by Leen Elle
When it was time for them to enter college, Josephine and Raymond were not limited to Brighton University or Clarendon. They had the world at their fingertips.
Josephine studied at L'Universite Paris-Sorbonne in France while Raymond headed to the University of Melbourne in Australia. But still the best of friends, they communicated often and, whenever possible, visited each other, often meeting someplace between their two schools such as India or Sri Lanka. Josephine studied philosophy, while Raymond focused on the foreign languages. He meant to major in only one, but could not decide between French and Russian and Portuguese and Czech. From his childhood he'd been multilingual, picking up bits and pieces from his father and wherever they were visiting at the time.
Meanwhile, Sawyer and Nora, who were growing older and were looking for a more permanent home, decided to buy Violet from the man who had purchased it after Charlie. Almost all the sailors were still around and undeniably excited to have Sawyer and Nora back; after Charlie left, they hadn't been too fond of their new captain so Captain Sawyer was a welcome surprise.
And in a strange sort of irony, Nora saw Ben Leslie nearly every day for the rest of her life. But seeing him in comparison to her husband only reinforced her love for Sawyer all the more. She could never, ever even think about doubting her choice.
Sawyer and Nora's life together was an exciting one, to say the least. By the time they'd settled back onto their home on the sea, Sawyer was fluent in nearly eight different languages, their rooms were filled with hundreds of various souvenirs from their travels, they'd had two lovely and very educated children, and Nora was more in love with her husband than she'd ever been before.
Brook & Emy Lindsey
While Brook returned to his studies at the Clarendon Art Institute after the holidays, he and Emy continued their courtship. Despite the many miles separating them, Brook took the daylong journey from school to the Lindsey's every day that he could. And in this way, the following years were spent very happily indeed. Brook came home often boasting beautiful new paintings he could give to Emy, including the very one she'd posed for back in Norrance where they'd shared their first kiss. They went on long walks around the countryside, rode horseback across the hills, played duets together at the piano, and sat lazily beneath the sun on hot summer days. Brook was even teaching Emy how to improve her drawing skills; he'd always believed she had a natural talent.
On a brisk autumn day nearly two years after the finish of our story, Brook knelt down on bended knee to ask Emy to marry him. She agreed to it, of course, after a long bought of crying, and hugged him until her legs gave out.
The wedding was a beautiful one, very similar to Mary's though slightly more sweet and natural, as to suit Emy. Guests gathered at a lovely old cathedral to watch as Brook Lindsey and Emy St. James said their vows. The entire room was adorned with bouquets of violets and baby's breath and lavender, their scent heavenly. Emy wore a gown of white lace, constructed and fitted by her oldest sister, as well as a long veil that trailed behind her as she walked down the aisle. Her soft brown hair was curled and pinned, resting at the nape of her neck in an attractive chignon, and her lowered eyes were sparkling with delight. Although she said little throughout the day, always allowing her new husband to speak for her, no one could doubt that Emy had never been happier.
Immediately following the wedding, Emy and Brook boarded a carriage with their luggage in tow and headed back to Norrance. Besides the fact that both newlyweds adored the city more than any other in the world, it was the only place to go if Brook wanted to be successful.
Their house, a tiny white cottage, was located on the very outskirts of town in a pretty little area. A stream of laughing water ran aside the chimney and hundreds of wildflowers and long, yellowy grass surrounded the yard. A large weeping willow tree, its arms dusting the ground, sat in front and there was a small garden in back where Emy planted all sorts of vegetables and fruits, from lettuce and carrots to tomatoes and strawberries. Just beside the white-picketed garden, there were three rounded fruit trees, one for pears, one for apples, and one for cherries. Nature swarmed the entire area, and even the house was being overtaken by a shadow of leafy, green ivy. Although it contained an unbelievably small interior, with only two rooms and a cellar inside, Emy adored it more than any house she'd ever seen in her life. It was breathtaking, she thought, a charming little place for she and Brook to call their own.
Their first several years of marriage were difficult, however.
Brook spent his days painting in the front yard, his easel set up beneath the drifting clouds and his raven hair blowing softly with the wind, while Emy stayed inside with the babies.
The first problem they encountered concerned Brook's occupation, but it was a difficulty they'd foreshadowed for years so it came as no surprise. As an artist, although his work was very good, Brook barely made any money at all. He painted nonstop, tried his best to appeal to customers, offered to paint portraits of prospective buyers, accepted any and all suggestions, but nothing seemed to work. And when he wasn't painting, he was roaming the streets trying to sell his work or looking for a warehouse to hire him. But no offers came. He barely brought in more than a few coins each day.
They struggled to get by, but Brook wouldn't accept any of the charity offered by his parents, Uncle John, or Ethan. Everything he earned went towards food, to join the vegetables and fruit Emy collected from the gardens and trees, yet they still barely ate. Their one joy of the year was the goose they ate on Christmas Eve.
It was the life of a starving artist, to be sure.
And it would have been difficult enough with two mouths to feed, but four more came along quickly enough. They were all girls, half with blue eyes and half with brown, and all had dark, beautiful hair.
