Two

Sunday morning, Judith walked to the Capernaum Meeting House with Father on one side and Piers on the other. Poor Piers. He spent Saturday nights in the lantern room, then could not rest until after church. He often nodded off during one of Reverend Snodgrass’s lengthy sermons.

They ate a quick breakfast and left early. The lighthouse sat at a distance from town, on the edge of the rocky point of the island. The walk to town took a good hour. Judith enjoyed Sundays, with the break in routines from the rest of the week. She changed her everyday dress for one made from linsey-woolsey. She also looked forward to visiting with other islanders. During her childhood, a different family had invited them to break bread after Sunday meeting every week. Over the years, practice had dwindled to the Vanderkamps and Morrisons sharing most special meals together.

Judith had spent many sociable hours with Piers. When had that enjoyment turned to a more uncomfortable feeling? Perhaps when he began work at the lighthouse. If only she could care for Piers the way Father hoped she would. Judith sighed.

“Is everything all right with you this fine morning?” Piers noticed her discomfiture, as he often did.

Judith forced herself to smile. “I am only looking forward to the service.” She should, too. Think about God and not about her desire for a man she could love with all her heart.

They had just reached the cottage that had sat abandoned for ten years, the old Hathaway place. The aroma of fresh baked bread wafted through open windows. The front door opened.

All three of them stopped. Mary Hathaway stepped out. She appeared smaller than Judith remembered, although that was not surprising. Judith had grown up in the intervening years. Otherwise, nothing had changed on the kindly face.

A lanky form followed her out the door. He looked so tall, so like Samuel Hathaway, that Judith could have sworn the fisherman had returned to life. Her breath caught in her throat. How could this handsome man be the same person as young Sam, the boy who had taught her figures and tossed a ball with her at school recess? A cowlick still sprang from his head in the same place it had, and the same gray green eyes, as changeable as the sea, smiled at her.

“Mistress Hathaway!” Father took the lead. “I heard that you had returned to Capernaum.” He nodded at Sam. “Sam. Or perhaps I should say Mr. Hathaway?”

“It’s Dr. Hathaway.” Mary beamed, the proudest mother on the island.

Doctor? So Sam had furthered his education, as his mother had always hoped.

“Call me Sam.” He shook Father’s hand but looked at Judith inquiringly. “And who is this charming lady?”

“Hello, Punch.” She clasped her hand over her mouth. Surely she hadn’t mentioned the puppet show aloud.

Sam’s face froze for an instant, and then he laughed. “Punch and Judy. You used to call me that when you were mad at me.” He bowed in her direction. “It is good to see you have kept your sense of humor.”

Judith relaxed at Sam’s easy acceptance of her gaffe.

Next he extended his hand towards Piers. “And you must be—” Sam’s face scrunched with the effort of placing a name with the familiar face. “Piers Vanderkamp.”

“Hathaway.” They shook hands.

“We’d best not tarry,” Father said. The five of them set out for the church at a brisk walk.

❧

Sam studied the two young people next to them. Piers and Judith seemed comfortable with each other, but they didn’t show the degree of familiarity he would expect between a husband and wife. He didn’t know how to find out if they were married or why it mattered to him.

“What has happened on the island during the past decade?” Sam looked back at the lighthouse. “I see you’ve built a lighthouse. A wise plan.”

“It’s a thing of beauty.” Morrison’s chest puffed a little bit. “Ten lamps and reflectors.”

“Come by for a visit,” Judith invited. “We’d love to show you around.”

The young girl he remembered in pigtails had grown into a comely woman, her brown hair shining under her mobcap. Humor shot through her lively blue eyes.

They approached a white clapboard building, gleaming with a fresh coat of paint in honor of spring. Sam had spent many happy hours there as a child. The old teacher, now retired, had inspired a lifelong love of learning and books in him.

Townspeople rushed to greet them, and his mother made introductions. By the time they entered the doors, everyone present knew Sam was a doctor. He appreciated Mama’s pride in him—what son didn’t?—but it embarrassed him, nonetheless. A doctor was only a man, no different or better than any other.

“Miss Morrison!” Mrs. Wembly, their next closest neighbor, called out a greeting. Sam’s ears prickled at the name, and he struggled to pay attention to the person Mama was introducing. “The new teacher and singing master, Horace Wilson.”

Miss Morrison—not Vanderkamp. So Judith had not married Piers—at least not yet. Sam smiled with genuine pleasure at the schoolmaster. “And you will lead music during worship this morning?”

Wilson could have modeled for a newspaper caricature of a singing master, with his lanky form and ill-fitting clothes. Still, his voice resounded with a surprising bass. “Yes. You sound like you have a goodly tenor. I hope to hear you join in joyous song.”

Or at least a joyful noise, Sam thought.

