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Christmas morning
Elias woke to fat, rain-swollen gray clouds filling the gloomy skies. A smattering of raindrops clung to the window glass, but there was a decent chill in the air. Would it portend a few snowflakes?
It was Christmas morning, the day of miracles, and a blessed celebration on the Christian calendar. He’d been all over the world, had cause to witness half a dozen different religions and partake of their sacred practices, which had given him a better understanding of people throughout the world.
Yet there was something comforting about Christmas, as if the world sat with bated breath in wonderment at the birth of the holy child and the hope for a similar miracle in their humble lives.
Is that what I’m wishing for myself?
He rubbed his bleary eyes with the heels of his hand, and then stared at the ceiling. A dull headache pounded in his head as a result of too much rum punch. Though he hadn’t sought his bed until the wee hours thanks to the impromptu party he’d helped arrange with Helen, anticipation buzzed at the base of his spine, for he couldn’t wait to see her again. It was remarkable how different he felt in her company as opposed to Caroline, who he’d hoped to marry nearly six months prior. Yet Caroline had never truly cared for him, that much had been true.
Was it different this time with Helen? He certainly felt that it was. Being with Caroline had never sent fires burning through his blood or urgent need tightening his shaft, but beyond that, he craved an extension of the companionship he’d found with Helen. Of course he wanted her in the physical sense, but he also desired something permanent and lasting; to grow old with a woman who’d love him for himself, who’d want to bear his children and laugh at the little things that made life special.
Yet by Helen’s own admission, she wouldn’t tarry with a man who retained ties to the sea. Despite her enthusiastic sharing of their kisses, he knew her well enough that she’d refuse his suit on principle if he were to ask.
Surprise filled his chest. Was that where he was ultimately headed with her then? To successfully woo her and ask for her hand? Confusion and perhaps further heartbreak lay down that path, but he was never one to shy away from potential danger.
A conundrum indeed.
With a yawn, Elias struggled into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the narrow bed. The chill emanating from the floor seeped into his feet, but his gaze lingered on his worn valise that sat atop is battered trunk. He wished to mark the day by giving Helen a gift, and he’s kept a silver locket in his possession for more than a few years, picked up while off the east coast of America some years back. Originally, he’d thought Caroline might like it, but when things fell apart between them, he’d kept it secret, for it was a beautiful piece, etched with scrollwork. Perhaps it would be just the thing to grace Helen’s neck, and once her father passed from this world, she could keep a lock of his hair in it.
The trouble with being a sailor was staying always practical and knowing life was as short as it was precious. One never knew how many days were left of a life.
Elias yawned. He scratched his fingers through the stubble clinging to his jaw while stumbling across the small room to the washstand in the corner. One glance into the aged mirror on the wall and he groaned. “You’re getting old, Frampton.” How the devil did he think he had anything to offer Helen when he hadn’t put down roots in the whole of his existence? For that matter, was the difference in their ages too great to overcome? As he shoved a hand through his hair, his gaze fell on the delicate silver ring he kept on a black cord about his neck. That ring had once belonged to his mother; it was the last thing he had to remember her by and the only thing he’d been given as a young man that had belonged to her.
Everything else of his parents had been lost to the ages or sold by various family members hoping for a few more coins in their pockets or to assist in the care and keeping of him while he’d been tossed about the English countryside to different relatives. But the ring had been the one constant in his disappointing past, and he’d kept it hidden over the years.
“Mama would want me to settle down and find happiness,” he told his reflection. She’d always said a man was nothing if he didn’t have friends, happiness, and love in his life.
As he poured what would probably be frigid water into the basin, his block of shaving soap as well as the lathering brush tumbled off the stand, crashed against the wall, and then thudded to the floor.
“Not as auspicious way to begin the day,” he muttered and stooped down to retrieve the errant pieces. As he reached for the brush, he frowned, for there was a small tear in the faded blue wallpaper stamped with birds and ivy leaves. “Damn.” He fingered the tear, and since the paper was so old, it flaked away with the slightest pressure, but as he peered closer, a portion of a drawing was revealed by the missing paper. “What the devil is this?”
Curious, he put the soap bar as well as the brush on the basin table. Then he steadily peeled back enough of the wallpaper to see the bulk of what appeared to be a child’s crude drawing done with a charcoal pencil.
A figure obviously a female due to the outlines of a dress stood on the seashore. In the distance on clumsily drawn waves rested a ship with its sails unfurled. The girl figure had a hand raised as if in goodbye and there were tiny tears on the girl’s cheeks. As another piece of the paper came away, words were revealed. “I will never give my heart to a man who loves the sea more. It will hurt too much. Just ask Mama.”
Oh, dear Lord.
