The Movement of Stars (21 page)

h, Meeting,” Edward said on First Day the following week, yawning. “How I’ve missed the opportunity to study my neighbors for hours, waiting for one to share a revelation that occurred to them as they stirred their tea or forked hay.” He assumed a theatrical pose, hand to ear, and cocked his chin at the ceiling. “ ‘Neighbors, this day I did envision that my heart has been too hard in the matter of my son Barney’s affection for fiddle music.’ ”

“Edward.” Mary shook her head and swatted him with a napkin. Then she went back to brushing the crumbs from the table. “You should take a lesson from Hannah. She goes to Meeting faithfully, as do I. It wouldn’t hurt you to sit still for a few hours and settle your mind. It darts like a hummingbird from one thought to the next.”

“I cannot agree,” he answered, sweeping her into his lap. “It would be immensely painful and cause untold suffering. Plus, has anyone been outside? We should take the advice of this intrepid entrepreneur.” He tapped a finger on the copy of the
Nantucket Inquirer
that was open on the table. “In his advertisement here he claims that Sea Bathing is not only ‘a delightful indulgence’ but also ‘necessary’ and ‘invigorating.’ ”

“Ugh.” Mary wiggled free. “The thought of joining the hordes of invaders stampeding our lovely beaches all season makes me ill. I wish they could all be contained to one corner of the Island, and leave the rest of it for us.”

Hannah smiled, but studied the grain on the table until Edward released his wife. Mary straightened her apron and flipped the johnnycakes. Their intimacy made her ache: when their ship left port in just a few days’ time, they’d go over the horizon together, while she remained behind. Nantucket had always been the only home she ever wanted or knew. Now it loomed in her imagination like a desert island.

“All right, ladies, I shall attend,” Edward said, looking alarmed by Hannah’s expression. “But don’t be surprised if there’s a general outcry when I appear in the Meeting House. The rafters may fall with the weight of the assembly’s dismay. Prodigal son and all that.”

Hannah thought she ought to say something comforting, but there wasn’t much to add. In the three weeks since the engagement dinner, their father had spent only two nights at the house, and one of those she’d been at the Atheneum with Isaac and hadn’t seen him at all. She’d seized the other as a chance to mend the rift between the two Price men before it was too late.

The only r eason her father and Edward had even come together at the dinner table was because Hannah didn’t tell either that the other would be present. She’d hatched the plan the instant her father had come through the door with his valise and ledger, obviously exhausted from his travels.

“I planned to take the evening packet back,” he said as she dried her hands and helped him off with his jacket, though he sighed with relief when he had hung his hat on the rack and unlaced his boots.

“I haven’t had a chance to speak with thee of late,” Hannah had said carefully. “Stay for supper. I’ve questions for thee. About . . .” She rifled through her mental files for something to dangle before him. “. . . a chronometer. It’s been giving me trouble. I thought thee might have a look.”

He ran a hand through his hair, which needed trimming again. “In this season? What ship is it attached to?”
Hannah fumbled for an answer, annoyed by her own lack of imagination as much as her anxiety. It wasn’t an alibi for some grave offense, after all. But she couldn’t think of any ship’s name but the
Regiment—
the last ship on earth she wished to name in his presence.

