The After House (21 page)

When they got home, Livie was delighted with her new housemate, Scout. Remy wondered if they should change her name to something more feminine. They talked about it, but Scout she was, and Scout she remained.

Olivia was finally home, safe in the cottage. Remy took the time to explain what had happened. She didn’t like lying, so she told Olivia that Daddy and Priscilla had made some poor choices and would have to take a time-out.

Her daughter stood, worry creasing her furrowed brow. “Mommy, Evan can’t be alone.”

Remy assured her daughter that baby Evan would be safe. They would make sure he did not miss anything important. He would visit them, and they would keep him company.

Remy lay on the bed, hugging her for a good while longer than normal.

Olivia touched her mother’s bruised face with tender, baby hands. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all,” Remy assured her.

Remy left Olivia warm and drowsy and closed the door with a quiet click.

Olivia snuffled, then turned on her side, her eyes popping open. It wasn’t that she saw him. She just knew he was in the room.

“Is everyone in this blasted town psychic?” Eli asked from his spot.

Olivia sat up, causing Eli to scoot up her bookcase.

“I won’t hurt you,” she told him sadly. “I know it wasn’t you.”

“Ach, he’s a silly man, your pa. He’ll have plenty of time to think on all this nonsense.” Eli settled comfortably on her nightstand. He toyed with the nail polish. “Tell me, have you seen a little girl?”

“Stella?”

“No, I’m sure her name is not Stella. She answers to…Charlotte.” He became thoughtful, his eyes masses of swirling clouds. “There was a small boy. A newborn.”

Olivia swung her legs over the side of her bed and thought, then shook her head. “I can hear them sometimes, but I don’t see them.”

He jumped down eagerly. “Where, dear heart? Where do you hear them?”

Olivia pursed her lips. “I have to think.” She moved over to her dollhouse standing in the corner. Her grandmother
had just bought it when they moved into the house. “Sit here.” She patted the raspberry carpet. “Come closer.” Her finger touched her lips. “You have to be very quiet.”

Eli gingerly sat down next to the girl. “If you find them, I’ll never call you a hell-born babe—”

“Shhhh.” She closed her bright amber eyes. “Listen.”

It was so quiet in the room, Eli found his leg shaking as it used to do when he was impatient. He felt a gentle caress. The girl’s touch gave him a weird sort of peace. He rested his back against the wall, listening hard. It started with a faint rustling, then footsteps. Cocking his head, he quieted himself and shut out the groans and whispers that circulated throughout the house.

A reedy song floated on the air. He heard Olivia’s quick intake of breath, saw her alert eyes filled with wonder. She pointed to the empty space to the side of them, a smile playing around her upturned lips.

There was laughter. It started low but built up. Eli heard children’s voices. They were singing. Chills ran down his spine. He crouched and pressed his ear to a wall that existed to no one but him. He heard a baby cry.

“Thomas.” Tears tracked down his face as the memory of his son’s name came back with the gale force of a typhoon. The sounds of happiness floated on the ether. His heart seemed to melt in his chest.

Olivia turned her face to him. “Do you hear it?” she asked urgently. Pointing to where the singing was coming from, she told him, “Go to them.”

“I can’t.” He pressed his shoulder against a wall that wouldn’t budge. Olivia looked at the spot and shrugged.

“Just step over,” she told him. “There’s nothing there.”

Sweat broke out on Eli’s forehead. He heard a voice, a woman, calling the children to return. A sob caught in his throat at the familiar musical sound. It floated down to him, filling him, making his entire being quake with need. The voice receded, growing fainter.

“No, no, no. Don’t leave. Don’t leave yet,” he howled, all his pain and misery wrapped in that sound. “Sarah,” he cried. “Sarah, I came home, but you were gone. Where did you take them? I searched for you. I searched for all of you.”

There was only the echo of silence. “Sarah, don’t leave me.” He slid down, powerless against the wall separating him from his loved ones. He landed on the floor in a dejected heap.

Ever practical, Olivia said, “Perhaps you should try the police? They can be very helpful.”

Eli lay in a puddle of depression on the floor.

“Mister, Captain, you need to ask for help. When I can’t do something, I ask my mommy for help. Don’t you have anyone to ask?”

Eli shook his head sadly. “They’re all gone. I have no one left.”

“Everyone has someone. Even if they don’t know it, like my brother, Evan.”

Eli crawled into a sitting position. “I
had
somebody. But I was stupid and selfish and thought they would always be there. I didn’t care about what was important to them, and because of that, I lost them all.” Tears ran from his eyes.

Olivia nodded sagely. “Yes, it’s about those choices again.”

How did he ever think she was a terror?

“Like my dad. Mommy explained he made some poor choices.”

Eli almost laughed, but she was so adorably serious.

