by Jill Barnett
“You sell the cargoes and see that the money’s transferred into the bank, right?”
Kit nodded.
“Who paid their accounts when Jan was gone?” Lee asked.
“Either myself or the accounting clerk at the bank.”
“Then tell me how anything has changed? The house is theirs free and clear, so you don’t have to supply a roof over their heads. I’ll check on them whenever I’m in port, and you’ll be here in case they need you. Financially, the sale of this cargo and the last will leave them with no worries. I don’t see where there’s a problem.”
What Lee said made sense, but somehow he couldn’t imagine his guardianship of three females—one being Hallie, and two little boys—as a problem-free relationship. He voiced as much to Lee and then added, “Before I—we—do anything, we’ve got to break the news to his family. At least to Hallie and Dagny.”
“God, I hate that. It’s always been hard for me to notify the families of lost men. Luckily, I’ve only lost four, but—”
A hard knock on the door interrupted the two men. Lee turned and opened the door, and Smalley entered the cabin. “We’re not far from the wharf, sir, an’ this bein’ Saturday, the crew was a-wonderin’ if’n they could go to the services?”
Kit looked startled. “What services?”
“The memorial services for the capt’n, sir. Ya see, his girls sent word that they was ta have a service today and—”
“You mean his family knows already?” Kit shouted, as his mind flashed with the picture of a distraught Hallie. To have to handle the death of her only remaining parent had to be crushing, but then, having to explain, all alone, to the younger ones, well, that thought really made Kit’s chest ache for her. If there were to be services, then Hallie and Dagny must have handled those alone, too. He didn’t feel like much of a friend to Jan Fredriksen right now, even if he hadn’t been notified in time to share some of the agony and burden that must have been piled on those poor girls.
Smalley appeared to shrink four inches in the face of Kit’s anger. “I thought they should know right away, they being his family and all.”
“When did you tell them?” Lee asked.
“Late Wednesday night,” the mate answered.
“Over two days ago,” Kit said.
Lee turned to Smalley. “What time’s the service?”
“The note said it’d be at Telegraph Hill at one o’clock this afternoon.”
Kit pulled out his pocket watch. It was almost one now. “How far are we from the wharf?”
“‘Bout ten minutes, sir,” Smalley answered, before repeating his question, “Me an’ the crew would like ta pay our respects, if’n that’s all right with ya.”
“Of course, of course, tell the men that’s fine, but I want them to start unloading the haul as soon as possible. I’ll make arrangements for the load to be added to the storage in DeWitt’s. Can you handle the unloading later today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fine. Get us into port as fast as you can so we don’t miss that service.”
Smalley left and the room was silent, then Kit looked at Lee. “Now what was that you said about not foreseeing any problems?”
Chapter Eight
Hallie stood in the cool murk of the foggy afternoon as Pastor Treadwell read from his book of scripture. Her stoic gray eyes had no sparkle. They were dry and dull, as if mirroring the dismal shade of the overcast sky. Her breath formed small, dew-laden clouds in the dank air. She inhaled deeply, and her breath caught. Hollowness and pain seeped into her bones like the thick fog floating in from the bay.
Death didn’t become more bearable each time it tainted your life. It played a hiding game. The bruising pain of grief would dim with the passage of time, appearing only as an occasional flicker of loss. Life would go on, until the next time. And then it burned through you, this lonely feeling of being left behind and forgotten. Alone. Floating like that fog, with nothing to ground you. Her parents were both gone, without warning. Her roots had disappeared and she felt lost, and scared. Dagny, Liv, and the twins were now her sole responsibility.