He put a hand to his heart where a sudden, intense ache had formed. Belatedly, he remembered this room used to belong to Helen when she’d been a young girl, and she’d told him that her mother had died when she was twelve. The elementary designs of the drawing must have been a few years before that, for from her own admission, she’d shared that she was quite skilled in sketching now.
Had her father’s longing to return to the sea been a source of discontent in her parents’ marriage? Living at the inn, Helen had no doubt overheard many a conversation. Perhaps at one time her father had had come home on leave from exotic ports and adventures. Had her mother already known she was ill and protested the decision? Had the difference in opinion hastened her death?
From Elias’ own experience, he could relate to both opinions, for once a man was on land for a few years, the urge to return to a ship, to ride the waves and taste the freedom only a sailor could know grew large. Had Helen’s parents’ love not burned strong enough to keep him on land, to make him happy? Or had he resented the fact that because of his family, he was doomed to never meet with his first love again?
How incredibly sad, regardless of how this picture had come about.
He glanced out the window. Not far in the distance, the gray expanse of the sea rolled in constant motion, the waves slightly white-capped, for yet another storm was in the offing. Port Isaac was a nice enough village, and given time, it would undoubtedly become a premier shipping port in Cornwall, for now that the war was over, the demand for imported goods would triple. Perhaps the answer wasn’t in returning to the sea. Could it rest in making a living on the back of that ever-changing mystery? Was the secret in living a balanced life keeping the sea in sight, perhaps securing a small sloop that would quiet the craving for freedom while putting down much-needed roots?
I must ponder the possibilities.
An hour later, Elias made his way into the tavern room. A fair-sized crowd filled the space. Jolly conversation and laugh echoed through the air. The fires at either side of the room gave off a cheerful, cozy feeling. Helen must have remembered to throw orange peels and cloves into the flames, for the veriest hints of the holiday scents teased his nose.
Her father had made an appearance, so Elias joined the older man.
“Good morning, Mr. Everly. Looks to be some weather coming in for the day.”
“Aye. It’ll rain sure enough.” When the older man looked at Elias, he had vacant eyes and gave an absent nod. Obviously, his mind had wandered, and he knew him not at all. “Might be snow in the offing.”
“It’s surely not good for fishing, but plenty good for walking,” Elias said, hoping the conversation might jog the man’s memory. “If the precipitation holds, I’ll enjoy a ramble along the shore. Plenty of sea glass to be found. Perhaps I can convince Helen to accompany me.” Alone on the shore, he’d introduce the subjects that had held him in confusion with the hope that she might help unravel the knots.
Frown lines marred the older man’s brow. “You stay away from my girl, Captain.” Did that mean the man remembered who Elias was, or did he call everyone by the moniker? “I don’t want her hanging about with the likes of a sea dog. She deserves a better life than that.” A faraway look filled his eyes. “Nearly destroyed my marriage with always being on the sea. Helen needs a man who hasn’t taken the sea for a mistress.”
“I understand, Mr. Everly,” Elias said in a soft voice, for there was wisdom yet in the older man’s words. Cold disappointment filled his chest. Despite what he felt toward Helen, her father would never extend his blessing. “Well, have a good day.”
“Aye. Will be good enough whether it rains or snows.” Then he returned to his task of winding a wad of wool into a tighter ball.
More worried than he cared to admit, Elias took a seat at his usual table between one of the fireplaces and a window. Wasn’t the course of Helen’s life up to her alone? Sure, she could listen to her father’s opinion as well as his, but the ultimate deciding factor rested with her.
Would she take a chance on a man with ties to the sea and no roots though?
He stared into the flames of the fire, but they failed to produce the usual calming effect. Then he transferred his attention to the evergreen tree in the opposite corner, where the decorations winked in the candlelight. Had that connection he felt with Helen merely been a product of wishful thinking and the holiday spirit?
“Happy Christmas, Elias.”
The greeting in her dulcet tones wrenched him from his tortured musings. Elias glanced up into Helen’s smiling face, and all his worries melted away. “Good morning, Helen. Happy Christmas indeed.” He swept his gaze up and down her person. Though she wasn’t attired in the splendid gown from the evening before, her simple dress of plum-colored wool showed her to advantage, but it was the happiness dancing in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks that drew him in. “I trust you slept well?”
“I did, though I couldn’t wait to wake this morning.”
“Oh?” Had she felt the same anticipation he had? Did that excitement extend to seeing him? He feared the answers in the event that he’d been wrong about that connection between them. “No doubt you’re anxious to celebrate the day with your mother’s memories as well as everything you and Cook have planned.”
“In part, yes, but I also wished to see you.” In a lower tone, she added, “I have a gift for you.”
Warm pleasure slipped through his chest. It was absurd, but it was there nonetheless. “I appreciate you thinking of me. I have one for you as well. Shall we exchange them now or would later prove more appropriate?”
