Light Over Water (23 page)

          They sat on the deck
to take in some air as often as they could.  It was frigidly cold, but
preferable to the stale and crowded below decks.

          “Open your heart to
God,” Tom urged Aubrey on several occasions when Aubrey seemed morose and
troubled.  “He’ll help you through your troubles.”

          “Look what happened
to you,” Aubrey pointed out.  “You got trouble the rest of your life because
you tried to help someone,” he said bluntly.

          Tom was silent for
several moments until Aubrey started to apologize.  Tom held up his hand.  “No,
it’s all right,” he assured Aubrey.  “I was just thinking how best to explain. 
See, when I gave my life to God, it was with the understanding that it was no
longer mine.  It was his, to do with whatever he thought best.  He didn’t make
any promises that it would be without trouble, but that he’d be with me in the
troubles. Do you see the difference?”

          Aubrey squinted up at
the gray sky then looked at Tom’s face.  The blisters had healed; leaving scars
around his eyes and on his cheeks that the doctor said would fade with time. 
His eyes were still red, with swelling and cloudiness that was scarring on the
actual eye tissues.  He was not as easy to look at as when Aubrey first met
him.

          “Is he?” Aubrey
asked.

          “Is he with me?” Tom
clarified.

          Aubrey nodded.

          Tom’s smile was as
clear as his answer.  “Yes!”

          Throughout their trip
Tom began to sense that Aubrey had done someone great harm.  His questions, his
brooding silences, his eagerness to be of help and his almost pathetic sense of
guilt all hinted at a troubled soul.

          One of Tom’s heaviest
disappointments was that he couldn’t see to read.  He’d asked Aubrey if he’d
read to him, but soon learned that Aubrey was barely literate.  “If the print
was bigger I think I could make it out,” Tom had said one day.  Then Aubrey
scoured the ship until he found someone who would trade a magnifying glass for
a German cigarette lighter he’d found in an ambulance.  Tom was moved to tears
by this gesture and thanked Aubrey profusely.  Aubrey just muttered, “Put in a
good word for me,” and left Tom to his reading.

          Tom read to Aubrey his
favorite Bible passages –
Come unto me all ye who labor and are heavy laden
and I will give you rest…There is therefore now no condemnation…Let not your
heart be troubled, you believe in God, believe also in me.
  Aubrey would
listen, but it was with the attitude of listening to a story rather than truth.

          Their arrival home
was an occasion for joy.  Ruth met them at the train station and hung onto Tom
so long that soon they were both laughing.  Tom’s fears about her reaction
evaporated with the sound of her laughter.  She put both hands gently on his
cheeks and carefully kissed him.  She drew back and gazed at his eyes.  “Oh, my
love,” she breathed.  “I’m sorry about your eyes, but I’m so thankful to have
you back.”  When they finally pulled apart, Tom introduced Aubrey, who shook
Ruth’s hand diffidently.  She reminded him of Olivia Eliot – gentle, firm, a
bit careworn but strong.

          Ruth regarded him
with frank green blue eyes.  When she smiled and returned his handshake, she
said,” Thank you, Aubrey, for all the help you’ve given my husband.  You’re
welcome in our home.”

          That home was changed
somewhat with the influenza claiming the lives of two of their boys, and their
beloved Riley Moore.  It also brought into their household another set of twins
and a four year old, all orphans as a result of the epidemic.  Three of the
boys had been adopted since the epidemic to families who had lost children. 
Ruth’s sister Naomi, had taken ill with the disease, but recovered sufficiently
to resume her work there.

          It was such a happy
reunion that several times Tom was overcome with tears.  He spent his first
several days at home resting and tramping through the snow about the property,
drinking in the blessed sight of the hills and trees blanketed with snow.  He’d
come in red with the cold and invigorated by the clean pure air. 

          Aubrey made himself
useful immediately, taking over the work of chopping wood and keeping the stove
and fireplaces supplied.  They’d had to hire someone to cut down several trees
and saw them up, but the women and older boys had been splitting and chopping
it themselves.  He was a tireless worker who even on the coldest days
eventually shed his outer clothing to work only in his flannel shirt.

