FIC: Surface Scratches (1/1) PG Abduction Club
TITLE: Surface Scratches
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING:James/Anne
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: By love's quick motion, find a way.
DISCLAIMER: The Abduction Club and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to inlovewithnight for the beta. Um, this is more than 1000 words. By, just, you know, a little. Written for the aos_challenge prompt: Obscure Fandoms
It doesn’t dawn on Anne until she hears Garrett talking to Catherine that she’s never once asked James about his life. She knows he’s a second son, that he stands to inherit nothing from his family and was likely destined for a life of a parson, but beyond that, she truly knows nothing at all. She listens as they ride on the boat, as Garrett regales Catherine with stories of growing up and growing older, a small frown forming between her eyes.
She gets up, surprising both of the newlyweds. She can smile a bit that they’ve forgotten her presence, but it just drives home further that she’s uncertain as to where her own new husband is and, for that matter, who he is.
She finds him eventually, asking questions of the men on the ship, much to the shock and disgust of several of the women on the ship. He’s below decks and, though she expects to find him drinking or playing cards or some other sort of disastrous activity that would likely unhinge whatever positive start they have for their marriage, she instead finds him helping the crew.
She watches for a moment from the doorway, moving over into the room as someone comes up behind her. It’s hot in the small room and she can see James’s clothes clinging to him, stripped down as he is to just his shirt, the fabric gone gray with the air, dark with sweat. He moves only as much as needed, all his energy contained, and she wonders at him, uncertain that she recognizes this man, wonders whether this is her husband or if he is the brash and bold creature who stole her away.
She leaves before he sees her, slipping out of the room and moving up to find fresh air, to clear her head. She sees Garrett and Catherine again and avoids them; uncertain she wishes to see their happiness, their closeness at this moment. It is enough, she thinks, that she’ll have to see them tonight, together on the opposite side of the room, so obviously longing for peace and quiet and their own quarters rather than the small, cramped room they four share.
He finds her when she doesn’t show for their evening meal. He’s washed somewhat, the strong, heavy scent of male sweat no longer on his skin. She doesn’t look at him as he sits beside her, as her mind races with the thought of him washing the sweat away, stripped to the waist and damp with sweat and water, skin glistening.
“I’ve brought you something.” He passes her one of his handkerchiefs, the ends tied together. She unties them, and lets it fall open on her lap, some bread and cheese in the center, the bread smeared with something she suspects might be butter. “It’s nothing much.”
“Thank you.”
“You weren’t at dinner.”
She pinches off a bit of bread and places it in her mouth, tasting it on her tongue before chewing it and swallowing. Her eyes narrow as she stares off into the distance, the endless roll of waves. “Do you love me, James?”
“I…I’m sorry?” He freezes, eyes wide and uncertain.
Whatever he expected of her, she knows it was not that, and she fights to keep herself from smiling at his look of sheer horror. “Do you love me? It seems a simple enough question. A yes or no answer, which I’m sure even one of your dubious education could suffice to answer.”
“You ask me if I love you and then you insult me.”
“And how does this differ from most of the other conversations we’ve had in our short, though not at all uneventful, courtship?” She takes another bit of the bread between her fingers and rolls it there, her skin slick with the butter. She sets the bite in her mouth and then licks her fingers, watching his eyes as he watches her movements. “In all honesty, James, I think you would be quite uncertain of what to do with me if I made the mistake of being solely nice to you.”
“True enough.” He shifts, leaning back on his hands and staring out at the sea himself, his eyes the same blue as the shifting water. “Do you question my love for you, truly? I would think that the fact that I risked life and limb…and neck, to be certain, for you, not to mention went against my own moral code by not leaving you to your promise to Powers just to secure you as my bride would be proof enough.”
“You have certainly shown an attachment, that I do not deny. And you did propose on bended knee.”
“I did.”
“But you’ve not said that you love me. Garrett says it to Catherine all the time, and I wonder why you do not.”
“I’m not in love with Catherine, of course.”
She glares at him and then finds herself smiling, shifting closer so she can lean her head against his shoulder. “And you are not Garrett.”
“For which I’m sure Catherine is most grateful.”
Anne nods, not moving from her place against him, barely smiling as he slides his arm around her waist, holding her close. “As am I, James. As am I.”
**
She finds Garrett the next day while Catherine is resting, while James is off in the bowels of the ship. He’s sitting on a bench on one of the decks, paper in his hand. Sitting beside him is easy, striking up a conversation less so.
“I will be sending a letter home soon,” he breaks the silence with a smile at her, and his soft voice, so well suited to Catherine’s own. If Anne herself were a more fanciful woman, she would think they harmonized well together, but she finds herself far too practical for such thoughts, so she simply returns his smile. “If you’d like to send one along to your father.”
“Are you parents likely to be displeased with the course of your life?”
“I doubt there will be much of an allowance, if that is your question. Hopefully your sister is not adverse to a husband who is forced to work for his living and to the simpler things in life.”
