“Hmm, chocolate cake, spice cake, cherry pie,” he said, counting off on his fingers.
“Go on now.” She pushed him toward the door. “I have to check things over, and then I just might bake cookies.”
Sam grinned and threw her a salute. He exited the galley in haste, knowing better than to challenge Elise’s orders.
Humming to herself, Elise retrieved the herbs she’d picked in Uncle James’s garden. She hung them from corded twine her father had attached to the ceiling for just such purposes. They hung just low enough for Elise’s five-foot-four height to manage. Seeing them reminded her of her encounter with Louis’s friend. He had been absolutely appalling, the way he tried to put his hands all over her. When Louis had related to Uncle James what had happened, he told Louis that Franklin was no longer welcome, even if his father did own the bank. She was grateful her menfolk weren’t like that but could only imagine that other high-society men were. People with money seemed to think there was nothing they weren’t entitled to.
Elise felt the stove. It was mostly cold. She opened the firebox and found just a few dying embers and a lot of ash. She went quickly to work cleaning out the box, careful to put the ash in the ash can. She’d dump it in the harbor momentarily, but first she’d build a fire. Once that was accomplished, Elise noticed she needed more wood. She’d find Tom and get him to bring it. But before she could do that, Tom appeared, as if knowing she had need of him.
“I’m so glad you’re back, Elise,” the boy declared. “Things aren’t the same without you.”
She gave him a hug. “I missed you too. I was just coming to find you. Would you please dispose of the ashes and then fill the woodbin?”
“Sure.” A mischievous grin touched his lips. “Are you gonna bake cookies?”
“I am.” She chuckled at the little jig he did as he pulled out his harmonica and began to play.
Elise laughed and clapped her hands in time. “I’ve missed that too,” she said when he brought the song to a close.
“That new man doesn’t like it when I play. He’s threatened me more than once.”
“New man? You mean Nick?” Elise asked.
“No, I like Nick. It’s that Booker Duran. He’s just hateful and mean.”
“Well, you tell him to come talk to me or Pa. We’ll set him straight.” She handed him the ash can. “Now, hurry.”
He repocketed his harmonica. “I’ll be back before you even have your dishes out of the cupboard.” He left, taking the pail of ashes but forgetting to close the door behind him.
Elise quickly closed the door, laughing at Tom’s enthusiasm. At the stove, she opened the firebox to add what little wood she still had on hand. It wasn’t long before she had worked the embers into flames. The warmth felt good. The day had been hot, but the evening had turned a little chilly.
Warming her hands like this reminded Elise of the fall and winter months. She shivered even though it wasn’t that cold. Sailing in the latter months of the year was always worrisome. There were enough dangers on the lakes without adding winter’s onslaught. Most seamen were superstitious and felt there were cursed months because they were when the deadliest storms occurred. Thankfully the men on theMary Elisewere mostly Christians who weren’t quite so concerned with old wives’ tales and traditions. It seemed to Elise, however, that it was impossible to free them of all superstitions.
Thomas returned with the ash pail full of kindling dangling from his arm and a stack of wood that seemed far heavier than he should manage. Still, he was strong and able-bodiedand managed the entire thing without complaint or a request for help.
“I saw two rats comin’ up the gangplank onto theMary Elise. That’s a good sign,” he said as he carefully stacked the wood in the bin.
Elise was familiar with the adage that rats boarding a ship meant the crew would have good luck, while rats deserting the ship was a sure sign the ship would sink before journey’s end.
“You know we’re blessed because we’re in God’s hands.” She ruffled his hair. “Thank you for the wood. Now, get on with your chores so I can bake cookies.”
“Sure thing, Elise.”
Knowing that the men were going to want a late evening snack after being without it for two weeks, Elise pulled out her mixing bowl and went to work mixing up a batch of cookies. She perused her recipe box and found a recipe that her great-grandmother had passed down to Mama. The men were crazy for these molasses cookies, and they were easy and quick to bake.
Elise added more wood to the fire and then went to work on the cookies. She mixed eggs and butter, then poured in the right amount of molasses. With that accomplished, she blended her dry ingredients with a variety of spices—in heavy amounts. The men loved plenty of flavor. She put everything together, stirred it thoroughly, and set it aside. The oven still wasn’t quite hot enough, so she busied herself by rolling the dough into balls before adding more wood. Finally the first batch of cookies were in the oven, and Elise could move on to the next thing on her list.
After a couple of hours, her father showed up.
“Smells good in here.” He grabbed a couple of cookies from the platter on the table. “I missed this while you were gone.”
Elise went to him and stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. The act still required that he bend down to meet her. She hugged him close. “It’s so good to be back on board.”
“Your mama used to say the same thing.”
“Other than winters, there’s only been a handful of times I’ve been gone for more than a night or two. I don’t want to be stranded on land again.” She pulled away and went to the oven. “Time for the last batch to come out. Then the roast goes into the oven, more wood into the firebox, and I go to bed.”
Her father sat down at the wooden table and began to eat his cookies. “It’s been a long day. Funny how the days spent at your uncle’s house seem more exhausting than ones on the lake.”