          The first night there
Aubrey sat at the long trestle table, looking at all the boys, the two sisters
and Tom.  It reminded him of the Eliot’s house.  “How many of the yo’uns are
yours?” he asked.

          Tom and Ruth looked
calmly at each other.  “They’re all ours, for the time being,” Tom said.  “The
Lord meets the needs of every heart,” he added, smiling and grasping Ruth’s
hand.  Ruth wiped her mouth and looked at her plate.  Aubrey remembered with
bitterness the orphanage he grew up in, run by the church and administered by
nuns whose strictness and discipline was harsh and unrelenting.  He asked no
more questions of that nature.

          They settled into a
routine that included daily Bible readings and school for the older kids, to
which they walked the two miles on good days.  When the weather was bad, they
rode on an open wagon pulled by their two huge oxen, Stone and Patient.  The
Hudson’s gave the children the task of naming all the animals.  Thus they were
either burdened or delighted with names such as Fluffy, a renowned laying hen,
or the tom cat in the barn called Josh, short for Joshabashabeth.  The younger
children had simple lessons at home where they learned to count and make their
letters and read.  They all had chores to do, plus the mammoth tasks of
cooking, cleaning and washing for twelve people.

          Tom resumed preaching
and took care of the management of the orphanage.  He rested more than he had
before, finding in himself a discouraging weakness that he’d never known
previous to the war.  In the quiet and darkness of their room he spoke to Ruth
of the terrors he’d encountered, the young men he’d grown to love and who had
died.  They cried together in the night and sometimes he had bad dreams from
which he awoke gasping and breathing with difficulty.  Ruth would bring him hot
tea and prop up his pillows, soothing away his dreams with her calm voice.

          Aubrey was an
onlooker to the happy if complex life at the Hudson’s.  He listened to the
Bible readings, went to church, saw the change that tenderness and care made in
these children, yet he held himself back from change in himself.  Eventually he
confessed to Tom that he fled to the States to avoid the draft in Canada when
the war first started.  Tom thought with relief that that was the terrible
thing he’d done.  But then he remembered the strange connection to Sam Eliot. 
What did draft dodging have to do with making sure that Sam lived?

          The mystery came
clearer one morning early in March.  Spring had touched their valley with a
hint of warm breath and the snow began dropping off the eaves.  Aubrey was up before
dawn to help with the milking of their two cows, sensibly named Blossom and
Daisy.  But he was out only minutes when he came back in, awkwardly carrying a
small bundle.  His eyes were lit with surprise and his face was white. “Miss
Ruth, this was in the barn.  I…I just found it.”

          Ruth wiped flour off
her hands and Naomi dropped the egg basket she held.  He moved a little further
inside, mindful of his dirty boots and looked relieved when Naomi held out her
arms.

          “It’s a baby,
Ruthie,” she said, acting unsurprised. 

          “I thought it must
be,” Ruth said, laughing a little at Aubrey.  “I don’t think one of Blossom’s
calves would make Aubrey turn white as a sheet.”

          Aubrey tried to smile
but he found himself gazing intently at the infant as Naomi loosened its
wrappings.  Presently a tiny brown face was revealed.  A note was pinned to its
shirt.  Ruth took it and read it out loud. 
“Please care for this child.  I
never saw the man’s face that done this to me, for it was an act of violence. 
When I learned I were expecting I thought I might be able to keep it since my
man and me have no children.  But when she were born I knew I couldn’t.  You
will understand, please.”

          Ruth and Naomi were
both silent as they gazed at the baby girl.  Ruth shook her head and sighed. 
“What a shame.  Poor girl,” she murmured.  “Poor, poor girl.”

          Aubrey didn’t know if
they meant the baby or its mother.  The kitchen was suddenly too hot for him
and the smell of bacon was making him sick.  He stumbled out to the barn and
wept as he milked Blossom and Daisy.

Stranger Things to Come

          The day that Sam came
home and Alison saw his face again after almost eighteen months, something in
her settled.  She had been puzzling in her mind how to tell Sam what Aubrey had
done, trying to figure out what good it would do for him to know.  She had
questioned Aunt Pearl and Mary, the only two besides Sam’s father who knew the
truth about him, and they both advised against it.

