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Daybreak brought Marin around, although a restless sleep made everything feel more like a continuation of yesterday, rather than a dawning of a new day. He donned his vest and boots and quietly made his way down the stairs. As he approached the bottom, he could hear Emma Downing’s labored breathing coming from the bedroom.tepping lightly, he made his way into the kitchen, built a fire in the hearth, and put the kettle on. After fixing himself a cup of strong tea, he sat and meditated on the conversation he had had with Mister Downing the night before.
Marin was finishing his tea when he heard an ever so soft tapping at the front door. Not being his place to respond, he ignored it at first, but then the rapping came again, this time a little more pronounced. He went into the front room and stood beside the door, listening. ‘If they knock again, I shall answer it’, he thought. There followed enough of a lull that Marin concluded the person had gone away, but he hadn’t time to turn away, when a more rapid and determined knocking held him in place. He eased open the door just enough to peer through. A short, round-faced woman, with faint streaks of graying hair leaking from her bonnet, peeked back in at him through the narrow slit. Her eyebrows lowered with the weight of bewilderment. He opened the door a little wider and said,
“Mister and Mrs. Downing are not available at the moment. May I give them a message?”
“Yes,” she stammered, then changing it to, “No, I...” but not finishing her explanation, she turned to leave.
“Who is it, Marin?” Evin asked, coming into the front room.
“I don’t know,” he answered, opening the door full so that Mister Downing might see the lady retreating.
Evin called out, “Jaydan?”
The lady turned as if she were frightened to have been discovered.
“Jaydan, please come in,” Evin urged her, and she returned to the threshold, and stopped.
“Doctor Graham told me that Emma was...” and she broke down, not being able to complete her sentence.
Evin wrapped an arm around her and escorted her into the house. He took her into Emma’s room while Marin tended to the dwindling fire in the front room.
After the fire was suitably rekindled, Marin began gathering his things and placing them by the front door. Evin and Jaydan came back into the front room and sat before the fire.
Jaydan, still overcome with tears, asked Evin, “Does Opaline know?”
“Yes, she is on her way from Newport,” and remembering Marin, he said, “Where are my manners? Marin, this is Missus Jaydan—”
“Miss” she corrected, “Miss Jaydan Gilbert.”
Evin apologized, “Yes, Miss Gilbert. I knew her as Missus Stratford when she worked alongside Emma as a midwife.”
“Oh,” Marin replied. “Did you work with Opaline as well?”
A small but significant pause held the air before Jaydan interrupted it with a restrained, “For a while.”
Returning to his introductions, Evin said, “Jaydan, this is Mister, that is, Captain Marin Carpenter. He is ...or rather, he is about to ...perhaps it would be best if you were to introduce yourself, Captain.”
Marin came around to face her, bowed down, and extended his arm out to her. “I am Captain Marin Carpenter, and I am hoping to make Opaline my wife.”
Jaydan cast a glance sideways at Evin while half-heartedly sticking her down-turned hand out to Marin. He took her limp hand into his and, feeling as if he were interrupting something, tentatively asked,
“How long has it been since you last saw Opaline?”
She peeked back at Marin long enough to catch his eye and direct it down to her hand, still clasped in his. He abruptly let go of her hand and she quickly withdrew it into the safety of her other hand.
“It has been a while,” she finally answered, rubbing her two hands together as if to warm them, and added in a more emboldened and guarded tone, “We stay in touch.”
“I seem to be between you and the warmth,” Marin said, stepping aside from the radiant heat at his back and the cold stagnant air that faced him. “I should be going,” he said to Evin. “Perhaps I could say goodbye to Emma, if that is alright with you.”
“I am afraid she is not very lucid this morning,” Evin said.
“I will be brief,” Marin said.
Emma was much less than, ’not very lucid’. The grayish tint of her tissue-thin skin, the finality of her repose as her eyes lay closed, and her rapid shallow breath, longer out than drawn in, reminded him of Maria’s countenance not long before she passed away. Marin bent over and kissed her on the forehead and felt his lips tremble. Rather than succumb to the rising sorrow, he stood up straight, took a deep breath, and gave Emma one last look before returning to the front room.
Evin and Jaydan sat staring at the fire without a word trading place between them. Marin approached Evin with extended arm.
“Thank you, sir, for your hospitality,” Marin said, taking Evin’s hand and giving it a heartfelt squeeze. “I hope for Opaline’s swift arrival, and I am sorry that our first meeting, and my premature departure, had to be under such dire circumstances. I wish you well and hope to see you again ...and soon.”
