by Janette Oke
When the piece came to an end and applause erupted, Beth looked around. Victoria was seated beside her, but Julie was not in sight.
Beth motioned with her hand. “Where is Julie, Victoria?”
“She never sat down here—went off with her friends,” she said loudly above the sound of the applause.
“Where?”
“Don’t know. I heard Jannis say they should move closer to the platform.”
“What?” Beth strained to understand the girl’s reply.
“They’re sitting closer!”
People were settling back into their places, and Beth quickly scanned around. She stood to look more carefully, reminding herself that Julie was an adult and would never venture beyond the crowd at the concert.
The music began again, and a soloist took his place at the center of the bandstand for a lovely ballad that Beth had heard before. She was able to join with the audience in singing the chorus. “‘Oh, ye’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low road, and I’ll get to Scotland a’fore ye. But me and my true love will never meet again on the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.’” Beth had not realized that it was a sorrowful song—of love spoiled by discord. She listened more closely to the words of each verse before joining again in the chorus.
Once the last notes of the song died away, hearty applause rolled again across the park. The soloist waved and bowed to the appreciative audience as he left the stage, and the man with his bagpipes reentered from the other side with a quartet of violins. Beth decided she would wait to find Julie until after the next piece. She cast a glance toward Victoria, round-eyed with delight at a new violin style. Beth was certain she would be attempting to emulate it in her room come evening.
It was a shock to Beth when the last performance was announced. It was well past time for her to find her sister. “Victoria, I’m going to look for Julie.”
“It’s almost over. She’ll come back then.”
“Once the crowd all gets up at the same time, we’ll never find each other.”
“I suppose,” the girl grumbled. “I’ll go with you.”
They began searching for a path among the spectators, unable to call out Julie’s name but often enduring irritated demands to “Sit down!” “Out the way!” “Move!”
At last Victoria waved for Beth’s attention. Julie was standing beside her, a few yards away. Beth’s relief filled her whole being. The three picked their way back to the blanket. “I don’t know why you’re so worried,” Julie grumbled. “It’s not as if I didn’t know where to meet the bus, or that the girls and Nick weren’t going to the very same place.”
“Nick was with you?”
“Sure, he’s kind of sweet on me, I think.” Julie chuckled to herself. “He’s my little shipboard romance.”
Beth grabbed hold of her sister’s shoulder. “That is not funny, Julie. You’re not encouraging him, are you?”
“Of course not, Bethie. Well, maybe a little. But it’s all in fun, I promise.”
“Julie, no. It’s not something to joke about. If Father were here, you wouldn’t be so cavalier about it. You know he wouldn’t approve.”
Julie nodded slowly. “You’re right—as always.” She gave one of her eloquent shrugs. “But good gracious, I never really mean anything by it anyway. And neither does Nick. He’s just a big tease.”
During their bus trip back to the hotel, Beth felt subdued and regretful in a whirl of what-ifs. Julie indeed was safe, but Beth couldn’t help remembering her “chaperone” promise and how distinctly she had failed. It was such a difficult line to walk, keeping her sister close without seeming to smother her.
At dinner, Monsieur Laurent appeared as willing as ever to participate in the conversation, yet Beth sensed a new reserve in his demeanor. She felt rather shy under the gaze of his clear blue eyes, as if they were both aware that trust had been broken. Yet Beth couldn’t find herself sorry they had attended the concert—a truly marvelous experience with delightful music. And without any negative results, she thought, but had to add, though there could have been.
“Monsieur Laurent, what can we expect for tomorrow?” Mother asked.
He returned an easy smile. “We’ll need to board early. Our ship departs at ten o’clock, and we should be at the docks by half past eight. I’ve arranged for breakfast in your rooms tomorrow morning in order to save time.”
“That’s very considerate, monsieur. Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mrs. Thatcher.”
After the meal, Monsieur Laurent approached Beth with a smile. She hesitated about what to say, still feeling a sense of having disappointed him, of being lax in her avowed responsibilities. His hand reached inside his jacket and withdrew an envelope. “You’ve received another letter, Miss Thatcher.”
“Oh. Thank you, monsieur,” she said, feeling like she could now turn the page on her negligence. As she took delivery, he winked and turned away, whistling a familiar tune. Her mind added the accompanying words, “Ye’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low road . . .”
Beth stopped with a little gasp. The Scottish ballad sung in the park—was Monsieur Laurent at the concert after all? Did he cancel his appointment to be there for his assigned duties? And is it possible he observed Julie’s long absence?
Chapter
20
BETH DETERMINED TO FINISH READING Redburn, even if the voyage home was as dark and depressing as Melville’s portrayal of England during that period. She raised her hand against the bright sun to shield the page from the sun’s strong glare. If I had chosen the wider brimmed hat . . .
“Where’s JW?” she finally asked, looking around for a nice distraction with her beloved nephew.
Mother sounded a bit defensive. “He’s with his nanny. Margret, of course, is still not feeling well in the mornings.”
“I was just wondering,” Beth said. “I like to watch him playing with his toys.”
