Petals on the River (13 page)

home and family himself, he sought to calm her fears about her future.

"Sometimes, Shemaine, when we're forced to go beyond the protective

walls of the homes we grew up in, we have an opportunity to become

instrumental in determining our own fate.
 
For years, I dreamed of

constructing a ship of my own design in England, but my father needed my

skills building the massive ships that he had always produced.
 
It has

been my belief all these many years that he did not understand my

designs or trust me well enough because of my youth to let me create

them from scratch.
 
Having apprenticed for several years under a very

talented cabinetmaker, I was better at the finish work than any of the

other men my father employed, but when he thrust me away in anger and

refused to even consider that I was the one who was an innocent victim,

I found myself free to follow my own desires and ambitions."

Shemaine only knew how much she longed to see her parents and to be safe

in their care again.
 
"What you say may well be true, sir but I have no

greater ambition than to be rescued by my father and to go home again."

"We'll see how you feel seven years from now," Gage rejoined not

unkindly.

His statement drew a disconcerted glance from Shemaine, for he seemed to

insinuate that nothing short of death would halt her years of service to

him.
 
She could only wonder what would happen if her father did manage

to locate her.
 
No provisions had been written in the laws of England

that would force a master to sell a bondslave against his or her will.

Her master's claim on her superseded all others?
 
Even her betrothal

contract was mullified by his ownership of her.
 
She only wondered if

this man could find it in his heart to sell her to her parent?
 
Or would

she be required to stay with him against her will?

Sensing a lingering presence nearby, Gage glanced around to find a thin,

aging matron leaning forward in an avid quest to hear as much of their

conversation as the buffeting wind would allow.
 
Beneath his perusal,

she straightened, only slightly abashed that she had been caught

eavesdropping.
 
She gave him a crisp nod of recognition.

"Well, Gage Thornton, what brings you into Newportes Newes today?"

Gage was well aware of the woman's strong penchant for gossip. Indeed,

she was probably hoping he would oblige her and answer her simple

question in ample detail.
 
But he was hardly one to placate the

meddlesome busybody and kept his own greeting politely reserved "Good

day, Mrs.
 
Pettycomb."

The matron nodded curtly toward the girl.
 
"And who might this stranger

be?"

Though Gage sensed Shemaine's reluctance to be introduced, he took her

arm and pulled her gently around to face the elder whose speculative

stare had come nigh to boring a hole through her slender back.
 
"May I

present Mistress Shemaine O'Hearn from England?"

Alma Pettycomb's small, dark eyes descended to the bare feet visible

beneath the swirling hem.
 
Almost as quickly her sparse brows jutted

sharply upward above the tiny, wire-rimmed eyeglasses perched on her

thin, hawkish nose.
 
Coming to her own conclusions, Alma clasped a

blue-veined hand to her flat bosom, completely flabbergasted by this

latest event in the life of the cabinetmaker.
 
He was forever causing a

stir among the villagers.
 
Any normal m'an, for example, would have

grieved no longer than a few months after the passing of his spouse.

Times were hard here in the colonies, and men were expected to take new

wives to relieve the burden of caring for their young.
 
Many a father in

the hamlet had foreseen Gage coming to court their cherished darlings

and would have bestowed great favor upon him, but he had kept to

himself, obviously preferring his state of widowerhood to marriage with

any of the local girls.
 
He had further daunted their expectations by

hiring the smithy's daughter to care for his son.

"Gage Thornton!
 
What in the world have you gone and done?" the matron

gasped.
 
"Can it be that you've bought yourself a bondswoman from that

awful convict ship?
 
Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"I don't think so, madam," Gage replied with detached coolness. "In

fact, I've done exactly what I've been meaning to do for some time now."

A fierce blast of air flattened the brim of Alma's cloth bonnet over her

wrinkled brow, but with an impatient upward thrust of her hand she

brushed it back into place and gave him a blatantly suspicious stare.

"Do you mean to say that you've actually been contemplating the purchase

of an indentured servant, even before the London Pride sailed into

harbor?
 
Why, such a foolhardy deed gives me cause to think you've gone

daft."

The muscles twitched in Gage's lean cheeks, attesting to his irritation,

but his voice was as unfaltering as his gaze.
 
"Be that as it may,

madam.
 
