Waiting on Love

by Tracie Peterson

  She closed her eyes as tears began to fall. She had stupidly chosen to fall in love in the wake of her mother’s death. The pain of losing her had been more than Caroline could bear. More than she could admit to Elise, who had remained true to the family. When Caroline had learned of her mother’s death, she hadn’t even been able to cry. She’d been numb—unable to know what she was feeling. Uncertain that she was feeling anything at all. Nelson made her feel alive again. He was attentive in his courtship, which upon reflection, surprised her more and more. His game had only been about money, and hers had been about status. Her mother had left society and her privileged life because of love. Caroline thought she was getting it back for the sake of the same.

  “I was such a selfish girl,” she murmured as the hot tears fell. “And now I’m being punished. God must hate me.”

  The Mary Elise reached Duluth on the thirtieth of September. There had been more than one storm to contend with, but they’d come through in good order. Elise was glad her father had taken no chances with the Mary Elise and crew. He always made her feel safe and protected with his knowledge of the lakes and places where they could find shelter.

  Elise headed to the cottage while her father instructed the men and took care of unloading the coal. Mina was glad to see her and greeted Elise with some news.

  “We’re going to have a baby,” she declared after inviting Elise in for coffee.

  “Oh, many congratulations. This is so exciting for you.”

  “Yes, our first. I’m so happy, I could shout and cry at the same time. We only just learned for certain yesterday. The doctor said we will be welcoming the baby to our family around February, so you’ll be here—won’t you?”

  Elise chuckled. “Yes, I’ll be here. God willing.”

  “I’m so glad. Carter is thrilled about the baby but very worried about me being alone during the days while he’s working. He’s taken work at the sawmill, and come winter it will require he go to the logging camps from time to time.”

  “I feel certain from things Papa has said that our last trip will be around Christmas, if not sooner. He said it’ll depend on the schedule of things and how bad the weather is.”

  Mina poured her a mug of coffee. “I hope this isn’t too strong.”

  “It will be fine,” Elise assured her. “So, do you want a boy or a girl?”

  “A boy. Carter wants a son. I’m praying it will be so, but I’d love a daughter just as much.”

  “I can imagine I’d feel the same way.” Elise put cream in the black liquid and then sampled it. It was strong, but the flavor was good.

  “How was your trip?”

  Elise shook her head. “We had a storm going out and then several small squalls coming back. The hardest part was our time in Oswego. My sister Caroline wanted me to stay with her.”

  “Is she already back from her wedding trip?”

  “She never got to go. I thought I’d told you. Apparently, there was some emergency, and her husband canceled. That started some sort of calamity in her marriage.” Elise held back telling her everything. “There are other difficulties I am not at liberty to discuss, but I wanted to ask you to please pray for her. You’ve always been so good to pray when things were difficult.”

  The young woman nodded. “I love to pray for people. It seems like such a gift of love.”

  “Yes, I agree. What better way to show the depth of our love?” Elise took another sip of coffee. She thought of Nick and the pain he bore from the loss of the Polaris. “Oh, and if you could, pray for a friend of mine as well. He’s struggling to forgive himself for things he misjudged.”

  Mina met her gaze. “Of course. You do know, however, that sometimes that’s a really hard thing to do.”

  “I do,” Elise replied, knowing Nick blamed himself for the deaths of his crew. “This is definitely one of those times.”

  “And you might pray that the authorities find the murderer they’re looking for.”

  “A murderer?”

  “Yes. There was a murder here some time ago. It was just around the time you left in July. The dates are uncertain. A man was killed and his body hidden in a woodpile. Someone used a knife and robbed him. It was brutal and quite shocking. The police have been searching everywhere for the man responsible.”

  “Do they know who did it?”

  “No, but someone saw a man slip away from the scene and gave them a description. They said he was big.”

  Elise thought immediately of Booker Duran and his bloody shirt. Could he be the man they were looking for?

  By the time her father came in, it was late. She wasn’t sure why it had taken him so long to deal with the Customs House and unloading, but he wasn’t in a good mood, so she decided to say nothing about her concerns regarding Booker Duran. She didn’t know with any certainty that it was him.

  “I have supper warming on the stove. I think I’ll leave you to yourself and go take a bath. I was just getting ready to do that when you came in.”

  “Thank you. That’s fine. I’m quite tired and would prefer just to eat and go to bed.”

  Elise gave him a nod. She wanted to ask what was bothering him but knew he’d say nothing.

  She slipped into the room they’d set aside as a pantry and space for laundry and bathing. She locked the outside door and made certain to lock the inside one as well, just in case her father forgot or someone came calling. No sense in embarrassing someone, including herself.

  Her blouse was dirty from a day’s work, and her skirt hadn’t fared much better. More laundry to do. The thought of laundry reminded her of Duran’s bloody shirt. So much blood.

