Petals on the River

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Gage was immediately concerned. “Take as many days off as you need. Is there anything we can do?”

  “Well, I’m not much on cookin’. If’n ye can manage ta send o’er ‘nough vittles for Calley an’ me youngest boy, Robbie, I’d appreciate it. I can make do meself with what I’m able ta put together, but I ne’er learnt meself ta cook, an’ it don’t seem right somehow ta make Calley suffer more’n she’s doin’ already. Me older boys’ve gone upriver ta work for their uncle ‘til midsummer, so at present there’s just us three at home.”

  Gage was cautious about offering Shemaine’s services when he wasn’t sure if what Calley had was contagious. If food had to be delivered, then he would do it himself, keeping his distance for the sake of Andrew and the girl. “What do you suppose is the matter?”

  Ramsey released a halting sigh. “I told ye some time ago ‘at Calley was gonna whelp ‘nother kid in late spring, but we’re now fearin’ she might be close ta losin’ the li’l fella. Accordin’ ta her count, it’s too early for the babe ta be comin’.”

  Gage’s manner became resolute. “Calley should have a doctor’s care. If you don’t mind, I’ll bring Shemaine and Andrew over when I come and then fetch Dr. Ferris from town. Do you have any objections?”

  Ramsey blinked away a start of tears. “I’d be grateful, Gage.”

  “Go now, and see to Calley,” Gage enjoined. “We’ll be along as soon as we can.”

  “Thank ye kindly.”

  Some time later, Gage drew the wagon to a halt in front of the Tate cottage and escorted Andrew and Shemaine inside. Almost immediately Andrew and the three-year-old Robbie settled down on the kitchen floor to play with a set of wooden animals that Ramsey had made for his youngest son. Ramsey led Gage and Shemaine to the back of the house, where his stricken wife was ensconced in their bed. He went to her bedside and beckoned for their visitors to approach as he took his wife’s hand and introduced the newcomer.

  “Calley, this be Mr. Thornton’s new bondswoman, Miss Shemaine. She’s here ta cook a meal for ye an’ li’l Robbie.”

  Gage stepped near. “Shemaine will watch after you and the boys for a while until I return with a doctor. You’ll be in good hands, Calley.”

  The woman nodded in answer and tried to smile as she shifted her gaze to the girl. “Pleasured ta make yer acquaintance, miss. I only wish it be under better circumstances.”

  Gage and Ramsey took their leave, and Shemaine began to fluff the woman’s pillows and tidy the bed. Solicitously she asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Maybe keep me company for a while,” Calley suggested with a tentative smile. “Ramsey gets in such a stew when one o’ us gets sick, I’m almost relieved ta see him go ta work. His fidgetin’ wears on me.”

  “No doubt he loves his family very much, and it makes him anxious when he sees one of you ailing,” Shemaine gently surmised.

  “Oh, I knows that ta be true, al’right,” Calley declared with an abbreviated chuckle, but she stiffened suddenly as a spasm gripped her. Clenching her teeth, she silently endured the discomfort until the pain began to ebb. Then she looked up at Shemaine through a start of tears. “I was athinkin’ this babe might be a girl. We’ve five sons already, an’ I was sure, what with me carryin’ this one so different, we’d be havin’ ourselves a precious li’l girl this time.”

  Shemaine gripped the woman’s slender hand. “Don’t lose hope, Mrs. Tate. Perhaps the doctor will be able to help you.”

  Calley’s lips trembled with anxiety. “I ne’er had any trouble afore, an’ I’m frightened for me poor li’l babe.”

  Bracing her hands on the mattress, Shemaine leaned forward to claim the other’s misty-eyed attention. “Then I’d say you’ve been very fortunate until now, Mrs. Tate. My own mother lost a baby after I was born and could not get with child again. So you see how tremendously blessed you’ve already been.”

  With eyes closed and her lips moving fervently in prayer, Calley writhed in silent agony upon the bed. “The way I’m feelin’, miss, I fear I’ll be losing it afore Dr. Ferns can get here.”

  Leaving her, Shemaine rushed to the kitchen. Gage had gone, and in his absence Ramsey was roaming about like a lost soul, not knowing what to do with himself. “You’d better get some water boiling just in case,” she urged, putting to flight his confusion. “And ready some rags and towels, but don’t bring them to the bedroom until I call for them.”

