“Your uncle is much like your mother.” Her father paused as they reached the Bretts’ house. He drew a deep breath. “This is a hard task to face, but it must be done.”
After their visit to Joe’s widow and children, Elise talked her father into doing some shopping for the ship. She’d have everything delivered and given to the second mate to oversee until she and Papa were back on board. Shopping with her father was something she enjoyed. He had often accompanied her mother when Elise was younger. Mother always preferred to pick out her own vegetables and fruits, as well as breads and meats.
“We’re bound for Duluth on this next trip, so we’ll need plenty of food. I don’t want to make any stops because you ran out of something.”
Elise laughed. “I’ve made a list while waiting for you to return. Uncle James told me we were to be back on our regular schedule, taking coal to Duluth and bringing back grain.”
“It’s a good living and steady work. Folks always need coal and grain,” her father said.
They went to one shop after another until Elise had arranged for everything, including a pair of bloomers. Her father, despite grieving the loss of his first mate, smiled at the scene she described.
“I can even climb the rigging if need be. Can you imagine the surprise of the men when I cast my skirt aside?”
“You’ll be a sight for sure. They’ll no doubt worry that you’re paradin’ around in your underclothes.”
She hooked her arm through his. “They’re full and dark blue. They look nothing like undergarments. Say, can we spare some money for a dish of ice cream?” she asked, spying a little shop just ahead. The day was quite warm, and the iced treat sounded refreshing. Plus, she wanted a little more time alone with her father.
“Of course we can. For you, I’d find a way even if I didn’t have the money.”
They had been at the shop for just a few minutes when Elise saw Nick walk by outside. Her father rapped on the window to get his attention. When Nick saw them, a big grin broke across his face, and he quickly joined them.
“I need to talk to you. Care for a dish of ice cream? My treat,” Papa said.
“I would. Thank you.” Nick took a seat between Elise and her father.
Papa went to the counter, and Elise explained the situation. “I should let my father tell you, but our first mate Joe Brett . . . passed away. You are definitely needed now more than ever.”
Nick frowned. “The leg worsened?”
“Yes. The infection moved quickly to the blood. The doctor couldn’t save him. Papa saw Joe’s widow just an hour ago.”
Her father rejoined them. “I hope you like it with chocolate syrup,” he announced.
“I do,” Nick replied and looked to Elise.
“Oh, he knows how much I like it. I sometimes make my own chocolate syrup on the Mary Elise, and we eat it on cake instead of me making frosting.”
It was only a few minutes before a young lady brought three dishes of ice cream and syrup on a tray. “Will there be anything else?”
“Not for the time,” Elise’s father replied. The girl gave a curtsy and exited with her tray under her arm.
“I’ll ask grace,” Papa said. He prayed a blessing on the food, on his companions, and on the ship.
“I hope you don’t mind, Papa, but I told Nick about Joe.”
Her father nodded. “A total and complete surprise. He was doing so much better. I honestly expected to return and find him playing horsey with his children. They’re so young to be without a father.”
“What a tragedy.”
“She buried him in the churchyard, so no lake burial. The fellas will be grieved over hearing of his death.”
Nick stirred his ice cream as it melted. “I will endeavor to serve in his place, although from the sounds of it, I’ll have big shoes to fill.”
“Aye, but I know you’ll manage quite well,” Papa told Nick.
“I need to write a letter to my father’s housekeeper. My father and I aren’t on speaking terms for a reason much too complicated to go into now. Do you know if there’s a stationery store nearby where I might purchase paper?”
“Come back with us to Uncle James’s house,” Elise suggested. “We have to go there to collect my things and tell them all good-bye. I’m sure Aunt Martha will have all sorts of writing paper. If not her, then Uncle James. Oh, and I need to cut some herbs from their garden, so you should have plenty of time to pen your letter.”
“That would be great.”
Nick smiled at Elise, and she felt the breath catch in the back of her throat. No other man had ever made her feel this way. She had thought perhaps she was unable to feel charmed by handsome suitors.