“Should I let Opaline know of your visit?” Evin asked.
“I would rather you not, but do as the circumstances dictate. I trust your judgment.” He turned to Jaydan, gave a single nod and said, “Ma’am.”
Jaydan did not respond.
***
As Marin left Philadelphia, Opaline was approaching Trenton, New Jersey. It had been a rough night, what with the strong winds and rugged road all contributing to her being tossed about in the carriage while trying to sleep, but the clear morning skies and the knowledge that she was only a few hours from her destination brought a little vigor to her eye. She changed carriages in Trenton and ventured on to Philadelphia.
***
Jude Prince spent most of the morning rounding up his crew from town and getting them back to the task at hand - inspecting the ship and repairing any damage that may have happened during the rough voyage to Perth Amboy.
An argument broke out between a deckhand named Armstrong, and the quick-tempered, reprieved murderer, Mister Haller. When Jude arrived on the scene, Mister Haller had a knife at Armstrong’s throat, threatening to separate his head from the rest of his body. Jude pulled a pistol from his breeches and lodged it against Mister Haller’s temple.
“Let go the knife or I’ll drop you where you stand,” Jude commanded.
Mister Haller contemplated whether killing Armstrong was worth taking the bullet. Deciding in favor of his own life, he pulled the knife away from Mister Armstrong’s throat and gave him a shove.
“What was this all about, then?” Jude demanded to know.
“What business is it of yours?” Haller returned.
Mister Armstrong explained, “This scoundrel was blabbering all around town last night, goin’ on in a drunkard’s rave about how the Magister Maris had absconded with the Navy’s booty, heading for the islands to pawn it off.”
“Hold yer clack, ya bilge drunkin swab,” Mister Haller yelled, showing his knife again.
In one quick move, Mister Prince grabbed Haller’s left arm and bent it high behind the man’s back, while holding Haller’s knife wielding right arm and bending it in front of the scrapper’s throat.
“Damned fool,” Mister Prince yelled into Haller’s ear. “Don’t ya know that words have wings, ya careless bounder?” He forced Haller along, all the way to the gangplank and ordered, “Get off the ship ya worthless slab a driftwood, and be gone before the Captain returns and has his way with ya.”
He shoved Haller down the ramp, and the man twisted around and hurled the knife back at Jude. It flew wide of Jude, but found its mark in Armstrong’s right leg, burying the blade deep into his thigh. Jude raised his gun and fired, but missed the fleeing assailant.
He slung the wounded sailor’s arm around his neck and hobbled him to the Captain’s quarters. Phillipe gasped as they entered, asking, “What happened?”
“Give me that scarf from ‘round yer neck. Go to the kitchen and bring me back some turmeric and rum.”
Phillipe stood wide-eyed, staring at the knife wedged deep in the man’s leg.
“Run boy,” Jude yelled, “do as yer told.”
Mister Prince tied the scarf above the wound, and after Phillipe returned, he gently removed the knife. He poured rum over the gash and sprinkled turmeric over the wound. He took the sheet from Marin’s bed and ripped it into strips with which to dress the wound.
“A ship full of medical supplies and we are using bed sheets, scarves, spices and rum,” Phillipe observed.
That comment broke the last stitch of Jude Prince’s reserve.
***
Jaydan’s strange and distant manner had lingered in Marin’s mind as he set out for Perth Amboy. Her demeanor had revealed a distinct avoidance of hospitality not easily dismissed as mere timidity or asocial reserve. He had even noticed a tensing of Evin’s relaxed nature after Jaydan had arrived. Something was amiss.
That certain way she looked at Marin in brief stolen glances, fearing her eyes might be guilty of betrayal. Rather than share her admiration for Opaline, she seemed much more intent on protecting any feelings she might have for her, feelings of which Marin clearly posed a threat. It occurred to him that perhaps the ‘J’ on the lace bound letters, poem, and necklace was not an abbreviation for Jonathan, but Jaydan.
Marin became so preoccupied by his wondering that he ceased to pay attention to his whereabouts, and when his horse came to a stop at the end of a lane, Marin looked around and realized he had left the main road. He turned the buggy around and headed back in the opposite direction, and reaching into his pocket for his compass, he realized it was missing. He had left it back at the Downing’s.
The sun, being directly overhead, offered little assistance in coordinating his direction, so he drove on until he came upon a group of workers in a field.
“Which way to Philadelphia?” he asked.