  He said it had come from a fight at one of the bars. That everyone had been fighting. She wondered if there was any way to find out about that. She could hardly go around from tavern to tavern, asking about fights they’d had two months ago. Fights were common.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have made assumptions about Duran. He had a temper and a bad disposition, but that certainly didn’t mean he’d killed someone. And yes, he’d been much too forward with her, but that also wasn’t a reason to despise him. After all, her cousin’s friend had also attacked her, and she’d never thought of him again until just now.

  Elise sank into the copper tub of warm water, wishing it were hotter. She let down her hair and slipped as deep as she could. Once her hair was wet, she began to scrub it with the soap.

  How could she find out what had really happened? Duran would surely never volunteer the information. Nick came to mind. Maybe she could find him and tell him what had happened. She hated to bother him on his evening off. She wasn’t even sure where she could go to find him.

  Maybe it was best to keep it to herself, and then, once they’d sailed, she could tell Nick what she knew, and he could check it out the next time they were in Duluth. After all, it might have happened when they weren’t even in port, and the bloody shirt could be just what Duran had told her.

  But what if it wasn’t?

  Chapter 16

  Elise found her father in a worse mood the next morning. He was anxious to get the Mary Elise on her way and pushed for everyone to work double-time. The fact that it was October first made him keep to a very tight schedule. They were running out of time for shipping, and the worst storms of the season were due to come upon them in the few remaining weeks.

  Knowing breakfast would be rushed, Elise didn’t make a hot meal. Instead, she put out lots of hot coffee, fresh fruit, pickled herring, cold ham, and a variety of breads she’d picked up at a local bakery. With that done, she sat down to share their morning Bible reading and prayers.

  “You seem preoccupied, Papa. What has you so concerned?”

  “I didn’t want to say anything to you last night, but Uncle James has another job for us before we return to Oswego.”

  “What does he want us to do?”

  “Sail to Chicago and pick up some major parts. They’re building a new mill, and apparently they’ve had no luck getting an
yone to bring them up. I sent him a telegram back, telling him we were loaded with grain and ready to leave for Oswego, but this morning another telegram came, directing me where to deliver the grain in Chicago.” He hit his fist against the table. “I don’t like last-minute changes. He knows that.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa. I know that makes it hard on you. At least Nick is very familiar with that area. You’ll have great help in getting there and back.”

  Her father’s expression softened. “I suppose I should be counting my blessings.”

  Elise went to him and hugged him. “How can I help?”

  “Just keep the galley for now. I’ll let you know if I need something more.”

  Elise smiled up at her father. “You’ve got it. Coffee will be ready in another couple of minutes. We should probably get our reading done and pray.”

  “You’re right again. Let’s get to it.”

  The trip into Chicago had been complicated only by the length of time they’d needed to wait for a tugboat to help them navigate the Chicago River. With the grain quickly deposited and the load of sawmill machinery picked up, the Mary Elise was soon on its way back to Duluth, and the dreaded city was behind them.

  The weather was so favorable on the return that to make top speed, Elise’s father ordered every inch of canvas sail to be set. They even had a short race with the Annie Peterson, whose captain was known never to allow any challenge to go unmet. He was so sure of his ship’s ability to best any other that he kept a broom perpetually tied to his main mast as a signal of challenge to any takers. Nick knew the captain personally and thought the Mary Elise could beat her, but alas, it wasn’t to be. Nevertheless, the men enjoyed the challenge and cheered one another on as they went their separate ways.

  The camaraderie between the men seemed to lift everyone’s spirits, and by the time they were back in Duluth, it seemed the side trip had been more of a refreshing voyage than an extra duty.

  Elise took the helm at lunchtime on the day they left Duluth, once again bound for Oswego. Her father’s mirth hadn’t lasted, due to another telegram that awaited him—this time from Caroline.

  “She insists that we come get her and bring her to live with us in Duluth,” he told Elise as he traded places with her at the wheel.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “What good would it have done? I hardly know more than her determination to leave Oswego and her husband for good. I don’t know what has happened to make it so critical that she leave now, but thank you for taking the helm. I need to speak to the men and let them know my plans for the day. The weather’s due to change. I know this from the weather station as well as my knee joints.” He smiled. “I’ll send someone out to relieve you as soon as possible.”

  Elise didn’t mind steering the ship. It was a wonderful time to contemplate and pray. She had often thought that if open sailing was all that was required of a captain, she might have sought out the job for herself. There were, after all, other women schooner captains. She’d heard of several who handled a ship as well as their husbands.

  The wind picked up from time to time, but for the most part her job was uneventful. It was just the blue cloud-dotted sky, the endless water, and her. Elise could almost pretend she was alone. That was why it made such a great time for prayer.

  “I never pray so much as when I’m at the wheel,” she told her father when he came to relieve her. She gave him a kiss on his cheek, since no one was around to see.

  “Me too,” he admitted. “The men are nearly done eating. Good soup, by the way. Split pea and ham always sticks to the ribs.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. There will be more of your favorites for supper.”

  She left him and hurried back into the deckhouse as the wind once again picked up. Depositing her coat and hat on a peg, she heard the men’s various comments on the good lunch as they headed out the door. She’d barely reached the stove when a wave sent the nearly empty coffeepot sliding. Elise easily caught it, and Tom applauded.

