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The sunrise was about to peek over the horizon when Jude Prince came banging on the front door. Just enough light came through the bedroom window for Marin to realize he had not been dreaming; he actually was lying in bed beside a half-naked Opaline Downing.
Her eyes opened to the sight of Marin looking directly at her. She smiled and said, “I think someone is at the door.” She discreetly rolled over onto her other side and asked, “Will you tend to it?”
Marin kissed the nape of her neck, rolled out of bed, put on his clothes and eased out of her bedroom as quietly as his own shadow trailing along behind him. He was halfway down the stairs when he saw Phillipe open the door and Jude Prince come bursting through.
Jude looked up at Marin and said, “Our Mister Oscar sits in jail.”
“Come into the kitchen,” Marin answered, already on his way.
“How is Phoebe?” Jude asked, in a softer and somewhat lower clef.
“Phoebe, the fucking whore?” Marin asked from the kitchen.
“Probably asleep,” Phillipe said to Jude, and then calling out to Marin, he added, “Was that comment necessary?”
“Ask Mister Prince,” Marin returned.
Jude sauntered into the kitchen with his hat in his hand. “I had a full sail of it last night, didn’t I?” he said.
Marin laughed, and noted, “Without a rudder, I might add.”
“You smell as if you slept in a barrel of whiskey,” Phillipe remarked.
“Never you mind me odor,” Jude advised Phillipe.
“Rather difficult not to,” Phillipe jabbed back.
As Marin tended to the kettle, he asked Jude, “Why is Mister Oscar in jail?” Jude’s slow and pondering lack of response was not lost on Marin. “J-a-c-k,” Marin said, drawing out his name warily.
“Well, Captain ...truth be told,” Jude began, nervously turning his hat round and round in his hands, “Ozzy, that is Ozzy and I, we thought it best to sink the Magister Maris in the harbor before—”
“YOU THOUGHT WHAT?” Marin burst out. “WHO’S BLOODY SIDE ARE YOU ON?”
“THIS MISSION IS DOOMED, CAPTAIN,” Jude shouted back. “OUR ONLY DESTINATION IS THE DEPTHS ...AND FOR WHAT?” Jude then lowered his voice in a plea for reason. “For no worthy purpose are ya sacrificin’ the Magister Maris, Sir. Might as well put her to rest in the harbor.”
“W-h-a-t?” Phillipe asked.
Marin closed his eyes and hung his head - not so much in defeat, as in despair.
“Captain,” Jude pleaded, “This is a suicide mission.”
“We don’t know that,” Marin said in a stern, but controlled, voice.
“I do,” Jude asserted, “and so does yer crew. Why do ya think they deserted ya? And have ya asked yerself, ‘Why would the Navy put a crippled old ship in dry dock and do nuthin’ more than put a shine on her?’ But the real baffler is ...why, in the name of Jonah’s Ghost, would the Navy be usin’ a full rigger to deliver cotton balls and bandages to a half-deserted naval station?”
“We don’t know what they’re shipping,” Marin countered.
“That’s right sir, we don’t ...an’ why don’t we?”
Marin didn’t have an answer, but Aunt Belle, having overheard, offered one.
“A man with an ace up his sleeve doesn’t want you examining his garment.”
As Marin looked over at Aunt Belle, he caught Opaline peering over Aunt Belle’s shoulder, and she was staring directly into Marin’s telltale eyes.
Jude spoke to Opaline as one would address a civil servant, saying, “I would like to see Miss Phoebe.”
“I will see if she is awake,” Opaline said, turning and walking away.
“And did Mister Oscar succeed in sinking the Magister?” Marin asked.
“No,” Jude answered. “He was caught in the act.”
“Well, he’ll have to rot awhile,” Marin said. “We have a funeral to attend to.”
The kettle boiled over.
***
After Marin had put a pot of tea on the table and prepared a skillet of scrambled eggs and potatoes, Opaline came into the kitchen holding Phoebe’s hand. Phoebe’s face was white as an eggshell, and barren of any expression. She meant to give a reassuring smile, and perhaps believed she was doing so, but none was visible. Jude extended his arm to her and scooted over on the bench, intending for her to sit beside him, but she took a chair against the wall by the doorway.