Of course, Nick wasn’t a suitor. He was someone she would work with, like the rest of the men on the Mary Elise. Nothing more.
Nick hated to think that his good fortune had come at the loss of someone so dear to Captain Wright. The big man was tenderhearted and held compassion for the people in his life. He’d even been kind and forgiving toward Booker Duran, who had been nothing but difficult.
Mrs. Monroe was more than happy to help Nick out with his needs. She even invited him to stay for supper, but of course he would have to dress appropriately. She told him a servant would come and direct him to where he could change once Nick had finished writing his letter. Nick accepted, not really knowing why. The company was pleasant enough, and Elise would be there, and she had such a great disposition. But Nick had put this grandiose life behind him. How would it feel to go back to a proper table after ten years of shipboard life?
He thought of his father as he began his letter to the Clark housekeeper. She kept him apprised of what was happening in Boston. It was the only way Nick knew anything about his family. When his mother was alive, Nick and his sisters had been quite close, but his father had forbidden the girls to contact Nick or for him to speak to them. He had easily cast this demand aside, but his sisters feared the same disinheritance Nick had received and refused to write. From time to time they’d mention something to Mrs. Schmitt, but never in a direct way. He hated his father for doing that to him, all because he refused to go into his father’s textile business. Remembering this only made him angry. His father had never been an amiable man, but Nick hadn’t known what a tyrant he could be. Not until he put Nick out of the house and his life.
Mrs. Schmitt, on the other hand, had been like a mother to him. She had been in his father’s service for over forty years, starting as a scullery maid and working her way up. When Nick’s mother died, Mrs. Schmitt stepped in to offer comfort and stability in lieu of their father’s cold, almost callous behavior. She had mothered Nick and his sisters and had been a connection to home long after his father had disowned him.
Dear Mrs. Schmitt,
I only have a short moment to pen you this letter. All is well with me, and I pray it is with you and the others. I was happy to learn that my sister Deborah was safely delivered of her first child. It touched me deeply that she named the babe after our mother.
The weather has been fair, and my trip to Detroit passed in safety. Unfortunately, the man I was hired to temporarily replace has passed away. It was a great loss, and I’m sure the men will be devastated to learn the truth. The captain, however, has asked me to step into the position permanently. I will take over as first mate on the Mary Elise. This is a comfort to me, since I feared I might never be allowed to work on a ship in any capacity, much less as first mate. Captain Wright knows the details of what happened on the Polaris and does not hold it against me. Oh, the blessing of a truly forgiving soul.
The young woman I wrote to you about is now to join the ship once again. Elise Wright is the captain’s daughter and is such a beauty. She has coal-black hair and blue eyes that seem to take in the world at once. I hope to know her better. She will cook for the Mary Elise. Unlike many of the oceangoing crews, women are not forbidden on our lake ships. In fact, many a wife or sister or daughter cooks for the crews of the ships.
They aren’t considered bad luck at all and instead prove themselves to be a blessing.
He wrote a few more lines about the new job and his happiness and then asked after Mrs. Schmitt and his father. He knew she would be honest with him about the problems they were facing or the victories. Just as he was signing his name to the letter, a feminine scream split the air.
Nick went to the open French doors. The sound had come from the garden just outside. He made his way out and saw a young man trying to take liberties with Elise. He rushed forward to deal with the matter, his anger building by the second, but without warning Elise twisted the man’s arm and flipped him to the ground.
“I warned you to leave me be!” she yelled.
Nick reached her side, in awe of her response. “What’s going on here?”
“This friend of my cousin thought he could force a kiss.” Elise turned to regather the herbs she must have dropped in the scuffle. “I’m sure Uncle James will be quite unhappy.”
Louis appeared. “What’s happened?” He looked at his friend on the ground. “Franklin, whatever are you doing?”
