Hope's Journey

by Jean Rae Baxter

  “I’ll go to tell the Andersons,” said Hope, “before it’s too dark. May I leave Captain with you?”

  “Of course you may.” He reached out to take the puppy from her arms.

  Hope ate the chicken stew. An inner voice said that she should be ashamed of herself, but she was too hungry and too tired to care.

  The next few days passed in a blur. Hope helped Mrs. Anderson lay out Mrs. Block’s body and sew it into the blanket they used for a shroud. A bateau brought a coffin from Milltown. Adam and his father dug a grave among the trees. The Reverend Mr. Stuart came from Kingston to conduct the burial service. Mr. McIsaac was there, as well as a few others from Kingston and Milltown. All the Andersons attended, Adam looking stiff in a black coat that was too short and too tight. Women brought cooked meats and puddings.

  When all the food had been eaten and the company departed, Hope and Ephraim were alone in the cabin. Captain, the innocent cause of everything, lay sleeping on a folded blanket on the floor. Hope made a pot of tea. As she poured, she thought how strange it was that Mrs. Block was not there to complain about it being too weak or too strong, too hot or too cold.

  Ephraim sat in the bentwood chair. It took a few minutes for Hope to get used to seeing him in Mrs. Block’s chair. He looked more relaxed than he had ever seemed in his mother’s presence.

  “This is very good tea,” he said. “Thank you. And thank you for everything you’ve done. No one could have taken better care of my mother. You were always so patient.”

  “She had good days and bad days. It didn’t take long to understand the reason. It had to do with pain.”

  “You’re a wise girl.” He held out his cup for Hope to refill. “My mother lived her last years in pain, and many years in the shadow of loss. Before that, her life was easy.” A faraway look crossed his face. “Our home was in New Jersey. My father was a merchant. He dealt in fine furniture and china imported from England. I was their only child. By the time I was your age, I was already learning the business, knowing I would take it over someday. That day came sooner than expected. My father died when I was twenty. Because he had trained me well, the business continued to prosper. Mother and I had a comfortable life.

  “In 1775 everything changed. Politically, we were Tories, loyal to King George. That made us unpopular with the people who wanted independence.”

  “That’s what happened with my family too,” said Hope. “Ma told me how rebel neighbours looted our house and burned it.”

  “Such things happened to many Loyalists. There were mobs in the streets. They broke the windows of our showroom. Mother and I talked about leaving, but all our money was tied up in the business. We thought that somehow we could last it out.” Ephraim took a deep, shuddering breath. “One Sunday, as Mother was on her way home from church, a mob attacked her. They stripped her naked. A respectable woman sixty years old. Naked. That was how she walked the rest of the way home.”

  Hope could not even speak, imagining how mortifying that would be.

  “We left that night. I wish we’d taken more time to pack, but Mother was in hysterics. There were dozens of legal papers I should have brought with me. I failed to do so.”

  “Were you very rich?”

  “Tolerably wealthy. For the past five years I’ve been trying to obtain compensation for what my family lost. Mr. McIsaac is working on it.”

  “I’ve heard both you and your mother mention something called ‘your case.’ Is that what you meant?”

  “Yes, but I won’t bother you with that story. It’s a comfort having you here. You must be tired. I know that I am.” He stood up, stretched, and then crossed the room to lie down on the bunk.

  Hope pulled out her trundle bed from under Mrs. Block’s bed. Tomorrow she would take Mrs. Block’s sheets down to the shore to scrub on the rocks. She considered the future of the bed. Would Ephraim take it over as well as the chair? It looked much more comfortable than the bunk in which he had been sleeping.

  She was truly tired, yet she slept fitfully that night, disturbed by Ephraim’s snoring—which had never bothered her before—and also by images that would not leave her mind. Her own mother’s funeral. The orphanage. The things that Ephraim had just told her. Most of all, she could not stop wondering what lay in store for her now that Mrs. Block was no more.