“I’ll bring it down when thee has washed up,” she answered. “I’ve got something on the stove.”
Rushing to the kitchen, she flung the big black pot on the fire, frantically blew the embers to life under it, and managed to get some water and potatoes inside before he came through the door. He didn’t seem to notice the smoke, or the fact that nothing smelled like supper. But he hovered instead of settling, wary as an animal, shifting in his seat every time the wind knocked the shutter. His discomfort was shattering: he clearly didn’t want to see Edward, though Hannah held on to the idea that if they all sat down together, everything would be set right.
In an effort to prevent him from leaving, Hannah produced a chronometer with a loose spring from the garret, which he easily set to right; then she brought down the new copy of
Silliman’s
, then the latest
Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society
. In between, she threw things into the pot—a carrot, an onion, two mealy tomatoes, and the half bucket of clams Edward and Mary had collected at Madaket that morning. Too much salt, not enough butter—she barely knew what she was doing. It was ridiculous, she thought, tasting the stew and then throwing in two more potatoes, hoping they’d absorb the salt. They were a
family
. But they no longer felt like one.
Edward and Mary blew in at sunset, their laughter pealing through the house. When the door slammed, Hannah winced, blood thrumming in her cheeks. Her father looked as though he’d eaten something bad, though she was relieved that he had the courtesy to arrange his features less offensively as the couple entered the kitchen.
“Nathaniel! How wonderful to see thee!” Mary hardly paused for an instant before she crossed the kitchen to offer her hand to Nathaniel, who returned her affectionate squeeze with an awkward pat.
“Father.” Edward stayed in the doorway, stooping slightly to avoid hitting his head on the frame. “Has the Bank given thee time off for good behavior?”
Nathaniel glanced at Hannah, who was saved by Mary.
“It’s wonderful that we can dine together as a family,” she chimed. “I’ll set the table. Hannah, can I assist? Is there bread?”
In the bustle and clatter of seating and serving, Hannah was grateful for her sister-in-law’s ability to talk for all of them with no apparent effort. When they were all finally facing each other across the table, there was a lull as everyone spooned their stew at once. Hannah blew on hers and looked up to find Edward looking back at her. He raised his eyebrows, and she willed him to exhibit a crumb of deference.
“The commander of Edward’s expedition to Jerusalem was with Franklin in Alaska,” Hannah said in her father’s direction when she’d managed to swallow.
He looked up briefly.
“So I’m told,” he said. “Was he not passed over for the Northwest Passage journey later in the year?”
Edward folded his arms across his chest and looked at Hannah as if she were to blame for the barb
.
“I failed to interrogate the captain about the blight on his résumé when I applied for the position,” he said.
Nathaniel didn’t flinch, though Hannah saw a muscle in his cheek working. She was already sorry she’d orchestrated the meeting: it was too soon, she saw now. Like stripping a bandage from a weeping wound.
“I’m certain he promised his wife he was done with the Arctic,” Mary said. Edward smiled at her, and Hannah exhaled, relieved.
“I for one am very glad you’re headed to a temperate clime,” Hannah said. “The thought of you in the Arctic is awful.”
“In answer to thy earlier query, my work at the Bank does not afford me the leisure to indulge my fancies, be they domestic or global,” Nathaniel said, looking at Edward directly. Hannah watched her brother flush as he stared into his soup.
“Perhaps the Coast Survey will give thee a chance to enjoy thy pursuits as thee once did,” he said, his voice soft. She was grateful he chose to speak plainly to their father. She hadn’t heard Edward use a
thee
or a
thou
in a long time.
Hannah held her breath. Their spoons scraped the pewter bowls.
“It is unfortunate that we shan’t have the opportunity to find out,” Nathaniel said, sitting straight as a fencepost, and setting his spoon down beside his bowl. The gesture had an undeniable finality. Hannah sank into her seat. “Since thee has decided to depart, there’s no one to whom I may entrust such a contract.”
Edward laughed, a harsh, hoarse sound. He put his spoon down, too.
“I don’t know why you’d even consider entrusting it to me in the first place, since the only person in this house qualified for it is your daughter.”
The sound of Nathaniel’s fist landing on the table made all of them jump. Soup sloshed everywhere; Mary’s hand flew to her mouth. Hannah gasped.
“Because you are my son,” he said through clenched teeth, rising from the table.
Time seemed to pause. Hannah, Mary, and Edward all stilled in their various postures, like the doomed of Pompeii. Hannah had never seen her father lose his temper, never seen him make a violent gesture or utter an oath. It was over, then. Hannah felt as if she were waiting for the table itself to tip over and sink into the floorboards as the last of her hope drained from her body.

It was the kind of day when grown men and women abandoned their shops and crops to go swimming. Were it not First Day, Hannah was sure, a good percentage of Meeting-goers would already have their ankles in the waves.

As they drew close to the Meeting House, Mary pulled forward, and Edward was drawn aside by an old school friend. Hannah let the crowd swirl around her, feeling dozens of pairs of eyes light on her and flit away like butterflies. Muffled whispers surrounded her. What was it Lilian had said?
Don’t be swayed by idle chatter.
But swayed from what?

