Honor Redeemed

by Christine Johnson

  She ought to say something gracious, but she could only think of David. If he had proposed, would she have answered differently? Yes. A thousand times yes. If he had asked before dismissing that tiny babe. She could not love a man who would not cherish an innocent child. Since her own fickle heart still cried out for him, she could not trust it. Not with David. Not with anyone.

  “The heart is deceitful above all things,” she murmured.

  “What did you say?”

  That was another reason she could not consider Dr. Goodenow’s proposal. Her husband must live by God’s Word.

  She smiled softly. “Another passage from Jeremiah. Please take me to Elizabeth. I wish to return home.”

  Mrs. Walters eyed David warily. “You want me to take him with me? I don’t need another babe squallin’ and keepin’ me awake at night.”

  She had never mentioned a Mr. Walters, and David didn’t ask. Her wild locks sprayed out from under a washerwoman’s scarf, and her apron bore testimony to the large brood she had at home.

  “I can’t take another child.” Her hands braced her hips with finality.

  “Please? Just until I can find someone else.”

  He wished Prosperity could help him. She would know what to do. She would take care of everything. But she was not here, and if this afternoon’s meeting was any indication, she wanted nothing to do with him.

  “No, sir. No, sir,” she repeated, shaking her head to emphasize the point.

  “I will pay double,” he offered. It was more than he could afford, but he was desperate. He didn’t know where else to turn, and command had made it clear that he was to remove the baby from the officers’ quarters at once.

  “Double?” Mrs. Walters hesitated, apparently tempted yet still skeptical. “Why’re you willin’ to spend that much?”

  He thought through his answer. Admitting the presence of fever would only send her running. He began slowly. “My commanding officer asked me to find a place for him in town.”

  “Why? ’Cause the child’s colored?”

  “Because he needs a mother.”

  “I ain’t this boy’s mama. If you ask me, it’s ’cause he’s colored. Ain’t no white commander want a colored baby in his camp.”

  “The commander has never shown any prejudice—”

  Mrs. Walters snorted. “It’s there, plain as the nose on your face. All right. I’ll take the poor thing with me, but only for two weeks. After that, you gotta find someone else.”

  Though relief surged through him, it was brief. Two weeks would pass quickly. Maybe the threat of fever would end by then. If not, he’d have to find another wet nurse willing to take the boy into her house. Tending to this boy might be the honorable thing, but it was proving extremely difficult.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” the woman mumbled as she gathered the boy’s things. “If you wanted to do right by this boy, you’d give him a name.”

  David recoiled. If he gave the baby a name, the boy would be his. As long as the boy remained nameless, he was just another of Aileen’s mistakes.

  Mrs. Walters lifted the baby to her shoulder. “A boy needs his papa.”

  Her glare echoed Prosperity’s and told him he’d failed in this too. Mrs. Walters might not realize the child wasn’t his, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her.

  “What papa doesn’t name his boy?” the woman said pointedly. “A child cain’t go through life without a name.” She bounced the boy lightly. “We call you David after your papa.”

  “No. Oliver.” The name blurted out. He had once dreamed of naming his child after Prosperity’s mother, but that was while they were courting. They had spent happy hours contemplating the possibilities. Prosperity wanted to honor his family, but he’d been adamant. Olivia for a girl, and Oliver for a boy.

  “There now.” Mrs. Walters nodded. “Oliver. That be a good name.” Her wide grin revealed crooked teeth. “Yes, sir, Oliver’s a fine name.” Cooing softly to the baby, she made her way to the door. “Two weeks, Lieutenant Latham. Then I return little Oliver to you.”

  Two weeks to win back Prosperity.

  Sunday afternoon, Prosperity and Elizabeth kept each other company since Captain O’Malley had left on a wrecking voyage with his former chief mate and brother-in-law. Later, Elizabeth’s sister and her son would join Elizabeth for supper. Though this was the first time the two captains had left their families since Prosperity arrived, in rough weather they made these forays more often. According to Elizabeth, the women always banded together at the O’Malley household, for Anabelle and John’s house could not accommodate everyone.

