Five Sisters (3 page)

Two weeks after that lovely day in the park, Mary and her sisters bid the Lindsey boys goodbye. Ethan and Brook, dressed in their best suits and laden with heavy suitcases and trunks, boarded a rather large cruise liner where they would each be staying in a standard suite. With luxury and speed the ship would cross the wide, blue ocean, transporting the men to Brighton in only two short weeks.

*****

Nora, Emy, and Gail were all incredibly excited for the journey, for they were under the impression that they would soon be on a giant cruise liner just like Ethan and Brook. They believed they would be dining on a ship fit for royals and arriving in Brighton in no time at all. But unfortunately, their imaginations had run away with them. Only Mary and Sara understood how little money they had when compared with the Lindseys and how difficult it was to find a room on a cruise liner in such little notice. In truth, they had no idea how they were ever going to get to Brighton.

Mary thought of asking Mr. and Mrs. Lindsey for the money, since they had so much to spare, but Sara quickly dismissed the idea. They'd already taken the Lindsey's charity by accepting the offer to live in their house for the next few years, and Sara felt that if they were to retain any pride at all that they mustn't accept more money.

Although she stood firmly by her decision, that night Sara couldn't sleep a wink. With so little money and so little opportunity, she began to wonder if they'd ever reach Brighton.

*****

"But we'll stay anywhere on board!" Sara pleaded, "It doesn't matter where. We don't need anything nice. Just give us a few cots in the boiler room and we'll be fine, I swear!"

"I'm sorry, miss, but I've told you once and I'll tell you again- There is absolutely
no
room left on the ship. No matter
how
much money you have or
how
long you stand here and beg
,
you aren't getting on the ship. Period!" screamed the secretary, stamping her foot upon the floor. She was fuming by now and quite sick of seeing Sara St. James in her office everyday, asking if there was any way she and her sisters could board one of the cruise liners in the marina the secretary worked for. It simply could not be done. Each and every room was accounted for and there wasn't a room left to spare.

"But what if we just live on one of the little lifeboats? No one would ever even see us!
Unless the ship started to sink, of course . . . .
Oh please, ma'am! Please! We'll do anything! We just need to get to Brighton!"

"There's nothing you can do! There just isn't any room left!"

"Not even a cupboard? Because I swear if you'd let us try . . ."

"Enough!"

"We could work! We could work on board, in the kitchen or something. We could be maids! We're really very hard workers, honest! We'll do anything you ask!"

"I'm asking you to leave!"

"Oh, but please, ma'am!
Isn't there anything?

"Nothing!"

Located on the coastline, in a marina filled with bobbing ships, the secretary's office was surrounded by the sounds and smells of the sea. Through the open window, one could view the pale blue sky and navy waters, as well as entering and departing ships. Seagulls, darting by with their snow white feathers, squalled and shrieked as they passed and the salty ocean air rushed into the building with every gust of wind.

The office was nearly empty, with only Sara, the young secretary, and a man sitting near the back of the room as its occupants. The man, it should be said, had been watching the animated conversation for some time now. He couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the poor girl.

"Please, ma'am!"

"There isn't anything we can do, Miss St. James."

The man jumped, as though startled, when he heard the name. Long ago, when he was just a schoolboy, his closest friend had gone by the name St. James. With wide, curious eyes he watched the girl.

"Now get out of this office now!" shouted the secretary, getting to her feet, "Get out of my sight and I don't ever,
ever
want to see you in here again! Do I make myself clear?"

Sara sighed, "Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you," the secretary said calmly, regaining her composure and sitting back down, 'I wish you and your sisters the best of luck. Goodbye."

Sara's head hung low as she walked out of the office, "Goodbye."

The man watched her exit with a frown, biting his lip unsurely. She looked so familiar, and yet . . . . No, she couldn't be. She just couldn't be. But how could he ever know unless he asked? If he didn't go after her now they may never meet again.

Although he had some business to go over with the secretary about his ship, he decided quickly that it could wait a few moments longer. Without hesitation, the man jumped to his feet and ran out the door and down the cobblestone lane, looking all around him as he did so for a glimpse of the girl, but having no success. How far could she have gone in just a few moments? Slowing his pace to a fast walk, he looked down both sides of the lane, but still she couldn't be seen.

He was just about to give up hope and head back to the office when he saw a green skirt, her green skirt, disappear around the corner.

"Miss!
Miss!" he called after her, but she must not have known he was talking to her because she didn't turn around and continued walking quietly.

"Miss!" he cried louder.

She finally heard and stopped, turning to face him, "Yes?"

"I . . . er . . ." he stammered, not knowing what he'd meant to say to her, "I heard what you were saying at the Marina Office. I'm very sorry you weren't able to find room aboard one of the ships." That wasn't exactly what he'd hoped, but at least it served as an introduction.