First came Sophia, mummy's little helper who, when her younger sisters arrived, was always willing to help out with the cooking or the housework. Then Caroline, who was as silent and bashful as her mother. After that was May, a lively girl who never seemed to stop talking. And finally Colleen, whose talent for painting often found her at her father's side. All four were vaguely alike, both in appearance and interest. They were always there to help out their beloved mum, who worked tirelessly, and their father, posing in his paintings or helping him find customers.
Yet Sophia, Caroline, May, and Colleen had their differences as well.
Sophia, though she rarely let it show, was always dreaming of a better, a richer, life. She loved her family and their home and she hated to be ungrateful, but upon visiting her wealthy cousin Amelia, with her elaborate dollhouses and gorgeous dresses and lovely face, she couldn't help but wish she'd been so lucky. And when they went to see Violet, Sophia dreamed of what it might be like to live in a prosperous city so near to the coast where her Uncle Charlie and Aunt Sara never seemed short of money and where there were always plenty of handsome university students walking about. And finally, whenever Josephine stopped by in between her many journeys, Sophia wished desperately that her father might be a diplomat and that she might travel all over the world and visit exotic lands. Of all her cousins she felt like the most pitiful and was always embarrassed when they joined together at Christmastime. While her cousins dressed in beautiful laces, lovely silks, and charming brocades, Sophia wore asimple, cotton dress. And while they showcased all the wonderful gifts they'd received, Sophia could show nothing but functional hats, knitted sweaters, and new brown boots. Christmastime in Mr. and Mrs. Brook Lindsey's home was never for luxury. The children only received practical gifts, things they hadn't the money for other times during the year, and this usually consisted of clothing or shoes. Rag dolls and wooden blocks were their only playthings. And besides her unfulfilled desires, Sophia carried another burden as well. Being the oldest, she often felt like she ought to be the protector of, and set a good example for, her younger sisters. So she was always first to step up when something needed to be done. And instead of constantly plaguing her mother with her si
sters' predicaments, Sophia herself often dried wet cheeks and cleaned up dirty faces.
Caroline was nearly an identical image of their mother. Besides their similar appearances, she carried the same heart as well. She was rarely involved in any sisterly disputes and she was kind to everyone she met. Because of her sweet demeanor, it was nearly impossible to dislike her and she was adored by all her sisters. And, like Emy, she tried never to let her struggles show. When she received yet another bland cotton dress for Christmas, she beamed in delight instead of wishing for something better. When dusk was nearly upon them and she was kneeling down in the garden with dirt and sweat on her knees, hands, and face, she never once complained. And when she was forced to squeeze into a tiny bed in the cellar with all three of her other sisters, a thin blanket their only comfort, she did not frown but rejoiced at the warmth their closeness created. Caroline was truly a gift, Brook thought each night as he tucked her into bed, for no other child would bear burden so easily or so silently as she.
May, who spoke so quickly her mouth could barely keep up with her head, was a refreshment for the little cottage. She was a wild one, to be sure, rather like her Aunt Gail as a child. She jigged around the garden when pulling carrots beside her sisters, sang at the top of her lungs while picking apples with her mother, and never seemed to be lacking energy. Even when she'd finished her chores and come home from school and ran into town for eggs, she still had energy enough to climb a few trees and wade in the stream and swing on the old willow's wispy branches. Sometimes Emy feared May would never go to sleep, but with a long bedtime from Brook, the deed always managed to be done.
And finally, there was little Colleen, a girl after her father's own heart. As a baby she loved to dabble in her father's paints, stick in her hands to make fingerprint images on the parchment, and there was the terrible incident where she covered the back door in black ink handprints. But from the start it was clear that she was meant to be an artist, like her father. She watched him intently every moment she could and dreamed of the day her own paintings would look as lovely. But whenever she wasn't drawing or painting of constructing sculptures out of mud, Colleen could be found roaming outside with May. She, too, had a great love for the outdoors and because she was the youngest, the baby of the family, she was sometimes relieved of regular chores for other occupations. She had long, lithe legs, perfect for running, so she was often the one sent on errands into town for eggs or poultry or soap or whatever else was needed at the time.
They were a close family, as most families in poverty are. They depended upon one another greatly and whenever one of the girls was ill the whole house seemed to suffer just as greatly as the daughter bedridden.
Brook often returned home weary and tired, depressed at his lack of success. He'd come kneel on the floor beside Emy in her rocking chair, laying his head on her lap with a sigh and a groan. But Emy would only smile, petting his head as though he were a child and assuring him that everything would turn out alright. If it weren't for her and her unconditional optimism, Brook certainly would have given up his painting years before. But every time he suggested a change of occupation, Emy simply wouldn't hear of it. She knew that his heart still lay in art and she wouldn't let him give up no matter how much they suffered for it.
After all, no matter how difficult their life was, no matter how shabby their dresses and how scarce their food, they had love aplenty and that was all Emy needed.
Nathaniel and Gail West
After the chilly winter months had passed and spring returned again, Nathaniel refused to stay in the Lindsey's house, under their charity, any longer. No matter how much he enjoyed their company and their lovely home, his pride was so badly damaged by that point he knew he had to get away. But although he packed up his things and began renting a room at an inn in Brighton, he spent nearly every hour of his day at the Lindsey's anyway. Where else was he to go?