“I do not think Catherine will mind overmuch, no.” She adjusts her skirts, averting her eyes so he cannot see them. “How long have you known Strang?”
“James? Ah…let’s see.” He fights his smile, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Nearly ten years as best I can guess. Perhaps longer.”
“What is he like?”
“Very much as he appears.” Garrett shrugs. “He is boorish and rude, he does not think before he acts, he’s stubborn, set in his ways, he’s irritating beyond measure, he cares only for himself, he cannot hold his liquor and he is, by far, my dearest friend in the world. Why do you ask?”
“He never speaks of his family, of his life.”
“It is very much as my own. Parents and an older brother, which is truly all that is needed to define him. He was either to be parson or military, and James has the temperament for neither and the skills less so. He could be compassionate, but he would not be good at counseling others, as his sole driving force is to live his life to the fullest, to take from life what it refuses to give him. And, while advice I choose to live by as well, not quite so suited to the hollow where he would most likely have lived. As for military…well, I think you’ve seen James’s ability to take orders.”
Anne laughs at that. “No. Not quite suited, is he?”
“He is a good man, Anne. Knowing his family history and lineage will tell you nothing of who he is. He is good and kind. He will spend every cent and breath to help those he loves.”
She nods and sighs softly. “I will write a letter to Father, I think.”
“I think he’d like that.”
She gets to her feet and sighs again, exhaling slowly. “How do you tell?”
“Tell what, Anne?”
“If you’re one of those that he loves?”
“You simply know.”
**
“I’m beginning to think you don’t like our little room much at all, you know.” James stands next to her by the railing, leaning against the metal and closing his eyes. “Which really I find surprising, given the roominess and overall sense of style. Where else can you fit four people in a room designed for two with such a lovely curtain separating the expansive accommodations?”
She smiles, biting back her laugh. “It is lovely.”
“Garrett says you were asking after me today.” He places both hands on the railing and she notices the darkness around his fingernails, signs that he’s been working again. “Did he tell you what you wished to know?”
“He told me very little, to be honest. Only that you were rude and self-involved.”
”Told you quite a bit, as I see it.” He’s smiling, but she senses something beneath it. Weariness, perhaps, or regret. “James Strang in a few meaningful words.”
“I don’t think those things are true at all.”
“You don’t?” His disbelief is ripe in his voice as he turns, facing her, his back to the railing. “As I recall, my dear wife, you’ve called me that and worse several times yourself.”
”Yes, well.” She blushes, annoyed at the rush of her pulse as he teases her, as he calls her his wife. “It is my privilege, as you wife, to insult you as often as I wish.”
“I believe, as my best friend, it is his as well.”
“You’re infuriating, you know.”
“Yes. So I’ve been told.” He shakes his head and exhales, offering her a slight smile. “I wish I knew what you needed, Anne, my dear. I would give it to you in a heartbeat if it would soothe your frown.” He reaches up and touches the wrinkled skin between her eyes. “Are you so unhappy?”
“Unhappy? No. I did not say that, James.” She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip as the movement dislodges his touch. “I am not unhappy.”
“Neither are you happy though.” He nods and brushes his finger across her cheek. “Go to bed. I’ll not crowd you this evening.”
“That is not what I want. Not what I…”
He cuts her off, his finger warm against her lips as he kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Anne.”
**
Catherine slips past the curtain and climbs into the small bed with her, wrapping her arms around Anne. She shakes her head, denying herself the comfort, even as she presses her face against her sister’s shoulder, soaking the thin shift she wears as a nightdress with her tears. “It’s all right, Anne. Let it out.”
“No.” She shakes her head again, her voice thick and rough. “I’ll not cry.”
“You are crying, my darling Anne, and Garrett has gone to find James and bring him back.”
“No.” She pushes Catherine’s comfort away and shakes her head. “I don’t want him here under someone else’s whim. I want him to be here because there is nowhere else he wishes to be, and that is not the case.” She sits up and buries her face against her knees, wrapping her arms around them. “He thinks I am unhappy, Catherine.”
“Are you?”
“I chose to come with him, I accepted his proposal. I’m his wife.”
“None of which is an answer to my question, Anne.” Catherine’s hand is warm at Anne’s back, rubbing softly, attempting to soothe. “Are you unhappy?”
“How can I know that? We’ve not had a chance to find out, have we? Living like this on the journey, uncertain of what the future holds. He does not talk to me save for at meals and to wish my good night as he falls asleep beside me like a comfortable stranger. How am I to be happy with that?”
“You’re with him.”
“I am not like you, Catherine.” Anne looks toward the wall, the wood as splintered and rough as she feels. “My happiness is not solely dependent on having a man in my life.”
Catherine’s hand drops to the bed and she sits there in silence for a long moment that refuses to end until she slides away. “I cannot imagine why James would chose to spend a night elsewhere.” Her voice is rough with unshed tears and Anne cannot bear to turn to see them standing in Catherine’s eyes. “Given his warm and welcoming wife.”
