The Wedding Journey

by Cheryl St. John

  “I disagree. I think it’s a charming quality and one I admire very much. Some of us sit on our hands deliberating until it’s too late.”

  “You don’t. You handle emergencies quite efficiently.”

  “Medical emergencies, yes. Others require more thought.”

  “There wasn’t much to think about,” she said. “It was just a cat.”

  “But no one else got up, in case it was indeed a rat.”

  “I saw the furry creature and knew it wasn’t.”

  “You’re far too modest.”

  “I’m just a simple girl, Flynn. I don’t worry about ruining fancy clothes or getting my hands dirty. I just do whatever is needed at the time.”

  “Some people don’t need fancy clothing to improve their beauty.”

  Flynn didn’t know why he’d said that. He wasn’t the sort to heap compliments upon young women or to use insincere flattery. But nothing he ever said to Maeve was insincere. She might wear plain clothing and have a few calluses on her hands, but she was far from a simple girl. She was an intriguing young woman whose beliefs and feelings ran deep.

  He didn’t know anyone he’d rather have working at his side…or anyone with whom he’d rather stand at the rail and watch the moon play upon the water.

  “What I meant to say was you’re not a simple girl, Maeve. Besides being kind and beautiful, you’re bright and intelligent and quick-witted.”

  She didn’t react for a moment, and he wondered if she would, but finally she raised her face to the heavens. “No one other than my mother and da ever told me I was beautiful.”

  “Your sisters take your appearance in stride, because they’re both lovely, as well, and the rest of the world is jealous or threatened. If no young man has ever complimented you, then there’s something wrong with the male population of Castleville.”

  She turned and looked up at him. Her wide eyes reflected the fiery dance of light on the ocean. He shouldn’t have such tender feelings toward her, and he shouldn’t let words like that trip from his tongue, but he did…and he had. His words were all perfectly true.

  He did feel something for Maeve, however, and it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore that.

  He leaned forward and pressed a kiss upon her soft lips, thinking only of her sweet countenance and how good her presence made him feel. His impulsiveness was completely out of character, but kissing her seemed like the right thing to do.

  She didn’t draw away, which pleased him and lent him a measure of confidence. He’d thought about kissing her for days now. It was a quandary why the idea toyed with him and wouldn’t leave him alone. He had no intention of letting himself have feelings for anyone. But he was drawn to test his imagination and confirm that reality never measured up.

  Perhaps he just needed to do this and then he would be able to forget about it.

  She gently rested her fingertips against the front of his shirt, catching him woefully off guard. Perhaps she’d simply needed to check her balance, so he gently grasped her upper arm and held her steady.

  Now he doubted his foolish thinking: he wouldn’t be able to forget about this. The memory of her kiss and her scent would be with him forever.

  A breeze caught a strand of her hair and blew it across his cheek. The soft tress tickled his ear. He eased away, straightening, and stood upright, still holding her arm.

  She reached for the rail, but didn’t take her attention from his face. Raising her other hand, she placed her fingertips against her lips. “No one’s ever done that before.”

  “Kissed you?”

  She nodded.

  He’d given Maeve her first kiss. Something inside his chest thrummed with tension. Was that his heart? Had he made a foolish mistake? Reaching for her hand, he took it in his grasp and caressed the back with his thumb. He didn’t want this to adversely affect their working relationship. She stirred emotions he couldn’t risk feeling. She was refreshingly open and honest. Without guile. And perhaps she was too naïve for her own good, he admitted to himself. But he didn’t want to lose whatever this new feeling was that warmed his heart and added a buoyancy to his spirit that he hadn’t known for a long, long time.

  “I apologize if it was unseemly—or if you found it unpleasant,” he said.

  He suspected she blushed, but the darkness hid it if she did. She didn’t pull her hand from his, instead she turned her face to the ocean. “It was not unpleasant.”

