Petals on the River (66 page)

have a moment or two to spare, madam, I shall have need of your

services."' "My services?" Mary Margaret was momentarily taken aback.

"And what assistance would a grand gentleman like yerself be wantin'

from an ol' lady like meself?"

"Your advice will suffice for now," Gage answered with a grin.

Mary Margaret looked him over suspiciously as she sought to quell the

irrepressible quiver at the corners of her lips.
 
"I thought ye didn't

care for my counsel."

"I guess that isn't necessarily true since I'll be taking it fairly

soon.
 
In fact, if you find yourself free two weeks from today, you may

come with us to Williamsburg to see the deed done."

The elder was thoroughly confused.
 
"I'll accept the invitation, ye

handsome rogue, but ta be sure, I have no ken what ye're talkin' about."

"Then, if you cannot use your imagination, old woman, it may well be a

surprise.
 
I'll have Ramsey Tate fetch you from your cottage Friday two

weeks from today, in the morning about six."

"And what advice would ye be needin' from this ol' woman, may I ask?"

"I intend to buy Shemaine cloth for a new gown, and I have no idea what

she may require to finish it."

"Shoes from the cobbler?
 
Cloth for a new gown?" Though Mary Margaret's

thin lips barely curved, her eyes glowed brightly.
 
"What gift will you

be wantin' ta give the girl next, Mr.
 
Thornton?"

Gage stared through the small panes of the window, seeming f' ponder her

question.
 
"Perhaps a brush and comb of her own, a bit toilet water and

some nice scented soap."

"For a bondslave, Mr.
 
Thornton?"

Gage pivoted on his heels and looked down at the elder with a o puckish

gleam in his amber-flecked brown eyes.
 
"For a wife, Mrs. McGee."

A hoot of glee escaped Mary Margaret before she clapped a hand over her

mouth to silence the outburst.
 
Even so, she danced a rather lame jig

with the help of her cane, and then, reclaiming some degree of dignity,

peered up at him.
 
"I suppose ye'll be countin' on me ta keep this news

ta meself ere the vows are spoken."

"Aye, madam.
 
Twill be news for only my closest friends to savor til

then."

Mary Margaret nodded in agreement with his judicious decision.
 
" Tis

wise, o' course, not ta befuddle Mrs.
 
Pettycomb overmuch.
 
She might

squawk or have a seizure from the wonder o' it.
 
She's clearly expectin'

Shemaine ta start showin' her condition ere three months pass .
 
.
 
.

but, o' course, without benefit o' a weddin' ring." She chortled in

mirth at the idea of the matron's astonishment.
 
"Ahh, twould be

delightful ta be a wee little mouse in her house when she hears the

news.
 
Twill pop her eyes out for sure."

"You're ruthless through and through, madam," Gage accused with a

chuckle.
 
"May I never find you in the ranks of my enemies.
 
Twould be

my ill fortune, to be sure."

"Aye, twould," she concurred cheerily.

Leaning on her cane, Mary Margaret approached the doorway leading to the

back of the store and called down the corridor.
 
"Mr.
 
Becker, ye might

want ta fetch Shemaine O'Hearn's shoes whilst ye're back there.

Mr.
 
Thornton is here ta fetch them.
 
An' would ye mind hurryin' yerself

along?
 
Mr.
 
Thornton an' I have some important things ta do today."

At first, two weeks from Friday had seemed so far away that Shemaine had

foreseen no difficulty in accomplishing everything she had planned to do

before that particular day arrived.
 
She had asked Gage if she could

alter one of Victoria's gowns which she considered especially lovely.

Instead, with a boyish grin that Andrew emulated so well, he had

presented her with a bolt of fine cloth for a fashionable gown, lace

with which to trim it, and enough soft, delicate batiste to make a new

chemise and a nightgown.
 
Shemaine was delighted with his gifts but, at

the same time, a bit fretful because of them.
 
Her normal chores usually

kept her busy for most of the day, and she could not imagine how she'd

ever find time to finish all of the garments before her wedding day.

Gage soon solved her dilemma by conveying Mary Margarets offer of help,

which she eagerly accepted.
 
It helped tremendOusly when Ramsey

volunteered to pick up the woman at her .

l cottage for the next two weeks and bring her out with him when he came

to work.