“Are you hungry?” Marin asked her, but she didn’t answer.
Opaline poured her a cup of tea and pulled a chair up beside her.
“Aunt Belle, come and eat some breakfast,” Marin called out.
Aunt Belle came into the kitchen, saying, “I’ll just have tea.”
“Am I the only one eating, then?” Marin asked. “Jude? Phillipe?”
Both shook their heads. Marin stared into the skillet full of food.
Opaline painted a tiny smile across her lips. “No one would mind if you were to go ahead and eat your breakfast, Marin,” she said.
“Would you join me?” he asked.
“Maybe a small plate,” she obliged.
“I’ll have a saucer’s worth as well,” Jude said.
“A monk’s portion for me,” Phillipe said, adding a little laugh.
Aunt Belle chuckled, and Phoebe smiled.
“Phoebe and I will share a child’s plate,” she said, reaching out and taking Phoebe by the hand.
The lightness of the atmosphere gradually dissipated as the real purpose of the gathering settled.
After everyone had eaten, Marin said, “I’ll prepare the carriage. Phillipe, if you would saddle the other two horses.”
Marin and Phillipe led the way, coaxing their horses up the long dirt road to the cemetery. Jude drove the carriage and Phoebe sat beside him, wobbling back and forth and side-to-side, as if she were a top-heavy piece of cargo, precariously attached. Several times Opaline reached out from behind Phoebe, at the ready to grab hold of her should she tip over. Aunt Belle sat beside Opaline, holding the funeral box on her lap. As they passed by Maria’s grave, Phillipe veered off to pay his mother a short visit. Marin led the carriage on toward the grave he had dug the night before.
As Marin, Opaline, and Jude gathered at the gravesite, Phoebe stayed in the carriage.
Opaline asked Marin, “Is that your greatcoat spread over that mound of dirt? When did you—”
“Last night.” Marin said.
As Aunt Belle came graveside and placed the little coffin box on the ground; Jude walked back over to the wagon to get Phoebe.
“I can see fine from here,” she said. Jude took one of her hands and remained beside her. Phillipe came riding up, dismounted, and walked over to the carriage and spoke to Phoebe.
“I have a few words I wish to say, and I need you beside me.”
He extended his hand to her, and she accepted it. He helped her out of the carriage and folded his arm inside of hers as Jude came to her other side, and together they accompanied her to the edge of the grave.
Marin stepped down into the grave and asked Phoebe to hand him the makeshift casket. She stood almost defiantly erect, as if she were shocked by the request. Phillipe placed his arm around Phoebe’s waist, and as he bent down, he drew her down with him. With a feather-like touch, she picked up the little box, and fearing her hands would betray her, she handed it to Marin. He laid it down onto the floor of the grave, and held his hand out to Jude for assistance in climbing out of the pit. Marin filled a shovel with dirt and brought it to Phoebe. Her hands trembled as she reached out to grab the handle. Phillipe nodded to her. She extended the shovel out over the grave and spilled the dirt into the deep ground. The sound of the soil hitting the coffin made her shiver.
Phillipe spoke: “...and so it is that we have come to bury the body of this unborn child. He was not to know the wants and longings that wrap themselves like vines around the souls of men, and strangle even the purest of thoughts; nor the temptations and lust that the physical world will hurl at our feet in order to remove our eyes from the heavens above, leaving us to wallow in the mud of secular desire. Spared is he of the doubts and fears that turn man against man, child against mother, and all against God, making us slaves unto the anger within ourselves. He shall never know the vanity of his own reflection, shining on the silver surfaces that tarnish with age and leave a man vain and bitter, even as his embryo soul waits to be reborn.
“No, the world will never know this child, nor he the world ...and yet, this child knew love. Wrapped and protected in his mother’s womb, flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood, floating in a sea of warmth, he knew not lust, nor greed, nor gluttony, nor sloth. He was not victim to wrath, nor envy, nor pride. No sin has befallen him. He knew only of a mother’s love. God smiles upon this child and takes him into His loving arms. His mother has delivered him directly unto heaven, and today, today we bury only the body of this child, born only unto God, and we must find peace in knowing that his soul is in God’s Hands. Let it be done.”