Liv was squeezing her fingers tightly, as if their small touch was the only thing holding her together. Hallie looked down at Liv, the family warrior, who held onto her so fiercely. With stiff shoulders Liv stared straight ahead, her gaze fixed upon the small granite marker wedged into the slope of the cemetery. Her stubborn little chin quivered. Defiant Liv wouldn’t cry. It was pure cussedness that made Liv fight her emotions as she fought anything she considered a weakness. Hallie watched as determination battled with sorrow in her young sister’s expression, and the only thing that kept her from pulling Liv into her arms was knowing her sister’s pride wouldn’t welcome any comfort. Liv’s free hand clutched at the fabric of her woolen dress, pulling the hem up just enough to reveal a dirty, bare toe.
She was barefooted.
A chunk of rock skidded across the damp grass and hit the pastor’s boot with a solid thud. His flood of words stopped immediately and he turned his disgruntled gaze toward Knut, who held Hallie’s other hand. He wore a goggle-eyed look of guilt. Gunnar stood quietly between Knut and Dagny.
Hallie frowned her disapproval and shook her head slightly. After a few more long seconds, the pastor resumed his eulogy. The twins didn’t understand their loss. To a four-year-old, death was only a word: its consequences wouldn’t be felt until they next wondered when their da would be home. Only time would teach them that death meant their father would never be back.
“Donnn’t!”
Knut’s whispered whine raked Hallie’s ear. It sounded as loud as cannon fire, so she was surprised when Pastor Treadwell continued. Knut glowered at Gunnar, and Hallie squeezed Knut’s hand to capture his attention. He’d barely looked up at her when he tattled, “But he’s touching me!”
“Shhh.” She started to lean toward Gunnar, intending to give him a quick talking to, but Dagny was already whispering in his ear.
Gunnar waited a few moments and then leaned his shoulder toward Knut, who saw it coming and stepped out of his brother’s range. But apparently, besting Gunnar wasn’t enough. Knut stuck his tongue out tongue out taunting Gunnar.
It was a gesture that dared him to do something about it. His eyes narrowed, and he moved closer to Knut’s, ready for attack.
Hallie snapped her fingers right in front of their glaring faces, and they both looked up at her. She shook her head. They settled down, and soon both boys were innocently staring straight ahead. Hallie sighed in relief.
Unfortunately, the peace lasted only about halfway through Pastor Treadwell’s reading of the Twenty-third Psalm.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil . . .”
Gunnar picked that moment to reach out with his devious little fingers and pinch the tender skin of Knut’s forearm.
Hallie’s used her hand to smother the yell from Knut and she pulled him back into the muffling fabric of her skirts. But Knut was so angry he kicked out, aiming for his brother’s shin . . .
But a masculine body stepped between the boys, separating them before they ended up with a gravesite brawl.
Hallie looked up, intending to give the man—this heavensent angel—a smile of thanks.
Kit Howland stared back at her, and she quickly looked the other way. He was no angel.
Her little brother’s muted words vibrated against her palm. As her hand fell from Knut’s mouth, Kit placed his own tanned hand on the Knut’s shoulder.
Hallie tilted her head slightly to the right. The wide bow on the brim of her hat flopped back, giving her a clearer view of Kit, staring at her with a worried expression. She looked away quickly.
The bow flopped back and she stared straight ahead and closed her eyes.
Kit saw Hallie was doing her
best to ignore him, and a large part of him was relieved. He hadn’t known what to expect from the Fredriksen children, and Hallie and Dagny were young, and he had no idea how they would react. What he found was Jan Fredriksen’s daughters stiff-backed and dry-eyed.
Maybe Lee was right about his fostering of Jan’s children. It might not change his life at all. Two wagonloads of whalemen pulled up just as the minister closed his bible and moved toward the family. Surprise lit Hallie’s face when she saw the whole crew climb down and silently approach her. Kit wondered how she’d handle this.
Amos Smalley led the group, and Kit noticed the man’s hat was crushed in his fidgeting fists. Smalley stepped forward. “Miss Fredriksen, I’m sorry ‘bout your father . . . ‘ven sorrier I had ta be the one ta tell ya.”
