She wouldn’t listen to him though. If anyone was to blame, it should be him for losing his temper that night and yelling at her, delaying her. He shook his head. How could he think to give solace and comfort if he himself still lost control of his emotions when something triggered him?
Ann Fowles had impressed him with her beauty and sensibility and compassion. Now she hated him, and she needed help. He needed to help keep her from the same fate he’d struggled with for the past five years.
Will had thought he’d worked through his fear and his guilt, but it had reared its head on the night of that storm, and he’d hurt another in addition this time. Ann had needed his help, and he’d thrown up a wall, one bricked with a mortar so strong it had prevented him from offering an apology, even when he’d seen her later.
He didn’t wish to care for her—he couldn’t per the captain’s orders anyway—but he’d at least like to ease her pain while at sea. He knew all too well how that pain could destroy a person.
Chapter 9
March 7, 1854
2 weeks at sea
“I’m so sorry,” Ann whisperedto her sister. Adelaide just shook her head. “I am sorry about the blanket. I’m sorry I fell ill—”
“Enough!” Adelaide dropped her head into her hands. “I want to be alone.”
Ann winced and moved the short distance to the door. She collapsed outside her cabin at the table in the small vestibule. The vision of little Addy surrounded in canvas and let to sea haunted Ann’s thoughts almost constantly.
It wasn’t the first time Ann had apologized profusely for not being more help to her sister, feeling so sorry about the delay with the blanket, the exposure from being on deck, and her sickness—but the frail woman was understandably inconsolable. Ann was supposed to have helped her. Helping was why she’d come on this journey. But she’d failed already.
In the days since Addy’s passing, no one was the same. Ann’s mother sat with her sister often and said nothing, and then before each meal, would rise slowly, still silent, and make her way to the galley to assist the cook. Job had taken to keeping Cyrus with him most days, trying to be out of the cabin as much as possible.
Ann dropped her face into her hands.“Please, God, help us.”
How could her family endure another four or five weeks of such a journey? Surely the gloom would consume them all before then.
“There you are,” a soft female voice said as someone opened the door from the deck and walked inside. A warm arm encircled her shoulders, and Ann knew her friend’s accent without looking.
“I am so sorry about your niece,” Elizabeth said, with more gentleness than her cheery voice usually employed. Everyone on the ship knew of each death, for the bells tolled, people gathered, and the captain and PresidentGarn offered remarks before the body was cast into the sea. There’d been three deaths so far, in only two weeks.
Ann glanced at her friend. “Were you—are you—an aunt?”
Elizabeth shook her head, her eyes dropping low. “No. My parents and brother came down with consumption, and they sent me to live with my aunt and uncle. When my family never recovered, my uncle’s house became my new home.”
Ann shook her head. “How—how do you bear it?”
Elizabeth clasped her hands together and was still. After a moment she offered a wan smile. “Like most things, I s’pose: One day at a time.” She gave Ann’s hand a squeeze. “It does get easier, though that’s the last thing you want to hear. The pain, in a way, feels like it needs to be there. Like if it goes away, something is wrong.”
“Yes,” Ann managed through a choked sob.
Elizabeth’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “The scriptures say we are to live, ‘after the manner of happiness.’” She patted Ann’s hand. “What I like about that scripture is that before it states this, it talks about how they had to work and prepare for hard times and keep going and keep choosing God. It didn’t say we are always happy and things are always easy. Rather, I look at it like themannerof happiness means we keep going, we keep trusting.”
Ann sighed. “Right now it feels hard to keep going. To keep trusting.”
Elizabeth put a hand around her shoulder, sighing like she knew how heavy life was at that moment. “Give it time. Time is a funny thing, but it can be a gift. Right now your job is to make it through today, and then tomorrow.”
Ann just shook her head. It would take every ounce of energy she had just to make it through the next hour. Every minute that ticked on, every space between the bell’s tolls, felt like an eternal black chasm she couldn’t wade through.
“Do you have enough energy to come out to the deck?”
Ann shook her head.
“I just had this really strong impression that I’m needed on deck, and I want you to come with me.”
Ann shook her head more vehemently.
“Brother Wheatley and two other men aboard brought fiddles with them. They are playing as we speak.”
