I should have finished the mending that day, but there wasn’t much left to do and my hands would never have been able to hold my needle, which I had found on the floor after Richard departed. I was bursting with energy, so I went outside to muck out the cow pen and the chicken coop. They were in sore need of attention, and I spent the rest of the day working outdoors.
By the time I went in for my evening meal, it was practically dark outside and I was exhausted from so much arduous work. But it was the blessed kind of exhaustion, the kind that promised good, heavy, dreamless sleep.
My arms and back were sore in the morning, but I didn’t mind. When I went outside to gather the eggs and milk the cows, I smiled at how clean the pens were. Pappa would have been very happy.
When my thoughts turned to Pappa, as they often did, I usually tried to push them out of my mind, to think of something else that wasn’t so painful. I knew, in time, that I wouldn’t be so sad every time I thought of Pappa, just as I remembered Mamma without grief and anguish, but with deep love and sweet memories.
But today I wanted to think about him. I wanted to know what he would think about Richard kissing me. I wondered if Pappa would approve, or whether he would warn me away from Richard.
Before Pappa died, he had invited Richard into the house while I was there. Richard had even eaten a meal with us. He had done business with Richard, too. When I thought of all these things in combination, I knew Pappa had respected Richard as a man of medicine, a man of business, and as someone who wanted to help his fellow man.
But I knew there had been times, too, when Pappa did not want me to know about Richard. Was that because he was afraid for my sake, or was it because he didn’t want me to know he was doing business with a pirate? I didn’t know the answer.
But I couldn’t deny what I had felt when Richard kissed me.
Patience visited that afternoon, with news that her mother was continuing to improve and that she wanted to pay me for the medicines I had taken to her while she was bedridden. Patience held out some coins, but I refused to take them.
“Patience, tell your mother those herb mixtures were a gift. I wanted her to have them because I wanted her to feel better, for her own sake and for the sake of the rest of your family.”
“But I can’t take the coins back to her. She’ll be mad at me for not giving them to you.”
“Then I’ll write her a note telling her myself. If your mother wants to pay me, tell her the best thing she can do is to tell other people about my remedies. I’ve been getting some people from Town into the apothecary, but not as many as I would like. Perhaps if your mother helps to spread the word, more people will be able to accept that a woman is the new apothecary. Better yet, don’t tell her. I’ll write it myself in the note.”
I retrieved a small piece of paper from the shop, along with a quill and inkwell. It seemed silly to write to Goody Ames when she lived nearby, but I didn’t want to leave the house to talk to her just then in case anyone from the village came to the shop needing assistance.
I carefully penned the note and folded it, then handed it to Patience. For just a moment I longed to tell her about Richard, but something stopped me. Patience gave me a look that told me she knew there was something on my mind, but she didn’t ask about it. She had a lot on her mind, too, with her parents’ growing family and her increased roster of chores.
After she left I turned my feelings over and over. Why hadn’t I told Patience about Richard kissing me? I knew she would be thrilled if she knew, but I didn’t know what it was that had held me back from saying anything.
Was it that Richard was an outlaw and I didn’t want her to know his secret? Was it that I was ashamed that he was forced to conduct his business in the dark? Was it that he had not been to a Sunday church service since I had met him?
I finally decided that I had avoided telling her simply because I wanted to keep it to myself, to savor it, for just a while.
I was compiling a mental inventory in the apothecary when there was a knock at the shop door. I turned around with a smile on my face, ready to greet whomever was there.
But my smile vanished when I saw Captain Eli standing outside the door.
It was too late to run over and lock the door. I cursed myself for leaving the bolt open. I could see the captain reaching for the door handle, then he rattled it and, finding it unlocked, pushed it open and came into the shop. He had a pronounced limp.
I watched him warily from where I stood near the door leading into the house. I debated whether I should flee into the house and lock the door behind me, but the last thing I wanted was for him to be loose in the apothecary and trying to get into my home. Instead, I stood my ground, my chin slightly lifted. The captain thankfully could not see that my knees were quaking and my heart was beating wildly, as if it might hop out of my chest and onto the floor at any moment.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I need summat for ma knee,” he rasped. His eyes were bleary as he took in the surroundings of the shop.