Her next thought flashed with the clarity of lightning, the terror of exposure:
We were seen.
Hannah could feel the blood drain from her face at the idea of an observer, cloaked by the thicket; her body and Isaac’s, curled together. Since she’d stormed out of the Atheneum, she hadn’t seen or heard from him, but she’d thought of him nearly every day since. Each time she tried to clip him from her thoughts as if he were an invasive vine. But the memory of his words—and his face—wasn’t easily blunted.

When Edward popped up beside her like a buoy, Hannah jumped, but he didn’t seem to notice. She trailed behind him into the Meeting House with the flow of worshippers, and once she was inside the cavernous space, Hannah felt her spine relax a little, her shoulders return to level. Mary appeared and slipped onto the bench beside Hannah. Why did she always behave as if the best day of her life had just gotten under way?

As the assembly settled into quiet, Hannah’s dark humor melted into something tolerable. Her imagination had gotten away from her; it would be nearly impossible for anyone to have seen her and Isaac that night. And as for Mary, she shouldn’t harbor ill will, especially here. This was Hannah’s home as much as the house on Little India or the Atheneum. The smell of the wood and the whitewash and the collected bodies of her neighbors was as familiar as the ’Sconset roses in June or the pungent, earthy peat of the Commons in September.

Hannah allowed herself to be soothed. As the minutes ticked by, the feeling deepened, and she forgot about the strange looks and odd behavior of her neighbors over the past weeks. She failed to think about Philadelphia, or about Edward’s imminent departure, or the break between him and their father. She didn’t consider the chance she may have missed by failing to give notice of the comet—if it
was
a comet—that she’d seen before Monsieur Rainault, before anyone. She didn’t even think of Isaac.

Ten minutes later, someone rustled nearby. Hannah looked up. Hester Starbuck, Aliza’s mother, had risen to her feet. When someone was moved to speak in Meeting, they did so. There was no formal procedure. One needed only to rise and say what he or she was moved to say. On some days no one spoke at all. On others, several people wished to share some revelation or other with the community.

“My mind has been restless,” Hester began, “my conscience troubled by some things I’ve witnessed among my neighbors. I turned within and sought guidance from the spirit there, and was moved to speak. It is without malice that I implore each member of this Meeting to be thus guided, especially in their associations.”

She thudded back into her seat and folded her arms as if satisfied. A number of people around her nodded; some glanced in Hannah’s direction. She looked around to see at whom they might be directing their gaze. A moment later, the silence was disturbed again as Ann Folger rose to her feet. She, too, gazed toward Hannah as she spoke.

“I was drawn in recent days to the journal of our forebear George Fox. I knew why when I came to the passage ‘As the people of the world have mouths full of deceit and changeable words I was to keep to yes and no in all things; that my words should be few and savory, seasoned with grace.’ I was moved to share this passage today for the benefit of those among us whose associations with such people may distract them from the true path.”

She lowered herself into her seat like a plump hen settling on her roost. Now Hannah knew that the gazes of her neighbors were directed at her, even as she stared straight ahead at the back of the bench in front of her. Mary inched closer, as if in support, so that their skirts ran together in a curtain over the edge of the bench. One after another, people rose and spoke their pieces, until Hannah no longer heard the words being said, only caught snips of phrases.

No one has the slightest prejudice . . . Even the most studious mind may be turned away from the Light . . . Persons who have not had the benefit of a religious education cannot be held responsible for the danger they pose to any individual spirit, but the danger exists nonetheless.

Then Mary was on her feet beside Hannah. The separation of their bodies was almost painful. Hannah felt exposed. Panicked, she looked across the aisle at Edward. He shrugged, his face a mixture of confusion and concern.

Mary’s face was flushed, and a rare frown creased her forehead. When she spoke, her voice was mild only on the surface, like silk draped over stone.

“So much revelation upon the same topic in one week is truly surprising,” Mary said. “I myself have been contemplating a different passage from the Book. ‘My friends, as believers in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, you must never treat people in different ways according to their outward appearance.’ James, I believe.”