Phoebe fell to her knees and wept. Phillipe stood over her with his hands on her shoulders. Marin and Opaline folded their arms around one another and watched as Jude took the shovel and buried the child.
***
Marin was in the barn unharnessing the horse from the carriage when Aunt Belle came to his side.
“Perhaps you should wait before detaching the horse,” she said. Marin paused, and the horse looked back as if to inquire about the delay. “I was hoping you could take me to the ferry later this morning.”
“So, you are determined to leave today?” he asked.
“I see little difference between today and tomorrow.”
“Well, if you were to leave, there will certainly be a difference.”
“You are kind to say so, Marin, but I’m afraid I must be on my way. Emily must be wondering what has happened to me.” The comment pushed Marin’s eyebrows up, wrinkling his forehead. Aunt Belle reacted to the expression, saying, “Yes, well... perhaps you’re right, but I feel a certain duty. Besides, her parents should be arriving back from Philadelphia any day now, and I need to be there when they arrive.”
Marin reran the long leather strap back through the clasp of the bellyband and gave it a sharp tug. The horse underneath the leather gave a quiver of disapproval.
“Very well,” he said. “And are you still planning to return to Nova Scotia after the Christmas Season?”
“Yes.” She placed her open hand on Marin’s cheek and said, “I shall miss you, Marin Columbus Carpenter.”
Marin had only a faint smile to offer her, while saying nothing.
As they walked back into the house, Phoebe came out of Maria’s bedroom holding the raggedy old suitcase she had brought with her from the brothel.
“Where are you going, Miss?” Marin asked.
“Phoebe?” Opaline said, emerging from the parlor with her eyes glued to the suitcase.
Phoebe stood mute as the trio waited for her to speak. Jude came from the kitchen and broke the silence, saying, “And where is it you think you’re off to, Missy?”
“Back where I belong,” she said, pulling her suitcase up in front of her still somewhat swollen midriff.
“You belong here,” Opaline said. “I need you. I need you much more than Miss Ruth needs you.”
“Miss?” she inquired, her eyes begging for an explanation.
“Everyone is leaving me, Phoebe. How am I to tend to this house and run a midwife business, all by myself?” And then, answering her own question, she added, “I cannot. I need you here, as do the ladies that are in need of our services. I am sorry, but I simply cannot allow you to leave.”
Phoebe’s lower chin trembled as Opaline walked over and easily removed the suitcase from her hands. She carried it back into Maria’s room, Phoebe tagging along behind her.
“Marin, Phoebe will need for you to retrieve the remainder of her things from Ruth’s,” Opaline said, before closing the bedroom door.
“Well, that settles that,” Marin said.
“I will gather my things,” Aunt Belle said.
“We need to tend to Mister Oscar,” Jude reminded Marin.
“Marin,” Phillipe said, as he passed through the foyer on his way up to his room, “Opaline has asked that we finish clearing out MaMa’s room this morning and help her set up the birthing equipment.”
“Anyone else?” Marin called out in sarcasm.
Phillipe paused at the window, mid-way up the stairs, and said, “One of those Naval boys is stepping up to the porch.”
Jude gave Marin a broad grin. “Too much wind for ya, Captain?” he asked.
“Not if she would blow in one direction,” Marin answered.
Before Captain Fairchild could knock on the door, Marin swung it open.
“Captain,” Marin declared, as if he had been expecting him. “What news do you bring me from the front?”
Captain Fairchild stood perplexed.
“Come in, come in,” Marin said, stepping aside and gesturing in a grand manner.
The Captain eased just inside the threshold and stood somewhat ill at ease.
“Might I close the door?” Marin asked.
The Captain took a single step aside, just clearing the closing door. He looked up at Phillipe, standing attentive and curious, mid-way up the staircase, and then over at Mister Prince, arms folded, eyes on-guard.
“How goes the war?” Marin asked.
“I am afraid I am uncertain as to what war you are referring to,” the Captain said, lowering one brow and removing his hat.
“Oh, come now Captain. There is always a war afoot.”
“Be that as it may, sir, I am not here to discuss war. However, there are a couple of matters I would like to discuss with you. Is there a private setting in which we could talk?”