I didn’t move. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find what you need elsewhere.”
“And how am I supposed to do that? I can’t barely walk.”
“I’m sorry. I cannot help you.”
He took a wavering step toward me and I backed up into a counter along the wall. “Why won’t you help me?” His voice held a sneer that scared me.
“Because I do not treat your ilk. Now, please leave or I shall be forced to tell the authorities that you refused to go.” How dare he think that I might treat him, knowing what I did about the way he treated my mother? Knowing that he might even have had something to do with her disappearance?
He let out a laugh that sounded like a dark barking. “You’re the apothecary. Where else am I supposed to go?”
“I do not know, and I do not care.” I nodded toward the door. “You can find your own way out.” I watched him, waiting for him to turn around and go.
But he stood still. “Can you at least give me summat for the pain?”
I heard a pathetic plea in the tone of his voice, and it brought forth a thought I would rather not have had. Pappa, one of the most knowledgeable and honorable apothecaries on these shores, agreed to do business with a pirate because he wanted to ensure that the men who signed up to go to sea, the men who supported families with the money they earned in such a despicable manner, were not left without medical equipment and medicines for their diseases and injuries. Would Pappa treat Captain Eli’s wound, whatever it was?
I had to begrudgingly admit to myself that he probably would. Could I, then, do any less?
“What happened to your knee?” I finally asked.
“Hurt it.”
“Yes, I gathered that. How did you hurt it?”
He looked at the ceiling of the shop, then out the window. “It doesn’t matter, now, does it?”
“May I at least look at it? I can’t give you anything for it until I have an idea of how you’ve injured it.”
He limped toward me and stopped several feet away. Bending down, he pulled up the leg of his breeches and it was all I could do not to gasp in dismay at the oozing mass of yellow-green liquid seeping from an obviously deep, purple wound.
“Oh, my!” I exclaimed, quickly forgetting my loathing. I hurried over to the cabinet where Pappa had always kept his instruments used for cleaning out and cauterizing wounds. I bade the captain sit on a stool I placed near the cabinet and gave him a roll of cloth to bite. He would certainly need to use it, judging from the look of his wound. Cleaning it out would be an extremely painful endeavor. He sat down heavily, holding the roll of cloth, and pulled up the leg of his breeches again so I could see the wound more closely. It gave off a rank odor, even worse than the odor wafting from the captain’s skin and clothing.
“This is going to hurt, so please put that roll of cloth in your mouth and use it to bite down hard when I tell you to. It will help to stifle any noise you make and to prevent your teeth from breaking.” I suppressed a shudder at the thought of his rotting teeth.
I selected two instruments that would be useful and set them on a cloth on the floor next to me. I experienced just a moment of hesitation, when I worried that the pain of the procedure might make the captain kick me with his other leg, but I quickly pushed that fear aside and reached for the first instrument, a wooden handle with a small, curved piece of metal at the end. I held it firmly, then told the captain, “Now.”
He bit down on the cloth while I peeled apart the ragged skin that flapped around the wound. He gasped in pain, but did not scream—yet. The skin had become gray around the edges and looked dead to me. I knew I would have to cut the dead parts off before he could leave the shop. Crusted blood, the color of a robin’s breast, was smeared up and down his leg.
When I held the instrument near the wound, I sensed rather than felt him wince in apprehension. And with the first pass of the metal through the pus coming out of the wound, he screamed in pain. I shot him a look of exasperation and said, “Please, use the rolled cloth. If you startle me while I’m working I might make a mistake.” He was a bit quieter after that. I might have chosen to use much more soothing language if my patient had been anyone else, but I suppose there was a certain amount of superiority I felt under the circumstances. I knew what Mistress Reeves would say: pride goeth before a fall. And I was feeling a swelling sense of pride in agreeing to and being able to treat this man’s injury.
