I shouted.
“I didn’t marry him!”
He froze and then turned back toward me, walking fast. He grabbed my shoulders and looked down into my eyes.
“You didn’t?” Something indefinable flickered across his face.
“It seems that Mr. Baldt already had a wife.”
Jehu slapped his thigh triumphantly. “I knew he was no good!”
The difficulties of this year, 1854, had culminated in the sad discovery that the man I had sailed around two continents to marry, William Baldt, had married another before I could arrive. Papa would not have been surprised. Like Jehu, he had a very poor opinion of William Baldt.
“Janey,” my white-bearded papa had told me firmly when I declared my intention to accept Mr. Baldt’s proposal, “you are transfixed with William for the wrong reasons. There’s nothing for you out on that frontier. It’s dangerous. There are plenty of eligible young bachelors right here in Philadelphia. There’s no call to follow one out west, especially one with no sense.”
I confess that I couldn’t help but wonder what Papa would think of Jehu. My sweet surgeon father had always been fond of sailors. Why, they were generally his best clients, considering the number of cracked heads that required stitching from drunken bar brawls.
“You’re leaving then?” Jehu asked quietly, gesturing to my trunk on the beach.
That morning upon waking I’d had every intention of leaving Shoalwater Bay and all of its inhabitants behind me. After my engagement to William Baldt had fallen apart two weeks earlier, I had arranged for passage back to San Francisco on the schooner Hetty, which was due to arrive with supplies. I had bidden my farewells and taken my trunk down to the beach that morning fully expecting to depart the shores of the bay forever.
But as I had watched the Hetty sail in, and considered all I had been through—and survived—I had realized that I could follow my sweet papa’s advice, and make my own luck right here in Shoalwater Bay.
“Are you going away, Boston Jane?” Sootie asked anxiously, clutching me fiercely around the legs, as if by force alone she could prevent my departure.
Speak up, Janey. Say what’s on your mind, Papa always said.
I looked into Jehu’s clear eyes, and said to Sootie, my voice shaking slightly, “No. I’m not going anywhere.”
Papa, I thought, would be so proud of me.
Jehu’s shoulders seemed to relax. Was that a hint of admiration in his eyes?
Sootie smiled up at me. “Oh good! Now I can show you how to make me a dolly.” She tugged at my hand.
Jehu snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot. I’ve got something for you,” he said, fishing in the leather satchel slung over his shoulder and pulling out a letter. The handwriting was familiar.
“It’s a letter—” he began.
“From Papa!” I cried, snatching it from his fingers.
“Picked it up from a passing ship. Got a few letters for Swan, and one for Russell, too.”
The mail was a random enterprise, with letters generally delivered by passing ships. I had not received a letter from Papa since arriving on Shoalwater Bay. Then again, I had not written Papa for several months now, and as I turned the letter over in my hand, I felt a rush of guilt.
Although he had not prevented my trip, Papa had made it clear that he did not think highly of William Baldt, and I had delayed writing him from shame when William had not met me upon my arrival. I had intended to write him after William showed up and we were married. Then the engagement had been broken, and as I had thought to return home, there was no need for a letter. Now perhaps I would write and persuade Papa to join me. The settlement could most certainly use a proper physician.
Papa. How I missed his booming laugh. His warm eyes. His ability to finish off one of Mrs. Parker’s cherry pies in a single sitting.
I recalled the way his mustache turned up at the corners when he smiled, and how he never turned away patients, not even when they stumbled onto our doorstep in the middle of the night.
And most of all, I recalled how when I was a little girl he would stand at the bottom of the stairs and call: “Where is my favorite daughter?”
It was our little ritual. I would throw back the covers on my four-poster bed, rush down the hall in my bare feet, and peer down at him from the top of the stairs.
“She is right here!” I would say. “And she is your only daughter!”
He would shake his head at me, his eyes crinkling with amusement, and more often than not, he would roar with laughter at the picture I presented.
“You’re not my Janey! My Janey never sleeps through breakfast! My Janey’s hair is never tangled.”
It had always just been Papa and me. And, of course, Mrs. Parker, our kindly housekeeper, who had wiped away every childhood tear with her worn apron. They were all the family I had ever known.
I took the letter and carefully, slowly unfolded it, intending to savor every word.
February 15, 1854
My sweet Janey,
You cannot know how it pains me to write this letter.
How I would wish, rather, for one last chance to tell you that you are my favorite daughter.
I have been suffering from consumption these past months. Although it broke my heart to let you go, I knew that you would be safer away. I’m quite afraid that I could not bear the thought of you succumbing to this wretched illness as well. As such, I have left instructions for my solicitor, Mr. Edmonds, to send you this letter upon my death.
It has been a great comfort to me to know that you have begun a new life with William, and I wish you every happiness, my dearest girl. It was selfish of me to stand in your way those last months you were at home.
Please forgive an old man who could not bear to watch his little girl grow up and leave his house to start a home of her own. Your happiness is all I have ever longed for since you came into my life as a red-haired, smiling infant with a penchant for sucking on my thumb. Your bright face was the only thing that made life possible for me after your mother’s death.
In regard to my estate, I have directed that Mr. Edmonds sell the house on Walnut Street and give a portion of the funds to Mrs. Parker, who may continue on as housekeeper for the new owner if she so wishes. The rest of the money shall be deposited in your account at the bank in San Francisco. I fear that I have not left you a fortune, my dear, but perhaps it will be enough to buy you some small thing that your heart desires.
I have always loved you, Janey—both the little girl who ran around with a pie-stained apron and tangled hair, and the elegant young lady you have become.
Take greatest care of yourself, my dearest daughter. Listen to your heart, and you will find your way.
Remember—you make your own luck.
Love, Papa
When I looked up, Jehu was standing there, watching me carefully.
“Bad news?”
I shook my head wordlessly. Above us a gull squawked hoarsely, and as if it were yesterday I recalled the way Papa’s coughing had filled the house at night, and how he had at first forbidden me to travel west to marry William. What horrible fights we had had! And then I recalled how, the morning after a visit by a fellow physician, Papa’s resistance had abruptly evaporated, and he had given me his permission to marry.
He had known he was dying! That was why he had let me go.
I felt a pain deep in my stomach, sharp as the hurtful words I had spoken to my sweet papa, and staggered forward.
“Boston Jane?” Sootie asked nervously, looking between Jehu and me.
Jehu’s eyes widened in alarm. “Jane, what is it?” he asked urgently, grabbing my shoulders.
“Papa’s dead.”
“Oh Jane.” Jehu’s voice echoed in my head.
And then I did precisely what Miss Hepplewhite would have recommended in just such a situation. I fainted.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagi
nation or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2001 by Jennifer L. Holm
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in hardcover in the United States by HarperCollins Children’s Books, a division of HarperCollins Publishers, New York, in 2001.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Holm, Jennifer L.
Boston Jane: an adventure / by Jennifer L. Holm. — 1st trade pbk. ed.
p. cm.
Sequel: Boston Jane: wilderness days.
Summary: Schooled in the lessons of etiquette for young ladies of 1854,
Miss Jane Peck of Philadelphia finds little use for manners during her long
sea voyage to the Pacific Northwest and while living among the American
traders and Chinook Indians of Washington Territory.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89399-5
[1. Self-perception—Fiction. 2. Etiquette—Fiction.
3. Chinook Indians—Fiction. 4. Indians of North America—Washington (State)—Fiction.
5. Frontier and pioneer life—Washington (State)—Fiction. 6. Washington
Territory—History—19th century—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.H732226Bo 2010
[Fic]—dc21
2009004847
First Yearling Edition
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