“This is as private as it gets, sir,” Marin informed him.
“Very well. The Magister Maris is taking on cargo as we speak. Mister Reynolds has assembled a crew of sixteen. They will be ready for your inspection, dockside, tomorrow at 10 a.m.”
“Sixteen, you say?” Marin said, shooting a smile toward Jude. “How did you arrive at that number?”
“I am not sure of the particulars, Captain Carpenter. How many men do you believe you require in order to sail four-hundred miles up the coast?”
“...and back,” Marin was quick to remind Fairchild, while reaching out for his hat. “And the Magister Maris is not a crow, sir; she rarely sails in a straight line.” Fairchild relinquished his hat as Marin continued. “As a Naval Captain, I am sure you understand, we won’t be hugging the coast all the way to Passamaquoddy. We will be in negotiations with the winds – the cold, stormy, and fickle winter winds of the North Atlantic, blowing both with us and against us. And whether we are sailing to Passamaquoddy, or taking a pleasure cruise around the bay, The Magister Maris requires a minimum crew of nearly twice the number you have managed to herd.”
Captain Fairchild’s eyes were fixed on his hat as Marin rolled it around in his hands. “You will be provided with a crew of sixteen. Any additional crew you may require is your responsibility.” And then, addressing Marin eye to eye, he said, “And speaking of crew, we apprehended a Mister Oswald Oscar, your ship’s carpenter, I believe. He was drilling a hole in the side of your ship. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Captain?”
Marin handed the Captain’s hat to Mister Prince. The Captain watched the transfer, and then shot a suspicious look back toward Marin.
“Are you seriously asking me if I ordered my carpenter to drill a hole in my own ship?” Marin asked.
While Captain Fairchild couldn’t help but smile at the apparent absurdity of the question, he, none-the-less, replied, “Yes, Sir. That is precisely what I am asking you.”
“Mister Prince, reunite the Captain with his hat,” Marin said.
Fairchild accepted his hat, and with a turn of mood he said to Marin, “So then, you can add a ship’s carpenter to your list of needed crew.”
“No,” Marin said confidently, “Mister Oscar will be sailing with us. The Navy has no right to press charges concerning a ship they do not own. I have no intention of adding further risk to an already sabotaged mission by pressing charges against my ship’s carpenter. Good day, sir.”
The Naval Captain started for the door, but stopped short, and without turning around, said, “Captain Carpenter, I could have sent anyone to deliver this information, but I decided to do it in person.”
Marin, Jude and Phillipe exchanged glances.
“Are you awaiting a, ‘Thank you’?” Marin asked.
“No,” the Captain said, turning to face Marin. “I came because I believe you have grave misgivings about this mission, and I was curious as to their nature. You just used the word, sabotage. What did you mean by that?”
“Come into the library,” Marin said. “Jude, Phillipe, will you excuse us?”
The two captains entered the library and closed the door. They sat in chairs facing one another, and Fairchild gave Marin his full attention as Marin delivered his list of concerns:
Why is the Navy using a privateer ship to deliver lightweight medical supplies to an all but deserted naval base on the Canadian border, when they can do it cheaper and probably quicker by land?
Why can’t Captain Carpenter see the manifest and supervise the loading of his own ship?
Why were the repairs to the Magister Maris of a minimal nature, and why so shoddily done?
Why are no Naval personnel assigned to this mission?
Captain Fairchild patiently waded deep into the ensuing silence. When he was certain Marin had finished, he said, “Between you and I, Captain, I too have reservations about this mission, but let me address your concerns as best I can. The Navy approaches every task as a mission at sea. I doubt it would occur to them to ship anything by land. As I am sure you are aware, tensions between Canada and the United States have been increasing, and Passamaquoddy Bay is our northern most Atlantic output. We have called for every ship in our command to be on heightened alert, and to be prepared to respond at a moment’s notice to defend our shores. We haven’t a ship to spare.
“As to the manifest, everything we do, Captain, is wrapped in secrecy. I wouldn’t read too much into our not sharing a manifest.
