoid disappointing his family, he had only become trapped in an isolated land to live a life disappointed in himself.

  * * *

  Marian wrapped her arms around Jonah’s botany book and hugged it to her chest as she walked the path from her family’s tent toward the stream. The clearing in the forest had widened since the men cut trees daily for lumber. She found a gray leaf stump far enough from the noise of the work to focus on her reading, but close enough to still feel like she was a part of the group.

  The smell of the freshly cut gray leaf lumber filled the air. Marian inhaled deeply and instantly felt relaxed. As she sat on the stump and steadied the book on her lap, peaceful satisfaction filled every part of her, save for the aching corner of her heart that pined for Jonah’s return.

  She ran a finger along the spine of the book he had lent her less than a week ago. It had been an exquisitely torturous week of missing him. Sometimes, she wished she had gone with him even though it was not possible, yet missing him allowed her to imagine their reunion. Those fantasies produced a brief, almost euphoric sensation that encouraged her to repeat them again and again. She considered the feelings proof of her love for him and confirmation she should spend her life with him, even if that meant another arduous voyage.

  She lifted the cover of the botany book and began to read the Preface. A slip of paper under the table of contents raised the page unnaturally. The paper was folded in quarters. She steadied the book on her lap and opened the creased letter. It was from Jonah. Her heart pounded against the wall of her chest.

  Dearest Marian,

  Tomorrow morning I shall kiss you goodbye and leave this book in your keeping and hide within it this letter. The book is for the occupation of mind you requested, proving I intend to meet your needs. The letter is for the occupation of your heart, so that while I am away you can read this and, hopefully, hear my voice. The kiss is to remove any doubt you have of my affection for you.

  I will think of you every moment we are apart.

  With love,

  Jonah

  Marian kept the letter open and sniffed it hoping the paper smelled like Jonah, but it did not. She pressed it between her palms and prayed he was safe. Whether or not he found a port no longer mattered to her—only that he came back to her and saw her resolve to be with him. If they left the Land, she could spend the voyage reading his books and when they returned to America they could get married. They could fight to clear his name together, if need be. Then he would finish his education and get the title he so desired and find fulfillment. She could study botany or get a formal education herself. It would be all right—more than right—it would be perfect.

  She folded the letter, and as she did, the edge of the paper sliced the skin along her finger. A drip of blood beaded on her fingertip. She immediately stuck her finger in her mouth, but drew it out, knowing Jonah would not approve.

  Mr. Foster trudged along the forest path, snapping Marian from her reverie. One of the herding dogs followed him. Her father’s shoulders lurched forward as he walked as if he were still under the low ceilings in the ship’s hold. As he moved into the clearing, he stopped in front of Marian and pointed at the book. “What’s that you’re reading?”

  She hid the letter back in the book and clapped the cover shut. “It’s a book on botany. Jonah lent it to me.”

  Mr. Foster squatted in front of her and petted his dog while it sniffed the ground around them. Though she sensed her father had something to say, he only stroked the dog and watched the men who were building. She felt like a child waiting for a lecture, as if she had disappointed her father by wanting to leave the Land with Jonah. It was a silly feeling because he wouldn’t even know there was a possibility she might leave.

  Finally, her father looked at her. “It’s been strange the last few days in the settlement since Jonah and Mr. Weathermon left. It’s unnerving, them being gone, even though Jonah keeps to himself and Mr. Weathermon doesn’t seem to like anyone but the Ashtons. They’re still a part of us. It’s unsettling, isn’t it?”

  Marian found her father’s attempt to initiate conversation peculiar. She wasn’t in trouble, but he had something to say that was making him awkward. She straightened her posture. “It is even more unsettling that you should mention their absence like this.”

  He looked down and traced a finger in the dirt for a moment.

  Marian did not mean to silence him. She forced a smile. “I’m sure they’re fine, Father. Jonah is governed by caution. And Mr. Weathermon, well, no tribe of savages would keep him imprisoned long. No need to worry about them.”

  “I’m not worried about them, not as such. I’m worried about you.”

  “Me? I’m fine.”

  “I know you’re fond of Jonah and if something should happen to him… I don’t want you to go through what I…” His voice cracked and he turned his face away.

  Marian wanted to make her father’s pain go away. She opened her mouth to spout encouragement, but no words came. The wind increased and shadows of the gray leaf trees danced on the ground around them. The shapes moved across her hands, the book, and the brim of her father’s hat. The cool breeze pricked her skin and she wished it would stop—the wind, the shadows, the pain her father never spoke of, and her longing for Jonah and for a life with him.

  After a moment Mr. Foster cleared his throat and shook his head. “I don’t think Jonah is very fond of me.”

  Twice her father had surprised her. “What do you mean? I’m sure he is—”

  “No, he isn’t.” He took off his hat and threaded the brim between his dirty fingers. “He hasn’t been unkind, but I know he holds a low opinion of me since the voyage. He wanted me in the room when your mother gave birth and I stayed in the hold. You know why I stayed in the hold, don’t you?”

