“Ah,” breathed Judith, leaning forward. “It is the second miracle I asked Him for. I cannot wait to see John’s face when he hears his first piece.”
Chapter 19
Nicole’s parents had given the bridal pair their home for the night. Nicole’s and Gordon’s objections had accomplished nothing. After a time at the village fete, with the roasting meats and the fiddler and the torchlight and the laughter, they had been cheered on their way with best wishes from all sides. Arm in arm they had walked the path down to the little cottage to discover that someone had lit a fire and prepared a tray of cider and fresh-baked bread and cheese. Fresh linens were upon her parents’ bed, and rose petals spread about the sleeping chamber, upon the planked floor and the bed itself, all illuminated by candlelight.
Now it was morning, but Nicole’s eyes were still closed when the bedroom door creaked open. She reached over to feel the empty pillow next to hers. She rose up on an elbow to see Gordon, already dressed, coming toward her with a steaming mug.
“Good morning, my sweet one,” he said with a smile both tender and sorrowful.
Nicole pushed herself up to lean against the headboard. She knew the reason for the look on Gordon’s face. He did not need to say a word.
She took a deep breath to halt a half-formed protest, but all she said was, “Is it time?”
Gordon sat down on the bedside. “I fear so, my love.”
Slowly she sliced a piece of bread, cut a chunk of the crumbling cheese, and gave it to Gordon, knowing her own smile was tremulous. “I want you to have your first meal of our married life from my hand,” she told him.
He smiled in return and accepted the bread, watching her pour a mug of cider. They ate in silence for a time. Then he said, “There is something I would ask of you.”
He leaned forward to kiss her, and she tasted the cider and smelled ashes and woodsmoke from the fire he must have laid in the front room. “Before we must leave, I would like us to receive communion together at your father’s altar.”
She set the mug down upon the tray and carefully studied his face.
“I cannot say precisely why it means so much to me,” he said, stumbling slightly over the words. “I admire Andrew greatly. It came to me yesterday evening at the wedding fete. His words helped me in coming to recognize my need for faith beyond simply the outward trappings of religion. Forgive me, I do not know the proper way to explain myself.”
Nicole was listening with her heart, and she thought she was understanding her husband’s attempts to describe his inner journey, and she nodded for him to continue.
“I would like to think that we depart from here not merely with their blessing, but also with their heritage of faith. I can think of nothing finer than to leave here challenged by your parents to live as they have. To dedicate our life together to our Lord and seek to follow their example through all our days.”
“Gordon, my dearest,” she whispered and reached for his hand. “Yes, let us celebrate the sacrament with them before we must leave. …” Her voice nearly broke, but she willed herself to courage and to thankfulness for the blessings of this visit, brief though it needed to be.
John Price and Catherine were talking quietly in the lane beyond the garden gate when Nicole and Gordon emerged from the cottage. Her grandfather bowed a welcome of solemn good cheer, setting a proper tone for the occasion. “May God’s light shine upon you, upon this day, and upon every day He grants you both.”
“Thank you, Grandfather.” Nicole embraced him, forcing herself not to let the sorrow overwhelm her. Remember the joy,she told herself, not willing to let the old man go. Remember the bounty of these days.
She turned to her mother. The eastern sun shone fully upon Catherine’s features beneath her bonnet. Her face was far more lined than Nicole had recalled. And almost all the visible hair was gray.
“I have not had enough time here in this place,” Nicole whispered, the protest spoken so lightly neither man could hear.
Catherine released her and waved at where the two men stood watching. “Walk ahead of us, if you would.”
“Most certainly.” Gordon offered the older gentleman an outstretched arm. “Would you care to lean upon me, sir?”
Catherine allowed them to draw several paces away before she turned to Nicole and also took her arm. “We can do this one of two ways,” she said in a low voice. “We can weep and wail and mourn that you must depart far more quickly than either of us would wish. Or we can use these final moments to give thanks that you were here for your wedding, your father was able to perform the ceremony, and that you have seen him in much better health than he has been not that long ago.”
Nicole nodded her assent, “I haven’t really had a chance to speak of Father’s health, or how you are, or—”
“We are in God’s hands.” Catherine held Nicole’s arm closer and asked, “Do you believe this?”
“Of course, but—”
“We are His children. He has blessed us most wonderfully. What use is there in bewailing what neither of us can change?”
Nicole nodded again, but this time she found her heart also agreeing. She was truly blessed, and her spirit lifted with her inward affirmation of that fact.
Nicole picked up the conversation with, “And, Mama, you and I are going to have a bit more time together on the return to the ship.” Catherine had agreed to journey with them in order to provide further introductions to any suspicious locals who might challenge their passage. Andrew, of course, was not up to such a venture.
They rounded the corner by the village market, and up ahead rose the steeple of the church. Andrew waited upon the front steps, talking with two parishioners. As soon as they came into view, he raised his hand in greeting and smiled his welcome. Nicole felt her senses reaching out in every direction. She tasted the wind and caught fragrances that defined this place—woodsmoke and verdant forest earth and animals and baking bread and the sea’s chill. She heard the bleats of goats and the cries of children and a woman singing through an open window. “You are right. I know you are right.”