I decided it would be best to finish the job as quickly as possible so as not to prolong the captain’s suffering or my danger in being so close to him when he was wild with pain, so I got to work scraping the pus, dried blood, and ooze from the mouth of the wound. The captain kept up a steady moaning, alternating every few seconds with gasps and screams. I found myself almost feeling sorry for him, but every time I thought about how much pain he must be in, I thought also of the pain he may have put my mother through, and I dug a little deeper.
After many long minutes of cleaning out the wound and clipping the dead skin around its opening, I reached for a jar of honey I had placed on the floor near me. I slathered a goodly amount of honey all over the wound and then bound it securely with a clean roll of cloth. The captain looked ashen when I had finished, but nodded and managed to thank me for my services. When I named my price for the procedure, he winced again, as if in more pain.
“I do not have any money,” he said, his face grim and white.
“Then how do you expect to pay me for my services?” I countered.
“Would you take payment of sugar or tea?” he offered. “I can get those things for you.”
“Very well, I’ll take both.” I surprised myself with my own forthright response, but it was a good feeling—telling this man, who had caused me so much recent anxiety, how much would be required to pay me adequately.
He seemed subdued when he nodded his agreement. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll change the dressing for you. That will be included in the price of the procedure,” I added.
“Thank you.” The words seemed to come from a cold place deep within him that was not accustomed to giving thanks.
I walked toward the door and opened it for him, then stood holding it open while he limped slowly across the floor, his face twisting in pain with every step.
When he was gone I locked the door behind him, not wishing to talk with him again if he decided to return. He would be in a great deal of pain until the wound healed, if it healed, and I did not want to be the recipient of his ranting if the pain were more than he expected or could bear.
I wondered how he had sustained such an ugly injury to his leg.
One thing gave me satisfaction. If his leg healed, he would hopefully tell people I was the one who helped him, saving his leg. And if he didn’t tell people, I would. That surely would help my apothecary business.
The next day I had to go to Town early in the morning to see if the general store had any honey. I was running low in the apothecary and wanted to replenish my supply before the next delivery from Philadelphia. I was pleased to see that the store did, indeed, have several jars of honey for sale.
While I was in there, I was also looking at bolts of fabric that were piled on a counter in the back. I was examining the weave of one of the fabrics when two men came into the store. They were both disreputable-looking, with dirt on their faces and an odor which preceded them into the large room.
“I’m telling you, he was barely able to walk last night,” one was saying.
“Serves the old bugger right. What happened?” his companion asked.
“Word has it that he was attacked by someone.”
“Woe be to the man who attacks Captain Eli. He’s not one to let that go unanswered.”
My hands froze on the fabric when I heard who they were discussing. Captain Eli had been attacked. By whom? And where? And why? It made sense, having seen the extent of his injury, and I was bursting to ask questions, but the men stopped talking and purchased a packet of tobacco between them. I managed to stay calm and leave the store without making a fool of myself by chatting up the two strangers.
I was walking home, lost in thought, when I heard someone hailing me. I turned around to see Richard walking toward me. He was wearing Pappa’s boots; I felt a flutter of happiness at having been able to help him in a way that offered him such physical comfort.
“Hullo, Sarah!” he called as he approached.
“Good morning,” I replied, smiling.
“What brings you outside this morning?” he asked.
I held up the basket containing my honey and explained that my supply was running low in the shop.
“And what brings you here?” I asked.
“I was coming to see you at your house. I suppose I’ve given up on trying to look proper and not go inside your house, but since you’re now a woman of business, I suppose no one would think twice if they saw me come out of the house.”
“I suspect you are correct.” In truth, I suspected people would still talk and gossip, but I found that I didn’t care. It was a good feeling.
“I have news,” I said.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Captain Eli paid a visit to the apothecary yesterday.” I leaned toward him as if I were sharing a secret.
His eyes widened and his mouth hung open for a moment. “Surely you jest.”
I shook my head. “He came in with a positively grisly leg wound. He was obviously in a great deal of pain. I will admit that, upon first seeing him, I insisted that he leave and try to find someone else to help him, but eventually I agreed to treat it for him.”