“As to your dissatisfaction with the repairs, the Navy does everything on the cheap. If you were to be privy to our funding by the Government, you would understand why that is. I think you raise a good point about there being no Naval personnel aboard. Let me see what I can do about that, but I must advise you that the Navy is not in the habit of releasing their sailors into civilian command.
“I will also secure Mister Oscar’s release this afternoon. I hope that I have relieved some of your misgivings. That said, I still harbor a few of my own.”
Marin sat patiently waiting, serving silence as bait...
Captain Fairchild continued, “I admit, I do not understand the urgency of sending medical supplies to Passamaquoddy Bay ahead of personnel and other equipment, nor do I understand why we would send a Full Rigger when a Brig would suffice? But the most bewildering of mysteries is, why would we ship out of Newport, when Boston or Portsmouth seem much more plausible? But, as they say,” and he smiled an officer’s smile of concession, “there is the right way, the wrong way, and the Navy way.”
A light tapping on the library door grabbed the attention of both Marin and Captain Fairchild.
“Yes?” Marin called out.
Aunt Belle opened the door, peeked her head into the room and said, “Any time you are ready, Marin...”
Marin gave her a shrewd glance, knowing her remark was only pretext, so he waited for her addendum.
“Mister Fairchild, I could not help but overhear your bewilderment as to why the Navy would choose a citizen ship out of Newport.”
Marin leaned back and gave her full rein. Fairchild pivoted toward her while keeping his eye on Marin. Aunt Belle waited until she had Fairchild’s full attention, and then she offered,
“It could be because Senator Horace Wallace, and the entire Congressional congregation from Rhode Island, are opposed to the antagonistic military posturing and talk of war with Canada.”
Fairchild wore a puzzled look while glancing back and forth between Aunt Belle and Marin.
“Oh, come now, Captain,” Aunt Belle prompted.
“That will do, Aunt Belle,” Marin said, by way of excusing her.
She grimaced and closed the door.
“Why would that have anything to do with it?” the Captain asked Marin.
Marin tilted his head a little to the side and aimed his right eye at Fairchild, and as if to offer a clue, said, “Aunt Belle is from Nova Scotia, and she feels there is nothing the United States wouldn’t do to start a war with Canada.”
Captain Fairchild diverted his eyes and stared at nothing, giving him the appearance of a man who was both uncomfortable with, and confused by, his own thoughts.
“Nothing,” Marin clarified.
The Captain looked back at Marin, slapped his hands against his own legs, and said, “Well. I must be getting back. I will see you tomorrow at ten a.m. Until then, Captain.” He stood up, and offering no further departing gesture, made for the door.
After the Captain had left, Jude asked Marin, “And did the Navy have anythin’ further ta offer us?”
“Incompetence, delusion and paranoia,” Marin said. “Come along with me, Jude. I’m to drop Aunt Belle off at the ferry, and then we’ll fetch Mister Oscar.”
Everyone gathered in the foyer to wish Aunt Belle farewell. Phillipe appeared to be the grievous one.
“I fear we will never meet again,” he said.
“Perhaps not,” she said, “but I trust we will remember one another, and send word occasionally. I know I can count on you, Phillipe, to stay in touch,” she added, with a quick glance to Marin.
***
Few words were spoken during the carriage ride to the dock. Having arrived, she joined arms with Marin and asked him to walk with her to the boat. As they stood at the foot of the ramp leading onto the ferry, wind and wave rocked and tossed the small boat about.
“Is the crossing safe?” Marin asked the boatman.
“I wouldn’t be goin’ across myself if it weren’t.” the boatman replied.
“It will be fine, Marin,” Aunt Belle assured him. “But I have grave misgivings about the journey you are about to embark upon.”
“What am I to do, Auntie?” Marin asked.
“Sell her. Sell the Magister Maris. Buy a good fishing boat, marry Opaline, and settle down.”
“A bit late for that. Besides, who would buy an old wind-worn and sea-weary tub that the Navy has commissioned to sail the North Atlantic in the winter? And even if I could manage to sell her, what do I know about fishing?”
“Mister Walter could teach you,” she said.
The color washed from Marin’s face. His breathing came to a halt. “And how is it you know of old Mister Walter?”
Aunt Belle’s lips clamped shut and and she cast her eyes to the ground.