  Prosperity looked forward to Anabelle’s arrival, for she had not yet met the sister that Elizabeth spoke of with such fondness. Until then, they occupied the time playing with little Jamie, who loved to bang his wooden blocks together. He was just beginning to crawl, which kept Elizabeth busy.

  “You garnered a great deal of masculine attention at yesterday’s social,” Elizabeth commented while directing her son away from the nursery door.

  “Not so much.”

  Prosperity cherished these precious moments of family life, despite the regret that she no longer had a family of her own. This was the life she had dreamed of having with David. They would chase a toddler around the house. He would put his son on his shoulders to show him the world from a different vantage point. Her locket ought to contain the images of their children. Oliver and Olivia, he had insisted. Instead it would remain empty unless she accepted the doctor’s proposal.

  Yet how could she marry without love?

  “No other lady attracted the notice of two gentlemen,” Elizabeth said as she carried her son back to his pile of wooden blocks. “And both of them are highly desirable. Did you notice the looks of envy the other women cast your way?”

  Prosperity would not call what she’d seen envy. She’d witnessed the hurried whispers and unconcealed smirks. Mrs. Cunningham had made it quite clear that Prosperity’s stroll with David had inspired scandalous gossip. She had not passed on the same result after Prosperity’s walk with the doctor. In fact, Mrs. Cunningham could barely contain her jubilation. If Prosperity hadn’t quieted her, she would have bubbled to her friends that they were courting. Oh dear. Did Elizabeth suspect the doctor’s proposal? They were dear friends, and he might have mentioned his plans to her.

  “There is no need for anyone to envy me,” Prosperity whispered.

  Elizabeth kissed Jamie on the forehead when he placed a block atop another. “Because you are still in mourning?”

  Prosperity breathed out with relief. If Elizabeth had known of Dr. Goodenow’s proposal, she would have mentioned it then. “I am not ready.”

  “I understand.” Elizabeth stroked her son’s golden curls. “I mourned my mother for some time, but I also used the mourning period as an excuse to fend off an unwelcome suitor. I must warn you that society here does not hold strictly to convention. Gentlemen will approach you and ladies will speculate.”

  “There is nothing to speculate about.” Prosperity picked up her sewing. She was embroidering a nautical motif on a baby tunic as a gift to her hosts, who still refused to accept full payment from her. “I am not looking to marry.”

  A twinge of guilt pricked her. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely truthful. If David had proposed . . . no, she could not answer that with any certainty. She no longer knew her own mind.

  “I don’t know how it is on Nantucket, but in Key West it does not matter if you seek marriage or not. You are new to town and of marriageable age. People will pair you.” Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled. “Perhaps they will match you with the lieutenant or the doctor, since they both singled you out at the social.”

  “Too much so.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “You can never have too much attention from deserving gentlemen.”

  Deserving. That was the question, wasn’t it? Prosperity nibbled on her lower lip. Could Elizabeth help her sort through her confused fe
elings?

  “Do you think they’re both deserving?”

  Elizabeth dangled a bright red ball in front of little Jamie, who tried to grab it. “I know the doctor a bit better, but I have heard enough about Lieutenant Latham to believe he is a man of strong character.”

  “You have?” Prosperity was surprised, for she had heard naught but derogatory statements of late. “You heard something good?”

  “Sometimes it’s less about what is said and more about what isn’t.”

  Prosperity frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “I have learned not to judge people by public opinion. Two years ago, when I returned to Key West, my own father stirred up vicious lies about Rourke.” A deep sadness settled over her usually calm expression. “He attempted to separate us forever.”

  “But they are not at odds now.”

  “Arriving at that point was not easy, and it did come at a cost. I thought I’d lost both men.” Elizabeth stirred, as if troubled by the memory. “It hurt a great deal at the time, but in the end the price was worth paying.”

