“Good idea.” James finished his coffee and moved to put the mug on the tray. “If you have the addresses you are wondering about, give them to me and I will go talk to the fellow.”
Robbie handed him the list, watched him leave and then looked at Geordie. “Do ye think he doesnae really want to walk about, so thinks to get it done and over with fast?”
“Nay. Matthew once said James is one of those who wakes up and feels he needs to do something right away. He wakes up ready to go. Occasionally drove Matthew nuts.” Geordie grinned. “Matthew is a let-me-linger-over-a-few-cups-of-coffee mon.”
“Ah. Fine then. It works at times like this, when our only other choice is to just sit around in this room.”
“True. Now ye are to be sure to let us ken if and when ye have had enough.”
“Aye, mither.” He ducked when Geordie tried to smack him on the head. “I will, as I dinnae want to push too hard when we have miles still to go.”
“I am thinking James may want us to take a train for a ways. It will be faster and he does have to go to Maine, so that would suit him better.”
“Got no problem with that. Now, I think I will see if the washroom is empty as I would like to clean up a wee bit.”
Robbie went into the washroom, took off his shirt, and stared at the scars on his chest. For a moment he was back with those men who had beat him, wondering if he would survive, and then he shook off the paralyzing fear. It had taken him a long time to be able to do that, and he hoped that soon he could do the same with the stark memories that swept over him at odd times. He desperately wanted to forget it all.
As he washed up he wondered if he could at least soften those memories. It did not seem quite fair that he not only clearly remembered the abuse but also the pain of it, the feeling of deep helplessness, and the knee-buckling fear.
It was almost as bad as what Matthew sometimes suffered from, having been in the middle of a war. He had never been near the major battles, yet he suffered from memories, too. Robbie hoped the bloodletting of war would work to cure this nation of throwing its young men into another conflict, but, sadly, he doubted it.
Once his body was clean, he cleaned his teeth, rinsed out his shirt, and headed back to the room. It pleased him to see that James had returned. Grabbing a clean shirt out of his bag, he put it on and listened to James and Geordie talk about what they could look at in Boston.
They started out by going to the wharf where the tea was thrown into the harbor. It was busy there and hard to envision what it had been like all those years ago, but Robbie had a good imagination. By the time they wandered away in search of another site, he felt satisfied.
As they walked, James and Geordie remarked on the old houses they passed. To Robbie and Geordie they looked a lot different than the ones at home. Most everything he had seen west of this place was new, and it would be a while before they grew any character and gained any history. In the South, where there had been age and history, a lot had been destroyed by the war. Robbie wondered how long it would take for those scars on the land to fade.
By the time they got back to the room, his leg was beginning to twinge with weariness. He shed his trousers and rubbed Emily’s cream on his leg, massaging it in as she insisted he do. It took a while, but he finally felt the ache ease and he idly wondered which was more effective, the cream or the massage. It was a question he asked himself more and more.
“Ye just going to lie there pantless?” asked Geordie.
“Aye. Cream needs to dry or soak in,” replied Robbie. “Was just pondering which does the best work, the cream or the massage.”
“Might be the massaging. The doctor who rode with us often spent time massaging wounds similar to yours, and he did not have any fancy cream. From what little I saw of the effects, it appeared to work. Do you massage your hand?” James asked.
“When I put some cream on. Why?”
“Well, if it doesn’t hurt much, maybe you should do more of it, cream or not.”
“There’s a thought. Think it would work?”
“Might. Worth a try. Things stiffen up and become hard to work with if you don’t keep them limber. Know that from the injuries round my father’s farm.”
“True. I will do that.”
Robbie sat up to eat the sandwich James handed him. Once he had finished, he pulled up the sheet and closed his eyes. He wanted to be well rested when they finally headed out on the next leg of their journey.
Geordie looked at Robbie and realized he was already asleep. Setting down the book he was reading, he watched his brother closely, then turned to James, who was also reading. Glancing at the title he nearly groaned. The man was reading about bridges.
“Do ye think Robbie is all right?”
James looked over at Robbie and then looked at Geordie. “The walk around this morning probably tired him right out.”
“I guessed that. Just wondering if he and I misjudged his ability to take this trip.”
“No. I don’t think it is a thing you can judge anyway. Don’t think he ever pushed himself, so you have nothing to judge by. He’s tired and he’s resting. Best thing to do and he apparently has the good sense to do it. We’ll keep an eye on him, but I think he will let us know when he has had enough, and then you both can take the trains home.”
“True. Then all he needs to fret about is how annoyed I am to miss seeing the ocean because of him. And he will. He is very quick to blame himself and his ‘infirmity,’ as he calls it too often.”
