GRIMES, OUR HIRED man, was up on the hill, waving a handkerchief at Sarah and me, which meant that I must go in for breakfast.
"I don't want to go in," I told Sarah.
"But it's your birthday. You must go," Sarah insisted.
I was ten years old today. Pa was making a big fuss. That thought alone quickened my senses. Aunt Catharine had arrived late last night on a double ender from the mainland just before the storm hit. I'd been abed when she came, and kissed her hello in the dark, half asleep.
A double ender was a sailing vessel for which our island was famous. It could be launched from beaches and was equipped for both sailing and rowing. Its masts could bend in the wind without snapping. And few places on the northern coast had winds as sharp as we had.
I looked at Sarah. "Are you coming to breakfast with me? You know you're invited."
She looked down at herself. "I'm wet and filthy."
"You've looked worse for wear at our table."
"To what end? You know why your aunt Catharine is here today."
"To take me to East Greenwich to live with her, because she says I need tutoring. But I won't always stay there."
"Once you go you won't come back. She'll make you a fancy lady, like she is," Sarah said sadly.
Aunt Catharine, my mother's sister, was a lady of quality, with mannerisms that matched her beautiful face. The word pretty did an injustice to her dark hair and hazel eyes. My mother, who had died only six months ago, had been beautiful, too, but she had not had hazel eyes.
Aunt Catharine had always fascinated me because there seemed to be some mystery about her I could not get a purchase on.
"It's just for tutoring," I told Sarah now.
"Well," she admitted, "none of us has really been to school."
"Nothing wrong with how I speak. I can read and do sums."
"But your pa says your spelling is most crude," she insisted.
"Well, so is yours."
"But I'm not being given the chance to have a tutor."
"You want one?"
Sarah shrugged. "I want more for you to be here with me and help me find your great-grandfather's gold. Everybody says it's buried somewhere in these cliffs."
"You can keep looking while I'm gone. Just don't fall down the cliffs."
"I know." Sarah smiled her sweet smile. "You had better go, Caty. The fish and eggs are likely to get cold."
Always the voice of reason, I thought of my friend. How I shall miss her when I go to the mainland!
We walked up the cliff. I hugged the cat and the spyglass, and Sarah held fast to a birdcage she had found. But there was no bird in it.
It's like we're all walking around with empty birdcages, I thought, looking for the bird we want to put in them. Some get their bird. Some never do.
We were in front of my door now and just stood there staring at each other. Of a sudden the door opened.
There was Pa in his velvet morning coat. "Caty, child, I've been waiting for you." He gave a little bow to Sarah and she curtsied to him. "How are you this morning, Sarah Cogswell?"
"Fine, sir."
"Will you come in and sit at table with us?"
"I wouldn't make good company, sir. My mum needs me. She and my pa are at loggerheads again."
Pa nodded but said no more. He just stood there, puffing on his pipe, the smoke rising white against the blue sky. He knew that Sarah had troubles at home, that her mother often "took up" with other men, mostly sailors who came to the island. Except for me, Sarah kept mostly to herself. Most people on the island knew about her mother's transgressions, and the shame was just too much for her to abide.
On one or two occasions, Mrs. Cogswell had disappeared for a day or two with her sailor, off to the mainland. At those times, Sarah "kept home" for her pa, cooking and cleaning for him. Times like these I asked Pa if I could take over a platter of chicken or a tureen of soup and he'd always said yes, but with the maxim "Be careful it doesn't look like charity."
Mrs. Cogswell always came home, but I knew Sarah never forgave her.
Now Pa patted Sarah's shoulder. "You're welcome whenever you want," he said. "Tell your pa that last pair of boots he made me are better than anything I could get on the mainland."
"I will, sir."
Then Pa turned to me. "Well, Prodigal Daughter? Are you ready to come home and face the music?"
He hugged me and I hugged back, the cat between us meowing in my shawl. "What's this?" he asked, pretending sternness. "Puss in Boots?"