"Oh, well, thanks," she replied unsurely, wondering why this strange man had stopped her just to say that.

"Your . . . er . . . your name is St. James, isn't it?"

She nodded, "It is."

"You wouldn't happen to have known a man by the name of Roy St. James, would you?"

"Why yes," Sara nodded, rather taken back, "He was my father, but he . . ."

" .
. . but he died two years ago," the man finished for her, "Of scarlet fever.
With his wife Amelia."

Sara's eyes widened, "How do you know all that?"

"I was a good friend of your father's. We went to school together. I, er . . . I've met you several times before, but it was so long ago I doubt you'll remember. You couldn't have been more than six or seven years old," said the man, holding out a hand, "My name is Charlie Wilkie."

Sara shook his hand, all the while taking in his appearance with a careful eye, trying to remember if she recalled meeting him as a child.

Obviously, if Charlie had gone to school with her father, they must be the same age. So Sara quickly concluded that he must have thirty-nine years behind him, or perhaps even forty. He stood quite tall at about six feet and was rather thin; the shabby clothing he wore hung loose on his small frame. He wore his hair a bit longer than
most older
men, but Sara figured he had a right to since he hadn't lost any of it yet. It was a light brown color, but streaked with silver strands and fell down on his forehead above eyes so green they sparkled like emeralds. But although his eyes were quite striking, Sara also thought they had a tired look about them. Rimmed in darkness, it was as if they hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before. Wrinkles were visible on his forehead and around his eyes, making him seem even older than he really was.

He dressed very casually, wearing a pair of wrinkled tan trousers, an old crimson sweater, a red plaid flannel shirt, rubber Wellies, and a wool newsboy cap. It was quite obvious to her from his clothing that he worked as a sailor rather than a lawyer or a businessman. For a man of those professions would certainly not spend his afternoons at marinas walking around in dirty rainboots and shabby sweaters.

"I believe I remember seeing you at least once before," said Sara after a moment of running through her memory, "You were a sailor, right?"

Charlie nodded, "I'm surprised you remember. I'm still one actually. Own my own ship. That's why I was at the marina. I have to pay if I want to dock my ship here for a few days."

"I see."

"So how are you and your sisters doing? Let's see if I can remember you all, there was Mary, looked just like your mother, and Sara, who always had her nose in a book, Nora, who could talk for hours if she found someone to listen, Emy, who rarely made a peep, and baby Gail, with hair so red your father used to say her head was aflame."

Sara giggled, "Very good. I'm surprised you remember us so well after all these years."

Charlie shrugged, "Your father talked of his daughters so often it's not hard. Unfortunately, the image I have of you five will always be when you were much younger. Gail had only been born a year before. And forgive me for this, for I feel terrible, but I'm going to be honest and say that I'm not sure which sister you are. I know it's not Mary, for her hair was much darker, and it can't be Gail, for her hair was red, but out of the last three I'm really not sure."

Sara grinned, "Oh, don't feel bad, Mr. Wilkie, I'm not at all surprised." She stuck out her hand, "Pleasure to see you again, my name is Sara Marietta St. James."

Charlie shook her hand, "Sorry 'bout that. The pleasure is all
mine
, Sara. And now, er . . . May I ask why you're so determined to find a way to Brighton? It sounded as if you were quite desperate, you know, by the way you were offering to stay in a cupboard or a lifeboat."

Sara laughed, "Yes, I suppose that would sound desperate, wouldn't it? Actually, we're going to live in Brighton. Mary is getting married there in several months . . ."

"Married?" Charlie gasped, "Why I can't believe it! It seems so strange that sweet little Mary, who was only a child when I saw her last, is getting married."

"Oh yes, and he's wonderful man too. Ethan's his name. Ethan Lindsey. And he's studying right now to become a doctor. We're all going over though, not just Mary, because we want to stay near her. The other four of us will be living with Ethan's parents; they're quite wealthy and have plenty of room to spare. We don't want to ask for any more charity though, so we've refused to plead to Mr. and Mrs. Lindsey for more money, but now I don't know what we'll do. There aren't any ships left. I've been going in to a different office each day and trying to beg my way on board, but I've been dismissed each and every time. It's not just the fact that we don't have enough money, it's also that we're trying so late that all the rooms on board are already taken. I don't know what we're going to do now."

Charlie frowned, "I'm very sorry to hear that. I, er . . . I wish you the best of luck with it though."

"Thank you," Sara replied. She paused for a moment, her eyes glancing to the ground, before continuing, "I'd love to stay and talk longer, but I really must be going. I have to tell Mary that another ship refused so we can decide what to do next. Perhaps we'll just have to smuggle ourselves on board."