          “What if Sam could
help bring him to justice?” she’d queried.  “He might know where he is, or
where he was going.”

          Mary had simply
sighed.  Pearl had said in an uncharacteristically bitter voice, “There is no
justice for women.”         

          Dan had come home
then and they all changed the subject.

          A talk with Reg Eliot
revealed his mind very clearly about the matter.  “Don’t care who he saved, he
done wrong and he should pay for it. Sam can help us track him down.”  Reg
rarely smiled any longer.  Alison grieved for the pain of his loss that was
eating away at him.  He had an almost fevered look in his eyes and he was thin
and restless.  He no longer groomed himself with the same care although he let
Esther trim his hair once a month.

          “Every time,” she
confided to Alison, “he says ‘I should have let Cleo cut her hair.’ As if she’d
still be alive if he had.”

          All the children were
back at home now and Esther took care of them.  She didn’t care about finishing
school, she said.  All she was waiting for was the day when she could marry
Remick and keep her own house and have her own babies.

          Remick had shown
consistently and ably that he could keep the light up on Old Bald Head and had
applied to the Coast Guard for the job.  He was awarded the position in
January, making Alison the only one at home with her father and Aunt Pearl. 
They even gave Remick back pay for the months he’d worked there before being
officially hired.  He was using the money to have a house built, beside the
lighthouse, where he could bring Esther after they married.

          Alison and Sam’s
family each got a post card from the Salvation Army on the same day that said
in bold red letters, “ARRIVED SAFELY TO-DAY!”  It was dated and sent from the
Port of New York.  It said he’d be going to Boston by train, then onto Bath. 
Sam sent a telegram when he arrived in Boston that he’d be coming on the train
to Bath the next day.  Alison’s father lent Reg his buggy and they rode up in
company with Esther.

          It was a long trip,
but Alison still shook with excitement as the train approached and she showed
her hands to Esther.  Her friend smiled slowly and held them in both of hers. 
“Would you rather it was a surprise, like when Remick came home?”

          Alison shook her
head.  “I’m just excited.  And nervous, too.  What if he feels differently
about me?”

          Reg, who was standing
quietly behind them, came and placed his arm across her shoulders and squeezed
tenderly.  “He’d be a fool,” he said gruffly, then he sniffed and looked away.

          Esther shrugged,
raising her eyebrows and smiling.  Then the train was pulling in, monstrous with
its noise and steam.  Many others were waiting too.  In the noise and confusion
at first they couldn’t find him.  So many soldiers, so many happy cries.  They
watched as some came with obvious injuries; on crutches, legs missing, arms
bandaged, the blind being led.  They began moving down the platform as the cars
emptied.  Finally Alison spotted him and grabbed Esther’s arm.  “There he is! 
There he is!”  They both waved and shouted his name.

          He paused as if he
heard them, but couldn’t locate them in the crowd.  He stood on the top steps
of the second to last car and scanned the faces carefully.  He was tall,
straight and blessedly whole.  Alison thought if she could hold the sight of
him right now – so manly in his uniform, so thoughtfully searching for a
familiar face – in her heart forever, she would never want anything again. 
Then his eyes lit on her, they widened in delight and joy and her heart settled
in her.

          There was a wedding
two weeks later, in April.  Dan Granger finally proposed to Mary Reid, with
some encouragement from Alison and Pearl.  Not that he needed persuasion.  He
just needed a different focus.  He’d been so preoccupied for months with
researching the epidemic that most of the time he’d been in a fog.  Whenever he
emerged from that fog, Mary was there; sitting with his family in church,
walking home with him from prayer meeting, helping Alison with college
applications, showing Pearl how to make proper tea and curiosities such as
Bubble and Squeak or steak and kidney pie.  He grew used to her presence, then
began to count on it, and finally missed her when she wasn’t around.  One
evening when Pearl summoned her brother to the table, he came in still holding
a periodical.  He sat down, laid down the paper, took off his glasses and held
out his hands, ready to say grace.  Pearl took one hand and Alison the other. 
Dan blinked, peered about the kitchen as if she might be hiding somewhere and
questioned, “Why, where’s Mary?”