  The ocean air smelled better than he remembered, the breeze cool on his skin. His pulse had an unnatural rhythm that he now noticed. The warmth of her hand seeped into his being and gave him a hope he hadn’t expected to know. He hadn’t felt this way for a long time…maybe not ever… .

  Other feelings crowded these out, however. Guilt. Fear. Most especially fear. He had no business letting himself form any sort of attachment. It was wrong to start something he had no intention of following through with.

  It wasn’t fair to Maeve.

  He released her hand and faced the rail, looking out across the display of light on the water for several silent minutes. Finally, he turned to her. “I apologize. That was inappropriate. I’m your employer, and it’s wrong to place you in an uncomfortable position.”

  “It’s all right, Flynn.”

  He’d told her to address him as such when there were no patients present. Why did his name on her lips suddenly sound too intimate? “No. No, it’s not. Forgive me. I think I should see you safely to your cabin.”

  She raised her chin in a stubborn refusal. “I’m quite capable of seeing myself to my cabin when I’m ready.”

  “Very well. Good night, then.” He headed for the ladder that led below deck.

  Thoroughly confused, Maeve watched him go. After sharing such a tender moment, his abrupt change caught her off guard, even more so than the kiss.

  The kiss.

  She skimmed her fingertips across her lips in amazement. Nothing had prepared her for such sweet depth of emotion as she’d experienced when he’d kissed her. No wonder couples fell in love and courted and married. No wonder God had ordained a man and a woman to leave their parents and cleave only unto each other.

  No wonder he’d come to his senses and hurried away.

  The beautiful Kathleen was surely a more appropriate recipient for his romantic intentions.

  She didn’t regret having been kissed. She wouldn’t. The experience was something of value she could tuck away. A couple of verses came to mind, and she said them aloud. “‘Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal.’”

  She didn’t own anything of value, and that was okay, because the Bible taught that material things were only temporary. Heavenly things were eternal, the things with value. Love, joy, peace—those were the real treasures.

  The memory of Flynn’s kiss would bring her joy, so she tucked it away. No one could take it from her.

  The scent of fragrant tobacco reached her, and she glanced aside. Several feet away stood the cowboy, again at the rail with his cheroot. She’d heard about the wide-open spaces of America, the vast plains and unexplored wilderness. She supposed being cooped up on a ship was more difficult for some individuals than for others.

  His presence brought her out of her reverie. She turned and quickly headed below deck.

  Most of the women were already in their bunks. Maeve was thankful for the blessedly cool evening. The cabin often grew stuffy with so many people living and sleeping in it. Thankfully, everyone had agreed that all surfaces should be scrubbed twice a week, and their bedding laundered weekly.

  Bridget had been holding Grace, but the baby fussed, so she quickly handed her to Nora, who loosened the infant’s clothing and tried to make her more comfortable. A crying baby would not ingratiate them with their cabin mates. So far the others had bee
n kind and understanding, but the sisters couldn’t afford to push their tolerance.

  Bridget left Nora on her lower bunk and climbed above to her own.

  “‘Rest tired eyes a while. Sweet is thy baby’s smile. Angels are guarding and they watch o’er thee.’”

  Nora’s sweet voice as she sang the familiar lullaby with its lilting melody and trills on the syllables gave Maeve gooseflesh along her arms. Listening, she changed into her nightclothes.

  “‘Sleep, sleep, grah mo chee, here on your mama’s knee. Angels are guarding, and they watch o’er thee.’”

  The cabin grew still and silent; not even a rustle of bedclothes stirred as Nora continued her song. Maeve climbed up and stretched out upon her narrow bed. She had to consciously relax her muscles.

  Maeve’s mother had sung the tune to the three of them in their childhood years, and she suspected the tune was as sentimentally touching to the other women.

  “‘The birdeens sing a fluting song. They sing to thee the whole day long. Wee fairies dance o’er hill and dale for the very love of thee.’”