Finally the designated Friday arrived, and a heavy barge, outfitted with

a large rudder and an odd collection of sails and manned by a crusty old

mariner who had given up sea voyages for a quieter life, nudged up

against the new loading dock that Gage and his men had built the

previous week.
 
The crated furniture was carried on first to avoid

damage to the pieces, but driving the team of horses aboard proved

difficult, for they were skittish about the craft and even more so about

pulling the wagon across the noisy planks that served as a bridge.
 
Gage

finally had to get down from the seat and lead them on. The wedding

party was the last to go aboard, and did so conveying a small assortment

of valises, clothes, and other paraphernalia.

An early morning fog hung over the marshes along the river and seemed to

roll up around the barge as it made its way westward.
 
At their

approach, egrets, herons, and other birds took flight, while a flock of

pigeons winged its way across the skies above grassy sloughs. In other

areas oaks, scrub cedar and pine masked the tidal shores.

After the island of Jamestown came in sight, the captain turned the

barge into the inlet, and it was here they began to unload.
 
Once the

wagon was driven onto dry land, one of the larger crates was hefted into

the bed.
 
Gage took three of his men along with him to deliver the

breakfront to a wealthy widow while Erich Wernher stayed with the women

aboard the river craft.
 
Another three trips saw the rest of the

furniture transported to the new owner's recently finished home in

Williamsburg.
 
There, the pieces were painstakingly unpacked, inspected

and dispatched with infinite care to a place of residency inside the

dwelling.

Before they left, the man surprised Gage by giving him a generous bonus

for the excellent quality he had achieved in his designs and in the

workmanship.
 
Since his efforts and talent had amounted to at least

sixty percent of the total undertaking, Gage considered it only fair

that he keep fifty percent of the gift and portion off the rest,

dividing forty percent evenly between Ramsey and Sly Tucker and

distributing the remaining ten in equal shares to the two apprentices.

After restacking the dismantled crates in the wagon, Gage and his men

took their leave and headed back toward the barge.
 
But upon nearing the

edge of town, Gage drew the team to a halt beside a fenced garden where

an old woman in a cloth bonnet was carefully tilling the soil with a

hoe.
 
He jumped down and, sweeping off his hat, approached the fence

near the spot where she labored.

"Your pardon, madam, but seeing as this is my wedding day, I i wonder if

you might allow me to buy a bouquet of flowers for my bride from your

beautiful garden."

The woman flicked a keen gaze over him, thoughtfully sizing him up.

"And what has been your delay in coming to the altar, sir?
 
You're no

untried youth, I vow."

Gage smiled in amusement at her perception.
 
'Nay, madam, I've been a

widower for the last year now.
 
I have a young son two years of age."

Her bright eyes glittered with unquenchable humor.
 
"And your bride?
 
Is

she a widow, too?
 
Or have you stolen some wee young thing from her

mother?"

"A maid of eight and ten, as beautiful as yourself, madam."' The elder

swept a hand toward the gate.
 
"Come into my garden, sir, and I'll cut

you a bouquet myself .
 
.
 
.
 
not for your smooth tongue, I trow, but

for your child bride.
 
Aye, I was wed to a widower, too, at a very young

age, and I gave birth to five sons and saw them all grown ere my John

was taken from me, but to be sure, twas no dreaded weakness or illness

that claimed my husband, but a stout tree that fell upon him while he

was cutting it down.
 
It took revenge and sent him to the grave."

"I'm sorry, madam."

"Don't be," the widow urged with a smile.
 
"We had a good life together,

my John and I."

Upon clipping the freshest flowers from her garden, the woman presented

them to Gage and graciously bestowed her blessing.
 
"May you and your

young bride ride the fickle tides of life with grace and dignity, sir,

and may you have plenty of sons and daughters to bring you joy

throughout the years to come and, in your doddering old age, a wealth of

grandchildren to lighten your hearts with pride at what you've reaped.

Now go, and may God watch over you both through your marriage and may

you grow to love each other more with each passing day."

Strangely moved by her blessing, Gage thanked her and opened his purse

to pay her for the flowers, but the woman waved her hand in denial.

"Nay, sir.
 
The flowers are my wedding gift to you.
 
Give them to your

bride and watch her smile.
 
Then urge her to press them in a book.

They'll give you both memories for a lifetime."

Gage approached the barge by foot after climbing down from the wagon.

Shemaine had not seen him whisk the bouquet behind his back, but from

the gleam in his eyes, she was wont to believe he was up to some