“I wish I had known. I would have been there to make sure he did not try to harm you.”
“Truly, I wasn’t worried once I saw his leg. He was barely able to walk, and if he had tried to attack me I would have simply run from him. He never could have caught me.”
“How did he hurt his leg?”
“He wouldn’t say. It was awful. It required me to clean out the wound, snip away the decaying skin around it, and bandage it after covering it with honey. I gave him a roll of cloth to clamp between his teeth while I worked. I’m surprised he was able to do that, since his teeth are in such a dismal condition.
“But here’s something of interest that I have just now learnt, Richard. While I was in the store for the honey, two men came in and they were talking about Captain Eli. One said someone attacked him. I can certainly believe it, based on the seriousness of his injury. But that is all I was able to overhear and the men left.”
“You must take special precautions not to be alone near him, Sarah. I worry for your safety.”
“If Widow Beall can take care of herself, I can, too. Don’t worry about me, Richard.”
“But I do worry. Sarah, I have news, too.” Something in the tone of his voice chilled me.
“What is it?”
“We set sail in two weeks.”
I could feel my heart sinking, sinking, as if it might pull me along with it. I was unable to speak for a few moments. That was one bit of news I had not been prepared to hear.
“Sarah? Did you hear me?”
I nodded, then blinked. “Where are you going?”
“Jamaica first. After that, I do not know.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. It could be weeks, it could be months. We go with the weather, and we go where the other ships go.”
I did not say anything for a long time, but finally I had to say something or I would start crying. “I wish I could pay for you to leave the boat.” I looked straight ahead because I could not look into his eyes.
“I wish I did not have to go, but I have a responsibility to earn the money I owe. And I have a responsibility to the men aboard the ship. They depend on me to heal them, even save their lives, when they take sick or are injured.”
We had reached my house and I entered through the apothecary door, with Richard following close behind me. I slid the bolt closed when we were inside, then headed straight for the apothecary ledger.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting my ledger. I must make a list as soon as possible of everything you’ll require for the voyage. I may need to send away for certain things in Philadelphia, so I will have to send that letter immediately.”
“I haven’t made a complete list yet,” he said. “I shall return to the ship, compile a list, and be back with it later this day.”
“Very well,” I said, turning away from him to replace the ledger where I kept it. I had suspected he had not prepared a list yet, but I felt the need to do something with my hands, to do something that would keep my mind from dwelling on his departure from New Jersey.
When I turned back to him I was startled to find him standing right behind me. He reached for my hands and held them to his lips.
“I don’t want to leave you, Sarah, but I have to go. You understand that, don’t you?”
I nodded mutely.
He leaned down and kissed my lips and again I had a strange sensation of falling, but this time it felt wonderful knowing there would be strong arms to catch me. The fluttering in my stomach didn’t stop when he did, and I blushed, breathless. He had an unsettling effect on me.
“I want to marry you, Sarah. Will you wait for me to return?”
I gasped. I covered my mouth with both hands—I don’t know why. Perhaps to keep from screaming. Richard laughed.
“Do you want to marry me?” he asked,
“Yes, of course! I’m just so surprised!” My words rushed out, tumbling over one another.
“I knew from the night your father introduced us that you were going to become very special to me,” he said. “I just had no idea how special. And I’ve tried to stay away, to give you time and space to grieve for your father, but I haven’t done a very good job, have I?”
“I’m glad you haven’t stayed away.”
Everything was happening so quickly. Did I love him? Did I feel about Richard the way I was sure my parents had felt about each other before being married? I knew the answer to both questions was a resounding yes.
He took my hands in his and kissed them again, then kissed me again. I felt like I was flying. And I knew in that instant that Pappa wanted me to experience that feeling, and that not only would he approve of me marrying Richard, but that it would have been his wish.
“Do you know something?” I asked. “I think Pappa would be very happy right now.”
“I think he would, too,” Richard replied, and I saw the smile coming from his eyes, his mouth, his heart.