"I found her in the wreck, Pa. I couldn't leave her. So I brought her home. Please, can I keep her? We haven't had a cat since Simon died."
"I'll keep her for you. She'll be company when you're away." His mischievous blue eyes begged me not to cry, so I didn't. He heartily approved of Aunt Catharine's plan to take me to the mainland. "You think I want the prettiest girl on the island to be uneducated?" he'd asked.
We went inside. Pa sat down at the head of the table and gestured I should sit at his right, where he'd saved me a place. I did so, putting my shawl and the spyglass on the floor at my feet.
The cat was in my lap. Pa put a piece of fish on a small dish and handed it to me. "Put it on the hearth and give it to Puss in Boots as a welcoming present," he said.
I got up, kissed him, turned, and bumped into Aunt Catharine.
"Good morning, Caty," she said. "And happy birthday."
I set the plate down for Puss, then gave Aunt Catharine a proper hug and kiss, which meant being enveloped in her silk clothing and, for the moment, being carried away in the mystery of her, of far-off places and mysterious doings that the sensation of her always gave me.
What does it all mean? I wondered.
"You must sit down and eat," she admonished. "Don't rush. I'm staying the day, until the winds die down. It ought to be a calmer trip back. I know how you hate sailing in rough weather."
"Aunt Catharine, I want to go with you, but oh, I hate to leave home and Pa."
"You're growing up, Caty. You are becoming a beautiful girl. There will be a need for you to correspond, soon, with young men. You can't even spell, child. And you come from a family of eminence. We want you to marry well. An education is a great part of it."
There it was in a nutshell, then. I was ten years old and they were thinking of my marriage someday. "I'll eat now," I promised. "But first I have a gift for Pa."
***
HE LOVED THE SPYGLASS. He pronounced it "first rate." And before the noon meal, Puss in Boots was on his lap and he was settled in his stuffed chair in front of the big bow window that looked out over the farmland, down to the sea. My cousin Sammy Ward, who was two years younger than I and interested in whether there had been any dead bodies on the beach this morning, sat at Pa's feet with me as Pa told us stories.
The stories were interrupted all morning by the comings and goings of people stopping in to bring me presents, more out of respect for Pa than to honor me. For presents I got books, gloves, a new apron, a dress made for me by Aunt Catharine herself, and a hand-drawn map of the island and a bracelet made out of seashells from Sammy.
The fragrance of Cassandra's special vegetable soup and fresh biscuits drifted in from the kitchen. It was just then that there came another knock on the door and Sammy got up to open it and admit Mr. Tosh, who tended his fishery for a living and whose ancestors had been sold to English colonists in the New World by Parliament after being captured by Cromwell at the Battle of Worcester.
Mr. Tosh fancied himself and his forebears my mother's ancestors. Thus he always considered it a right—no, a duty—to periodically have a say in matters that concerned our family.
"Have a toddy, Mr. Tosh, won't you, in honor of my girl's birthday." Pa stood and shook the man's large hand.
Mr. Tosh said nothing. He brought nothing. But he drank what Pa gave him, in one gulp, then put the glass down on the table. "I come, Mr. Littlefield, in the spirit of friendliness, to report to you that your little girl here has been spending too much time with that Sarah Cogswell, whose mother runs loose with other men. Your Caty, sir, is a lovely child, carefully brought up and doing the family proud. I'd like to put in a complaint about her keeping company with that Cogswell family. And that, sir, is why I have come hither."
Silence. My pa wasn't quick to respond. Silence so long this time that I felt I should respond. I said, "Sir."
But that's all I said. For Pa's hand was on my shoulder like a fox's paw on a rabbit. So I shut my mouth and waited.
"Mr. Tosh, after a most delicious bowl of soup made by Cassandra," Pa announced, "Caty and I are going to take a walk outside, just the two of us, before she leaves this evening."
Mr. Tosh seemed to understand.
Sammy said he was going to saddle up and go for a ride. So after our soup and crackers, I wrapped my shawl around myself and Pa changed into his walking clothes and we took the familiar paths on the island that I knew so well.