“Well, I’m telling you again.”
I encircled my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss me. “You don’t have to,” I whispered as I gave him the kiss I’d longed to offer since I’d fallen in love with him.
He lifted me off my feet, heedless of the weight of my skirts, and carried me to the alcove, forgetting about our supper.
Epilogue
SEPTEMBER 5, 1727
CAPE COD, MASSACHUSETTS
We’d enjoyed two days of an uninterrupted honeymoon in the captain’s cabin in Boston Harbor, but on the third day we knew we needed to return to reality.
TheRedemptionhad laid anchor in Provincetown Harbor at the tip of Cape Cod that afternoon as Maxwell and I stood on the quarterdeck. The salted sea breeze tickled the tendrils of hair at my cheeks, and the waves lapped against the side of the ship.
“You think your family is still here?” I asked him.
“I don’t know, but this is where my father came and where my mam was heading when we were overtaken by Edward Zale fifteen years ago.” He looked down at me, his brown eyes filled with unquestioning love. “’Tis a long time. They might not be alive, or they might have moved on.”
“If that’s true, then someone will know the answers.”
As we boarded the launch, Maxwell held fast to his family Bible.
Before we left Boston, I had penned a letter to my grandfather with a postscript to Nanny, letting them know where I would be living. I spared Grandfather the details about Maxwell being an ex-pirate and simply told him I had married asuccessful merchant and was living in Boston. I apologized for leaving without warning and explained that I had gone to look for my mother and found her family. At the end, I had included an invitation for him to visit if he would like. Hawk had posted it for me, and I was already anxious about whether Grandfather would respond. Only time would tell if he would forgive me and we could move forward.
We were soon on a long wharf, walking toward the main thoroughfare in Provincetown. I was still wearing my wedding gown, though Maxwell had told me that as soon as we returned to Boston, we would find a home and I was to buy as many dresses as I wanted. I was pleased with this one—not only a gift, but the gown I’d worn to become his wife. It would always hold a special place in my heart.
Hawk went with us, as was his custom, and we entered the first business we found on Commercial Street, which was an inn.
The innkeeper eyed us with curiosity. But in our fine clothes and with a bodyguard, not to mention my husband holding a large Bible, he probably believed us to be trustworthy people of means, so he smiled pleasantly.
“How may I help ye?” he asked.
“I’m looking for a family by the name of MacDougal,” Maxwell said. “Liam or Alish MacDougal.”
“Aye,” the innkeeper said. “Liam MacDougal lives not far from here. Continue down Commercial Street and take yer first left onto Center Street. His home is the second on the right. The white house with the black shutters.”
“Thank you,” Maxwell said as he reached for my hand, and we walked out of the inn. It had become second nature to hold hands, to touch whenever we were in proximity to each other. I loved his physical touch. The reminder of his love and affection.
Commercial Street was narrow and full of businesses, most of them associated with the fishing industry that dominated the cape. The sound of the ocean crashing onto the nearby shore was another reminder of the daily lives of the cape’s inhabitants.
“I’ll wait in the tavern,” Hawk said as he stopped at the nearest public house and nodded for us to continue.
We took a left onto Center Street, which was narrower than Commercial Street and lined with quaint houses. The second on the right was a one-story white clapboard home with black shutters. It sat on the street, with no front yard.
“Are you ready?” I asked my husband as we paused on the road.
“I don’t know if they’ll even want to speak to me,” he said. “I’ve hurt both of them deeply.”
I squeezed his hand and smiled. “Even if they don’t, we have much to be thankful for.”
“Aye.” He returned my smile. “And they cannot be displeased with my choice of wife.”
I smiled as he knocked on the front door.
It opened a minute later, and a woman stood over the threshold. She appeared to be in her midforties, and she had the same beautiful brown eyes as Maxwell. She had to squint into the sun to look at us, but when she realized who was standing before her, she let out a cry of delight and threw herself into Maxwell’s arms.
“My son,” she said as she wept. “You’ve come home.”