  “Yes’m,” Ramsey replied, and set himself to completing her directive.

  Folding back her sleeves, Shemaine pushed through the bedroom door and mumbled a silent prayer of her own as she returned to the woman’s bedside. “You know more about this kind of thing than I do, Mrs. Tate. I’m not squeamish. The voyage from England took away any girlish notions that I once might have had about being prudish, so if you’re of a mind to trust me, I’ll stay with you and do what needs to be done if such help is required before the doctor comes.”

  “I trust ye,” Calley answered in a whisper. She began to twist again and claw at the sheets as she grieved over her impending misfortune, getting so worked up emotionally that she could not lie still.

  “Relax if you can,” Shemaine soothed, remembering how her friend Annie had helped one of their cellmates on the London Pride through childbirth. The baby had been badly malformed, perhaps because of the lack of nourishment his mother had been subjected to. He hadn’t lived beyond a day, but Annie had coaxed the woman and brought her through her labor in good order. This was not the same kind of circumstance, Shemaine realized, but she grew resolved to help Calley in a similar fashion if she could. Except for her first experience of seeing a child born, she wasn’t knowledgeable enough to be of much benefit otherwise. “Try to imagine the baby and how you might help her by remaining calm. Don’t strain yourself or bear down to make her feel unwanted. Let her feel nurtured in the safe, warm haven of your body. Close your eyes and see how beautiful your daughter is. I think she will look like you, with hair like wheat and eyes the color of the sky. She’ll be the treasured pride of her brothers. . . .”

  With lashes tightly closed, Calley nodded eagerly as an image of the girl began to form in her mind. Her breathing slowed, as if by magic, and the tears faded, to be replaced by a smile. “Aye, she’ll have a winsome face.”

  Shemaine leaned forward to whisper close to her ear. “Can you see yourself holding your daughter close to your breast and gently rocking her as you sing a lullaby?”

  Calley heaved a blissful sigh. “Aye, she likes the singing.”

  “You’re smiling, Mrs. Tate,” Shemaine murmured. When the woman’s eyes came open in surprise, she laughed softly. “And the pain has passed.”

  “Well, so it has!” Turning her head on the pillow, Calley looked at Shemaine through elated tears. “Can it be true? Can I talk meself into keeping this babe?”

  “I don’t know, Mrs. Tate,” Shemaine answered honestly. “But ‘twould seem to me that being hopeful and relaxed can be more advantageous to the both of you than being anxious and fretful.”

  “Call me Calley, mum,” the woman earnestly implored. “I can tell ye’re a real lady, just like Mr. Thornton is a proper gentleman. He needs a wife like ye.”

  “I’m only his bondswoman,” Shemaine asserted. The last thing she wanted, especially after the previous night’s ordeal, was to have this woman presume that her master intended to marry her and to make the mistake of saying something to him about it. She had apologized to Gage Thornton much too often of late.

  “That’ll change,” Calley predicted, growing more confident. “Ramsey says it will. He said Mr. Thornton is already taken with ye.”

  “Mr. Thornton is taken with my cooking,” Shemaine stated firmly. “Nothing more. Your husband is mistaken.”

  Calley was amazed by her insistence that nothing could come of their association. “Would ye not marry him if he asked ye?”

  “I was engaged to be married before I came here . . .” Shemaine’s
words trailed to a halt, and she found herself unable to finish her statement. The memory of her betrothal seemed strangely detached from the reality of the present.

  “England is a far piece off, mum, an’ Mr. Thornton is here, right ready ta become a husband. Do ye not think he’d make a handsome one?”

  “Certainly, he would, but I . . .” Again words failed Shemaine.

  “The man ye were engaged ta in England, was he as handsome as Mr. Thornton?” Calley pressed.

  “I don’t know. . . .” Shemaine moaned, uneasy with such questions. By the standards of every eligible young lady in England, Maurice du Mercer had been considered the best-looking man in all of London. Yet Gage Thornton would have caused as much confusion in the hearts of those same maidens as she was presently experiencing. It seemed somehow disloyal to imagine her former fiancé as less attractive. It also seemed silly to fret about the degree of handsomeness of one over the other. She was sure that if she did think that Gage Thornton was more appealing, it was only because he was near and Maurice so far away.

