“Thank you for coming to the funeral with me,” Elise told her uncle, leaning close. “I know Papa would want me here as a representative. Joe was like a brother to him and another uncle to me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It won’t be the same without him.”
“I’m glad I could be here for you, my dear.” Uncle James patted her arm.
Elise dabbed her eyes with the lace-edged handkerchief her aunt had lent her. She tucked the cloth away, then folded her gloved fingers together, trying her best to control her emotions. She gazed straight ahead at the front of the church. Joe’s casket had been placed just below the pulpit. The pine coffin wasn’t at all ornate—just a simple wooden box.
She leaned close to her uncle again. “I feel so sorry for his widow and family. Five children will grow up without their father.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if Mrs. Brett can do anything to earn a living, especially with children who are still so little. It’s not fair.”
Word had come after a week that theMary Elise’s first matehad died. Joe Brett’s leg had been gangrenous and impossible to save. Elise knew her father would be devastated. They were good friends. Everyone loved Joe, including Elise. He had been a good man worthy of their admiration and trust. He would be sorely missed.
The preacher got up and spoke of Joe’s death coming much too soon. He described Joe’s good character and his faithfulness to his family. There were murmurs and nods from the congregation, most of whom were from the lower levels of society. Elise felt out of place in her aunt’s black bombazine. At least this was her summer mourning gown, so the silk was not blended with wool. The heat was already stifling, and in the small, crowded church there was no breeze from the open windows. Elise fanned herself, but it did little good. She could only imagine that Uncle James’s suit was unbearable.
It was hard to concentrate on the preacher’s words. The last funeral she’d been to was her mother’s. Elise could still hear the waves lapping against the ship. Her father had put them out in the middle of Lake Superior. Mother had chosen it long ago for her watery grave.
Each of the men had stood at attention around the canvas-wrapped body of her mother, including Joe. Each man said a few words in praise of Mary Wright. By the time it was her turn to say something, she had forgotten all of her memorized tributes.
“She was the best of mothers. She taught me so much and led me to the Lord.” A few of the men had murmuredamen, as Elise’s mother had led them to faith in Jesus as well. “I cannot imagine a world without her loving kindness and gentle smile. She will be so missed.” Tears had slipped down her cheeks as she touched the canvas. “I love you, Mama.”
Then it was her father’s turn. Bill Wright had stood with a stoic expression on his face. He read from the Bible and then closed the book. “She was my dearest friend and love. She was a helpmate like no other, following me from ship to ship, lake to lake. She loved the sea, and she loved me and her girls.” He smiled. “She loved the lot of you too.”
Those who had truly known her wiped away a tear or two. Elise could feel the love they held for her mother and their captain. Later, when they slipped Mama’s body overboard into the surprisingly calm Superior waters, Joe had wept. And now Elise sat here, doing the same for him.
“Man is but a vapor, here and then gone,” the preacher continued, “yet our memories will serve us long after to say of Joseph Brett, ‘He was a good man.’ Let us pray.”
Elise took out the handkerchief again as she bowed her head. She wiped her tears, knowing Joe would chide her not to spend her time in such a manner. The pastor prayed for comfort and mercy, but Elise couldn’t pray. Comfort and mercy meant very little when a family couldn’t provide for itself. She’d spied holes in the shoes of Joe’s eldest boy. His widow’s dress was threadbare and patched. She nudged her uncle as soon as the pastor saidamen. “Uncle, could I have forty dollars?”
He looked at her oddly as they rose to file out of the church. “Whatever for?”
She let go a heavy breath. “Joe’s widow. I’m sure Papa would pay you back. It’s for one final month’s pay.”
“Of course.”
She waited until they were outside to offer further explanation. “Papa already paid him, but I’m sure the doctor took a good portion of that. I doubt Mrs. Brett even knows what shehas left to work with. I know my father would want me to do this on his behalf.”
“I don’t doubt what you say.” He reached into his coat and drew out his wallet. He gave her two twenty-dollar gold coins. “Please tell her to come see me if she has any other needs.”
“Thank you, Uncle James.” She kissed his cheek.
“Don’t bother to mention it to your father. He needn’t pay me back.” His face was full of compassion. “We’re partners in this, and I want to do my part.”
Elise smiled. “You’re a good man. Mama always said you were her rock until Papa came along.”
“I miss your mother more than I can say. I was grateful your father agreed to let me put up a stone for her in the cemetery. Sometimes I walk by there and just pause to remember her. She was so very dear.”
Elise nodded. “It’s harder on some days than others. I wake up and I think surely it was just a bad dream. The days are so empty without her. And poor Papa ... he misses her so.” She shook her head and looked at the ground. “He hasn’t been himself since.”
“I could tell at the wedding. His joy is gone. He smiled, even laughed, but it never seemed as sincere.”
“He says he lost a good part of his heart the day he lost her. He moves forward without any pause, but his grief is obvious to me. Probably to anyone who really knows him. That’s why I hated to let him sail without me.”
Her uncle patted her black sleeve. “He’ll be all right, Elise. He has a strong faith.”
She knew that much was true but wasn’t sure it was enough. She had heard of people dying from heartache and sorrow. She feared her father very well might be one of those.
After the graveside prayers were concluded, Elise made her way to Mrs. Brett while her uncle motioned the driver to bring around the carriage.
“Mrs. Brett.” Elise smiled and extended her hand.
Joe’s widow was probably no more than ten years older than Elise—if that. She looked at Elise with watery eyes. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