***
“No, no,” Phoebe yelled out to the carpenters busy at work on the front porch. “The steps need to spread out much wider, you know, like sea shell. They should be as wide as a horse and carriage by the time they reach here,” she added, placing the tip of her shoe at a certain spot. At that moment, Mrs. Robertson came up the curved drive in her carriage and stopped directly in front of Phoebe. “See, this wide,” Phoebe said, turning to the horse and carriage and stretching out her arms.
“Yes, Ma’am,” the man answered. “It’s all right here in the drawing. It will be as you wish.”
“Phoebe, are you being the tyrant?” Mrs. Robertson asked.
Phoebe gave a shy smile and held out her hand to Mrs. Robertson to assist her from the carriage.
“I have five new orders for your dresses, my dear. It seems we are going to have to hire a few seamstresses.”
“Can Captain Marin afford that?” Phoebe asked.
“Deary, if we are to fulfill the orders we already have, never minding the ones that are sure to come, we have no choice but to hire some help. Forget Captain Carpenter, this is your business now, and you need to come up with a name for it.”
“Mia’s,” Phoebe said without delay.
Mrs. Robertson cast a doubtful look back at her. “Who is Mia?” she asked.
“I am,” Phoebe said. “It’s what Sissy used to call me. She was my twin sister, and she looked at me one day and said that looking at me was like looking in a ‘mia’...she meant mirror, and she started calling me, ‘Mia’.”
Mrs. Robertson held her breath for a moment before asking, “What happened to Sissy?”
“I don’t know. They split us up when we were tykes. I never saw her again ...but I think about her every day.”
Mrs. Robertson wrapped an arm around Phoebe’s shoulder and said, “Come, Mia, let us get busy, and leave the workers to their business.”
***
It was late in the afternoon by the time Marin arrived back at the Downing’s home.
“Marin!” Evin remarked upon opening the door. “What brings you back?”
“My compass. I somehow managed to get lost, and realized I did not have it with me.”
Evin escorted him into the house, saying, “Yes, you left it here on the table. I thought perhaps Opaline could bring it back to you.”
“Thank you,” Marin said, smiling. “But it seems these days I cannot find my way without it.”
As Marin started for the door, Evin said, “Marin, I have been thinking about this journey, and I realize it is not my place to speak of it, but I must say this; if you are not to heed Opaline’s presentiment on the matter, then I think you should at least mind your own.”
“I am not sure I follow you, sir,” Marin said, pausing at the door.
“When a man sails his frail ship several hundred miles through stormy waters, opposite the direction of his stated destination, I begin to wonder about his mission. And then, leaving again, he accidenatlly leaves his guiding compass behind ...well, sir, I cannot help but conclude ...he has already reached his journey’s end.”
Marin’s standstill response was evidence enough of the impact of Evin’s words. His hand lay at rest upon the latch, as if he were waiting for fate to intervene.
As he hesitantly began to push down on the lever, a deep, grave moan came from Emma’s room, and Evin darted through the hallway to Emma’s side. Marin stood, afraid to move, holding the half-cocked latch.
“Marin,” Evin called out, and Marin quickly went to answer the call. “I must run and get Doctor Graham. Could you please stay by Emma’s side until I return?”
“Yes, of course,” Marin said.
“Comfort her as best you can,” Evin said, wringing out a wet cloth and handing it to Marin.
Marin sat down in a chair beside the bed as Evin grabbed a coat and left the house. He dabbed the damp cloth around Emma’s forehead and temples as she lay unresponsive. After a long while, he thought he saw the outline of a smile. As he raised the cloth, her eyelids fluttered, and she murmured,
“Evin.”
“He has gone for Doctor Graham,” Marin replied.
“Evin,” she muttered again.
Marin gently grasped her fragile hand, and continued to swab the pale, parched flesh of her aged face. There was such a kindness in its sculpture. This was the first face, these were the first hands, and her voice was perhaps the first sound that Opaline and countless numbers of other human beings first encountered upon entering the world. Marin bent over and kissed her forehead.
“Evin,” she said again, “come with me, Evin.”
Marin’s eyes welled with tears as she lightly squeezed his hand. Her lips moved as if she were whispering something, and Marin bent his ear to her lips and closed his eyes, but only her warm breath eased into his ears, until he clearly heard, “Marin!”
He opened his eyes to see Opaline standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she approached the other side of Emma’s bed and knelt down beside her mother. “Emma ...it’s Opaline,” she said, taking her mother’s right hand and grasping it perhaps a little too firm.