A few minutes later, Wilson stood to lead them in a hymn. He lost all awkwardness when he began to sing. Sam remembered “Light Shining Out of Darkness” from his childhood days on the island, and who didn’t know the hymn starting “There is a fountain filled with blood”? The three-quarters hour they spent singing flew by.

Reverend Snodgrass approached the pulpit. “Next Sunday, please join us after meeting for an oyster shucking contest and picnic. It is time to see whether anyone can take the title from Mr. Lauder.”

Laughter rippled across the room. Sam remembered Lauder, one of his father’s fishing partners. A big, strong man, with quick hands, he would be hard to beat. Sam sat up straighter.

“Before I speak from God’s Word today, I want to welcome back the Widow Hathaway and her son, Dr. Sam Hathaway. I have asked Sam to share a few words with us this morning.”

Sam walked behind the pulpit and looked at the rows of people sitting on plain wooden benches. His fingers trembled, something that never happened during an operation. He bent his head for a word of silent prayer, then looked at the congregation. Judith smiled at him, and he gathered courage to speak.

“People of Capernaum, it is good to be back among you again. This town and its people have always held a special place in my heart.” In more than one way, but he wouldn’t mention his father this morning. “After all, God first showed me my need of a Savior in this very building. I remember that Sunday well. We sang the same hymn we sang this morning—‘Praise to the Fountain Opened’—when I realized that I was one of those guilty sinners who needed to plunge beneath the flood. Reverend Snodgrass talked with me and my parents that very day, and I asked Jesus to be my Lord and Savior.”

Several people nodded. Sam continued. “From that point on, I’ve tried to obey my Lord. He led me away from Capernaum for a time, and then to Yale, where I studied medicine. When I asked God where He wanted me to practice my trade, He answered me clearly: back on Capernaum. No one knows better than I the dangers that a life at sea can bring.”

Heads nodded again, faces more solemn.

Sam allowed himself a moment to remember his internal struggle over God’s clear call. He’d fought God’s direction and sought another, any other, answer. In the end, like Jonah, he went where God led. He saw Judith smiling at him and wondered if she was part of the reason for his return.

“I am happy to be in the place God has brought me.” He couldn’t think of anything more to say and joined his mother on the bench.

“Be sure to say a word of welcome to the Hathaways after meeting,” Reverend Snodgrass encouraged the congregation. “And the next time you need a physician, you can find him at the old cottage.” He beamed. “Now turn in your Bibles to Mark 10.”

❧

Father had retired to bed on Tuesday when a knock came at the door. Judith straightened her apron before answering. Who would visit at this hour?

Sam stood in the doorway with his mother.

“Come in.” She invited them inside. “Father has only now laid down to rest, so he isn’t here to greet you.”

Mary’s face wrinkled. “Shall we return at another time? We don’t wish to disturb his rest.”

Judith shook her head. “Once he falls asleep, only a storm awakens him. Something that threatens the lamps.”

“I brought these for you.” Mary handed Judith a plate of freshly baked cake.

Does she already know what a poor cook I am? No, a neighborly gesture, no more. “Thank you. These will taste good with cold milk.” She wrapped the sweets in a towel and set the plate aside. “The lantern room is this way.”

Sam paused at the landing to look out the window. “You can see our cottage from here.”

“I spy much of what is happening on the island,” Judith confessed. “I saw that you had returned.” She blushed. Would he consider her statement forward?

“Judy has to keep track of Punch.” Sam’s gray green eyes crinkled. “It is good to see you again.”

At those words, Judith wanted to skip up the steps, but she climbed at a sedate pace. The stairs issued a familiar creak under Sam’s weight; he was taller and more muscular than Father.

“Here it is.” Judith gestured at the room, remembering the first time she had entered it. How shining and sturdy the lighthouse seemed, with the wood well-caulked against wind and waves, the lantern room thrusting thirty feet in the air.

“We have ten lamps, but the reflectors magnify the light.” She placed her hand on the dinner-plate-sized objects. “The first time I saw them, I thought they might light all the way to Boston.” She laughed. “They don’t, of course. I have seen them from the ocean.”

Sam winced. “I hate to think of you that far out on the ocean.”

“The whole town celebrated when the lighthouse was completed. We sailed a flotilla out to sea to admire the results. On a clear night, the lights are visible for sixteen miles.” She had seen the point where the light thinned, then vanished, extinguished by the blanket of the night sky and fog banks that rolled in from time to time. All these years later, she still loved their polish and shine and took pride in her father’s work.

“You have done well.” The look on Sam’s face suggested he meant more than the lighthouse. Judith’s heart danced.

❧

A week later, Sam noticed that the hymn singing lasted barely half an hour, and the pastor’s sermon only stretched over forty-five minutes, not an hour. Even the preacher was anxious to get out to the rocks before the tide turned, so they could begin the festival.

“Hathaway!”

“Call me Sam,” he said automatically. Piers Vanderkamp moved toward him, with Judith following.