“The question for both of us is simple. How shall we spend these final hours?”
The answer was as clear as Catherine’s voice. Nicole turned to smile at her mother; then the little group walked into the church.
A treasure of memories,was how Nicole decided to describe it for Anne. After sharing the Eucharistic bread and wine with her family, after a quiet lunch, after bedding down John Price for his nap, Nicole carried quill and ink and paper out to the point, still adorned with pine garlands and rings of spring flowers.
She had only a short time before their departure, but she did not hurry in describing the events of their arrival and then their wedding. In putting the words on the page, she was able to see God’s hand more clearly, and this she wrote as well.
The sun traced its way west, and she knew the time was coming for her to depart. Penning the final words to Anne was an effort, yet they rang with love.
I know that God’s hand is upon me here,Nicole wrote her sister. For were it not so, I would be weeping from all the fragments of this too-brief time. I leave my father, my mother, my grandfather, and know not when or where we shall see one another again. I leave after mere hours of wedded bliss, and this granted only because my father and mother—our father and mother—gave everything they had, even their own bed. I leave without seeing you, without even knowing if you are coming. This is as hard as anything I have ever done. Yet leave we must, as I have explained. We have responsibilities and carry charges given to us by those who are counting upon our bringing aid, and swiftly. But these reasons are not why I leave here with a sense of rightness and duty. I do so because I know we are bound by the Father of all, and that our lives shall be intertwined for eternity. I carry with me my love for this place and my wonderful family, and their love for me. I am sustained by this, and by the knowledge that a joyful reunion in heaven awaits us all. Your loving sister, Nicole.
Chapter 20
Many of the little shipboard community became very dear to Anne and Thomas. And when Anne’s own heritage was discovered— how she had been raised in Nova Scotia and knew the land well—they could not ask her enough. A dozen of the Dissenters had already settled in a burgeoning community north of Halifax. The written reports they had sent back gave helpful information, but Anne’s personal experiences were another matter entirely.
In the evenings she and Thomas were surrounded by elders and their families, reviewing their plans and hopes. In many cases Anne knew no answers could be given, but she and Thomas could at least listen with compassion and grace. Having a role to fill proved a great balm during those seaborne days.
Thomas’s presence proved of singular benefit as well, for there was no other person with legal background or experience among them. It seemed that every family had matters left unsettled back home or affairs that needed tending before their arrival. Marriages and dowries were brought forth. Partnerships formed. Two stores planned. A few families had been unable to sell their homes, the matters left in last-minute haste. Several had paid for land and needed their deeds studied to see if all was in order.
The days took on a disciplined routine. Mornings began with tea and Scripture. Midday meals were marked by prayers from both pastors and sometimes the elders as well. There was a full service at dusk, and more prayer and Scripture before bed. Anne found the routine a blessing and comfort, and fully involved herself in the life and worship of the little band.
The winds, strong and southerly, blew steadily. The ship heeled over at a near constant angle, drawn forward by the taut canvas. When seabirds began congregating amidst the rigging at dawn and dusk, the passengers greeted them with cries of welcome. They had learned from the sailors that the birds were both foretellers of more good weather and the first indication of land beyond the horizon.
Three weeks into the voyage, after the evening meal Anne chose a seat among the empty barrels lashed to the port railing. The curved staves offered protection from the wind that always grew chilly this time of day. She had just settled herself when she heard her husband call her name. “Here!” she answered.
Thomas appeared, bearing her heavy cloak. “I thought you might need this.”
“Thank you, husband.” She allowed him to settle it around her shoulders, then kept his hand from withdrawing. The Dissenters were somewhat like Quakers in their reserve, preferring no common familiarity in the sight of one another. But on this point Anne respectfully disagreed. “Sit with me, please.”
Thomas eased himself down beside her, his arm about her shoulders. “This is the first moment we have had alone in days,” he noted ruefully.
“I know it well.”
The weeks at sea had browned his features, turning his eyes even more clear and piercing. Anne looked into his face, then said, “I have been watching another facet of your gifts coming to the fore during these weeks on board.”
Gently Thomas extricated his arm and moved slightly back to look at her more fully. “What have you observed, Anne?”
“I have seen you becoming an elder to the community.”
She was very glad he did not disagree.
“I have heard others speak the word when they thought I was not listening. But it is another thing entirely to hear your perception of it.”
“Elder,” she repeated. “You are a man of sound judgment and impartial bearing. You seek God’s will in your decisions, and you mediate with patience. Your words are a balm. You strengthen. You reassure.”
“Anne, my dear, you humble me with this praise.”
“Come draw closer, Thomas. I have something more to say.” Their heads moved close together until they were nearly touching. “I am wondering if there is further financial help we could make available to them without the group knowing the source.”
Thomas was quiet for a moment, then said, “I believe there is a way. … Yes, I am sure of it.”
They looked at each other and smiled, then Thomas returned his arm to Anne’s shoulder. They settled back to watch the stars blink into position.
The next morning a storm swept in hard and fast. The wind rose to such a pitch that lanyards hummed and snapped. The sailors raced across the decks and up the ropes, lashing the sails into the quarter-moon shapes used to weather storms.