“Well, it’s too much sun for him anyway. We need to be careful of his delicate skin. Both Miss Bernard and I agree, as does his mother.”
“Victoria,” Mrs. Montclair fussed at her daughter from two chairs over, “cover your arms or you’ll burn. I’m not going to warn you again. Do as I say—please.”
Beth gave her head a little shake and sighed. The woman will continue to pester Victoria about her skin as long as the sun is in the sky. Her “I’m not going to warn you again” declaration indeed will be happening again. Maybe she believes fair skin is the most important qualification for securing a husband.
Victoria only sighed. “Mother, isn’t there another beach soon? I’d like to swim in the ocean again. It’s not nearly as refreshing in the ship’s pool. That water is—why, it’s actually warm.”
Beth set her mind to tune out the patter of conversation, but she couldn’t focus. The book is unpleasant, the days tick away in perpetual leisure . . . such a waste of precious time. She set the book aside and turned to the woman seated beside her, the one for whom her emotions ran the gamut of deep, abiding love to occasional exasperation. “Mother, I’d rather talk with you. Is that all right? Is this a good time? Could we talk a little?”
Mother’s mouth drew down at the corners in surprise, and her eyebrows lifted with unspoken questions, but she answered, “Yes, of course.” She laid aside her magazine.
They rose together and moved along beside the rail. Beth tried to put into words the idea that had been lingering in her mind during the trip, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear her mother’s response. “I’ve been thinking a great deal about the future, about the potential of marriage. This is not just about Jarrick, but about the concept as a whole.” The eyes affixed themselves more carefully on Beth’s face. “You know me so well, Mother. I wondered if there might be some points you’d like to share.” There. The question is asked and can’t be rescinded now.
Mother straightened, looking puzzled. “I haven’t been certain you wanted my unsolicited advice.”
“I’m soliciting it now.” Beth managed a smile.
“Well then . . .” She seemed to gather her thoughts.
Beth felt the seconds tick by slowly.
“As I’ve said before, marriage is never easy,” Mother began, looking directly at Beth. “A woman, in some ways, lacks the advantages afforded to men. She’s never fully in control, will always be dependent upon whomever she marries to care for her and to provide. I must confess to being more conscious of this in regard to my daughters than I ever was for myself. It’s a heavy burden for a mother to have these worries.”
Beth had not been aware of such a weight on her mother.
“And I realize, darling, that I have hovered—perhaps too much. But the three of you have been my world, carrying my greatest devotion and care since the moment you were first placed in my arms, and all the years after. Every decision, every choice made only with your benefit in mind. I can only say that I’ve done my very best. Believe me, Beth, not perfectly, but my very, very best.”
“You’re a wonderful mother. Truthfully. You know we love you dearly, all three of us.” Beth reached for Mother’s hand, and she squeezed back in response.
“And then the time comes when one must step aside—slowly at first but always feeling it’s too soon, to allow a child to proceed forward alone. I can’t tell you how much sleep I lost after Margret’s coming-out party, when the young men began to call. I have never prayed so much in my life. It seemed that all my days spent with her had led up to that one decision—and that forever after all her life would rest upon it. Thank God for John. He’s been such a blessing to us all.”
She dabbed at her eyes before continuing quietly, “And then you chose an education instead of courtship. None of the women in our family—none of the women I had ever known—had considered such a thing. I had no idea . . . no way of judging the wisdom in such a modification of my expectations. No way of knowing what it might imply. The world has changed so quickly. One can hardly imagine. For generations mothers and daughters have dressed the same, thought much the same, and expected the same familiar patterns in life. But your generation, Beth! Your generation has turned its back on all of it. I can’t express how unnerving it’s been to watch. No, how absolutely frightening.”
“I suppose I don’t really understand, Mother. It’s all I’ve ever known.”
“And it’s not that I want to stifle you, hinder you. I have tried to predict what might happen, where danger may lie, if your life takes such a different path than my own. You’re walking where I’ve never gone, could never even have dreamed of going. How can I trust my own judgment about what might follow? I can only give you over to God again and again, and do my best to guide you. Solicited or not.” She shook her head and smiled.
“You’ve been blessed with so much giftedness, darling. Your intelligence and musical abilities. Your courage and convictions. I’ve never wanted to nurture my pride in you, but I’ve had to restrain myself at times. It’s been positively heaven to watch you mature into such a fine young lady.”
“Oh, dearest Mother . . .” Now Beth was wiping tears.
They descended a set of stairs together before Mother continued. “The only hindrance is your health, darling. And I’ve never truly forgiven myself for that failure. When baby William fell ill, I should have sent you away to Grandmama’s immediately. But I gave way to fear and kept you close at home instead. Had I trusted that God was your Keeper rather than me, it might never have happened. That’s such a dreadful thought.”
Her words were shocking. Beth had never imagined Mother felt responsible for her childhood bout with whooping cough.
