“You and Theo get the fish your mother wants, and perhaps bread and cheese. I think a cold supper of cheese and fruit might suit us all quite well this evening.”
“I’ll see what I can find, Papa.”
Ward smiled as Lucy started to walk into the storage room so she could retrieve her hat and a basket from the kitchen.
“Take your time, Luce,” he said. “The fresh air will do you good. If you find a treat for you and Theo, enjoy it.”
“Thank you, Papa.” Lucy kissed her father’s cheek, then rushed to the kitchen, where Theo attempted to wiggle awayfrom their mother while she made a valiant effort to subdue his hair with her dampened hands.
“I’ll wear my hat, Mama,” Theo said, snatching his straw hat off the hook by the door and yanking it on. The little boy detested wearing a hat and avoided it whenever possible. The fact that he settled it on his head without being told to was assurance he was eager to go on the errand.
Lucy hid a smile and pulled on her market bonnet. The blue linen fabric of the hat was made from the same fabric as the dress she wore, although she hadn’t intentionally planned for them to match today. The market bonnet sat low on her forehead, with a firm brim that shaded her eyes and held its shape to the crown of her head, where the fabric was softly gathered and puffed out, allowing it to rest comfortably over the hair she had pinned up upon rising that morning. She especially liked the twisted caul on the bonnet that gave it a bit of an artistic look.
She tied a knot with the bonnet’s ribbons at the back of her head beneath her upswept hair, then reached for the basket on the kitchen’s square table.
“Papa said to get bread and cheese for a cold supper, along with fish for dinner. Is there anything else you would like us to purchase, Mama?” Lucy asked, watching as her mother rolled out crust for a tart. Theo had been sent out first thing that morning to pick the ripe strawberries in their garden, and had been pleased to find enough to make one of their favorite summer sweets.
“If Mary Thatcher is there, see about purchasing some of her blueberries. They are simply the best,” Cleta said, brushing her forehead on her shoulder, then returning her attention to the crust.
“I’ll see what I can find, Mama.” Lucy gave her mother an impetuous hug, kissed her soft cheek, and then she and Theo hurried out the back door.
Theo skipped along beside Lucy as she tugged on her gloves while they walked around to the front of the building, and then they headed toward the market located near the wharf.
Lucy kept alert as they walked toward the market, listening to Theo chatter about everything from the bug he had found on a cabbage when he was picking strawberries, to a cloud that looked like a heart.
They had just crossed a street when a beggar held up a hand from his seat leaning against the bricks of a shop. A filthy piece of cloth covered where his legs should have been. Pity seared through Lucy, and she dug into her pocket, retrieving a coin and giving it to the man with a gentle smile. A tattered hat shaded his face, but he nodded at her, and she heard a whisper of “Bless you, miss” before she latched onto Theo’s hand and they continued on their way.
The nearer they drew to the wharf, the number of people out and about increased. The air was thick with the odors of unwashed bodies, tar, wet wood, fish, and flowers, the last of which seemed an odd contribution to the otherwise rather repugnant blending of scents. Several people had buckets overflowing with freshly cut flowers, adding color and a pleasant fragrance to the day.
Just as Lucy was about to step toward the first stall, where flowers spilled onto the cobblestones, she was jostled from the side. She couldn’t be certain, but it almost felt as if the man dressed in buckskin who hastened away from them had tried to dip his hand into her pocket.
Surely, she must be mistaken. Shaken by the thought of anyone trying to steal the contents of her pockets, particularlythe locket, she subtly turned so the basket she carried blocked her hand from view and felt to make sure it was still there.
Relieved to realize nothing was missing, she shifted her basket and held it close so it would prevent any further attempts at thievery.
She and Theo wandered through a stall of flowers and stopped to admire the radishes in the next booth. The Carlsons had a second crop of radishes coming on in their garden, although, as of yet, none were ripe. Lucy chose a large bunch, paid the farmer who was selling them, and added them to her basket.
Just as she turned to move to the next stall, another man jostled into her and cast her such a lecherous look, she nearly tripped over a crate full of summer apples.
“My stars!” she uttered, grasping Theo’s shoulder to regain her balance.
Her brother looked back at her with a curious expression on his face, unaware of the man who had, she was certain, bumped into her intentionally. At least she held the basket pressed against her pocket. She reached down to make sure the locket was still secured there. Assured it was, she and Theo continued wandering through the stalls.
Although there were many people gathered to shop in the market stalls, it wasn’t busy enough to warrant the number of people who bumped into her. When one old woman, with only one blackened tooth in her mouth, grabbed onto Lucy’s arm, Lucy wanted to run screaming down the street.
“Might you spare something for me, dearie?” the woman asked in a voice with a thick Irish accent.
Lucy gave the woman one of the sweet buns she had purchased and smiled at her. “Enjoy.”
“Oh, I will, dearie. Thanks be to ye.” The woman turned and teetered off into the crowd.
Nerves frayed, Lucy felt a need for air and space that wasn’t crowded. She took Theo’s hand and pointed toward the wharf.
“Let’s go sit on that bench by the water, Theo. We’ll share the bread knot I purchased from Mrs. Schneider and rest for a minute.” Lucy hurried out of the stalls, but had only taken three steps when she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. A man fell in step with her, and she looked up to see a fellow dressed in the clothing of a shopkeeper. The lines around his eyes and his weathered face made it hard for her to determine his age, although the way he moved seemed youthful.
“Miss Carlson, might I interest you in a cup of sassafras tea?” the man asked quietly, stepping closer to her. “My friend Patsy mentioned it was a particular favorite of yours.”
“Patsy would know,” Lucy said, forcing herself to speak despite the fact that her mouth had gone dry and she found it hard to breathe. Sassafras was the code word Martha had chosen for her. Lucy feared giving the locket to the wrong person. What if this man were a spy out to trick her? What if he had nefarious schemes in mind?