  Prosperity let out her breath. How much of a price was she willing to pay? The doctor offered a life of comfort and affection. Sense told her that was a good match, but her heart could not substitute companionship for true marriage. Not now. Not yet. She closed her eyes and tried to think. Mere weeks ago, she had risked everything for David. Now? “I don’t know what to do.”

  “What does your heart tell you?”

  “I wish I knew.” Prosperity set aside the embroidery and paced across the small room to the window. It opened onto the side yard shaded by coco plum and lined with a picket fence. Security was enticing, but then why did she long for the brilliant orange blooms on the other side of the fence?

  “The doctor is good and kind,” Prosperity said slowly. “He respects my abilities more than anyone ever has.”

  “But?”

  “But I don’t feel anything for him beyond affection.”

  Elizabeth did not reply at once. “Is that because the lieutenant still claims your heart?”

  She must admit that much. “I wish it wasn’t so, but I cannot stop thinking of him. Even when he disappoints me, I cannot get him from my mind. I spent too long last night trying to make sense of what he said when I should dismiss it and move on.”

  “What did he say?”

  Prosperity could not repeat David’s words to a woman playing with her child. Elizabeth would not understand. Prosperity herself barely understood. He hurt from his wife’s betrayal, evidenced by that poor child. “What he said matters not. His pain is what hurts. Even while his wife lived, I could not stop thinking of him. Now . . .” She could not complete the thought.

  “Now that he is widowed,” Elizabeth said, “your hopes have returned.”

  She bowed her head, ashamed.

  Elizabeth rocked Jamie, who had grown sleepy. “Did he love her?”

  Prosperity recalled the tension between them the day she first arrived at the garrison. David’s wife had boasted loudly, trying to draw his attention. Instead he had followed Prosperity. On the other hand, he had worried the floor with his pacing during the birth and stayed at his wife’s bedside in her final moments.

  “I’m not certain. I did not know them well.” Prosperity swallowed the bitterness. The screaming curses still resounded in her ears.

  “It’s impossible to know another’s heart. He did appear distracted at the social, though you were the only lady he singled out.”

  Prosperity did not want to recall the painful conversation with either man. “It’s too soon.”

  “Because he’s grieving.”

  “It’s too soon for me.”

  Elizabeth’s expression softened. “You must miss your mother dearly. Were you close?”

  Prosperity blinked back a tear. “We talked over everything. She was my dearest friend and confidante.”

  “You are fortunate to have had such closeness. I loved my mother, but we spent too much time apart to grow close. I last saw her when I was sixteen. I wish we could have had the kind of bond you had with your mother. What would she tell you to do if she were here today?”

  “She would never have agreed to let me sail to Key West. Ma was a Nantucketer through and through. No other place on earth could compare.”

  “She sounds very loyal and sure of her beliefs.”

  “Very much so. She was such an example of kindness and Christian hospitality. Even when we had nothing, she would offer a cup of tea.” Prosperity swiped at a tear.

  “Did she approve of your engagement?”

  “Oh yes, she was so proud of David and his position in the army corps. She told all her friends that he was an engineer building a great fort that would defend the nation.”

  “It sounds to me like she would have wanted you to be together.”

  Prosperity bowed her head. “Everyone assumed we would marry. We’d been close for years and years. Since I was thirteen and he fifteen years of age. I planned my entire life around him, including a houseful of children. How foolish that seems now.”

  “We often think we can see our future when we are young. I know I did, but God is the only one who knows the path we will follow.”

  Prosperity looked up, startled by the truth that she had ignored for so long. “I wish He would tell me.”

  “Perhaps He will. Trust Him.”

  Prosperity couldn’t believe that Almighty God would tell her whether to accept the doctor’s proposal or wait for David. If she even could. She rose and paced to the window. “I still love David, but how can I trust him after he broke our pledge?”

  “Trust is a fragile thing. It takes tremendous faith to recover.”

