Beside Two Rivers (37 page)
Abused and starved, she kept to herself, and barely spoke to anyone, until a good-looking young man came down the lane that bordered the field she worked in. The wheat had been scythed and she, along with other able bodies, stood in a line to gather the sheaves into bundles. He leaned on the fence rail and watched her. The next day, he offered her water from his canteen. On the third day, he approached her during her ten-minute rest time, sat beside her and told her his likes and dislikes.
“I hate the smell of wheat,” he told her. “It makes me sneeze.” She remembered how his comment had made her giggle. “I’m a net maker, but I hate eating fish. Don’t like the bones.”
“What
do
you like?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“Bread and butter … and pretty girls like you.”
She had hidden her face in the sleeve of her dress, for she felt the burn of a blush rush over her.
By the fourth day, he suggested she leave with him. “I live in Bassets Cove, not far from here,” he told her. “It’s a beautiful place. The sea air is good for one’s health, you know. I am alone. You are alone. I could use a wife.”
Sarah stood and brushed the bits of chaff off her dress. “You could not possibly want me.”
“Why not? You’re very pretty, Sarah. And I like the way you think.”
“Hmm, haven’t you noticed my way of walking?”
“Yes, what of it?”
“I am crippled.” She leaned down, emphasizing the words.
He jumped up and put his hands on her shoulders. “I do not care. Marry me.”
He had been the first man to ask, the first not to care about her
imperfection
. He was a means of escape and the start of a new life, a net maker by trade. She reasoned he would protect her, take care of her, and she understood they would never rise above a humble existence. If not Jamie, who on God’s green earth would have her?
“Well,” she had told him while looking into his blue eyes, “I suppose the Lord has brought us together. You need a wife, and I need a protector. I accept you as you are, not a rich man, if you will accept me as I am—a cripple.”
She never forgot the expression on Jamie’s face, how his eyes lit up as he gazed into hers. “You may limp, Sarah, but you are healthy. You and I shall not be alone. Not for the rest of our lives. We will have lots of children and grow very old together. And I shall become a wealthy man one day. You will see.” And he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
Inside the little cottage, life seemed abundant. Jamie wove the finest nets and mended others for the local fishermen. There was food on the table and rent paid most of the time. But after only a few months wed, his lack of affection, his never saying he loved her, began to disappoint Sarah. She never mentioned it to him, deciding she would sacrifice romance for a roof over her head, food in her belly, and companionship.
And so, at age seventeen, she had left the wheat fields, with him strolling alongside her as the sun went down. Married nearly six months, she now found herself alone in the world again.
She came to the little church that overlooked the sea. Sunlight glimmered in the windows. But the gray stone gave it a cold appearance. She stepped over the thick grass, and drew near Jamie’s marker, a small, narrow stone with his name and date. She stood in front of it and sighed, while her cloak fanned behind her in the wind.
“You did not kiss me good-bye, Jamie. You spoke not a word to me, but rushed out
the door without a second thought. How I wish you had listened when I warned you not to go. But it was not your way. You showed little attention to my pleas. You made it clear your business was your own and I need not be concerned, only be happy when you would return home with a sack full of goods. I shall miss you.”
She closed her eyes, spoke a prayer for his soul, and moved on. Once she reached the crossroads, she headed south along the coastal road, and tried not to think of how hungry she was. Her last full meal was the night Jamie left to plunder the shipwreck. She thought about how he had gulped down the humble potato stew, grabbed his hat, and rushed out the door at the urging of his mates.
The bag slipped in Sarah’s arms. She pulled it up, held it tighter, and glanced back. Leaving the village and the blue cove caused a wave of sadness to ripple through her. She wished some of her long-time neighbors, besides Mercy, had followed, begged her to stay, urged her not to go, and gave her all the reasons why, offered her work, some kind of position to keep her from starving. Then she hoped to see a wagon or coach heading in her direction. But the road remained lonely and windswept.
She was dressed in a homespun dress open at the front, and her beige striped petticoat fluttered about her slim legs. The hem was a bit tattered and soiled from wear. Her straw hat lay between her shoulder blades. The blue ribbon, faded gray, looped around her throat. No point wearing it upon her head, for the wind would blow it off or worsen the wear on the brim.
Six miles later, she set the sack down on the roadside, then gathered her hair in her hands and twisted it into a braid. Her dress felt tight against her waist. She loosened the stays before going on.
A half-mile further, misty sunbeams shot through the clouds and plunged toward earth and sea. Sarah gazed with awe at the heaven-like spears and the distant patches of blue. For a moment, it raised her soul and soothed the pain that lingered in her heart.
She watched sparrows dart across the sky and land afar off. Then she moved on down the sandy road. This time she strove to walk with ladylike grace. But this proved, as it had many times before, a task too difficult and wearisome to do.
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