  Maeve’s throat tightened with bittersweet homesickness and the poignant reminder that they’d left behind everything familiar to risk this journey to a new land. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “‘Dream, Dream, grah mo chee, here on your mama’s knee. Angels are guarding and they watch o’er thee, as you sleep may angels watch over and may they guard o’er thee.’”

  After Nora sang another verse, she fell silent. The baby obviously slept now, for she was silent. The only sounds in the cabin were a few soft sniffles and a stifled sob. Maeve recognized Bridget’s tiny hiccupping cry. She climbed out of her bunk and up to join Bridget on the narrow mattress. She’d shared a bed with her sisters their entire lives, and lying with Bridget now lent them both comfort. Maeve smoothed Bridget’s hair down, so it wasn’t in her face, and Bridget snuggled back against her.

  Maeve tucked her arm around her sister and closed her eyes.

  She could use a few of those angels watching over her, as well. And maybe a few more to help her guard her heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, the doctor acted as though nothing had happened the night before. In a way, Maeve was relieved. Things wouldn’t be awkward between them if the incident was forgotten.

  Odd how she thought of it as “the incident” now. As though she’d spilled tea on her skirt or had some other trivial mishap. But it was best left that way, so she focused on her work.

  A sailor arrived around noon, a gash in the flesh of his palm, received while cutting open a fish. Flynn thoroughly cleaned it, much to the dismay of the cringing sailor, neatly placed six stitches in it and sent the man on his way.

  “You should come above deck and watch the dolphins play,” the bandaged sailor told Maeve on his way out the door. “Don’t know when ye will see a sight like this again.”

  Flynn washed his hands. “Let’s go. I’ll carry up water and boil it, so we’ll have a fresh supply.”

  Passengers stood gathered at the rail. Unable to see over their heads, Maeve found an opening to weave her way forward. Dolphins rolled in the water, and porpoises danced around the prow. The flying fish’s aerial darts drew attention, as well.

  Off to the west an island could be spotted, and a nearby Englishman mentioned they’d be stopping for water and to leave off a stowaway who’d been discovered.

  Maeve heard sailors above and gazed up, finding Gavin on a mast. Her heart raced. Apparently, he looked down at the same time. “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye, Miss Murphy!” he called, and even from this distance, his broad smile was evident.

  The other sailor in his company asked something of Gavin, and it appeared Gavin explained who she was. The sailor tipped his hat.

  Maeve blushed and gave a friendly wave.

  She took a stroll around the deck and spotted the captain’s wife reeling in a net. She greeted the leathery-skinned woman.

  “Good day to you.” Martha Conley spilled the contents of the net into a wooden tub, picked out a baby shark and threw it overboard.

  “Gavin McCorkle mentioned you provided him and the other sailors with fish.”

  “Cure mackerel several days a week, I do,” she replied. “Help yourself to as many fresh as you’d like for your meals today.”

  “I couldn’t take your food,” Maeve said with a shake of her head.

  “Nonsense. The ocean is filled with fish. Catching them gives an old woman something to do.”

  “That’s very generous of you. Thank you.”

  Martha grabbed a scrap of canvas lying on the deck and rolled half a dozen mackerel into it. “Used to treat ills aboard ship, I did. Before we had a ship’s doctor every voyage.”

  “You did? What medical experience do you have?”

  “None to mention, save what I did here. Lost too many to sickness and fevers, we did. Those aren’t days I’d want to live over again.”

  “I completely understand. I used to treat the people of my village, and all I had were herbs I collected and what little knowledge I’d learned from my mother and the midwives.”

  “Fine thing it was, Dr. Flynn workin’ so hard to get the laws changed so there’s a doctor aboard every ship now. He’s a good man.”

  “He got laws changed?”

  “Not single-handedly, but he used his influence and his money to get a better passenger act passed. This one requires enough sleeping space for each person, plenty of clean water and clean cabins and galleys. People don’t die all the time as they used to. Not on our ship so much, but others, where the owners only cared about profit, not people.”

  Maeve could plainly see the doctor’s involvement. Flynn was a man with deep moral principles and a commitment to healing.

