Petals on the River (15 page)

thicket, he nosed it into the water and silently directed Shemaine to

the far end.

The slender craft seemed far too flimsy to suit her, and though she

obeyed her master's directive, she settled herself gingerly where he had

indicated.
 
Cautiously she looked around at the wide river beyond them

and then cringed in sudden worry.
 
Aware of the nervous

fluttering in her stomach, she turned back, not wanting to face the

possibility of being launched into that swirling expanse.

Taking a place at the opposite end, Gage braced the end of the paddle

against the river's edge and shoved them away from shore.
 
The current

caught the canoe, making it wallow slightly, and Shemaine's heart leapt

with fright.
 
After all she had been through, it would be sheer travesty

indeed if she were drowned only moments after leaving the London Pride.

Gage tossed a small tarp to her.
 
"That should help keep you warm."

Grateful for the protection from the rain and the watery view

surrounding them, Shemaine spread the tarp over her head and huddled

beneath its folds.
 
Despite the raindrops that slashed into her face,

she fastened her gaze upon the land beyond the riverbanks, searching for

signs of life and habitation.
 
Just beyond the hamlet, the countryside

seemed flat and low, in some areas a grassy marshland inhabited by

waterfowl and reptiles, but in other places there were thickets so dense

they seemed impenetrable to anything but the smallest of animals.

Shemaine was immediately impressed by the beauty of the wilderness, yet

a little frightened of it, too, for she had no idea what to expect from

this land or if she would be able to survive in it.

Occasionally through the downpour she saw where a cabin and outbuildings

were nestled in the trees or where others were in the process of being

built.
 
In a larger clearing she saw a much grander house being erected

and was amazed at the spunk of the people who, having no guarantees of

safety and security so far from civilization, would make such a

commitment to the future.

The canoe glided with ease through the swiftly flowing current as Gage

repeatedly dipped the wooden blade in the rain-pocked waters, stroking

leisurely on one side and then the other, marking a course close to the

riverbank where lofty, wide-spreading branches afforded them protection

from the storm.
 
Farther down the river, a profusion of pink and white

petals, stripped from a snarled thicket of fruit trees growing near the

shore, floated on the surface of the river beneath the shelter of their

limbs.
 
Others were being swept into the main channel, where they

swirled chaotically in the current for a time before being drawn into

the depths.
 
Feeling as vulnerable as those tiny flower petals, Shemaine

dismally mused on the similarities between her life and their short

voyage on the river.
 
Against her will, she had sailed across an ocean

and was now being borne along to some strange destiny beyond her ken.

Only time would reveal the outcome, if she would be swept under a darkly

brooding morass of adversity or if she would remain afloat until she

came to the end of her indentureship.

They finally came within sight of a sandy inlet where a partially

finished ship rested in bracing stocks near the river's edge.
 
No one

had to tell Shemaine that here was where Gage Thornton endeavored to

build his dream.
 
As they drew near, the ship seemed to loom above them

like a sleek-framed edifice, much larger by far than Shemaine had dared

to imagine.
 
This would truly be a sailing vessel for the high seas, she

thought in awe, realizing just how dedicated and enterprising the man

who had designed her really was.

A large cabin stood on higher ground beyond the ship.
 
Its sharply

pitched roof seemed to thrust upward into the belly of a gray, turbulent

haze that roiled close above the tall pines and deciduous trees

surrounding the cabin.
 
Their branches swayed to and fro with the strong

winds that blustered through them and seemed to answer with a plaintive

wall, as if bemoaning the fact that they had been disturbed.

Gage drove the canoe into the shallows near the bank.
 
There he jumped

to shore and dragged the craft from the river.
 
The pelting raindrops

continued to slash down upon them with a vengeance as he lifted Shemaine

in his arms and raced toward the cabin.
 
Carrying her easily, he leapt

up the front steps, strode across the covered porch and lifted the latch

as he nudged the heavy-timbered door open with a shoulder.
 
Once inside,

he kicked the portal closed behind him and withdrawing the arm he had

clasped beneath her knees, allowed Shemaine to regain her footing.

Leaving her, he pulled a towel from a rack near the door and proceeded

to dry his face and arms and blot some of the moisture from his clothing

as he moved about the spacious cabin, lighting several lanterns to chase

away the gloominess of the interior.