“Evin,” Emma uttered behind closed eyes, “Evin, tell Opaline...” and then she fell silent.
Opaline quickly surveyed her surroundings and asked Marin, “Where is Evin? Why are you ...when did you...” but she broke off the questioning and laid her head on Emma’s bosom.
“Opaline, come with us,” Emma purred.
The sound of the front door opening brought Evin and Doctor Graham into the house. As they entered the bedroom, Opaline raised her head.
“Oh-h-h,” she quivered, summarizing her every thought and emotion.
Evin came to Opaline’s side and lifted her upright from Emma’s chest. As they embraced, Evin said, “Come, let Doctor Graham attend to Emma.”
As he turned to lead Opaline and Marin out of the room, Emma drew in a deep, audible breath, summoning everyone’s attention.
“It is time, Evin,” she said, and surrendering her last breath, she lay eternally still.
Doctor Graham eased back from the bed, turned to Evin, lowered his eyes and shook his head. Opaline rushed to Emma’s side as Marin silently backed out of the room.
***
Marin sat alone by the fire in the front room, trying to connect one splintered thought to the next, when Doctor Graham came out of the bedroom. He sat down beside Marin, and said, “Sorrowful circumstances under which to make your acquaintance. I am Doctor Graham.”
“Marin Carpenter,” Marin said, shaking the doctor’s hand, adding, “Opaline speaks highly of you.”
“I have a high regard for Opaline. Evin, that is, Mister Downing, informed me that you hope to wed Opaline.”
Marin said nothing, but gave a single nod of his head.
“Evin mentioned she has yet to accept your proposal?”
“Not in so many words. She answered my proposal with a kiss, and she has introduced herself in public as my fiancee.”
The doctor rested back in his chair, folded his hands under his chin, smiled and said, “Isn’t that just like her?”
“What do you mean?” Marin asked.
“Some people tell you how they feel, others show you. Opaline is a ‘show you’. When she answered your proposal with a kiss, and later, introducing herself as your fiancée, she was showing you.”
“Do you think so?” Marin asked, buoyed up.
“I know so. I have known Opaline for a long time. She is extremely deliberate in her manner.” Doctor Graham placed his hand on Marin’s knee and said, “I need to see how father and daughter are doing.”
Marin offered his hand, saying, “It was a pleasure meeting you, circumstances not-with-standing.”
The doctor smiled, shook Marin’s hand, and returned to the bedroom.
Evin was the next to come out. He stood over Marin, gathering his thoughts before speaking.
“Poor Opaline,” he said. “I don’t believe I have ever seen her so distraught. She and Emma were often at odds, but they truly loved one another.”
Marin couldn’t think of a fit reply, so he said nothing. Evin stared into the fireplace, and mused, “As mournful as it is to lose a mother, I think losing a wife is the more sorrowful. You grow together; in a sense, you become one another.
“I remember when I was a child, there were two trees that were growing side by side, and I used to climb the one and come down from the other. Years later, those two trees had grown into one another, forming a single tree, and I wondered, if the one tree dies, does the other? After a while, aren’t they the same tree?” He hung his head and began to silently weep. He took a feeble step sideways and folded himself into the chair beside Marin, and wept without pause.
Opaline soon came into the room and knelt down in front of Evin. Marin left his chair and walked into the kitchen, leaving them in their moment of grief.
As sunset approached, Marin was mindful of how long he had been gone and the additional time it would take for him to return to Perth Amboy. When Opaline came into the kitchen to check on him, she found him slumped over the kitchen table with his head in his folded arms.
“Marin,” she said in a hushed voice.
He rose up and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I am so sorry,” he said.
She kissed him on top of his head, and said, “I worry about Evin. She was his whole life.”
“Something tells me he will forge on,” Marin offered.
“Yes, I believe you are right. Still...”
“I would stay for the funeral, but I need to get back to the ship.”
“There will not be a funeral. There may be a small graveside service, but ...wait ...where exactly is your ship?”
“In Perth Amboy.”
“Why is...? I am so confused.”
“I had planned to sail to Philadelphia, but the storm forced us to dock at Perth Amboy.”
“But why did you come to Philadelphia?”
“I wanted to meet your mother before...” and he stopped short, the sentence not needing finished.
Opaline bowed her head and said with an edge of remorse, “I can still recall when I use to call her, ‘mother’. But after I found out that she was not my mother, I started calling her by her name ...to punish her, I suppose. But of course, in truth, she is not my mother.”