He was definitely not going to go to school; haughty professors would only have infuriated him and what was the point of learning useless information if he didn't want, and didn't need, a job? His parents would always keep sending him another check each month, money was no difficulty, and he had no desire for random knowledge. And he really didn't have any other acquaintances in town to visit besides Gail.
So everyday, as soon as he awoke, he paid a hack to be outside his door and it took him to the Lindsey's for the entirety of the day. He and Gail spent their time as they always had before, playing card and board games, talking, arguing, taking walks around the countryside- in his wheelchair, of course. The only change in their relationship was, now that they had confessed their feelings for one another, the occasional kiss would occur when the two were alone. They were always long and always impassioned, but Nathaniel refused to relinquish his temper, even for Gail, so they were never terribly sweet or sentimental. But they justified the pair's unconventional courtship just the same. Usually Nathaniel didn't head back to the inn until well after dusk.
About three years after that Christmas, once Gail was eighteen and, Nathaniel thought, matured enough for the question, he decided to ask her to marry him. Besides the fact that it seemed rather sensible after three years of courtship for him to propose marriage, he'd been dreaming of marrying Gail for months. It was admittedly a romantic, tender thought that he chose to keep secret, but Nathaniel wanted Gail. He wanted to be able to call her his wife. He wanted to hold her in his arms each night. He wanted it to say, on legal documentation, that she was his and that she'd loved him and that, in a sense, he hadn't been a complete failure of a life. And because he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, he didn't see why he should wait any longer. By this time, she was certainly ready for the role. And, in his eyes, if they delayed the event for too long he might be in his grave before it occurred.
Three weeks before Christmas Gail decided she wanted to take Nathaniel ice-skating. They bundled up in their warmest, headed to the pond in town, and joined the throngs of people already skating around the rim of the ice.
Gail wore ice blades attached with buckles to her boots and pushed Nathaniel around the pond in an "ice-chair," an invention constructed of a normal wooden chair with high handlebars attached to the back and runners instead of feet. It was like any other winter's day at the pond- the pale sky, the softly falling snow, the hundreds of people circling round and round. But for some reason, on this particular day, every word Gail said made Nathaniel's heart rush and every touch she placed on him made his head spin. He hadn't been planning when he ought to ask her or how he ought to do it, but suddenly, when they were mid-conversation, enjoying a laugh, he told Gail to stop, took her hand, and pulled her onto his lap.
"Marry me, Gail," he said, forcibly yet honest, his eyes sparkling.
Gail's face didn't move for a moment, she stayed perfectly calm, perfectly relaxed, and then, her voice clear, she said slowly, "Well, if it's an order . . . I suppose I have to then, don't I?"
Nathaniel only nodded.
And then Gail, taking his head in her hands, kissed him in such a way that he instantly knew he was doing the right thing. He could barely feel his legs, they seemed to have gone numb, and his fingers were shaking, though luckily not from illness this time.
Once she'd pulled away, Nathaniel saw the grin that had crossed her lips. She beamed, throwing her arms around him, and shouted joyfully, for all to hear, "Of course I'll marry you, Nathaniel!"
Only two weeks lately, after discussing the matter endlessly, Nathaniel and Gail decided to elope.
They wanted to marry quickly and they didn't want to wait any longer. But more than a desire for urgency, they decided on elopement because, in both their opinions, a wedding was a waste of lots of money they could be spending on far more wonderful things. Nathaniel, though he'd often dreamed of marriage, had never dreamed of a wedding. If Gail had been completely eager to have a wedding, he would have certainly eased to her request. But when she didn't, he knew that they oughtn't to have
a wedding at all. He saw no need for one and neither did Gail.
Gail stole away from the house early in the morning, leaving a letter for John and Betsy, and met Nathaniel at the café next door to his inn. They took a hack to Clarendon, a town far enough away to justify elopement yet close enough to Brook that Gail still felt as though she were with family. All smiles and kisses, the pair headed to the courthouse and recited their vows for a judge and two random poets from the streets who acted as their witnesses. The deed was done and both were the happier for it.
Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel and Gail West headed back to Brighton where they decided to purchase a simple, redbrick house on the edge of town, where the buildings turned into hills. And although they certainly weren't like any other married couple you'll ever meet, they were as joyful as could be.
Neither worked for a living, all their money came from Nathaniel's faceless parents, so they spent their days enjoying themselves instead. As his life was indeed always very uncertain, Nathaniel wanted to experience everything he possibly could as soon as possible. He and Gail were like children, really. Just as they'd always been. And soon enough, they were joined by two real children.
Gail's pregnancy was rather unreal to her. She knew that she was carrying a child and that in nine months time he would arrive, but her head still hadn't wrapped around the concept of a baby. Her baby. Nathaniel's baby.
So when the child arrived they were both rather awestruck by its tangibility, its life, its honesty. They didn't even have a name planned. Neither had thought on it once during Gail's pregnancy, so for his first few days of life he was known only as West, in lack of something more suitable.