  “That man deserves a good turn,” she added. “After losin’ his wife and sweet baby, the way he did.”

  Maeve’s heart skittered. Wife? Baby? She must have looked puzzled.

  “Cholera, I think it was. Dreadful sickness. Heard tell that after they died, he quit practicin’ and devoted himself to research. It was too late for his family, but I suppose in his mind, findin’ ways to save others relieved the pain.”

  Maeve knew exactly what it was like to be unable to save the people she loved. For a man who had devoted his entire life to healing, she could only imagine his helplessness and self-blame.

  “Thanks again for the fish, Mrs. Conley.”

  “Any time, dear. Say, will you and your sisters join us for supper tomorrow evenin’? The cap’n and I like to have guests join us.”

  “I would love to, and I will ask my sisters.”

  Maeve made her way to the galley where she passed along Mrs. Conley’s invitation and asked Nora to store their fish until suppertime.

  That night Bridget dined with the Atwater daughters, so Nora and Maeve fried the fish in a hot skillet and asked Aideen and Mrs. Kennedy to join them.

  Nora had been given a small bag of potatoes, and they baked them at the edge of the fire.

  “The sea air makes a person hungry, I’ve discovered,” Aideen said. “I surely don’t want to let out all my seams before we reach port, but it might be necessary.”

  The ladies laughed and enjoyed their meal.

  Sean and Emmett McCorkle skidded to a stop in front of them.

  “Hello,” Maeve greeted them. “Have you eaten supper?”

  “Yes’m,” Sean replied. “We eat in the galley. Sometimes I see your sister there.”

  “This is Nora.”

  Sean glanced at the pile of bones on a tin plate. “I can throw those away for ye.”

  “Why, thank you, Sean.” She handed him the plate.

  Emmett ran right along beside him and returned like a shadow.

  “Tell us what keeps you busy during these days aboard ship,” Nora said to Emmett.

  He lowered his gaze to the deck and attempted to slip behind Sean.

  His older brother sidled away and pulled him forward. “
He’s been gettin’ lessons with one of the families. Numbers and letters and the like.”

  “Why, that’s wonderful,” Nora told him.

  “Sometimes I sit in, too, iffin’ I ain’t got no errands to do for the cap’n.”

  “Good for you. You need to know those things.”

  “Cap’n Conley says we’ll be pullin’ into a port tomorrow. Me an’ me brothers are gonna go see a jungle!”

  “A jungle, you say?”

  “Don’t worry. The cap’n is sendin’ someone to look out for us.”

  “It’s very good to know you won’t be eaten by a wild animal.”

  Emmett’s eyes widened.

  “It ain’t that kinda jungle,” Sean said. “Just birds and monkeys an’ the like. I hope they got coconuts. The doc told me coconuts was good to eat.”

  “I hope they do, too.”

  “Do you have any more jobs for us? We gotta get goin’.”

  “Can’t think of anything right now.”

  “Okay. Well, ’bye.”

  The boys shot off, narrowly missing a collision with a couple out for a stroll.

  Maeve exchanged a look with Nora, and they both grinned. Maeve prayed aloud that the McCorkles would find a good home once the ship landed. The other ladies agreed with resounding amens.

  * * *

  The following morning the Annie McGee sailed into a small harbor on a lush island. If they wanted to go on land, the passengers were instructed to venture ashore with a knowledgeable companion and were strongly advised to stay within sight of the ship at all times. They were warned that the ship would only be anchored for three hours, while casks of water were filled and loaded.

  “Let’s ask the doctor to be our companion,” Bridget suggested while they prepared for the day, with the other women bustling around them in the crowded cabin.

  Bridget took a faded pink bonnet from the large bandbox they’d carried aboard, the one that held all of their hats. “No one wears these coal scuttles any more,” she said, brushing lint from the stiffened claret silk. At one time, it had been lovely headwear for a banker’s wife. The woman had given it and a few others to their mother as payment for cleaning her house.