“I know how precious each of my daughters is. And I’ve learned over the years that one’s offspring are a borrowed trust . . . for such a short time. I’ve prayed to be faithful and wise in how I influence you still, though perhaps I’ve not been very popular nor appreciated. But I have determined to continue on doing my best for your sakes. In walking faithfully before my God. I hope you understand, darling.”
“I do, Mother. Better now than ever before.”
“Then you’ll be cautious and prayerful, Beth? And patient too?”
“Yes, Mother, I will. I promise I will.” She stepped closer once more to grasp her mother’s hand and lowered her voice. “Mother, just one more thing . . . thank you for your questions about Jarrick. At first I was put off by them—probably feeling like you didn’t trust my judgment, maybe also that you were judging Jarrick without even having met him. But I gradually realized you had raised some important ‘facts’ of his life that needed to be addressed, not only for your sake but for mine too. I was able to talk with him about them during our last conversation, which was rather lengthy, I might add—I hope not too costly for him. Besides the items you raised, we were able to cover many more matters also, and I’d like to share them with you . . . at least some of them.” She smiled at her mother, and it was slowly matched as they looked into each other’s faces.
Their deck mates were gathering up their things to leave for lunch by the time Beth and Mother returned, having shared a precious and intimate conversation.
By midafternoon, Beth slipped away for a shipboard walk alone. The promenade deck had been mostly abandoned in the heat of the day. Beth breathed in deeply and began a hurried first circuit. Father certainly has been far more perceptive about Mother than I. She has so much more wisdom than I credited her with. As Beth continued to pace around the deck, beads of sweat rising at her neck and trickling down her back, she felt energized rather than tired.
“Does your mother know you’re out here?” The close proximity of the voice startled Beth. Her reaction was met with laughter. “You should see your face!”
“Oh, it’s you, Nick.” Beth wiped at the perspiration on her forehead.
“You jumped a mile.” His eyes were dancing. “Who’re you running from?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re moving so fast. Everybody else is lounging around down below in the shade. How come you’re up here, racing around like the ship is on fire?”
Beth stepped into a small patch of shade. “I just wanted to stretch my legs. I’m used to much more walking.”
He seemed ready to toss out a retort, but hesitated instead. “Why don’t we go down below—there’s a soda fountain and much cooler air. You look as if you could use a rest. ”
Beth smiled. “I think you’re right. I’m ready to cool off.”
He followed her down the nearest flight of stairs to a broad patio area covered with billows of thin white canvas like a ceiling of sails floating on the breeze. Walking to a table near the railing, he drew back a chair for Beth and pushed it carefully under her.
“Thank you, Nick.”
“Don’t mention it.” Beth thought his smile was a bit mischievous.
Fans blowing from all directions created a lovely coolness. Beth lifted a napkin and dabbed at her neck. “I am rather warm,” she admitted. “It’s a good thing my mother hasn’t seen me in such a state.”
“Yes, proper young ladies in your league should never perspire, right? I wouldn’t have thought it possible until seeing it for myself.” He seemed to find great pleasure in needling her.
She chose to ignore his slightly too-forward remark. She asked, “And what league is that, Nick?”
Her question seemed to catch him off guard, and he looked a bit sheepish that she had turned the tables. “The very wealthy, I suppose,” he answered, glancing away.
“What makes you think we’re wealthy?”
He forced a chuckle. “Well, your clothes for one, and your fancy staterooms—even the airs you put on. Well, not you maybe, but your sister for sure. Golly, Julie isn’t shy at all about saying how rich your father is.”
Beth winced. “I’m not sure that Julie hasn’t overstated things. At any rate, Father has worked very hard to build his business. He actually spent years as a sailor at first—long before he managed to open his
own shipping company. He certainly wasn’t born into money. Though we are now comfortably well off, I rather doubt we’re in any special ‘league.’”
Nick was studying her face, the façade of humor he normally wore slipping away. “I didn’t know a fellow could still do that—work his way up and build an empire, even a modest one. He must be a tough old . . . well, you know, the real McCoy.”
“He’s a wonderful man.” Beth shook off his rather coarse assessment. “We expect to meet up with him once the ship reaches Florida.”
“Where is he now?”
“In South America.” Beth chuckled. “Didn’t Julie already tell you that, along with everything else?”
“Say, Beth, I don’t want you to think when we’re hanging around I’m grilling her about your family.”
Beth paused and eyed him carefully. “What are you doing when you’re hanging around her?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not about . . .” Beth cleared her throat and reminded herself that she had every right to ask the question—that her young sister was, indeed, her concern. “It’s not about romance, is it?”
Nick laughed, then looked at Beth crossways, then laughed again. “You think I’m carrying a torch for your sister? You think I’m some kind of masher?”
“No, but you’re a single man traveling alone. And I suppose that gives me reason enough to ask, don’t you think?”
He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, grinning slowly. “I’m not out to woo Julie, if that’s what you mean. That’s not what comes next for me—a rush to the middle aisle and wedded bliss. I’m just biding my time, putting together some business contacts in a place where it seems like I might find some hefty investors.”
“So you’re saying you’d actually be spending time with my father—if he were here instead of Julie.”