  “Do ye still love your fiancé?”

  “I thought I did once,” Shemaine admitted lamely. “But that seems so long ago, and much has happened. I’m indentured to Mr. Thornton, and even if Maurice were to find me, I would not be free to marry him unless Mr. Thornton was willing to release me. Besides, Maurice may not even want me anymore, considering my arrest and all.”

  “Mr. Thornton wants ye, ta be sure.”

  “This discussion really seems pointless,” Shemaine replied, hoping to squelch the disturbing conjectures. “No one can predict with any certainty what Mr. Thornton may be thinking. I am simply his bondslave, and unless he speaks for himself, I shall consider any discussion on the subject of marriage purely speculative.”

  “Aye, ‘tain’t right for us ta say what Mr. Thornton will do,” Calley conceded. “There be plenty enough o’ those what try ta guess at what he’s up ta without us doin’ the same.”

  Shemaine breathed a sigh of relief, having made her point. Gathering the woman’s fingers in her own, she smiled down at her. “How are you feeling now?”

  “A bit tired,” Calley acknowledged, smiling easier. “But better.”

  “A little rest may do you and the baby good.”

  “Aye, I think I can rest now . . . and hope.”

  “Then I’ll leave you so you can. If you should have need of me, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  With a relaxed sigh, Calley closed her eyes, and Shemaine slipped quietly from the room. Ramsey was waiting in front of the hearth, and the stricken look on his face made her hasten to allay his fears.

  “Your wife is feeling much better now and will be able to rest for a while.” The strain of the last hours was evident in his face, moving her to compassion. “I think ‘twould do you good to get some sleep, too,” she said kindly. “I’ll call you if something happens.”

  Gage Thornton climbed down from his wagon and approached the physician’s cottage. A small woman in a neighboring yard was pulling weeds that had overgrown an earlier year’s garden, but when he strode up the walk, she straightened and squinted against the sun to watch him. When he tapped on the front door, she called to him.

  “If ye’ve come ta see the doc, he’s gone upriver a ways ta mend a broken leg. He won’t be back for a spell. If’n ye can write, ye can leave a note sayin’ where ye wants him ta go once he gets back. Doc Ferris said for me to say as much ta any what came. He also left a quill an’ things on his porch for those what be o’ such a mind.”

  Gage Thornton faced the drably garbed woman, wondering if he had ever met her before, for her voice sounded strangely familiar. As he walked across the lawn toward her, he noticed that the whole side of her jaw was darkly bruised and swollen. Even so, he keenly recalled the tiny woman who had encouraged him to buy Shemaine on the London Pride.

  “Annie Carver?” The facial bruises looked even worse up close, and he couldn’t help but inquire, “Good heavens, woman, what has happened to you?”

  Dumbfounded, Annie lifted a dirt-crusted hand and shaded her eyes against the brightness of the solar orb as she tried to see him clearly. “ ‘Oo is it?”

  “Gage Thornton. I bought Shemaine O’Hearn, remember?”

  The woman hooted and slapped a hand against her leaner cheek. “Blimey, gov’na! Remember ye? How could I forget? It just took me a bit ta see ye clearly, what with the sun in me eyes an’ all. How’s Shemaine?” Her eyes filled with sudden apprehension. “She ain’t hurt, is she? Be that why ye’re wantin’ the doc?”

  “No, she’s all right, Annie. Actually I came for a friend of mine. His wife is due to give birth in late spring, but she’s having trouble now . . . may even lose the babe.”

  “I knows a thing or two about birthin’ babies,” Annie informed him shyly. “Me ma were a midwife afore she took ill an’ died, but she taught me what ta do ta help a woman a wee bit. But me master, he’d ne’er let me go with ye.”

  “Did your master do that to you?” Gage asked gently, indicating her blackened cheek.

  Embarrassed, Annie lifted her shoulders in a feeble-hearted shrug. “I guess Mr. Myers thought I deserved a knock or two for burnin’ his supper. He told me ta go out an’ chop some wood ’cause his parlor was chilly. It took a mite longer’n I figgered.” She peered at Gage quizzically. “What ’bout yerself, gov’na? Ye gettin’ ‘nough ta eat with Sh’maine cookin’ for ye?”