  “Looks like we’re in for fun,” he said, getting up from the table. “I’d best see if the captain needs me.”

  Nick was the last to go. He pulled on his knit cap and threw her a smile. “Lunch was wonderful. I feel I can face the dropping temperatures and gusting winds now.”

  She laughed and gave him a salute. “It’s great to be appreciated. Which brings me to something I wanted to say to you. The way you handled things in Chicago really impressed me. Papa hates sailing into Chicago. He avoids it like the plague. You just did it with matter-of-fact grace.”

  Nick’s face sobered. “I was plenty worried. Not having been there for six months makes a big difference. They’ve already rebuilt a lot from last year’s fire. I was impressed by how much something could change in such a short time.”

  “Well, I thought it might have been hard sailing there again because of . . . well, what happened with the Polaris. I worried it might have caused you pain.”

  He nodded. “I didn’t realize anyone else would even think of it. It was hard, but keeping busy and praying helped a great deal.”

  “I prayed for you too, but maybe next time you might talk to me.” She smiled. “We all have our ghosts, Nick. Our regrets, our sorrows. I find they’re handled easiest when sharing the burden with someone else.”

  He gave her a tender look. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.”

  The moment tied her inexplicably to him. “Well, I was still impressed with the way you maneuvered Chicago ports. You made it look easy.”

  His smile returned, and the ghosts faded away. “It was all done just to impress you.”

  Elise chuckled and started making another pot of coffee. “Then you accomplished what you set out to do.”

  He gave a mock bow and headed out of the deckhouse. Elise couldn’t help laughing all the more. He made her days better in every way.

  That thought made her sober in an instant. Mama used to say that about Papa. The memory made her heart skip a beat.

  A supper of pork roasts with onions and yams baked in the oven while Elise took on her mending. There was quite a bit of it. Four torn shirt sleeves, two frayed collars, a pair of pants with the backside ripped out, and Tom’s good trousers that were in desperate need of the hem being let out. He was growing like a weed.

  She settled down in her cabin to sew, mindful of the time. The stove would need to be loaded with wood from time to time in order for everything to cook through. Not only that, but she needed to keep an eye on the coffee and make sure there was plenty. Thankfully, the waters were fairly calm.

  On deck, Elise could hear her father calling out commands. At one point the men were singing as they sometimes did, depending on the task at hand. Ollie said the music helped make the chores pass more quickly, while Booker Duran called it caterwauling that was enough to make a grown man cry. It seemed there was very little that Duran liked.

  Thinking of Duran brought back her previous concerns. What if they did have a murderer on board? She vowed to talk to her father when the first opportunity presented itself.

  Mending sails was never a favorite job of Booker Duran. He always did whatever he could to get out of it—even volunteering to do extra cleaning duty. Unfortunately, he’d had enough of that as well.

  The night before, he’d started to go for a drink in Duluth but then had seen the signs posted all over with descriptions of Rummy Carlson’s killer. The height and weight listed was too closely a match for his own. It was enough to send him back to the Mary Elise to rethink his plans. The witness hadn’t been close enough to get a real look at him. Not like the witnesses in Buffalo, who had described Duran right down to the scar on his chin. Yet another reason for his full beard and mustache. It had totally changed his appearance. He barely recognized himself in the mirror and felt certain the beard would keep the law from singling him out. But a fella couldn’t change his height. Thankfully, Duluth was full of big-shouldered Dutchmen and Swedes. He wasn’t the only larg
e man around these parts.

  He wasn’t all that worried about either murder except for the fact that Elise Wright knew about his bloody shirt. He’d given her a good enough excuse. Men got in fights all the time, and weeks had gone by. As for the murder in Buffalo, even more time had passed for that matter to have died down. The dead man was a nobody—just a cardplayer who’d gotten out of hand. They’d both had knives, and the other man had threatened him. It shouldn’t matter that Duran had pulled his knife first. The man brandished a weapon, and Duran had to take care of himself or the fella would have killed him.

  “You done with that jib?” the captain questioned.

  Duran got to his feet. “Just about, Captain. I was never very good at repairing sails.”

  For several long moments, Captain Wright just stared at him. “What are you good at?”

  This sobered Duran. He felt his temper rise. “I’m good at a lot of things, Captain, and strong as an ox. You know full well I can trim a load in no time at all.”

  “That’s true enough. It just seems you have no interest in much of anything on the Mary Elise. You’re still bickering with the men, although you did purchase Tom another harmonica.”

  Booker grimaced. He had hated having to spend his hard-earned money on that boy’s enjoyment, but leave it to Nick Clark to remind him. “I was happy to do it. It weren’t right that I lost my temper with the boy.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Most of the men have made complaints about you and the way you’ve treated them. Not a one of them trusts you.”

  “That’s hardly fair, Captain. They don’t know me.”

  “They say you cheat at cards, slack off on your work, and sleep on night watch. A complete disregard for your duties. I can’t abide that in a man, much less one who works for me.”