“Daddy and Priscilla are going away for a little while. Evan could be alone. But he won’t be. He’ll have me and my mommy. He won’t even realize he’s alone, I mean, without his mommy. Everybody has somebody. You just have to let them be with you.” Olivia was thoughtful for a minute. “Maybe you could go to the church and talk to the rector. He’s very nice.”

“Oh, I can just picture that,” he said with a little laugh. “Anyway, it’s not a church anymore. That Hugh fella turned it into a shrine to whaling.” Eli tapped his lips thoughtfully.

Olivia looked up, and he was gone.

t was darker than a tomb, and the snow covered the leaded glass, so that the church was filled with violet shadows. Eli entered tentatively, walking slowly down the aisles, his booted feet making no sound. The wind whistled through the eaves, leaving him unsettled. He glanced warily around, peering closely, his mouth moving as he read each display. There was a model of his ship—recreated from what, he could only guess—and also, in the artificially colored water, a giant sperm whale, caught in the ropes from the deadly harpoons. Whaleboats hung permanently on the frozen waves, and colorfully dressed sailors worked the lines.

His finger touched the mighty head of the embattled whale. Eli marveled at its majesty, the grace of its movements, the bigness of one of God’s creatures.

He whispered an apology. “We needed the oil. I didn’t understand about loss, you poor beast.”

Light shone on the scrimshaw display, and the whalebone gleamed in the muted moonlight.

He was drawn to the case. Reaching in, he touched a busk. His fingers found the familiar grooves and lettering.
Picking it up, he placed it against his lips, knowing the words, because they were scored on his heart.

“And the two shall become one flesh,” he whispered softly, tears prickling his eyes. He looked up and saw her beloved face frozen in a painted portrait. His chest tightened, and a sob escaped, as he cried, “Sarah.”

Cold Spring Harbor, 1841

ill you be taking the commission, or not, Eli? I can’t hold the post forever.”

“It’s been barely a week since I’m back.” Eli looked bleakly out of the plush offices of the Jones Brothers. Walter Jones stood facing the harbor. His brother John sat behind a large mahogany desk.

“Able Thompson’s been chomping at the bit for this bark,” Walter told him.

“I’ll not have him,” John said with a shake of his graying head.

“I lost my last ship,” Eli said bleakly. “I lost everything.”

“Not everything. You brought Falcon’s boy back. Some would call you a hero.”

Eli shrugged. “The doctors don’t have much hope for him. He’s barely alive. I’m no hero.” He shook his head.

“You have to move on with your life, Eli. What else can you do?”

Eli considered the bustling harbor in the distance. There was no reason not to take the job. With a shrug he
replied, “Aye, I’ll take it.” He placed his hat on his head to leave. “I’ll be ready to ship out in a fortnight.”

“Very good then.” Walter held out a hand.

Eli walked out into the late May sunshine. The crushed white shells in the street shone brightly. Horses and carriages lined Main Street. Coopers, chandlers, and taverns had all opened, enjoying the rich boom resulting from the Joneses’ whaling trade. It was crowded and noisy. Immigrants were joining the population, and houses were going up all along Spring Street. Eli looked out into the harbor. The bobbing mast of his new ship beckoned him. But his heart failed to find joy in the sea. The thought of shipping out left him flat. There was nothing to come home to.

Turning up his street, he walked toward his small white cottage. Gertie was outside, her pale blond hair plastered to her head. She was doing the wash. There was precious little of it for her to do anymore. She looked up, her face wet with perspiration, elbow deep in suds.

“I’ve a roast prepared for your dinner, sir.”

“I’m not hungry,” he told her flatly.

“You’re wasting away, you are, sir.” She clicked her tonged, then went back to her work.

Eli walked up the small hill toward the rose garden. Sarah had arranged the plants so that they bloomed in different colors, waving a welcome to the incoming ships. He climbed the stone steps and entered the cold confines of the house.

They were gone—taken by the cholera weeks before he came home. Gertie was the sole survivor. He cried
over the bare beds, the mattresses and linens burned in his own backyard. It came with the immigrants, the burgeoning population. The small town was unprepared for the epic growth. With horse manure in the streets, sanitation became a problem. It began in the spring, and soon half the population was affected. By winter it stole into his home, robbing him, leaving him more destitute than he could have imagined.

His son, Thomas, was first. Little Charlotte died in her mother’s embrace. Sarah was too sick to take care of them. They told him Sarah turned to the wall and closed her eyes. The whisper of his name was her last exhale. She died alone, without him. Knowing this ripped out his heart and soul, leaving him an empty shell. He recalled many of their arguments, his impatience, her complaints. She was afraid he would leave her alone with the children and the burden of bringing them up without a father. He didn’t respect her needs. He risked his life selfishly, without considering the outcome for her. She feared his death, the thought of their separation, leaving her alone to face an endless dry desert of life without him.