The man got to his feet and dusted off his backside. “I thought she was a housemaid.”
“And that gave you permission to accost her?” Nick asked.
Franklin shrugged. “The maids are here to serve.”
Elise had collected her herbs and looked at her cousin. “I have been sailing all of my twenty-five years. Born and raised on a ship with a full crew of men, and never once have I ever been attacked by any of them. Your upper-society friend put his hands on me in a way no one has ever done before. Is this what your wealth and societal rules teach?”
“Not in this house, Elise. I’m truly sorry.” Louis gave his friend a harsh reprimand. “Franklin, that was completely uncalled for. Apologize.”
“I didn’t know she was your cousin, Louis. Look at her. She’s dressed like a servant.”
“It shouldn’t matter how she’s dressed,” Nick replied before Louis could. “She’s a lady and deserves to be treated as such. Perhaps you need another lesson?”
The younger man paled. “No. I’m sorry, Miss . . .” He looked to Louis.
“Wright. Her name is Elise Wright,” Louis answered.
Franklin nodded. “I’m sorry, Miss Wright. I overstepped my bounds.”
“You most certainly did, but I accept your apology.”
Louis put his hand on Franklin’s shoulder. “Let’s get you out of here.” The two men headed for the French doors.
Nick turned to Elise. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
She flipped her single braid back over her shoulder. “I’m fine. I learned early on to defend myself.”
“Where did you learn to do what you just did?”
“Papa.” She grinned. “Isn’t it grand?”
Nick laughed. “I doubt Franklin feels the same way.”
She giggled. “No, I believe he was much too surprised to find me rejecting his touch. I think before we leave today, I shall teach Etta how to perform this trick.”
This amused Nick even more. “It’s wonderful you can take care of yourself.”
“But equally wonderful you were ready to come rescue me. Thank you.” She motioned to her apron full of pickings. “I shall have to sort these out in the kitchen. I’ll see you at dinner.” She started for the kitchen door. “Don’t forget to find my father. He’ll help you dress in whatever clothes my aunt has laid out for you. It can be quite daunting.”
Nick gave a nod. “I grew up dressing formally. I won’t have any trouble with it so long as your aunt can furnish the clothes.”
Elise stopped and came back to where Nick stood. “I think she has whole rooms full of clothes just for such an occasion. I believe this so firmly”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“that should I request a wedding gown, she would simply snap for the maid to retrieve one. Probably more than one.”
Nick momentarily imagined her dressed in white satin and lace. He smiled. “I’m sure you’re right.”
She shrugged. “So am I.”
She left him with the vision of her gowned for a wedding. Nick thought it odd that such a vision should haunt him. He would need to tighten his grip on his emotions. After all, the young woman had said more than once that she never intended to marry, and to be honest, Nick had no plan for such things either. He could provide very little as a disgraced ship’s captain and the disowned son of a textile-industry baron.
Chapter 6
It was so good to be home on the Mary Elise. Ever since she’d departed for her uncle’s house and sister’s wedding, Elise had missed her galley and the tiny cabin she called her own. As the grandeur and richness of her uncle’s house faded away, Elise felt her spirit calm. This was where she belonged. Here she didn’t have to worry about wearing uncomfortable clothes or putting on airs. Here was a world she understood and loved. Why did Caroline so love that other world? There was nothing there to remind her of their parents. No pleasant childhood memories or amusing anecdotes. They had stayed with their aunt and uncle on occasion growing up, but most of what Elise remembered was feeling confined and limited by the rules. And while there were also rules on the ship—life-and-death rules—they never seemed as imposing or unnecessary.
Leaving her bags on the bunk bed, Elise went to inspect her kitchen. To her surprise, she found everything in order and clean. She smiled. The boys knew how she kept things, and they had worked to do the same. It touched her heart that they cared enough to try. She opened the ice chest and found new blocks of ice and all the meat she’d ordered.
“I got the stuff you purchased and put it away where it belongs,” Sam Matthews, the second mate, announced coming into the galley. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding things.”
