Five Sisters (12 page)

She used to dream that perhaps one day they'd fall in love, get married, and have children, but that dream had long since fled from her mind. He could never love her.

No matter what anybody said she knew what the truth was. She knew that if he were to ever marry a girl by the name of St. James, it would be her sister.
Never her.
Never Emy.

Curled up in Charlie's chair, with a sweater around her shoulders and her hair tied back, Sara was contently reading without a care in the world. She could hear the sailors whistling in the distance, as they worked, and the ever so silent "tick-tock" of the clock upon the desk.

With a creak, the door of the office opened and Charlie entered. His graying, light brown hair was rather floppy and rumpled and the drab navy sweater he wore had a hole on the sleeve.

Sara looked up, "'Afternoon, Charlie. Am I in your way?"

"No, no," he shook his head, and held up a role of parchment, "I just wanted to put this away."

"What is it?"

"A map."

"Can I see it?"

Charlie nodded and walked up behind her, removing the string that held the map in a role and spreading the paper out upon the desk in front of Sara. The parchment was old and withered, and the ink was fading, but it still served as a rather reliable map.

Charlie's hand rested on Sara's shoulder as he pointed to a dot on the left side of the map, "There's Laraford. And here's Brighton," he pointed to a dot on the opposite side of the paper, "So we . . ." his finger trailed along a large open space Sara knew must be the ocean, "Are somewhere around here."

"How long do you think it will take to get there?"

"Depends on the weather," Charlie replied, "But I'm expecting us to arrive in around two months.
Perhaps a little longer."

Sara nodded.

"Why?" Charlie grinned, "Are you tired of life on the sea already?"

"Oh no, no, no," Sara replied, smiling back, "I love it here."

Charlie raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I do! Really, I do!" Sara assured, "I'll admit that it took a little while to get used to, but I love it here now. I could live here forever if I had to."

"And how are your sisters faring?"

"Well . . . ."

Charlie laughed.

"No, it's not so bad," Sara grinned, "I think Gail's doing fantastically. She loves acting like the little pirate and climbing up to the crow's nest and fishing as if she's one of the sailors. But that's no surprise to you, I suppose."

Charlie shook his head, and smiled.

"And Nora's doing alright as well, I think. But Mary . . . Well, Mary's just not used to being so confined in one space. She misses Ethan terribly too, so that makes it harder. And I believe Emy would rather be on land by now as well. She likes the stability of a firm ground beneath her feet, not the uncertain ocean. She misses having her privacy too, I think, because it's not so easy to be alone on a ship with sixteen sailors, five girls, and one captain, is it?"

"No, it's not," Charlie agreed, picking up the map, rolling it back up, and tying it with string.

"You've got a bit of a hole there, haven't you?" Sara said with a small grin, pointing at the sleeve of Charlie's sweater.

"Yes, I suppose I have," Charlie agreed, scratching his head.

"If you like, I could mend it for you."

"Oh you don't have to do that."

"No, really.
I'd like too. It'll give me something to do, and it's no trouble at all. I could . . ."

But Sara wasn't able to continue, because at that moment the door opened and with a gust of wind a white-faced Nora entered.

"I'm sorry if I've interrupted anything," she said quickly, "But Mary is, er . . . Well, she's not feeling so well and she wants to see you Sara."

"Is it bad?" Charlie questioned.

"No," Nora shook her head, "No, it's not very bad, I can assure you, Charlie. She's just . . . She's got a bit of a headache, is all."

Sara stood up and followed Nora downstairs and into the girls' room. Emy and Gail were already sitting beside Mary's bed. A lump beneath the blankets and a mass of dark curls was all Sara could see of Mary.

"She won't tell us what's wrong," Nora explained, "She just keeps mumbling about Ethan and marriage and saying she wants to see you, Sara."

Sara nodded, "Alright. I'll take care of it. You girls go on upstairs, alright?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Quite sure," Sara replied, "She'll be fine. Don't worry."

Her three younger sisters walked slowly and rather unwillingly out of the room and shut the door behind them, leaving the room silent enough that Sara could hear soft, muffled sobs coming from Mary's bed.

She walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, and then brushed a few ringlets out of Mary's face. Her sister's eyes were red and tear-stained and she looked more miserable than Sara had seen her in years.

"What's wrong?" Sara asked, "Nora said you weren't feeling well. Are you ill?"

Mary shook her head and mumbled, "No."

"Then what's the matter?"

"I don't know what I was thinking," Mary weeped, "I don't know why I did it."

"Did what?"

"I'm such a fool, Sara. I didn't even think before I answered him."

"Are you talking about Ethan?"

"He probably doesn't even love me," Mary murmured, "He probably doesn't even want to marry me."

"What are you talking about? He's mad about you, Mary! He's completely and utterly in love with you and nothing, not even time, is going to change that."

"No," Mary sobbed, "No. He doesn't. He only thinks he does because he's caught up in lust and attraction and he's feeling pressured by his parents to get married and start a family. But he doesn't really love me."

"Why in the world would you think that?"

