Dominion (50 page)

He awoke the next morning to find he had been moved to the ship's galley during the night, although he could not remember it. He startled when he looked around, not understanding how he came to be in that place, or indeed where he was at all. The cook, when he saw him stir, shoved a bowl of hot soup at him, without comment, which he took up and began to eat.

He was comforted as he brought the hot fish to his mouth, for he had not eaten in more than a day, and quickly finished the bowl. When he was done he was given another, which he ate at a more leisurely pace, still not slow as was usual for him when sitting at table, but at least like one who had sat at table before.

When the ship's mate, a man called Silas, came in and saw him, he began to beam broadly, much pleased that Caleum had made it through that night. “I see you have an appetite too,” he continued, though he was usually very strict with rations for his sailors. “That is good.”

“Thank you,” Caleum answered. He could think of nothing else to say, for he was humbled by their hospitality and their having saved him. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“It was not us but Providence who made it possible,” Silas replied. “This voyage is surely blessed by Him.”

Caleum was not pious as some men, but he had been near to death and was now eating cod chowder so he could not argue without offending his host. But he did allow himself to comment on the man's sentiment. “I did not think men who made their living on the ocean were so believing.”

“On the contrary,” said Silas. “I'm afraid we believe too many things. Now tell me, friend, where you were headed when the storm caught you, so we can deliver you there safely.”

When Caleum answered, Silas said they were very near there, and would reach that port well before the end of the day. The ship continued on under a fair wind, and it was hard for Caleum to believe that it was the same ocean that had treated him so roughly the previous day.

When they docked, not long after noon, Caleum wished again he had some better way of thanking his rescuers, as he tried to make them know how grateful he was.

“We may all need to be fished from the ocean yet.” Silas waved him off, refusing all thanks, and telling how it was custom with them not to remind a man of a favor, lest he come to resent it.

“We have a legend Down East of a man who saved his neighbor from certain starvation one winter by giving him a firkin of smoked cod. All that spring he kept harkening back to it, and all the next spring, never growing tired of reminding the man or of letting their other neighbors know what a good turn he had done for his luckless friend.

“When winter next fell, and there was nobody else on the road that passed by their part of the world, the man who had been saved murdered the one who saved him, unable to bear his gloating any longer. That following spring, when it all came to light, the neighbors were sympathetic toward him, and did not prosecute the crime half so harshly as you might expect.”

Still Caleum was humbled that the
Meredith
had stopped again, just to let him ashore, but, as he went on land he was even more grateful to be back in the stable world.

When he touched dry earth again it was a strange sensation, and he needed quite a few moments to grow used to it. He vowed then he would never go again upon the water, but he would not think of seafarers at all the way he used to. He turned then to see the boat that had saved him one last time and wave to the crew, but search as he might he could not catch sight of it anywhere.

When he finally had his bearings, he began to look around the port where he had disembarked. It was not so busy as Manhattan, but its business was much the same, and he was careful as he waded his way through the lanes of traffic. Once he had come into the town proper, he inquired about where he might find a horse, not wanting to waste any more time but to get on to where he lived.

He had but a few coins left in the little purse that was sewed to the inside of his pants. However, he was able to secure a decent colt and furnishings for the trip, but it was almost his last money.

When he set out from the coast then, it was already the middle of the afternoon, and he hoped to cover much ground still before night fell.

After the death of Magnus Merian they tried to put their grief behind them at Stonehouses, telling themselves and one another everything would still manage to right itself by spring. The winter was hard that year—stretching on for weeks longer than it should have—until they had eaten their stores so far down there was little left to them but seed grain. Finally the weather looked as if it was going to relent, and they had a whole week that was warm enough for the lake to begin thawing, which was always the first real sign of the new season. However, by the time warm days should have been upon them, they were besieged again with bad weather.

Several animals had already died from cold during the last storm, and Adelia tethered a lamb that had lost its ewe in a bower behind the house, intending to slaughter it as soon as she decided how best to preserve the meat from spoiling. The old woman was used to hardship from her childhood, when they were first settling that part of the country, and could work as well as any man, so never despaired before her task, as there was little on a farm she had not done before. The girls had also adjusted to this new way of life, following Adelia about as she carried on all the farm chores she knew from her first days at Stonehouses and even made games around all the rigors of their new existence.

Libbie proved less adaptable though, having always accepted farm life, but never needing to engage its most difficult labors, so that, as soon as Magnus's death sank in, she began to despair of how they would manage out there on their own and even at the funeral had let it be known to her brother Eli how she feared for their future.

Eli Darson assured his sister that as governess of Stonehouses, fire or none, she need never worry. He set about then, from the next day onward, spreading word in respectable circles how his widow sister was prepared to marry again and that she brought with her a handsome dowry for the right suitor.

She was not the only mistress of Stonehouses, however, and, when she learned of her brother's plan she worried greatly what Adelia would say once she found out. Out of prudence she tried to hide his doings from the other woman for as long as possible.

By the time the second storm had closed in on them, though, she was grown feverish from being cooped up indoors with no way to leave and openly looked forward to being courted, no longer caring for anyone else's opinion. “I don't want to live like a half wild woman,” she said to Adelia. “Perhaps we should just sell what's left here and move into town.”

Adelia heard this as sacrilege and said as much. “You would sell my boy's land from under him, wouldn't you?” she asked, not disguising the note of hardness that crept into her voice. “Well, it is not yours to decide.” She left the house to go slaughter the lamb, which she had finally determined that day to kill, and smoke its meat.