"I'll open the shutters after the winds die down," Gage stated drawing

Shemaine's attention to the small-paned windows spaced at neat intervals

in the cypress-paneled walls.
 
Except for those that were protected

beneath the overhanging roofs of the front and back porches, the rest of

the windows were darkened by wooden shuners that had been closed and

bolted from outside.
 
"I put in the glass only a couple of months before

my wife died, and it was no cheap or easy task.
 
When there's a storm

brewing, I usually close the shutters so there's no chance of the

windows getting broken, mainly to save myself the trouble of repairing

them."

Shemaine was impressed by the charm and comfort of the interior. "It's

nice and cozy in here with the lanterns."

A loft had been built beneath the steeply pitched ceiling, partially

forming a second story which, from a gracefully turned balustrade

overlooked the great room.
 
Lending support to the loft on the main l

floor was an interior wall set back some distance from the end of the

overhang.
 
On the left, a massive stone fireplace had been built to

provide a cooking area in the kitchen.
 
Immediately to the right of the

hearth and directly opposite the front entrance was a door that led to a

wide corridor, at the end of which was a window and a back portal.
 
On

the far right of the interior wall, a second door stood ajar, revealing

a neatly arranged storeroom.
 
Adjoining that same wall was another

partition which ran from front to back, behind which a spacious bedroom

could be seen through an open doorway to the right of the en It was

apparent that a gifted artisan had crafted the furnishings, for they

were as fine and elegant as any piece her own parents owned in England.

Of most worthy note was a tall secretary standing against the parlor

wall near the bedroom door.
 
The piece had been painstakingly adorned

with carved shells, gracefully curving drawers and burlgrained doors.
 
A

leather-tooled desktop had been folded down to display tiny

compartments, drawers, and narrow cubicles where a collection of

bric-a-brac had been nestled.
 
Majestically crowning the piece were a

pair of spiraled finials on each end and, in the middle, an elaborately

carved shell, no doubt the handiwork of her new master.

Shemaine turned slowly about in amazement.
 
The costly appointments were

a luxury she had not expected to see in the colonies.

In fact, they were so much in evidence, she could not take them all in

with a mere glance.

A settee and two large, wing-backed chairs, upholstered in a Scottish

plaid, were part of a small grouping that had been arranged within close

proximity of the secretary.

In the kitchen a wooden sink, a worktable and a tall cupboard lined the

interior wali to the left of the hearth.
 
A butter churn, crocks and

other equipment abounded in this area, where, only a few steps away, a

pair of high-backed wooden benches faced each other across a trestle

table.
 
A child's high chair had been placed conveniently at one end.
 
A

short distance away, a rocking chair stood near the fireplace where one

could sit and enjoy its warmth or view the back corridor.

The stone hearth had an opening almost as large as Shemaine was tall It

was equipped with hooks and racks where iron kettles and skiilets could

be heated above the main fire.
 
An iron oven stood to one side and could

be readily moved about within the fireplace to make it more accessible

to the heat.
 
The massive chimney was solidly constructed, no doubt

lending substantial support to the structure as it rose upward through

the loft and the peaked roof.

"Did you build this cabin and all these things yourself?" Shemaine

asked, turning to Gage in amazement.

''Aye, I built a small cabin for myself soon after arriving, but when I

married Victoria, I enlarged it and started making the furniture for

her." His eyes flicked about the room, touching familiar nooks and

crannies.
 
"She was the one who made the place into a home for us.
 
She

was as clever with a needle as any woman I've ever known." He indicated

the settee and chairs.
 
"She had me trade a table to a Scotsman for the

plaid.
 
After I attached the legs and arms to the frames, she stuffed

the three pieces with horsehair, covered them with sailcloth and then

the woolen."

"You must miss her terribly," Shemaine surmised, detecting a strange

texture in his voice.

"Aye, I think of her a lot when I'm not busy," he acknowledged,

returning the towel to a peg near the front door.
 
"But you'll hear

rumors to the contrary when you venture into the village.
 
Alma

Pettycomb and other scandalmongers in the hamlet doubt that I can love

anything but the ship I'm building."

"I don't think I'll be lending too much credence to what Mrs. Pettycomb

has to say about anyone or anything," Shemaine stated with firm

conviction.
 
She had already settled her mind on the fact that the woman