“We were wondering, that is, my parents were wondering—” Piers hesitated.

“Will you eat with us at the festival?” Judith jumped in. “We have bread pudding and cold milk.”

“Just make sure she didn’t bake it herself,” another young man called a warning.

What was that all about? Sam wondered.

“My sister-in-law always bakes enough for a fleet.” Piers spoke in a normal voice.

Mama questioned Sam with her eyes. He shrugged. “We can put our meals together, then.”

At that point, Reverend Snodgrass called the people together. “Let me explain the rules of the shucking contest. The oysters have already been steamed. Every man will receive a bucket with twenty-five oysters in the shell. The first half to finish their buckets will advance to the second round, and will open thirty-five oysters. Three men from the second round will advance to the finals, and they face the challenge of fifty oysters.”

Around Sam, men nodded and clasped their hands in anticipation. He scanned the crowd for John Lauder, the reigning champion. A little gray flecked the man’s hair, but otherwise, he was the same stalwart figure from Sam’s childhood. The fisherman touched the reverend’s arm as if asking permission to speak.

“Good folks of Capernaum, as an added incentive, I promise to give half of my next catch to the man who can best me in the contest.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Catch me if you can.”

Snodgrass called all participants to the table.

Sam waited a moment to see who would join. To his surprise, every man took a seat, even the scholarly Wilson with his soft hands, and the shopkeeper. Only the preacher, who would judge the event, and the infirm remained absent.

“I suppose you won’t be taking part, now that you became a landlubber.” Piers called to Sam from his place at the end of the table.

His taunt decided Sam. “You’d be surprised.”

Mama handed Sam his apron, the one she had bleached and pressed into brilliant whiteness after each turn in the surgical wards. He had never worn it to shuck oysters before, but there was always a first time. He drew on his father’s gloves, grasped a pair of pliers and a knife honed to a sharp edge, and headed over to the table.

If it took shucking oysters to prove his manhood, Sam didn’t object. He was more than ready to perform an operation on the unsuspecting shellfish.

❧

Sam’s arrival at the table surprised Judith. His hands—she couldn’t help but notice them when he had grasped the edge of the pulpit at last week’s meeting—were strong, for certain, but as white and uncalloused as Mr. Wilson’s. She expected a surgeon to value his hands too highly to risk cuts from the sharp edges of an oyster shell. Father had joined the contest, of course. He never won, but he enjoyed the trial.

Next to her, Mary Hathaway drew in a breath. “I suppose he must.” She spoke almost under her breath.

Thirty buckets with twenty-five oysters each were placed in front of the assembled competitors. “Shuckers, ready!” Reverend Snodgrass called. Each man grabbed an oyster firmly in one hand with their preferred tool in the other. Reverend Snodgrass lifted his hand into the air, then swept down. “Begin!”

Judith knew the process of shucking oysters. They were pretty things, dressed like a society man in evening attire, white shells with black stripes and trim. A shucker had to separate the top and bottom shells to get at the muscle. The few times she had tried it, the shell had cut her fingers in half a dozen places, and she mangled the muscle before prying the oyster open. She would need much practice to become expert.

The best of the shuckers made it look easy. Pinch the side with pliers, insert a knife into the hole made by the pliers and open the shell, continue to slide the blade to sever the muscle.

Judith wondered how Sam would handle this competition. After all, he had spent the last ten years away from the sea and oyster beds. To her surprise, his pile grew rapidly.

As expected, John Lauder finished first by a good three seconds. Cries of “done!” rose among the men, with the preacher keeping count. “Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and. . .fifteen! The first round is completed!”

The men who didn’t qualify shrugged good-naturedly and left the table. Among them, as expected, were the schoolteacher and Father. Once every few years, he made it to the second round, but a life as a wheelwright and then lighthouse keeper had not trained him in the fishermen’s art.

Piers, of course, made it to the second round. The man she never expected to make it, the town’s new doctor, remained at the table. He had finished his pile in tenth place. Judith felt a small warm spot grow inside her. What a good way for Sam to rejoin the community.

Around her, Judith heard murmurs begin. “What would you say to a wager. . .” Of course, they wagered about second place. No one was expected to beat Lauder.

Fresh buckets were placed in front of the remaining men. Once again, the pastor called “Ready!” waited for the competitors to grab an oyster, then cried, “Begin!” with a slice of his hand. No one spoke while the men worked steadily, the only sounds the cries of seagulls overhead, the pounding of waves on the rocks, the wail of an infant.

“Done!” Lauder again finished first.

The other shuckers didn’t hesitate, continuing to wield pliers and knives, their hands a whir of motion.

A couple of seconds later, Piers called out. Judith smiled. He had dreamed of this honor for weeks.

She focused so much on Piers’s accomplishment that it took a moment for the third finisher to register.

Dr. Sam Hathaway would compete with Piers and Lauder in the finals.