When the old woman left, Libbie went to find her daughters, who were playing in the small room upstairs that they all shared. She sat down on the bed next to them and watched their play silently for a while before saying anything. “When I was your age,” she began at last, stopping their game, “I did not know anything in our lives could ever go wrong. Now you poor innocent darlings must suffer because your father went off to war. I just want you to know everything will be right again.”

The girls were very quiet, never certain how to speak to their mother when her mood turned to the past. Unable to take up their game again, they watched Libbie as she went over to the trunk at the end of the bed and picked up the cushion that lay upon it.

“This is what life was like for us when I was a girl,” she said, holding the pillow out for the two of them to inspect. They were delighted by her embroidery but were usually not allowed to touch it, so it was a great treat for them indeed, and they strained forward to feel the material.

“Papa will come back,” said Rose, turning away from the pillow, even though it cost her great self-control not to go on looking at it.

“Dear, sweet girl,” Libbie said tenderly, “you are right to love your father. He was a great man in his way, but I am afraid he is not coming back.” While the main part of her words were compassionate and filled with understanding, her tongue stood very rigid at the word
not,
reducing everything else before it.

Rose was quiet through all this. When she thought it safe to do so, she simply left the room and went back downstairs, where she sat on the sofa perturbed, looking out the window toward the lake.

When she saw a pair of riders coming toward the house, though, she ran back upstairs, calling to her mother as she went. Her first thought was that it was her father returning, even if she dare not allow herself to say it, or even hope for it too much, but that is who she wanted it to be.

When the riders drew closer, she was glad she had not said anything, as she could see then it was not Caleum Merian but her uncle Eli and another man she did not recognize. Libbie, though, did not seem to be surprised by their visit when she came to answer the door, having changed into one of her old but still elegant dresses.

When Eli and his guest entered, the adults sat down. Rose could see immediately how happy her mother was, as Uncle Eli introduced his friend as a Mr. Paul Waylon from Chase. Libbie was always made happy to see her brother, but she was surprisingly demure toward the other man, especially as she usually held herself aloof from strangers.

After a pass of conversation that left all the adults laughing, Rose, who had been listening to them from a corner of the room and surmised they were plotting something against her father, went to the strange man and stood directly next to him, glaring coldly.

When he turned to her and remarked what a sweet child she was, then asked her name, she was seized by defiance and replied very evenly, “You are sitting in my father's chair.”

“War is so difficult for young people.” Mr. Waylon smiled, looking at Eli and Libbie but unmoved by the girl's outburst. “There is so much they cannot understand.”

“Rose, go upstairs this second,” Libbie told her daughter. “She is usually such a well-behaved child.”

“You mustn't apologize,” Paul Waylon countered, continuing to smile indulgently. “It is all very natural.” He then turned to Eli. “I'm afraid I should be heading back now. I must attend to some business in town before the shops all close.”

“Well, it has been very nice visiting, Mr. Waylon,” Libbie told him pleasantly, though within she was seething at Rose for ruining the afternoon.

Instead of going on to the bedroom as she had been told, Rose hid on the stairs out of sight from the adults and continued to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Paul, you wouldn't mind if I let you ride back alone, would you? My sister is a fine cook, and I think I'll stay here for dinner.”

“Not at all. I will contact you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Well, thank you for coming all this way. It was really a pleasure.”

“It was that, but entirely mine.”

The man could be heard taking his leave, and Eli and Libbie were left alone in the living room.

“He is from the best family of any Negro in the colony,” Eli said, pouring himself a drink from a decanter on a shelf, which had not been touched since Caleum Merian last opened it to offer spirits to his guests. “He can prove his blood too.”

“My husband was one of the finest men I ever knew—of any color,” Libbie countered, letting her feelings for Caleum show for the first time in many months.

“Yes, of course, Libbie, but please don't behave like the rest of them in this house. You need a man to manage this place properly, and look after yours and your children's interest. Mr. Waylon will do that, and he is also a gentleman, as you saw when the child behaved so hideously toward him. I think it would be a very successful match.”

“I know what's in my interest, Eli,” she said. “That doesn't mean you can sit there and insult my husband.”

“I did not mean to. I only meant Waylon is worthy of you, dear sister.”

At this Libbie softened again. “If he is interested, I will consider it seriously. Do you think it is too soon, though? That I shouldn't wait longer?”

“The crops have to go in the ground every year, and every year be brought out. Your house has burned down and will not rebuild itself.”

“You are right, dear brother,” she asserted. “I suppose there are widows made every day.”

“You have suffered so much,” Eli said then, making a great show of his sympathy for what she had been through. “You deserve to be happy. You always deserved that.”

“I have been that before, Eli, but thank you,” Libbie answered. In the past she had thought her hardships only the wages for living, but she saw her brother might be right, and there was no need for her to suffer unduly or veil herself in black for the rest of her life. “You will let me know when you have a response from him.”

“I will,” Eli promised. “I cannot imagine it would be anything other than yes, though. After all, what man would not have you?”

On the upper stairs Rose took in all their conversation and grew scared. She strained not to betray herself. However, it was impossible for her to stop, and she flew from the stairwell, screaming, “My father, Caleum Merian, will be back soon!”

Even before her mother punished her, Rose knew she was powerless against what was happening. She went on in the face of their authority nonetheless, if only because she could not bear being silent with what it made her feel, or not defending herself as she had always been taught to do.

Libbie tried not to be angry at the child, knowing how she loved her own father, and how she herself had felt in the beginning. Even after Caleum enlisted for a second and longer tour after the first, she told herself it was in the service of something greater than they were and was an honor for all of them. She received him on breaks during the fighting with open arms and never mentioned the petty worries of her day-to-day life, reckoning that eventually all would be restored and better than before.