  “Men aren’t usually welcome in the birthing room.”

  “No. I’ve lost too many children, that’s why. I shouldn’t have hidden myself, but what’s a man to do? I couldn’t face another loss. I couldn’t do it. You stayed with her and that was what she needed. I’ve apologized to your mother and she’s so happy with Asher she never even held it against me. Doctor Ashton and Anna were both understanding of my cowardice. I haven’t spoken to Jonah about it, but I know I lost his respect and I doubt I’ll get it back.”

  Desperate to relieve her father of shame, she touched his arm. “No, Father—”

  “No, it’s true. I can tell he has dismissed me. He’s an educated man from a good family with good manners, yet he is courting my daughter and he hasn’t said a word about it to me.” His voice remained quiet but taut. “Are the two of you engaged yet? He hasn’t asked my permission to marry you. You might be grown, but you’re still my little girl. Has he asked you to marry?”

  “No, he hasn’t asked me to marry, nor will he until he is certain.”

  He drew his head back. “Certain about what? You’re a beautiful girl and a hard worker. You’d make a good wife for any man. He’d be fortunate to have you. What else is there to be certain about?”

  Her father’s defense was touching but unnecessary. Jonah had made it clear that he loved her and wanted her to be his wife. The uncertainty rest in their plans and
her wavering in commitment to leave their new land, but she had since resolved to go wherever he wanted so long as they were together.

  She could not tell her father there was a possibility he would lose her until it was definite. She watched the shadows on the ground instead of looking into her father’s eyes. “He wants to be certain that we want the same things.”

  “Do you want the same things?”

  “I think so.”

  “What would you have to give up?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Great love always requires some kind of sacrifice or a change of purpose. What would you have to sacrifice to align your heart’s desire to Jonah’s?”

  She would only have to give up her family and friends and this new land that was so full of potential, but she could not say that to her father, so she shrugged. She stared at the book and let her eyes lose focus. Even with all that she would have to sacrifice if they left the Land, her greatest desire was to study and explore and Jonah was giving her what he could to make that possible. If Jonah found a way home, she would sacrifice her family, but gain a family of her own with him. She would sacrifice the peace she felt in the Land, but she would have no peace without him. She looked at her father. “If he asks me to marry him, I will gladly accept. But I know Jonah and he will seek your blessing before he proposes marriage.”

  Mr. Foster nodded. “You’ve been so good to help your mother all these years. I know you’ve carried her more than I have, and I’m truly sorry. She has a healthy baby now, and I’ve never seen her happier. This is a good time for you to start your own life.” As he stood, he picked up a fallen sprig of the gray leaf. He pulled one leaf from its stem and held it out to Marian. “Is this tree in your botany book?”

  “No, and I plan to study it thoroughly before I have to… return the book to Jonah.”

  She took the leaf and rubbed its thick, silvery flesh between her thumb and forefinger. When its drying edges crackled and broke off, it left an oily residue. Her skin started to tingle beneath the oil. She sniffed it and felt a surge of peace. Some of the gray leaf’s oil seeped into the paper cut on her finger. She expected it to sting, but it gave instant relief. Within seconds the cut closed completely. The faint red line in her skin faded and then disappeared. She held her finger up to her father. “Perhaps, I should begin my research now.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kindling crackled in the heat of the growing flame as Jonah fed the campfire. Once satisfied it was burning well, he backed away from the fire and glanced at Mr. Weathermon. “We should go farther inland tomorrow and then head south to return to Good Springs. That way, even if we don’t find any sign of civilization, we will know more of the terrain.”

  Mr. Weathermon sat on his haunches near the fire and held a broiler, cooking their fish. He heaved a breath. “No need to get lost now. Tomorrow we’ll follow the coast south. After being cooped up in close quarters on the Providence, this exploration has been refreshing to my soul, but my body is ready to sleep in a real bed. I’m not a young man anymore. After a week of hiking, I’m losing energy by the day.”

  Jonah laid their tin plates on the ground then dug through the satchel for forks. As Mr. Weathermon turned the broiler to cook the fish on both sides, firelight cast shadows across his face. The voyage had removed at least twenty pounds from his once ample girth and deepened his wrinkles. He could be forty-two years old, like Jonah’s father or he could be old enough to be Jonah’s grandfather; Jonah could not tell and it bothered him that he was not better at estimating ages, for a physician. “How old are you?”

  “Fifty-nine, come the first of April. Forty of those years were spent in the shipping industry. I’ve earned my retirement. I’m ready to rest… and fish.”

  Jonah did not want to rest. Something about hiking through the Land’s terrain had beckoned him to keep exploring. “Perhaps after a rest at the settlement next week, we can explore to the south together.”