“Perhaps later with tea.” There was no mistaking the delight in her eyes. “I’d hoped there might be enough interest with the guests that we might get up a game of charades or Blind Man’s Bluff. Barring that, I’d like to learn how to play whist.”
“I’m certain some, if not all, can be arranged.” But the need to spend time alone with her marched to the forefront of his mind. “Or, if you’d rather, we can walk the seashore before the next storm hits.” When she didn’t immediately say anything, he continued. “I’ve fallen into the habit of searching and collecting sea glass, and out of all the places in the world, Cornwall offers some of the prettiest fragments.”
Helen’s eyes widened. “Sea glass?”
“Yes. It’s a hobby, a bit of an obsession really. I keep the choicest pieces in an old jar that travels with me, and no matter where I am, I put the jar in a place where it will catch the light.” He grinned as heat rose up the back of his neck. Would she think it silly? “It’s pretty, and it reminds me that anything lost to the sea will always and eventually make its way back to the land, often changed with rough edges smoothed over into something beautiful.”
Helen swiftly sat on the chair opposite him as if her legs suddenly couldn’t support her any longer. “My mother used to collect sea glass,” she said in a whisper, “for much the same reasons you do.”
How interesting that something so small connected him to this woman. “Do you still have her pieces?”
“Yes.” She nodded and tears welled in her eyes. “I was envious of the glass when I was a young child, for she’d never let me carry it off to my room and I could only look at it in her presence.” A drop of moisture fell to her cheek. “I spent days in my childhood when it rained sorting the collection by color and shape while Mama tended to the guests at the counter.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the area where a young woman took care of that duty currently. “Hours I’d sit on the floor at her feet, pretending the sea glass were the jewels of a mermaid who’d come to shore looking for the pirate who’d stolen her inheritance.”
This story, combined with the picture he’d discovered hidden behind the wallpaper in his room, gave him a unique insight into what life must have been like for her in childhood. Daring much, Elias covered one of her hands with his. “You’ve always had an interesting relationship with the sea. At times it brings out the creative and hopeful, but in others, it takes away everything that you hold dear without the comfort of knowing if you’ll see them again.”
Another tear fell to her cheek. “How can you be inside my mind like that?”
He shrugged. “It’s merely a guess.” When he met her gaze, his heart squeezed. “Do you want to know what I like best about the sea?”
“The ability to sail off to new adventures?” A veil of sadness had fallen over her face.
“No.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. “The constant ebb and flow of the waves calms my mind each night, and every morning, the sea is there, as steadfast as it was when I retired in the evening. The sea never changes. It reminds me with each crash of the waves that the sun will rise as it always does, and the world will endure regardless of the heartache from the past or the uncertainty of the future.”
She wiped at the moisture on her face with her free hand. “My mother used to say much the same thing, especially after she and my father argued about him and his longing to return to sailing even though she was dying.”
“I figured as much.” For long moments they sat in silence, but he didn’t release her hand, for she clung to him as if he were a lifeline. “Had your father made plans to leave the inn after your mother died?”
“It’s possible, but Mama didn’t confide her secrets in me; I was but a girl.” She shifted her gaze over her shoulder once more, only this time she focused on her father, who ate breakfast by himself. “Papa’s heart, I think, was divided during his marriage.” When she faced Elias again, sadness clouded her eyes. “He loved the sea, but he also loved my mother. It must have torn him apart, never knowing peace nor having it when home for a spell.”
“And perhaps contributed to the fractures in his mind.” He didn’t wish to spend the rest of his life being so conflicted. If he wanted Helen in his life permanently, he would gladly give up a life onboard a ship, for she was worth at least that. “Please know any man worth his salt would take your feelings and wishes into account before he set foot on the path that led to the rest of his life.”
A slight smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. “I appreciate that, but what sort of woman would I be if those wishes diminished a man’s future happiness?”
Oh, she was a true gem. “This has rapidly turned into a maudlin conversation, and that wasn’t my intention. It’s Christmas morning, after all.”
“You’re right.” Gently, she slipped her hand from his and stood. “Would you like breakfast and coffee?”
“Breakfast, yes, but today I’d rather have tea in the hope you’ll share the meal with me.” No longer was his mind swamped in confusion. This afternoon, he would put plans into motion that hopefully would usher into a new adventure of his life. “Christmas is for family, and it’s also a time to grasp at the miracles, even if they’re small and dependent on our own actions.”
A blush colored her cheeks as she nodded. “I hoped you’d ask. I’m famished, and I’m glad the crowd in the room is thinning so we’ll have time to linger.”
Linger for a lifetime. Indeed, he had much to look forward to... if she’d have him.