Xander opened the bedchamber door, spurred by a sense of urgency. But would Ustis even survive the move?
“Father.”
The gentle voice bade him turn.
Selah stood in the doorway, joy sketched across her formerly tear-streaked face. “You are sitting up. Praise be!”
Ustis answered with more coughing as Xander regarded her. Did she ken what a fetching picture she made? Her gaze found his, and she gave him a thankful, fleeting smile. Whatever had passed between them back at the store ... he cravedmore of that aloneness. That intimacy. Dare he hope she felt the same?
Ustis found his voice at last. “Good news, Daughter. Xander has graciously offered to help move us upriver as soon as I inform the council.”
Behind Selah stood Candace, her face alight with relief and joy. “Our prayers have been answered, then.”
“Though I’m loath to separate you from your garden here, dear wife, I trust that the soil upriver is even sweeter and will soon be the pride of the Tidewater.”
“I shall begin packing at once,” Candace replied, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ve enough seed to plant a late garden. A promising beginning, indeed!”
“Then I’ll ready my largest shallop to transport what is needed to set up housekeeping and the start of your merchanting there.” Xander returned his hat to his head. “Shall we start at sennight’s end?”
“No need to delay. Day after tomorrow even, if you can marshal resources and spare the time. I’m determined to move—or die.” With visible effort, Ustis stood. All seemed to hold their breath. He tottered a bit, grabbing for the walking stick within reach. Selah came forward and kissed her father’s perspiring brow while Candace returned to the kitchen to serve him his midday meal.
“Won’t you join us, Xander?” Candace asked him. “’Tis the least we can do to thank you for all your help.”
“Once you’re settled at Hopewell Hundred, aye. For now, I’d best ready for your departure. Expect a shallop at first light two days hence. Your livestock can come overland. I’ll supply a dozen indentures to oversee the move for as long as you need them.”
At that, he allowed himself a last look at Selah, who was by her father’s side, helping him to the table. She looked up at him just then, almost shyly yet lingeringly, her gaze soft and warm and soul deep. It took all the breath out of him. She held his gaze till prudence returned her to her father again.
At their collective goodbyes, Xander went out whistling. The lightness in his spirit wouldn’t be denied. He’d not whistled since Mattachanna died.
The governor was agreeable to the move, given the prosperous James Towne store would remain open. By next morn, the newly appointed clerk shadowed Shay as Ustis sat behind the counter and gave direction when needed. Selah, along with her mother and Izella, turned the house upside down, packing and sorting and parting with all manner of things while running hither and yon to the store when needed. Such gave them no time to have any second thoughts or ponder what they’d miss.
Selah felt borne along by a great wave as their household shrank to dust motes and cobwebs in the emptying. A new venture. A new home. A new garden, even. Though she’d been upriver many times, she’d never thought to live there. Away from James Towne she’d be away from Helion Laurent too, and any further plans to visit tobacco wives.
Candace packed away the last of the crockery and stood, looking bemused. “Daughter, I’ve never heard youwhistlingbefore.”
Flushing, Selah folded some linens. “’Tis a cheerful way to work.”
“Methinks you’ve picked up some of Xander’s habits.”
Without answer, Selah returned to her room to sweep the floor as another coverlet was bundled and carried away with all her bedding. Whistling again, she packed the few books she owned in a basket, all the while dreaming of Rose-n-Vale’s overflowing shelves. Might Xander allow her a loan of some poetry or Shakespeare?
As promised, the Renick shallop was waiting in the dewy James Towne dawn, and Rose-n-Vale’s hands loaded the boat to the gills in the forenoon. Though Selah looked for Xander with a sense of girlish expectation, he eluded her. Perhaps he had business elsewhere or wisely concluded that managing the move was best left to her parents, with the help of so many able-bodied men.
Light of step, she hastened to the waterfront beside the last lumbering wagon bearing their possessions, the vessel’s foremast rigged with a small, square sail. Once seated at the middle of the boat on padded barrels, Selah and her mother and Izella faced the direction they were headed, the wind skimming over their flushed features and toying with their coifs. Shay and her father were already at Hopewell Hundred, having left in a loaded canoe earlier that morn.
Soon James Towne seemed little more than an insignificant dot on a map as six sunburnt indentures plied the oars with expert rhythm. Was it almost a relief for them to be spared a day’s toil in tobacco fields? Their accents, predominantly Scots, warmed her ears with their rich, Gaelic-laced lilts.
The wind freshened, pushing them along. Despite the boat being laden with so much cargo, they’d see Hopewell Hundred before noon. Silent for the first part of the journey, the women observed great herons along the river’s widening banks and bald eagles gliding overhead.
“I fear you shall miss your garden,” Selah finally said.
Candace smiled. “A garden is a small matter compared to your father’s health. Besides, the new clerk’s wife seems delighted to tend it.”
Selah looked back over her shoulder. How odd to consider other hands doing their work. “Glad I am we have such a pretty piece of property upriver. Together we shall make it ours in due time.”
“Indeed we shall.” A rare wistfulness marked Candace’s brow. “How I wish we had begun at Hopewell Hundred from the first.”
“When you came over from England and Father was waiting for you at the fort?”