  “It’ll probably be too cold soon, especially to the south. Remember the seasons are opposite on the Southern Hemisphere, as is the climate, colder in the south, warmer in the north,” Mr. Weathermon said as he pulled the broiler away from the fire and held it over their plates.

  Jonah used the forks to free the fish meat from the broiler sticks and divided it between their plates, giving Mr. Weathermon the larger portion. “Then I will go alone.”

  “Nonsense. Take Gabriel with you. But you’ll be needed to help build the cabins first.”

  “I could leave as soon as the cabins are up. They don’t take long to build since the gray leaf wood is so easily hewn. It won’t take but a couple of months with all the men working together. Then I can explore to the south. I want to see more of the Land.”

  Mr. Weathermon shoveled a heaping bite of fish into his mouth without checking its temperature. He leaned back and made a face as he blew out the heat. After a long drink from his canteen, he shook his head at Jonah. “Don’t go alone. Take Gabriel with you or the Roberts boy. I offered to accompany you on this exploration because I was concerned about building a village without knowing where we were, but look at the place, Jonah.” He situated his fork on his plate and motioned with his hand. “Whatever this land is, wherever it is, it’s perfect for a settlement such as your father and the other men intend to build. There’s no one here.”

  “The elders will be glad to know what we’ve discovered, but I want to know more. I want to see what is to the south of Good Springs and maybe explore as far as the mountains someday.”

  “Fine,” Mr. Weathermon said, taking another bite. “If you’re going to spend your life searching for a way off this island, at least tell your father what you are looking for. Your pretense of being concerned that they are taking another man’s land won’t hold up for long because you’ve emanated dissatisfaction. If you keep it inside, it’ll make you bitter and destroy your relationship with your father.”

  “That’s just it… I don’t want to explore to find a way to leave. Like you said: the sooner I accept that this is my new home, the better off I will be. Well, I’m a logical man and I can accept it.”

  Mr. Weathermon stabbed his food with his fork. “That’s good to hear. I still believe you should come clean with your father. He’s been my friend some twenty years and I don’t want to see him distraught. Not again. Not like he was when his father turned against him.”

  “That is why I came this far. I did all this and kept my true intentions from my family because I couldn’t bear the kind of estrangement from him that he had with my grandfather.”

  “Your father is a very different man than your grandfather. Believe me.” Mr. Weathermon chuckled but not happily. “Your father would never treat you that way. You and your father have a different relationship than they had. You have a good father.”

  “My grandfather was a good man too.”

  Mr. Weathermon raised a finger. “To you maybe. That’s a grandfather’s job, to be a hero of sorts to his grandchildren. Your grandfather was a man wrought with fault. You don’t know how he tormented your father.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “It’s not my place. I can only say your father had to move to Accomack to have peace, and I encouraged him. Don’t lie to your father. He’s a good man. I wish I’d had a father like yours. I might have been a different man. Most men would be different if they had a father like yours.”

  It was a perspective Jonah had not considered. He hadn’t meant to deceive his father, but to protect him and to protect himself. He didn’t want estrangement, but he didn’t want to lie either. He set his fork across the top of his plate and stared at the orange flames of the campfire. “It’s not that I wanted to leave my family. I felt like my life was in another place and it was my duty to return to it. I came this far so that if I did separate from my family, we would be at peace. Since I can’t leave, there is no need to upset anyone else. I’ve already worried Marian with my desire to go home. She’ll be delighted when
I tell her we are home.”

  Mr. Weathermon’s fork scraped his plate as he gathered the last bite of fish. “You should still tell your father the whole story. If you’re serious about not wanting to disappoint him, let him hear the truth from you.”

  * * *

  Marian dried the last of the dishes from her family’s mid-day meal and placed the kettle on the stove to boil. No matter how small their cabin, it was still better than the tent. Though grateful for their new home and for all they had brought to the Land, her supply of the tea that relieved her hay fever had been depleted and she felt lacking. She sneezed as she reached for the canister of Bohea and sneezed again as she drew her kerchief from her sleeve. The itch in the back of her throat was as relentless as the ache in her heart for Jonah’s safe return.

  Marian’s mother bent over the bed and changed Asher’s diaper, cooing and talking to the baby in nonsensical babble all the while. Finally, Catherine scooped the freshened baby from the mattress and turned to Marian. “Benjamin is working with your father this afternoon. I’m taking the baby to Anna’s. Cecelia is with the girls in the grove.”

  “What are they doing in the grove?”

  “Gathering figs. Mrs. Vestal is going to teach them to make preserves. She asked if you would join them, but I told her you weren’t feeling well.”

  “It’s only hay fever, Mother. I’m fine,” Marian replied with more force than she intended, but her swollen eyes and dripping nose had irritated her mood.

  Catherine raised an eyebrow as she stepped to the open door. “It might only be hay fever, but it’s making you miserable.”

  “I’m sorry. It’ll go away when the weather changes.”

  “Why don’t you lie down for a while?”