I've done what I've done and do not intend to make amends to

anyone."

Mrs.
 
Pettycomb raised her thin nose and squinted at him closely through

her narrow spectacles.
 
"Not even the smithy' s daughter?" she prodded.

"Surely, if there is one in this hamlet you owe an explanation and

apology to, it's Roxanne Corbin.
 
That poor, dear girl dotes on you as

if you were some kind of god."

Gage remained totally unrepentant.
 
"It has been on my mind of late that

I've been intruding far too much on Roxanne's goodwill and should allow

her to live her own life without imposing the care of my son upon her

any longer.
 
Her father has always required her to tend the chores at

their home before coming to mine, and now that Hugh has been laid up

with a broken leg, Roxanne won't be able to come at all, at least for a

while.
 
With no one to look after Andrew while I work, I saw the need to

search for someone else." Though he had said as much to Roxanne, she had

begged him to ask his neighbors to help out for a time, but he would

never have laid more work on others who had just as much to do as he

did.
 
Besides, he would never have tolerated Andrew being away from home

that much.
 
"Roxanne knew of my need for a nursemaid better than anyone,

Mrs.
 
Pettycomb, so it's not as if this will be any surprise to her."

Pointedly rejecting his statement, Alma faced into the wind until he had

finished speaking.
 
Then she turned back sharply and shook a chiding

finger beneath his nose.
 
"You know very well, Gage Thornton that

Roxanne Corbin has never considered the care of your son an imposition.

She loves Andrew as her very own.
 
You'd be wise to realize just how

good she's been to him, how he'd benefit from having her as his mother.

In fact, you ought to bear in mind the problems you'll have to face

taking a convict into your home.
 
I've certainly never approved of those

prison ships bringing the dregs of society to our shores.
 
This girl

could be a murderer for all you know!
 
Indeed! You could be doing this

hamlet a great disservice by harboring such a woman under your roof."

Gage was hardly pleased by Alma's harsh rebuff of Shemaine.
 
The girl

stood beside him in stony silence, but in the few short moments he had

known Shemaine, he had learned to read the depth of her vexation by the

unyielding rigidity of her back.
 
He was tempted to tell the old crone

to mind her own business, but he knew his wrath would only augment the

gorgon's resentment of Shemaine.
 
Quietly but firmly he reasserted his

position.
 
"I'm quite taken with my selection, Mrs. Pettycomb, and I

intend to keep her."

"Aye!
 
I can see where you may have cause to be," Alma rejoined snidely,

and looked toward Shemaine with open disdain.
 
She seemed to fight an

inner battle with herself for a moment, as if she wanted to say more.

When she continued, it was evident she had yielded to the temptation,

for she unleashed a storm of criticism upon the man that was blacker

than the menacing clouds overhead.
 
"There are many in this hamlet who

think you're a fool, Gage Thornton, and buying a female convict just

about proves it!
 
You've wasted nearly every coin you've managed to earn

building that ridiculous boat of yours when everybody knows it will

never leave the Jamesl" It was not the first time that Alma Pettycomb

had defied proper decorum by passing judgment on the citizenry living in

the area.
 
And Gage Thornton was not the first by any means.
 
Though she

had taken special delight in closely observing him whenever he came into

the hamlet, his reticence had often frustrated her and aroused her

suspicions.
 
A man as uncommunicative as he had proven to be usually had

something to hide, she had concluded. Now here he was again, setting

convention completely aside by taking this vile creature into his home

and he didn't seem the least bit contrite about doing so.
 
In Alma's

mind, he needed a good dressing-down.

Gage was by no means surprised by the woman's lack of finesse.
 
In the

nine years he had lived in the area, he had been forced to listen to

many of her comments, either by way of her own lips or from others'.

Frequently she was wont to express views on matters which did not

directly pertain to her and was just as generous with her advice.
 
He

would never forget the afternoon he laid Victoria in the coffin he had

built for her and brought her into town in the back of his wagon.
 
It

hadn't taken long for news of her death to spread or for Alma Pettycomb

to set herself at the forefront of those demanding to be told the

circumstances surrounding his wife's deadly fall from the unfinished

prow of his ship and just what part he might have played in it, going so

far as to suggest that he could have thrown Victoria off in a fit of

temper.
 
After all, just a month prior to that occasion he had thrashed