“She’s quite pretty,” he admitted, “for a baby.”
The wind seemed to startle little Addy awake, so Ann bounced her and nestled her head back to the side of her neck. “Do you usually find babies ugly, Mr. Boyd?”
He fiddled with his bottom left jacket button. “Not ugly, they just sometimes have scrunched-up faces and cry a lot.”
“Maybe around you they act that way.” She smirked at him. “Babies generallylikeme.”
“They generally make me nervous,” Will muttered.
“Then it’s a pity you aren’t around them more so you could overcome your fears. A baby is a true gift.”
His mouth set in a line, but he came around to her side, sneaking one more glance at the baby. “I have been at sea a great many years, and when I used to return home to my grandmother, there weren’t any babies.”
Ann chuckled. As though she knew they were talking about her, Addy started to roust around.
“Amen,” echoed from the large group of people at the front of the boat. The crowd started to disperse, and Mr. Boyd turned back toward his rigging as a few people walked toward them.
“Miss Fowles,” said a low voice, and she glanced through the faces until she recognized the speaker. It was Brother Wheatley, his cheeks even more ruddy than the last time she’d seen him. “How do you do today?” He gave a polite bow. “Wonderful sermon, wasn’t it?” So he hadn’t noticed she wasn’t listening. “And who do you have here?”
Little Addy gave a small cry right on cue as Ann explained her niece for the second time that morning. She kissed the little babe on her cheek and rocked her until she settled.
“How good of you,” Brother Wheatley said. “Would you and Addy care to take a turn around the deck with me?”
Ann thought to turn him down but realized she ought to give her mother, and especially Adelaide, more time down below. She stroked her niece’s back. “I think Addy will be happy for a few more minutes.”
“Of course she will be.” He tapped the little one’s head. “Anyone can see that babies adore you.”
Chapter 8
March 6, 1854
13 days at sea
As was their custom, Adelaide, Job, Cyrus, Ann, and her mother said their morning prayer together in their cabin. Then Adelaide, her tall, frail form drooping, stood. Job scooped up little dark-haired Cyrus as Adelaide took the restless baby from her little makeshift bed, and the family went to stretch their legs while the weather was pleasant.
Ann and her mother remained in the cabin, and Ann took the opportunity to speak. “This journey has been harder than expected,” she said, taking her mother’s hands in hers. “How do you fare?”
The older lady’s soft wrinkles pulled up at her eyes. “I am well. I can’t believe the number of storms, and the cook still needs much help. But despite it all, I feel God’s calming presence with me.”
Ann wished she could say the same.
“How areyou, my dear?”
“I am well,” she replied quickly, afraid to admit her doubts. She moved to air out some of the blankets and set the small space to rights before everyone returned. “I do worry for Adelaide and the baby, though. It seems her cough and breathing are getting worse.”
The broom Mrs. Fowles had taken up stopped mid-sweep. Ann perceived her mother’s resilience faltering; the woman was more worried than she let on. Yet she stilled the lines in her face and drew a breath, gathering the same quiet strength she’d seen when their father had passed. Oh, how Ann hoped some day she could be strong like her mother, despite, and especially during, difficulties.
“She is very weak. We must increase our prayers,” her mother answered matter-of-factly. “And then after that, I know whatever happens is God’s will.”
Ann agreed. The near-constant cries of the baby were absent with Addy on deck, but Ann still could hear them in her mind.
“Please keep little Addy safe through this journey.”
Evening, March 6th, 1854
Will woke with a start. His hammock swayed wildly as his groggy eyes attempted to register the moonlit horizon through the small window of his cabin. The outside appeared calm, as did the walls around him. The ship wasn’t pitching to and fro, but he had been. The storm had only been in his dreams.
He mopped the sweat off his brow. He hadn’t been plagued by this nightmare for years, but during this journey, it recurred with increasing frequency. It had been because of that storm where the sail ripped. It was nearly identical to that storm many years ago, that storm that changed everything.