Marin pried further. “You are keeping something from me, Auntie, and I have the queer feeling Mister Walter is as well. Does he know my father survived the Coriolis?”
Aunt Belle’s conscience burst clear. “Mister Walter would visit in the milder summer months and bring word of you and Phillipe to Erik. He was doing Erik a great favor. Please do not be cross with him. I am the one who deserves your wrath. I have come to understand that my betrayal of you and your brother ...and Maria, far outweighs whatever virtue there was in keeping a promise to your father. Again, I can only pray that you will forgive me.”
Marin turned his eyes skyward and watched as a gull flying high above dropped a clamshell. Both he and the gull eyed the shell as it plummeted to the ground and smashed onto a large rock sitting by the shoreline. The clamshell shattered, and the gull folded its wings tight against its body and dove in a straight line, swooping back up at the last survivable moment with the clam in his beak. He turned back to Aunt Belle and said, “There is nothing to forgive.”
“Give my love to Emily,” Marin said, as he kissed Aunt Belle on the cheek.
“I’ll do no such thing,” Aunt Belle said with a wink.
She boarded the ferry as Marin turned and walked back to the carriage. Without looking back, he turned the horses toward town. Along the way, he told Jude what Aunt Belle had told him about his father.
“And does that calm the waters, or stir the tempest?” Jude asked. But Marin stared straight ahead without an answer.
When they arrived at the local jail, he sent Jude in to retrieve Mister Oscar. As he waited, along came Aja, all a-bloom in a long scarlet dress coat, wide brim ivory hat with scarlet ribbon, and a scarlet and gold parasol twirling on her shoulder as she crossed the road in front of his wagon.
“Aja?” he called out. She continued walking without response, so he tried again. “Keiza,” he summoned.
She paused, and recognizing him, displayed a look of hesitancy before approaching. As she came closer, a gust of wind brought her scent to him. He breathed it in deep, closing his eyes to savor its caress. When he opened his eyes, she was standing before him. She glanced toward the jail, and back to Marin.
“Waiting for a friend?” she asked with a teasing smile.
“Correctly so,” he replied.
“Un invite de la ville?” (A guest of the city)
“Oui,” Marin said, with a laugh and a nod. “He tried to sink my ship.” The look on Aja’s face caused Marin to laugh all the more. “He was trying to be helpful ...it is a long and sordid story,” Marin concluded. “Are you on your way to Maison Des Plaisir?”
“I am,” she confirmed.
“May I offer you a ride?”
Her hesitance to accept the offer led to a moment of tense silence.
“I was rude to you yesterday,” Marin offered. “I was hoping someone close to Phoebe would attend her baby’s funeral. When no one—”
“I am not what you would call close to Phoebe,” she explained.
Marin looked surprised.
“I am not close to any of the girls,” she admitted, adding, “I would have felt quite out of place.”
“Why is that?”
“Maybe it is because, ‘At such times, I do not know the meaning of the word, comfort,” she said, throwing his own words back at him.
Marin could sense the bitter after-taste of his own comment flowing along his tongue. “I was angry,” Marin confessed. “I spoke too harshly.”
“Perhaps ...but then again...”
“No. You have been a source of great comfort to me.”
“Good to hear Aja is doing her job,” she returned.
Marin felt a sting, as if a cold metal rod had been inserted into his throat and run the full length of his torso, lodging in the pit of his stomach. “Is that all it is ...part of your job? A performance?”
“It is whatever you imagine it to be. I am a whore, Monsieur.”
Marin let that sink in before surrendering a series of slow, confirming nods. “Right,” he muttered. “Well ...may I give you a ride to work?” he asked, holding out his hand to her.
She laid her long-gloved fingers across his palm and practically floated up into the carriage beside him. There was no need for further conversation.
Jude and Ozzy soon came out and climbed into the rear seat. Marin turned to address Ozzy.
“You do understand, do you not Mister Oscar, that I employ you to keep my ship from sinking?”
Mister Oscar murmured something that sounded like, ‘yes sir’.
After dropping Ozzy off at his house, Marin continued on to the brothel. Jude jumped from the wagon and extended his hand to Aja.
“Allow me, Madam,” he said.