  “I’m happy to say she’s an exceptional cook, Annie. I couldn’t have found a better one had I ventured clear to London town.”

  Annie gave him a sober, sidelong stare. “Last night, this here Mrs. Pettycomb come o’er ta talk ta me master . . . Samuel Myers . . . ’bout how ye’d gone an’ bought yerself a convict ta service yer manly cravings, an’ how ye’d almost killed the bosun from the London Pride ’cause he tried ta take her away from ye.”

  Gage grew a bit irate over the unswerving verve of the old busybody in spreading her biased stories about the hamlet. “Mrs. Pettycomb usually enlarges upon everything she hears, Annie, so I wouldn’t put much stock in what she says if I were you. She seems to enjoy deliberately distorting the facts to enliven her tales.”

  Annie was in hopes that he would explain further, but Gage remained reticent about his purposes for buying Shemaine, for he saw no reason for justifying himself to everybody who lent an ear to the lurid tales being told about him. If he ever made such an attempt, he’d never come to the end of it, especially since the matron and her circle of busybodies seemed inclined to prattle about him continuously.

  The front door was snatched open, and Samuel Myers stalked out to the edge of his porch, where he stood with one arm behind his back. Glaring at them, he assumed the disposition of a red-faced dictator. “You lazy bitch!” he snarled at Annie. “I didn’t buy your papers so you could talk to every no-account that passes my gate. Get back to your work before I lay my fist to your other cheek. And I warn you, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay busy while I’m gone, or I’ll flay your blooming hide. I can’t leave my shop every hour on the hour just to check on you. My customers will begin to fret and think I’ve left town.”

  Gage’s brow grew sharply peaked as he peered across the yard at the man. For once, he had to agree with Morrisa Hatcher. The little man was as detestable as the meanest rat. The idea of leaving Annie in his care without making some attempt to help her just didn’t seem right somehow. “Would you be of a mind to hire your bondswoman out for a fee, Mr. Myers?”

  Samuel Myers was clearly bemused. He pushed his spectacles up higher on his broad nose and, with a dubious smirk, contemplated Gage more closely. “What’s the matter, Mister Thornton? One wench ain’t enough for you? You’ve got to have two in your bed?”

  If it had been the man’s intent to rile Gage, then he surely accomplished his purpose, for Gage could feel an intensifying animosity building within him as he returned a stony stare to the other’s taunting jeer. Myers had evidently heard a grea
t many rumors about him, whereas Gage knew only that the man he conversed with was a haberdasher of gentlemen’s clothing. Considering the gossips’ zeal to wag their tongues, it would not have surprised Gage if Samuel Myers considered him a dangerous man. As for that, the way Myers kept his right arm tucked carefully behind his back led Gage to believe that a pistol was cocked and held ready in the man’s hand, for he just couldn’t imagine the little weasel being so reckless otherwise, especially if he believed all the rumors that were being circulated about how dangerous the cabinetmaker was.

  “I have an employee whose wife is dangerously close to having a miscarriage,” Gage replied with measured care. It was not the threat of a pistol that made him cautious, but the realization that any show of hostility might spoil his chances to help Shemaine’s friend. “Annie said she could possibly be of assistance to Mrs. Tate if she were able to go. If you’d allow her to leave with me, I’d be willing to pay you for her time. The doctor might be gone for a while, and right now there’s no one else at the Tates’ who knows what to do.”

  “You could just as well take your own bondswoman over there, Mister Thornton,” Myers suggested, curling his lip in a sneer. “Unless, of course, you can’t bring yourself to part with the wench that long. She’s mighty fetching for an Irish bitch, and I’m wondering if she’s as pleasing to look at in bed as out.”

  “You use the word bitch much too loosely, Mr. Myers, and presume upon a lady’s character,” Gage retorted, feeling his temper rising sharply. He paused a moment to regain control of himself before he spoke again. “The girl is already there doing what she can, but she doesn’t know enough to be of much help to Mrs. Tate.”

  Samuel Myers was always willing to make a coin in one fashion or another, and he could think of no easier way to collect a goodly sum than to allow his bondslave to earn it for him. “How do I know I can trust you to bring Annie back?”