Hallie held out her black-gloved hand with a graciousness that surprised Kit. “Don’t apologize, Amos,” she said, nodding toward her chalk-faced sister. “Both Dagny and I thank you for telling us right away. We know it wasn’t easy.” She even gave him a small, reassuring smile.
Smalley twisted his hat. “Thank you, miss.” He started to turn away but paused, adding, “Ya know, miss, your father, he was the finest capt’n a whaleman could set ta sea with. Never asked a-one of us ta do what he wouldn’t do hisself.” He swiped briefly at his damp eyes and walked in back of the mulling crew.
As each of the men spoke to Hallie, Kit watched her graciously thank them and give them each a kind word. She didn’t hesitate to shake each man’s hand or make them feel an awkward silence. Her voice never cracked.
He wondered if maybe he’d used her age as a defense. Where before he thought of her as immature, now he realized she had an unspoiled freshness about her. He saw a whole different Hallie. She was poised, controlled, and possessed a strength seldom found in one who had lived so few years. And for some perverse reason, Kit felt proud watching her.
Hallie would include Dagny or one of the children when she thanked the men, and Kit used those moments to watch each one of the Fredriksen offspring. They stood like statues; the twins, their attention turned to the large group of whalers; Liv, tight-lipped, silent, and rooted to Hallie’s side; and Dagny, who appeared to be looking right through everyone.
As the last crewman walked off, Kit approached Hallie. He touched her elbow and she looked up. Her expression, for once, was unreadable. “We need to talk. How are you and the children getting back to the house?”
“The Treadwells brought us in their carriage. It’s right over there.” She turned and pointed. It was tied to a split-rail fence that separated the semaphore telegraph station from the slopes of the cemetery.
Pastor Treadwell intervened. “We’ll take them home, Mr. Howland. Will you be coming back to the house?”
“Captain Prescott and I came on horseback,” Kit answered. “We’ll meet you there.”
One of the twins came rushing over and began to jump up and down. “Can I go with you? Can I? Can I?”
“I wanna go too! Hallie, pleeease,” the other identical one whined.
“Boys, come on,” Hallie said, but the twins just kept pleading and leaping.
Kit squatted down face level with the twosome and they turned their hopeful faces toward him. He could not, for the life of him, tell them apart. He looked at the one he thought was the first to speak. “Which one are you?”
“Gunnar.”
“All right, Gunnar.” Kit poked the other boy gently. “Let’s see, then you must be Knut?”
“Uh-huh. Can I go too?”
“I think you should go with your sisters.”
“But we never got to ride a horse afore,” Gunnar argued.
“If you two go with your sisters and the Treadwells today, I’ll come by on the next warm day and take you both for a ride. How’s that?”
The boys looked at each other and then at Kit. They appeared to be judging his integrity, with their serious little faces eyeing him so thoroughly. Apparently, he had an honest look, because they whispered for a moment and then agreed.
The boys scurried off to the carriage and Kit straightened. Hallie stepped forward. “Thank you. You don’t have to keep your promise. I’ll make some excuse for you.”
She wouldn’t look at him, and though he resented talking to the top of her bonnet, he answered anyway. “Don’t be silly. I want to take them for a ride.”
“Oh.” She raised her head, and it looked as if she now stared at his collar.
“I’ll be along as soon as I talk to the crew.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’?” Kit snapped. “We need to talk about your father’s plans for you.”
“For me?”
“For all of you.” Kit was getting irritated.
“You don’t have to worry about us. You have no duty toward us. We can take care of ourselves.” Hallie started to walk away.
“Hallie, stop.”
She didn’t, so he muttered the word ‘pig-headed.’
That stopped her. Her head shot up and she stared right at him. “Pigheaded?” she repeated.
What the hell was he doing? They were standing at her father’s gravesite. He ran his hand through his hair and said, “Look, I’m sorry, but we’ve got some things we need to settle as soon as possible.”
“Not today,” she said.
“This is important.”
