Toward the Sunrise (13 page)

M
AY
1898

Ashton surveyed the array of goods mounded on the kitchen table, wondering how he was going to get them all inside the modest packing box.

“What’s this?” his father asked, picking up a brown bottle and holding it to the window in a vain attempt to see inside.

“It’s a blend of lemon and eucalyptus oil,” Ashton replied. “When dabbed on the wrists, it is supposed to act as an insect repellent.”

“Clever.” His father replaced the bottle alongside the broad-brimmed hat and rain gear. Compared to the whimsical gifts Ashton had given Julia over the years, this final box was sadly pedestrian, filled with practical items a woman should have as she ventured out into a mountainside jungle. Julia’s last letter had said she’d accepted a position in Malaya, a British colony in the South China Sea. An Anglican mission group was establishing a number of medical clinics throughout the Malayan islands, and they were eager for Julia to join them. She would leave the week following graduation.

She had invited him to her graduation, of course. She and her twenty-three classmates would accept their medical degrees in two weeks. Ashton would send a gift but could not bring himself to attend the ceremony.

A clean break was best. He would probably dream and wonder about the adventures of Dr. Julia Broeder for the rest of his life, but it would be from a distance.

“Use the mosquito netting to protect the eucalyptus oil,” his father suggested. “If this bottle breaks, she’ll have a stinky mess on her hands.”

Ashton smiled as he folded the mosquito netting into thirds then rolled up the bottle of oil. His father could have no idea what
stinky
meant until he’d lived in a goat barn for a week. He used another swath of mosquito netting to line the bottom of the box and then began laying in the compass, the Bible written in three languages, and the broad-brimmed hat that could be folded and rolled for easy transport. His father helped assemble the box, but Ashton turned
away to prepare the one deeply personal item he didn’t want his father to see.

It was his map of the travels of Marco Polo, taken down from his office wall just this morning. For years it had hung alongside pictures of Vandermark properties all over the world. On a wall of expensive etchings commissioned by a millionaire, Ashton’s one piece of art was this humble map taken from a book he’d loved as a boy.

Julia shared his love of Marco Polo, and he didn’t really need this map anymore. It was already engraved on his soul for all time, and he liked the idea of Julia having it with her as she ventured forth into the world.

He slid the map into a wooden tube, the quiet rasp barely audible over the normal city noises drifting in from the open kitchen window. Some girls played hopscotch in the alley, a vendor hawked German sausages, and the steady clomping of horse hooves and carriage wheels never seemed to stop. The mountains of Malaya seemed like another world. He tucked the tube deep into the box where his father would not see.

“Why are you giving her your Marco Polo map?” his father asked quietly.

Ashton’s shoulders sagged. He didn’t like hiding things from his father, but this was too painful to discuss. “It’s nothing, Dad. Just something I want her to have.”

His father took the tube from the box, wiggling the map out and unrolling it. The edges were worn with age, its faded lines as familiar as his own face.

“I remember when you used to disappear into your room with that book about Marco Polo,” his father said. “I felt bad that you were an only child and had to find escape in books rather than having a brother or sister to play with. Especially after your mama got so sick, I wished you’d had someone—”

“Dad, I was fine.”

His father’s eyes lightened with a spark of humor. “It was probably a blessing to have only one child. It spared me the sin of having a favorite,” he said with a wink. “Are you going to deliver the box in person? I’m sure Miss Julia would welcome your company should you attend her graduation.”

“No, my life is here now.” Ashton rolled up the map again and placed the tube in the box.

“Ash . . . I know what that map means to you,” his father said, his voice serious again. “It is your every boyhood hope and dream. And if you are giving it to a girl, that means she is someone very important to you. You would not give this map away lightly.”

He couldn’t deny it. Not that he intended to do anything about it. Julia was free of encumbrances and could do with her life as she wished. He had obligations. “I don’t think Julia will spend the rest of her life overseas.” The words spilled out before he could stop them. “She may come back in ten or twenty years, and then perhaps we can have some sort of life together. This isn’t the right time for me to go hopping off to Malaya.”

His father drifted to the open kitchen window to stare outside. “I may not have been the world’s best accountant or the perfect husband, but I am confident I did a good job raising my son. Above all, I wanted to make sure you had a strong foundation of faith and intelligence, but I also hoped you’d be able to chase those high-flying dreams of yours. I hoped you’d someday become a good husband and father. I wanted you to grow straight and tall and strong enough to withstand the storms that inevitably come into any man’s life.” He turned to face Ashton, a wistful smile on his face. “After everything we have been through together, it would be a shame if all I raised was a nursemaid for my old age.”

Ashton rocked back on his heels. “I don’t think of you like that—”

“Ash, the years go by quickly. I don’t think you fully understand that yet. Don’t wait ten or twenty years for this girl to come home. Trust me, I will be fine. I’m fifty-eight years old and have more friends than most men my age. The barbershop quartet meets three times a week. I play gin rummy twice a week—”

“You’ve only got one son.”

“Yes, and I raised him to go after what he wants in life.” Tears pooled in his father’s eyes, but he was smiling. “Go find that girl while you are both still young. You’ll never regret it.”