  CHAPTER 12

  An Immodest Proposal

  Life returned to normal, although it was a new kind of normal. Ephraim cleared land, hoed weeds and scythed hay. Hope cooked, cleaned, looked after the chickens and led Bossy to the Andersons’ homestead at the appointed times.

  She trained the puppy to sit, stay and come. Then she started teaching him to herd the chickens. An eager pupil, Captain would round up the six hens and the rooster several times a day and drive them into the shed. He enjoyed this game more than the poultry did.

  In the evenings Ephraim sat in Mrs. Block’s bentwood chair, except that now it was Ephraim’s chair. He gazed into the fire and said little. Hope, bent over her mending, wondered what was going on in his head.

  In August, three weeks after the funeral, Ephraim made one of his regular visits to Kingston to learn what progress Mr. McIsaac had made in his case. There was nothing to report. Nor was there any news for Hope. Colonel Butler had still not answered her letter.

  But Ephraim did bring back something for her. A cap. It was a simple white cotton mobcap like any other, but crisp and new, not limp and bedraggled like the one she had been wearing.

  “A little gift to thank you for all that you do,” he said.

  Of course she was pleased to have her work appreciated. She liked the cap and tried it on, tucking the smooth coil of her brown hair inside.

  “You’re a pretty girl,” he said.

  No one had ever called her a pretty girl before. Big ears. Pug nose.

  “Thank you.” Feeling her cheeks redden, she lowered her face.

  He was not finished, for suddenly he caught both her hands in his and gave them a squeeze. Startled, she looked up. He let her hands go. That was all. Nothing truly offensive was said or done. But the way Ephraim had seized her hands gave Hope an uneasy feeling that the ground had shifted under her feet. She wished that Ephraim had not bought her a new cap. She wished that he had not called her a pretty girl or squeezed her hands.

  While she washed the dishes after supper that evening, he sat in his chair smoking his pipe. Every moment she felt his eyes on her. She dried the dishes, put them on the shelf and took the pan of dishwater outdoors to dump. As soon as she returned, she planted herself in front of him.

  “We should talk about my indentures.”

  “What about them?”

  “My indentures bound me to look after your mother.”

  “And you did a wonderful job. Please sit down. I agree that it’s time to talk.”

  She sat on the edge of the bunk, facing him.

  “Here is what I have to say.” He set down his pipe. “Your life will be easier now that you are freed from that burden. There’s no need to cancel your indentures. I want you to stay. Now that Mother’s gone, I don’t want to live like a hermit.”

  “Of course not.” She remembered what Mrs. Block had told her about the crazy old Squire alone in his tiny cabin back in the woods. “That would be a wretched life.”

  For a few moments Ephraim appeared to be examining his fingernails. Then he said, “I’d marry you if I could.”

  Hope gasped. “Marry!”

  “But I can’t. There is an obstacle.”

  She was speechless. Just one obstacle! She could think of two without even trying. First, he already had a wife. Second, he was forty years old and she was not yet fourteen.

  Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Since I cannot marry you, I want to assure you that I shall always be as respectful, caring and loyal as if you were my lawful wedded wife. You have my solemn promise that I will make provision for whatever … issue … results from our union.”

  As she
took in his meaning, a shiver started at the back of her neck and ran right down to the bottom of her spine. Hope felt sick all over. She stood up.

  “No.”

  “I thought you might say that,” he said calmly. “But at heart you are a practical young woman, with more sense than sensibility. When you think it over, you may change your mind.”

  Her lips curled with anger. “Never. Never. Never.” With each repetition her voice grew louder, and she felt her skin becoming hot with rage. “What have I done to deserve this insult? Is it because I’m poor?” Her hand doubled into a fist. He did not move, but sat looking up at her, unperturbed.

  “Hope,” he said calmly, “this display will get you nowhere.”

  “Display!” She flew at him, both fists pounding his insolent face. He caught her wrists. Now he was on his feet, pushing her back onto the bunk.

  “No!” she screamed.