“I don’t feel like talking.” She turned on her heel and marched toward the waiting carriage.
Kit watched her walk away. What had he done? What was he doing? What was wrong with him? Frustrated, he joined Lee, who waited by their horses. The carriage went by and he mounted, feeling like he wanted to ride hard over the hills and away from town, hell-bent for leather. Instead, he looked at Lee.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lee asked.
“Nothing. Come on, let’s go.”
“Kit, wait!” Lee leaned over and grabbed the reins Kit clutched in his fist. “You need to talk to the men about the cargo.”
“Goddammit, I know that!” Kit shouted unreasonably. He jerked the reins out of Lee’s hand and galloped toward the waiting wagons.
Lee pushed his cap back and stared at his friend. “You could have fooled me,” he muttered.
Less than five minutes later the two men were forced to slow their pace by a group of heavy teamsters. Lee eyed him. “You want to talk about it?”
“No,” Kit said.
“That’s good. It’s much better to just let it eat at you. That way when you’re really pissed, you can clamp your jaw so hard that you bust your nuts. That’ll put an end to all your problems. The way I see it—”
“I’m an ass.”
“Exactly what did you say?”
“I called her pigheaded!”
“That was polite of you.”
Kit sighed. “You can cut the sarcasm, Lee, I know I was out of line.”
“Considering what Hallie has gone through in the past few days, I’d say you were more than an ass.”
“I wanted to reassure her that I’d handle everything. I had thought to put her at ease.”
“So you called her pigheaded.”
“It’s just my inflated ego. She doesn’t want to talk to me. I thought she was fine. It looked like she handled her grief real well. There were no tears, and did you see her with those men?” Kit shook his head. “I couldn’t believe the way she handled them.”
Lee halted his mount and he stared, dumbfounded, at Kit.
“What’s the matter with you?” Kit asked.
“Do you really think that Hallie was fine? My God, man, she was ready to break any minute. Every one of Jan’s girls was straining to hold her emotions. The boys are too young to understand, but those poor girls have lost both their parents in less than four years. If you thi
nk Hallie’s fine, then you’re an insensitive horse’s ass.”
Kit didn’t respond. Hallie had been pale and tight-lipped. And now that he thought about it, her voice had had no life to it. Like someone who’d gone without sleep for days, it had been dull and tired.
As they rounded a corner, Kit decided he should drop the subject of his rotten handling of Hallie. “Do you want the Sea Haven?”
“Why would I want two whalers? The Wanderer is enough ship for me. What are you going to do with her?” Lee asked.
“I suppose I’ll see if Smalley wants to buy her, but somehow I doubt it. He seems a bit old to be captain material.”
As they came to a crest on the hilly street, Lee looked out at the clutter of abandoned ships in the harbor. “Doesn’t appear to be a seller’s market for ships right now.”
“That’s changing.” Kit saw the doubt on Lee’s face. “There’s been selling of the water lots. Land speculators have bought hundreds of acres of water lots and they’re filling them in. The problem is, there’s not enough fill dirt, so they’re using garbage, debris, and some are now buying up the ships, breaking them up and using them as fill base.”
“God, that’s a waste of damn good ships.”
“But that might be the only answer. What the hell am I supposed to do with a ship? I have a business to run. I can’t and won’t sail her myself. With all those ships available, do you really think I could find someone who wants her?”
“You’re right, but Jan loved the Sea Haven.”
“I know that, but if I can get a good enough price for her, even as salvage, then I can add that to the cargo sales, and the future of Jan’s children will be set,” Kit said. It made sense to him. He’d get rid of the burden of owning the ship and make some money for Hallie and the children.
“Are you going to tell Hallie?” Lee asked.
“Of course. Why would she care about the ship? She’s a woman.”
At that instant a supply wagon filled with iron mining tools rattled past. The ringing racket of metal scraping against metal echoed through the narrow street, completely drowning out Lee’s groan.