Ashton turned away and braced himself with the back of a kitchen chair. He hadn’t expected this, and it hit him hard. He squeezed his eyes shut. If ever he doubted he had been raised by a brilliant, kind, and generous man, those doubts were now blasted to pieces. A bittersweet pain bloomed in his chest. This might be the happiest, saddest moment of his life. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but Ashton had his father’s blessing to follow his heart.

In response to Ashton’s urgent message, Nickolaas Vandermark breezed into his office the following afternoon, a small boy at his side.

“Good morning, Mr. Carlyle!” Nickolaas Vandermark boomed, a surprising amount of energy in the elderly man’s voice. Ever since Ashton’s triumph with the gutta-percha contracts last autumn, Ashton’s star had been rising high in the corporation. His success in getting Julia back into college had solidified his position. It didn’t mean the Vandermark patriarch was going to agree to his audacious request, but at least he was in a decent negotiating position.

“Have you met my great-grandson, Pieter?” Mr. Vandermark asked. The boy was probably eight or nine years old and seemed oddly pale, sickly, and sullen. “Stand up straight and greet Mr. Carlyle,” the elder Vandermark instructed.

The boy complied with barely concealed anxiety and then Nickolaas barreled ahead. “Pieter and I are headed to England to see Stonehenge. Won’t that be fun, lad?” He gave the boy’s shoulder a bit of a shake.

The boy mumbled something too quiet to hear and seemed to shrink even more. Ashton supposed there were problems and responsibilities being born into a family of such wealth, but Pieter seemed abnormally timid. It was hard to envision such a shy lad growing up to assume command of this mighty shipping empire. Perhaps that was why old Mr. Vandermark seemed to be taking him under his wing on his world travels.

“We may be gone for several months,” Nickolaas continued. “While I am gone, all business is to be funneled through my grandson. You have his address and telegraph codes in Germany.”

Ashton tried not to grimace. Quentin Vandermark had an even worse reputation than Nickolaas for grouchiness. “Very good, sir.”

“Now, what’s this I hear about a new proposal?” Nickolaas asked.

Ashton rounded the desk to stand before the bank of engravings of Vandermark properties. They ranged from Ceylon in India, Cape Town in Africa, and scattered islands throughout the Malayan kingdom.

“The gutta-percha deal I orchestrated last fall happened only because I’ve always had a curiosity about life in the Far East. I knew the rubber plantations were beginning to struggle around the world,
but I believed the Vandermark plantations would profit by shifting our operations toward gutta-percha. It worked.”

A spark of curiosity gleamed in the old man’s eyes. “And . . . ?”

“And I’d like to take a more active part in your overseas operations. There is only so much I can deduce from an office in Manhattan. I’d like to become an overseas agent for the Vandermark investments in Asia and Africa, with a base in Kuala Lumpur in Malaya.”

He seemed to have caught Nickolaas Vandermark by surprise. “Have you ever
been
to Malaya?” the man asked. “It is hot, putrid, and the white man’s grave. I’ve never been able to pay someone enough to be willing to do it.”

Ashton’s heartbeat kicked up tempo. “I’d do it,” he said, and for once in his life, he and Nickolaas Vandermark came to a quick and speedy agreement.

Julia scanned the crowd assembled in the college auditorium but couldn’t find Emil or Claudia among the guests. Emil had warned her they might not be able to attend her graduation. Claudia was large with child, and with the twins not even a year old, it was asking a lot for them to travel to Philadelphia. She hadn’t really expected them to come, but it would have been nice to have someone here for her. Everyone else seemed to have parents, siblings, or friends to watch them cross the stage to accept their diploma from Dean Kreutzer.

It didn’t matter. She straightened her shoulders and adjusted the position of the square mortarboard on her head, its silky tassel swinging alongside her cheek. This was
really
happening. The groundskeeper’s daughter from a rural village too small to be on most maps was about to be formally declared a physician within the space of a few seconds.

Her graduation robes swished as she crossed the stage. She smiled like a maniac, still having trouble believing this day had finally come. Even Dean Kreutzer’s famously austere face brightened a bit as she shook Julia’s right hand and pressed the diploma into her left.

“Bon voyage,” Dean Kreutzer said with a tip of her head.

“Thank you, ma’am.” A smattering of applause followed as she crossed to the far end of the stage and descended the three steps. She stood alongside the other recent graduates as the remaining women accepted their diplomas.

What a long journey they had been through together. Within the next few weeks, most of them would be boarding ships or heading out west to begin their new lives. It was doubtful she would ever see any of them again.

From here on out, her life was likely to be filled with good-byes. The thought hurt, but this was the path she had chosen for herself. Without warning, the memory of Ashton’s voice popped into her mind. “You’ve chosen a steep and daring path,” he had said. “No matter how hard, how grueling, how intimidating . . . you are going to change the world wherever you go. Don’t give up now.”

The memory of his words warmed her. As soon as the ceremony concluded, she took off the mortarboard and headed outdoors, where sunlight flooded the courtyard garden. Most of the new graduates stood alongside parents or other family members, some of them lining up for the photographer who was taking portraits at the far end of the garden. These things were always so awkward, but she wanted the chance to say good-bye to everyone.

“Congratulations, Dr. Broeder.”

She whirled around. “Ashton! You came!”

“Of course I came. A week of hard labor in a goat barn ought to at least earn me a spot at your graduation.”