“Thanks so much, Sam. How’s it been without me on board?”
“Boring without your company and torturous without your good food.” The older man smiled, revealing several missing teeth. “Although I was surprised to learn that young Tom can make a pretty decent fish chowder. Made good biscuits too. Said you taught him.”
“I did.” Elise reached for her apron. “He learns fast. I told him he might need those skills one day. I’m glad he remembered.”
“Well, I for one am just glad to have you back. The rest of us don’t cook quite so good.”
She smiled. “We’ll have a bunch of favorites in the days to come. I stocked up on all the necessities and then some.”
“Don’t I know it. I was the one putting it all away.”
Elise reached over and felt his arm. “Seems you had such a workout that you developed muscles. I guess I’ll have to bake you a reward.”
“Peach cobbler?” he asked.
She grinned. “But of course. What other reward is there for you?”
“Hmm, chocolate cake, spice cake, cherry pie,” he said, counting off on his fingers.
“Go on now.” She pushed him toward the door. “I have to check things over, and then I just might bake cookies.”
Sam grinned and threw her a salute. He exited the galley in haste, knowing better than to challenge Elise’s orders.
Humming to herself, Elise retrieved the herbs she’d picked in Uncle James’s garden. She hung them from corded twine her father had attached to the ceiling for just such purposes. They hung just low enough for Elise’s five-foot-four height to manage. Seeing them reminded her of her encounter with Louis’s friend. He had been absolutely appalling, the way he tried to put his hands all over her. When Louis had related to Uncle James what had happened, he told Louis that Franklin was no longer welcome, even if his father did own the bank. She was grateful her menfolk weren’t like that but could only imagine that other high-society men were. People with money seemed to think there was nothing they weren’t entitled to.
Elise felt the stove. It was mostly cold. She opened the firebox and found just a few dying embers and a lot of ash. She went quickly to work cleaning out the box, careful to put
the ash in the ash can. She’d dump it in the harbor momentarily, but first she’d build a fire. Once that was accomplished, Elise noticed she needed more wood. She’d find Tom and get him to bring it. But before she could do that, Tom appeared, as if knowing she had need of him.
“I’m so glad you’re back, Elise,” the boy declared. “Things aren’t the same without you.”
She gave him a hug. “I missed you too. I was just coming to find you. Would you please dispose of the ashes and then fill the woodbin?”
“Sure.” A mischievous grin touched his lips. “Are you gonna bake cookies?”
“I am.” She chuckled at the little jig he did as he pulled out his harmonica and began to play.
Elise laughed and clapped her hands in time. “I’ve missed that too,” she said when he brought the song to a close.
“That new man doesn’t like it when I play. He’s threatened me more than once.”
“New man? You mean Nick?” Elise asked.
“No, I like Nick. It’s that Booker Duran. He’s just hateful and mean.”
“Well, you tell him to come talk to me or Pa. We’ll set him straight.” She handed him the ash can. “Now, hurry.”
He repocketed his harmonica. “I’ll be back before you even have your dishes out of the cupboard.” He left, taking the pail of ashes but forgetting to close the door behind him.
Elise quickly closed the door, laughing at Tom’s enthusiasm. At the stove, she opened the firebox to add what little wood she still had on hand. It wasn’t long before she had worked the embers into flames. The warmth felt good. The day had been hot, but the evening had turned a little chilly.
Warming her hands like this reminded Elise of the fall and winter months. She shivered even though it wasn’t that cold. Sailing in the latter months of the year was always worrisome. There were enough dangers on the lakes without adding winter’s onslaught. Most seamen were superstitious and felt there were cursed months because they were when the deadliest storms occurred. Thankfully the men on the Mary Elise were mostly Christians who weren’t quite so concerned with old wives’ tales and traditions. It seemed to Elise, however, that it was impossible to free them of all superstitions.
Waiting on Love Page 6