"Because it's true," Mary murmured, "And do you know what else I've realized? I don't love him either."

"Mary!" Sara gasped, "I don't know what's gotten in to you but you're talking like a mad woman."

"No, I'm not. I'm only saying what's true. I don't love him," Mary sighed, "I don't love Ethan Lindsey and it's about time I realized that. I only thought I loved him because he seemed so perfect. He was so kind and handsome and smart, that I fooled myself into thinking that we were in love. And when he asked me to marry him, I replied that I would without evening thinking on it. I felt like if I didn't I'd never have the chance to get married again. I'm already twenty-one years old, and it's not everyday that you meet a man as wonderful as Ethan. But it was horrible of me to accept his proposal when I don't even love him."

"You're just getting cold feet, Mary," Sara assured, "You
do
love Ethan, and he
does
love you. You most certainly were not a fool to accept his proposal. Almost all brides start to regret their decision and doubt themselves at some point or another before the wedding. You'll get over it in a few days. It'll just take a little time for you to see that you and Ethan really are meant to be together."

"You don't understand, Sara," Mary wailed, "This isn't a phase! I don't love Ethan and I don't want to marry him and I was been a terrible, terrible fool to ever say yes in the first place. Oh whatever am I going to do?"

Sara paused for a moment before deciding, "You're going to get some rest and we'll sort this all out later, alright?"

"But Sara I . . ."

"You're not feeling well, Mary, and you need to clear your head. Tomorrow I'm sure you'll forget all about this. But for now why don't you get some sleep?"

Mary sighed, but finally agreed, and Sara left her alone to sort out her thoughts.

When Sara returned to Charlie's office she found him sitting at his desk looking over a few papers. He wore a different shirt and his navy sweater was slung over the back of his chair.

As soon as he saw Sara he asked, "Is Mary alright?"

"Yes, yes," Sara nodded, "She's fine. She's just a bit . . . a bit troubled in her thoughts at the moment. But she'll be alright soon, I think."

"I'm glad," said Charlie. He then held up the sweater, "Since you seemed rather willing to mend that hole, I thought . . ."

"Oh yes," Sara took the sweater, "I'd love to."

Because the hole was rather large, it couldn't simply be stitched back together but would need to be repaired with a patch. Sara fetched her sewing supplies as well as a spare piece of plaid flannel fabric from downstairs and then returned to Charlie's office, taking a seat on the old sofa. It, too, had many holes, and springs were sticking out at random spots. There were several large coffee stains upon it as well, and Sara could see that Charlie was a bit embarrassed of the battered old sofa, but Sara made sure to pay it no mind. She sat down and began to sew the flannel over the hole in the sweater's sleeve.

Although she tried to tell herself that she was right, and that Mary really did love Ethan, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps everything Mary had said was true. She
had
made some great points.

Before Ethan ever came along, Mary was always very desperate to meet someone and fall in love and get married. She felt that if she didn't find someone soon, she'd grow old alone and would become an old maid. So when she met Ethan, who was seemingly perfect- polite, amiable, attractive, wealthy, and intelligent- she and her sisters all knew he had to be the one. Perhaps Mary had forced herself to love him. Perhaps she only said yes because she knew that marrying into a family like the Lindseys would help her and her sisters live a more comfortable life, free of money worries.

"Something troubling you, Sara?"

Sara looked up, startled, "No, er . . . Nothing."

"Are you sure? You look rather occupied in your thoughts," Charlie commented.

"Quite sure," Sara nodded, "But thank you."

She returned to her sewing and Charlie went back to his papers, but no matter how hard Sara tried she just couldn't concentrate on the sweater. Her mind kept drifting off to Mary, causing her to forget about her work and prick herself in the finger several times with her needle.

Finally, Sara stopped and set down the sweater. She used a spare piece of plaid flannel to wrap around her finger and stop the bleeding she'd caused from pricking it so many times.

"Charlie?" she said, "Can I ask you something?"

Charlie set down his papers and turned his seat around to face her, "Of course."

"I . . . Well, I was just wondering if . . ."

"What is it?"

"How exactly do you know if you're in love?"

Charlie scratched his head, "I don't suppose there is any certain way to know. I think it's just a feeling."

"But isn't there any way to know for sure?"

"If there is, I don't know of it," Charlie replied.

Sara sat quietly for a few moments, pondering his words, before asking, "Then how do you know when it's right to marry someone?"

Charlie grinned, "You're really asking the wrong man, my dear. But hmm . . . I suppose it starts with love, of course. You must love the person you're planning on marrying. But that's not all. You must also be friends with them. You'll be spending every day with this person for the rest of your life, so you really need to be friends and enjoy each other's company. It's most certainly not all about romance. Then you also need to be comfortable living with this person, I suppose. So if they have little personal habits that irritate and annoy you, then you must realize that you'll be living with those irksome pet peeves for the rest of you life. And, well, that's about it, I think. Of course, I'm not an expert on the subject, but . . ." He looked up suddenly, "May I question why you're asking? Do . . . Do you think
you're
in love, Sara?"