  He stood over her, gripping her wrists so hard they hurt. “This is completely unnecessary. I’m not going to force you.” Then he let her go.

  She rose from the bunk and went outside and sat on the step. Just before dark she re-entered the cabin, pulled out her trundle bed from under Mrs. Block’s bed and dragged it across the floor toward the cabin door.

  “What are you doing?” Ephraim asked.

  “I’m taking my bed to the shed,” she growled as she tugged it bump, bump, bump over the uneven puncheons.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  She ignored him. When she reached the door, he opened it for her and watched silently as she dragged the bed outside.

  The hens clucked their consternation as she manoeuvred the bed through the shed door. From their nesting boxes they watched her position it in the middle of the shed and lie down. Captain had remained in the cabin. She wished that she had called him to come with her, but now it was too late to do anything about that. She pulled her blanket up to her chin. “Good night,” she said loudly, speaking not so much to the chickens as to the man who was listening—she was sure he must be listening—on the other side of the wall.

  In the morning she emerged to make breakfast. She did not speak to Ephraim. She did not want to be in the same space with him, and so she took her food outside and ate her porridge sitting on the step while she wondered what to do next. Tonight Bossy would be back. There would not be room in the shed for both the cow and the bed.

  When Ephraim finished eating, he came outside and sat down beside her. She moved as far away from him as she could.

  “You don’t need to act like this,” he said. “I’m a gentleman. You aren’t in any danger.”

  She refused to look at him.

  “You’re old enough to understand a man’s need for a woman.”

  “I’m only thirteen.”

  “That’s old enough.”

  She said no more. For a long time they sat in silence. Finally he said, “I made a mistake.”

  “That’s right.”

  “A mistake can be undone.”

  “Not this one.” She turned her head and looked straight at him but could not force him to meet her eye. His lip was puffy where she had struck him. “Ephraim, I can’t stay here.”

  “So it seems.” He clasped and unclasped his hands. “If you’re going to be sullen and walk around with a chip on your shoulder, I’m not sure I want you around.”

  “You’re the one who spoiled everything. We could have lived as brother and sister. You could have been like an uncle to me.”

  “Uncle! Will you never stop looking for somebody to take care of you?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Let’s be reasonable. Suppose we have Mr. McIsaac cancel your indentures. What will you do then?”

  “If I had any money, I’d go to Niagara to look for my father.”

  “Then that’s what you ought to do. Since you haven’t received an answer to your letter, it makes sense for you to go to Niagara to make your own enquiries.”

  “How do I get there?”

  “Take the packet boat.”

  “That costs a lot of money.”

  “I intend to pay you your wages for one full year.”

  “I’ve worked here only four months.”

  “Mother worked you hard enough for that to count as a year. I’ll take you to Kingston tomorrow. We’ll visit Mr. Mc-Isaac to cancel your indentures. Then I’ll book your passage on the next boat carrying passengers to Niagara. How does that sound to you?”

  Everything was happening so fast that her head was in a whirl. “It sounds … good.”

  “We’ll find a place for you to stay while you wait for the boat. Mr. McIsaac is certain to know some respectable woman who’d welcome a paying guest.” Ephraim paused. “Is there anything I haven’t thought of?”

  “What about Captain?” On hearing his name, the puppy came to them, his tail wagging, and laid his head on Hope’s knee. “I can take him with me, can’t I?”

  “Not on the packet boat. There’s one big cabin for women, another for men. No place for dogs.”

  Hope bent her head and pressed her face against the dog’s warm, coarse fur. She loved him. He was the only living creature in the whole world that loved her. She couldn’t go to Niagara. She couldn’t leave Captain behind.

  Ephraim must have understood. “He can stay with me. I’ll give him a good home.”

  Hope looked up. Her heart took two steps toward forgiveness. “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.” He stood up. “Now you go to the Andersons’ place and tell Adam he doesn’t need to bring the cow today. They can keep Bossy while I take you to Kingston. Adam can return her the day after tomorrow. That way, you’ll still have room to sleep in the shed one more night.”