“How kind of you,” she said. After departing the carriage, she turned to Marin and said, “Keiza wanted me to remind you, you owe her a dinner.”
Marin smiled, but said nothing.
Jude took Aja by the arm, and said to Marin, “That will be all driver,” and he escorted her into the brothel. Marin waited a kind moment before entering. As he entered, he saw Jude and Aja walking down the hall toward Aja’s room.
Noticing Marin, she paused, and with a coy smile asked him, “Are you to join us?”
Jude gave Marin a startled look, and Marin replied, “Two’s company...”
Aja shook her head at the remark, and she and Jude proceeded on.
Ruth, hearing Marin’s voice, came out of her office and asked, “Back so soon?”
“I am here to retrieve Phoebe’s things.”
“Precisely, to what, ‘things’, are you referring?” she asked, folding her arms.
“Clothing, toiletries, personal—”
“Phoebe owns nothing,” Ruth declared.
“I see,” Marin said, staring deep into Ruth’s eyes. “No more than a horse owns his saddle, I suppose. Good day, Madam.”
***
“This wallpaper has to go,” Opaline said, scanning the bounty of red roses spread across the walls of Maria’s bedroom.
“I have to confess,” Phillipe said, as if MaMa were just out of earshot, “I was never particularly fond of MaMa’s taste in wallpaper.”
“Taste has nothing to do with it,” Opaline countered.
“You need not insult her taste. It is enough to say you simply do not agree with it.”
“That is not what I meant, Phillipe. This room needs to be a solid calming color; perhaps a light blue or yellow. And I would prefer paint to wallpaper.”
“Oh, but paint is so drab.”
“And expensive,” Marin chimed in, by way of announcing himself. “Ruthie had her office painted, and it cost her an arm and the better half of her right leg.”
Opaline and Phillipe stood blank-faced, staring at Marin as if he were a complete stranger butting into their conversation.
“...and I would prefer indoor window shutters to curtains,” she said to Phillipe.
“Especially those curtains,” Phillipe added.
“What is wrong with the curtains?” Marin asked.
“If we are to paint, then we may as well start by removing this old wallpaper.” Phillipe said, ignoring Marin by turning to Opaline, just as he would have to MaMa.
Marin stepped into the room, placed his hand on the wall and gently ran his fingers across one of the roses.
“She loved this wallpaper,” he said. “I asked her once if she knew how many roses there were on the wall. She said, ‘Why would I want to know that?’ I answered, ‘Out of curiosity.’ To which she replied, ‘Curiosity without a purpose, can only lead one astray. Why do you concern yourself with such nonsense?’”
“Do you know how many roses there are?” Phillips asked?
“Yes, I do.”
“How many?”
“I dare not lead you astray, dear brother.”
Opaline’s eyes wandered back at forth between the two brothers, each looking at the other, as only siblings can.
“I think the two of you should decide what, if anything, should be done with the walls,” she said.
The brothers smiled at one another, and Phillipe said, “It is no longer MaMa’s room.”
“No,” Marin agreed. “Do with them as you please.”
She gave an appreciative nod and asked Marin, “Did you gather Phoebe’s belongings?”
“According to Ruth, Phoebe has no belongings.”
“Nonsense. Never mind, I will gather them.”
***
Darkness had claimed the day by the time they had finished stripping the wallpaper, cleaning the room, and preparing the room to be painted.
Opaline washed her face and hands, scooped two bowls of hot stew for her and Phoebe, and mounted the stairs in the slow and weighted step of one done for the day.
After Phillippe and Marin had eaten, they bundled up, and each took a tankard of beer out onto the porch. The evening was crisp and cold when the air was standing still, but every so often, a soft, warm, and pleasing breeze would blow through from the south, leaving one pleasantly deceived.
“When are we going to attend to the roof?” Phillipe asked, referring to the porch roof that had collapsed a week ago.
“After we return,” Marin said.
“So many things will be awaiting our return,” Phillipe reflected.
Marin didn’t feel a need to respond.
“Are you going to marry Opaline before we leave?”
Marin noticed a flash of lightning off in the distance and sat silently staring off into the distance.
“Well...?” Phillipe asked.
“Shhh,” Marin said, listening for the sound of thunder that never came.