“Yes,” Marin said. “Yes, she is.”
***
As Marin was preparing to leave, Opaline began pacing about.
“I do not understand why you feel you must complete this absurd mission,” she blurted out.
“Please, Opaline, we have been all through this.”
“Father,” she pleaded, and surrendering to the power of a word she had not used for almost twenty years, she suddenly went mute. Evin’s eyes widened to receive her, and she spoke to him again, as only a daughter would. “Father, talk to him.” She went to Evin, wrapped her arms around his waist, and came undone. “Tell him,” she cried.
Tears glistened Evin’s eyes as he looked over his daughter’s shoulder at Marin, and he whispered into his daughter’s ear, “Go now, and kiss your fiancé farewell.”
Opaline released her hold on her father and went to Marin. As she reached his side, there came a knock at the door. At first, she ignored it, but a second rapping followed and she went to door and drew it open.
“Jaydan!” Opaline exclaimed.
Jaydan stood perfectly still, poised in the backlight of a streetlamp.
“Come in,” Opaline urged.
Jaydan stepped but a few feet inside the house as Opaline closed the door behind her. An awkward silence filled the room, and all eyes turned to Opaline.
“Jaydan, this is Mister Marin Carpenter.”
“We’ve met.” Jaydan was quick to say.
Opaline glanced back and forth between them and inquired, “When? When did you meet?”
“This morning,” Marin said, stepping closer to Opaline. “I really should go,” he added. He wrapped his arms around Opaline while she draped her arms at his side.
As he began to kiss her goodbye, she pulled her head back and said, “I will see you out.” She opened the door, took Marin by the hand, and led him outside onto the small porch.
“Is there a reason you chose not to kiss me in front of Jaydan?” Marin asked.
“I prefer the privacy,” she said, adding, “I so wish you would stay.”
He took both of her hands into his, and said, “Opaline, promise me you will return to Newport.”
“And can you offer me the same promise?” she replied.
“Nothing could stop me,” he said, pulling her to him and kissing her. “Until then,” he added, with a parting step.
She grabbed him back into her arms and kissed him, releasing her lips only long enough to say, “Take care of my heart, for it goes with you.”
As their eyes opened upon one another, and their lips pulled apart again, Opaline quickly separated herself from him and returned to the house. Marin stood for a moment without her, wondering. Giving in to puzzlement, he trudged down the street to the livery.
Back inside the house, Opaline asked for Jaydan’s coat.
“I would prefer to wear it,” Jaydan said.
Evin returned to the bedroom as Opaline took Jaydan’s hand and escorted her to a seat beside the hearth.
“So,” Jaydan began, “Marin tells me he hopes to marry you.”
“Is that the way he put it?” she asked.
“That is, to the word, as he put it. Is it true?”
Opaline teetered for a moment between a droll remark and a straightforward reply. She chose to be frank. “We hope to marry one another, yes.”
“I would have thought you would be the first to inform me.”
“That was my plan upon returning to Philadelphia. I had no prior knowledge of Marin’s arrival.”
“Is this a sudden development?”
“Very. Two weeks ago, I could barely tolerate his presence,” Opaline said, with an air of light-hearted irony.
Jaydan was not amused. “Seems a tad impulsive.”
“Perhaps...”
“It was only a few months ago you were to marry Jonathan, and when that did not come to fruition, you wrote to me saying I was the only one who has never disappointed you. You even said you were thinking of moving back to Philadelphia, so I thought...” and she stopped mid-sentence, finding it too difficult to continue.
“Jaydan...” Opaline began, but Jaydan cut her off.
“No, I must go,” she said, standing up to leave. “I had hoped to see Emma yesterday, but she was asleep. Perhaps another time.”
“Mother is dead,” Opaline said, as if it were all one word.
Jaydan froze, her eyes locked onto Opaline. She wanted to reach out to her, but it was as if her arms would not move. Opaline also stood perfectly still, as if she had turned to stone.
“I ...I am ...so very sorry,” Jaydan said, placing her open hand over her mouth, and with awkward step, she turned away and rushed out the door.
***
By the time Marin was an hour out of Philadelphia, a gentle but constant swirling snow accompanied him, dancing about, getting no closer to the ground. An occasional wintery sea breeze from the east would waft through the carriage, followed by a noticeably warmer gust of wind from the west. Throughout the long and dark journey, his mind kept returning to Opaline, and time stood still as he pulled further and further away from her.