  “I used to think I had that kind of faith.”

  “None of us knows until we are tested.” Elizabeth rose and laid her son in the cradle that was shaped like a rowboat.

  A knock sounded on the front door. Since Elizabeth always gave Florie Sundays off, no one hurried to answer.

  Elizabeth’s brow wrinkled. “Anabelle wouldn’t be here yet. Will you watch Jamie while I answer the door?”

  “I can get it.”

  “No, no.” Elizabeth waved her off.

  Prosperity knelt beside the cradle and gently rocked the little boy. His eyelids fluttered open a moment but then fatigue pressed them closed again. Seconds later he relaxed and drifted into peaceful slumber. His little mouth dropped slightly open. She brushed a curl from his forehead. Her son might have looked like this. With David’s coloring, he could easily have fathered a boy with curly blond hair and blue eyes. A pang squeezed her chest until she could not breathe.

  Oh David. Why?

  “Stewart wanted to bring it to the garrison, but I insisted it belonged in her hands.” That strident voice could only belong to one woman.

  Prosperity left the nursery to greet Mrs. Cunningham, whose straw bonnet sported yards of ribbon. “Thank you for inviting me to the social yesterday.”

  “You must get out in proper society more often.”

  Prosperity bit back a retort. The memory of the woman’s scathing assessment of David was still fresh in her mind.

  Mrs. Cunningham opened her bag and withdrew a letter. “This arrived on the mail ship. Stewart was gathering the post to take to the garrison when I happened to notice that this one belonged to you.” She held out a small letter that was battered and torn.

  Prosperity caught her breath. “Who would write to me?” Perhaps Mrs. Franklin or another of the women from Nantucket. Certainly not Aunt Florence or her cousins. They had not written when she lived within a day’s sail.

  Elizabeth slipped past her to check on Jamie.

  Mrs. Cunningham smiled smugly. “Read it and see.”

  Prosperity examined the address, and her heart stopped. That was David’s hand, each letter looped with precision so none was larger or smaller than its mates. The return address directed it to the garrison, but her address . . .

  “It was sent t
o Nantucket,” she breathed out.

  “And returned here when it could not be delivered.”

  Prosperity tried to wrap her mind around what had happened. “It must have taken weeks and weeks to go back and forth.”

  “I imagine so.” Elizabeth returned to her side. “The mail packet from Charleston takes two weeks under good conditions.”

  Prosperity calculated the time in her head. At least two months had passed since David had written it. She turned over the letter. “The seal is broken.”

  Mrs. Cunningham’s chin jerked upward just a little. “Understandable after so much travel and rough handling. You’ll notice the creasing and dirt, as if someone trampled on it.”

  “True.” Prosperity still suspected Mrs. Cunningham could not have resisted opening it.

  “It’s from that lieutenant, isn’t it?” Mrs. Cunningham sniffed. “Too late, I say. There are far more respectable prospects to be had, as you well know.”

  The nudge toward the doctor didn’t make this any easier. Prosperity stared at the letter. David had left her for a—a strumpet. There was no genteel way to put it. She unfolded the sheet. Perhaps his words might excuse his actions.

  “Would you care for a cup of tea, Mrs. Cunningham?” Elizabeth offered. “We might take it in the parlor while Prosperity looks after Jamie. I would dearly like your opinion on which china to set out for the benefit later this month.”

  Faced with the choice between new gossip and the opportunity to voice her opinion, Mrs. Cunningham hesitated. When Prosperity folded the letter again and slipped it in her apron pocket, the woman went with Elizabeth to the parlor.

  With their departure, Prosperity slipped into the quiet of the nursery and settled in the rocker. She fingered the broken seal. She could not abide the thought of Mrs. Cunningham or anyone else reading words intended only for her. Though the army might at any time open David’s letters, no other letter had been touched.

  Her hand shook as she unfolded the paper. The date stood out since it was written in a heavier hand than the rest. April 20. The day of her mother’s burial.