  One more step toward forgiveness. Poor Ephraim. First his wife. Then his mother. He certainly had bad luck with women. His proposal had been outrageous. And yet, although she could not forgive the insult, she was beginning to sympathize with the man. Like her, he did not want to be alone. The companionship of a good dog would make up for some things lacking in his life.

  CHAPTER 13

  Midway through the Wood

  Hope heard the cowbell clanking before she saw Adam driving Bossy toward her along the half-made road. When he noticed her, he raised his arm in greeting. “This is a surprise. What are you doing here?” They met midway through the wood.

  “I’ve come to save you the trouble of bringing the cow all the way to the Blocks’ place and then having to take her back again. You can keep Bossy for two more days. Tomorrow Ephraim’s taking me to Kingston to cancel my indentures and book my passage to Niagara.”

  “What!” Adam’s jaw dropped. “Are you’re going to Niagara to live with your father? I didn’t realize you’d found him.”

  “I haven’t. Colonel Butler hasn’t answered my letter. I’m going to Niagara to ask in person where Pa and Silas have been settled.”

  “Are you travelling by yourself?”

  “Of course.” She tried to look as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

  Adam scratched his head. “Here’s the girl who never left Carleton Island till she was twelve, never went to school, didn’t know how to write a letter. Now she’s off on her own to Niagara to speak with the commanding officer of the Nassau Militia. Four months ago I wouldn’t have believed it possible.”

  She smiled. “With a name like Hope …”

  He finished her sentence, “… anything is possible.” Then his lips twisted in the half smile she knew so well. “I bet you’re scared to be going all alone.”

  “Not a bit,” she lied.

  Bossy was nibbling at a clump of daisies that grew in a patch of sunshine between the trees. Adam bent over and picked a daisy. A wistful look crossed his face. “So off you go, leaving me stuck here. Ma’s expecting another baby. It’s going to be years before Pa can manage without me. I’ll be old and grey by the time I get to go anywhere.”

  She picked a daisy for herself. “You never can tell what will happen. I expected to be bound f
or three years by my indentures. Instead, it’s been four months.”

  “Will you ever come back?”

  “No.”

  “So it’s goodbye forever.” His laugh sounded forced. “We shall never meet again.”

  “Well, maybe someday.” She picked a petal from her daisy. “This petal says we will.” She picked a second petal. “This one says we won’t.” Another petal. “This says we will.”

  “Go on. I want to know.”

  “This is silly. I’d never believe in anything a daisy told me.” She threw the partly plucked flower onto the ground.

  Adam stooped and picked it up. She looked at him holding the two daisies, the one he had picked and the one she had thrown away. He wasn’t laughing now. This was how she would remember him, she thought, with his great thatch of straw-coloured hair, his big sunburned nose and his green eyes.

  “So Ephraim will be left on his own,” said Adam.

  “Not quite. I’m leaving Captain with him.” She slapped a mosquito that had landed on her wrist.

  “About Ephraim,” said Adam. “Ma’s heard something.”

  “Heard something?”

  “Gossip. She never goes anywhere, yet she seems to hear everything. It’s as if she had antennae.” He lifted his hands to his forehead and waggled his index fingers in a comic imitation of an insect testing the air.

  Hope laughed, and her laughter made him smile.

  “What has she heard?” Hope asked.

  “It’s not exactly about Ephraim. It’s about his wife Philippa. Ma heard that the officer she ran away with has abandoned her.”

  “Really? How could your mother know that? They went to England. She couldn’t hear a story like that from the far side of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “Philippa never made it to England. According to Ma, the officer left her in Montreal and went home without her. It may not be true. My mother never lets the truth get in the way of a good story.”

  “True or not, I’m sure Ephraim hasn’t heard it.” Hope frowned. Or had he? And if he had, would he care?

  Hope held out the switch that she used for driving the cow. “You can have this. I won’t need it any longer.”