But no one seemed to be perturbed. Other than a pair of fitful squalls, the weather had been dry, so most of the ship’s water caskets were empty. And the storm was blowing from the proper quarter, such that their sail westward continued faster still. The captain, a gruff and hard-bitten man who clearly preferred to keep God in His quarter, had even come to calling their passage a blessing. He welcomed the rain, for the closer they drew to the coastline, the greater was their risk of running afoul of the Americans.
The northern colonies, now called collectively by the name of Canada, remained firmly within English hands. But the border between the revolutionaries and Canada was both fluid and very near. Sailors and officers alike kept close watch upon the horizons, casting to the four corners of the horizon for the first sign of sail. Thankfully, the only vessels they had spied the entire voyage had flown the haughty Union Jack and greeted them with flags and cannonades signaling the all clear.
And now there were great sweeping curtains of rain about them, furious torrents that heeled over the boat and doused them all. But the morning remained warm enough for most of the passengers to stay on deck and revel in the first cleansing bath they had enjoyed in days. Dry and salt-crusted faces were turned toward the heavens. Hats and bonnets were doffed, and stiffened hair was drenched with water so fresh it tasted sweet to their mouths. When one shower had passed and a trio of sailors began dancing a hornpipe upon the rain-washed deck, most of the passengers laughed and clapped in time to the communal celebration.
During the general hubbub, Anne drew close to the young pastor’s wife to whisper, “We would have a quiet word with you and your husband, if you please.”
The young woman nodded and moved to where her husband stood smiling at the antics.
Thomas awaited them by the far railing.
He glanced at Anne, who nodded, and he said, “We have been entrusted with quite a large sum. Charles Harrow is a man generous in purse and spirit, and he wishes for us to help those who have suffered from this conflict.”
Now the pastor and his wife looked at each other, their expressions full of astonishment.
Thomas went on, “We wish to make a gift to your new community.”
“In secret,” Anne added.
Thomas reached into the folds of his coat and extracted a folded sheet of parchment. “I have prepared a banker’s draft. At the bottom of the page is the address where we shall be residing in Georgetown. Take this to the bank in Halifax. Have them contact us if there are any questions.”
The young clergyman and his wife were quite speechless. He took the document without looking at its contents, and her eyes brimmed with tears. “We cannot tell you,” the pastor finally said as he tucked the parchment into his coat, “how much your kindness and generosity means to us. I’m sure only eternity will reveal all the ways our Lord will bless our members because of your friendship and your gift.”
The two women embraced while their husbands solemnly shook hands. At that moment another downpour swept over the decks, and the four could not help but laugh as they hurried to shelter.
“I believe I have had enough of bathing for one day,” quipped Thomas as he wiped his face, and he and Anne ducked down the stairway below decks.
Chapter 21
Nicole gripped the reins with practiced ease. The wagon was old and creaky and very heavily laden. Prior to their departure from Georgetown, Gordon had made one final pass through the market and bought additional supplies for the voyage ahead. When it came time for them to return to their vessel, Nicole had requested that she drive. Even in this old contraption, even upon this day of painful farewells, she found pleasure
in taking the reins once more.
She looked over to smile at Catherine on the seat next to her. Gordon rode nearby, keeping watchful eyes on the crew and the wagons.
Nicole flicked the reins and clicked to the team as they labored up a small rise. Trees stretched out on both sides of the lane, and the air was full of new life and the cool scent of a Nova Scotian spring. She took a deep breath. “The joys of being here, Mama, far outweigh the sorrow of the good-byes,” she said to Catherine.
The departure from the small Georgetown cottage had been not as wrenching as she would have expected. Andrew and John Price had made light of their ailments, arguing goodnaturedly over which one would help the other down the lane to where the wagons and their escorts waited. Nicole had held each of them a very long time, willing her strength and youth into their fragile frames. She had accepted their thanks for the visit and joined their thanks to God for keeping her safe. The little group had linked arms and hearts to pray for the mission and the voyage ahead. All of the voyages facing all of them. When Andrew had spoken those words, Nicole had been forced to swallow around the lump in her throat.
During the trip by wagon, Catherine had shared with her daughter the tale of both diaries, the letter to Anne, and how she and her father had grown closer. But mostly the two women had spoken of Nicole’s grandmother’s writings. Catherine had marked favorite passages to read aloud as they traveled.
“I cannot think of being anywhere in the world but with John,”that long-departed Mrs. Price wrote. “He is such a kind, devoted husband. But, oh, how my heart yearns for my homeland. The winters here are so harsh and long. John does not favor me going out and about the small village alone, and there are so few women here. Those who are here seem much too busy with caring for their households to have time for visiting. Some days I fear that I will go mad with the loneliness. Perhaps if I had a child I would feel more content. I fear that when John comes home at the end of his long, busy day, I rattle on. I try to hold my tongue, but it seems I might wither away if I do not have some conversation. I think he would be content to sit by the fire and let the worrisomeness of his responsibilities slide from his shoulders in silence. I must try to be more patient.”
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