“I did not mean…”
“No, Anne. You did.” Catherine clears her throat, her voice stronger. “You meant just as you said. You find me weak and inconsequential, willing to balance all her life’s happiness in the hands of one man whom she loves beyond others. I am not strong like you, not a rebellious child who lashes out whenever she does not get her way. I do as I’m told and I’m happy with my lot in life. Garrett loves me, and that is enough for me. Pity James that, no doubt he will never be enough, no matter what he does or how much he loves you.”
“He does not love me.”
“He does, Anne. You don’t wish to see it, because seeing it would mean that it mattered to you more than you care to admit. So pity you as well, little sister.” She turns and draws the curtain sharply between the two beds. “Pity you.”
**
A week passes and no one speaks to her beyond the perfunctory requests for the passing of bread or butter. She never sees James really, just the shadow of him changing in the dark at the edge of her vision, sliding in as they all sleep and gone before anyone is truly awake. Garrett simply ignores her, though occasionally he glances at her with eyes torn between sorrow and anger. Catherine simple goes on as if Anne is not there, moving around her when necessary and blindly ignoring her when not. It is worse than being alone, being snubbed, and she wishes she had some idea what to do to repair the damage she’s caused.
She spends much time on the deck, hiding beneath the parasol that shades her from prying eyes as easily as it does the sun, beating down on the thin fabric so she can still feel the heat at her back. She asks one of the men directions, so she can know which way is home and which is America, which she imagines will be home soon enough.
“If you wish it.” She starts at the sound of James’s voice, soft and nothing at all like she is used to. She turns to him and catches her breath. His face is thin, as if he’s ceased eating, and dark circles rim his eyes, as if he’s ceased sleeping as well. “When we reach America, no one need never know that we’ve wed. You can live with Garrett and Catherine for a time until you find a…suitable husband. Someone who can make you happy.”
“James…I do not wish it.”
“And if I do, Anne?” His voice nearly cracks under the pressure of the words. “If I wish a wife who will be happy with me, with what I can give her, with what I offer? Will you do it for me, Anne?”
“No.” She shakes her head, looking up at him with eyes she knows must be desperate. “No, James. I’m…I am your wife. You…”
“Very well.” He nods and moves away from her, out of the sun and into the shadows like those in his eyes. She drops the shade and moves after him, hampered by her dress as she hurries into the ship.
“James. James. Wait.” He doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t falter in his step as he goes further below decks, dropping down ladders in a single jump rather than climbing, hurrying in his haste to be away from her. She stops finally, breathless and sick with the swell of tears in her throat and behind her eyes. She shakes her head and they fall, and she’s tired of shedding tears. “James. Please.”
**
The landing in America is a joyous affair for most aboard the ship, happy to indulge in food found fresh and not salted or pickled, picked free of weevils and other bugs. There are advertisements ringing the area, offering deals on rooms and food and more, some advertisements painted on flesh where others are mere paint on a sign. Anne hangs back as they disembark, careful to keep her place behind her sister. She is uncertain of her status here, when her husband has not spoken to her in three weeks, when her sister only speaks when necessary.
Garrett smiles at Catherine and then at James, his eyes now adept at skirting over Anne altogether. “A hotel for the night and then we shall plan our assault on the good Americas?”
They assemble together off to the side of the ramp, James standing apart from them, away from her. She turns her eyes away, stumbling slightly as her balance shifts, the water no longer moving under her feet. James catches her, his hand warm just above her elbow.
“T-thank you.” Her breath catches and she looks up at him. There’s a stranger in his face now, no shadow of the boy she knew even lingering. He is a closed off man, though she sees glimpses of him when he smiles at Garrett, at Catherine, at anyone who is not her.
He sees her steadied then moves off, apart from all of them now. Catherine frowns and then laces her arm through Garrett’s, letting him lead the party toward one of the establishments away from the dock. Anne hesitates for a moment and lets her gaze linger on James, see the changes that he has not been around for her to notice. He stands there, suffering her gaze for a moment before nodding after Garrett and Catherine. “You had best hurry, or you’ll lose them.”
“You’re not coming with us?”
“I’ll see you to your hotel, and then I think I’ll make my own way for the night.”
“You’re…not. You’re not coming with us.” She nods, unable to keep the shock out of her voice. “I told you I would not allow…”
“Fear not, my wife,” he assures her, his voice cool. “I have no intention of breaking any vows I set down before God. Just as, as far as I can tell, you have no intention of honoring them.”
“That is not fair.” She shakes her head, facing him angrily. “You…”
“I what, Anne? I did not coddle you? I did not coo and fawn over you as Garrett did Catherine? It was my understanding you had no wish for that. I gave you what you wanted. I let you alone and let you be whomever you wished. I had just assumed, at some point, the person you wished to be, was my wife.”
“James.”
“What? What can you say? You asked me if I loved you and I tried to be the man you said you wanted, let you be your own person, and to you that meant the opposite. And yet I am more than certain that, were I to have actually done as you apparently wished and treated you like a…a lover, you would have shunned me just as sharply as you ever did Powers. I could not win, Anne. And so, like a good gambler, which I am, by the way, if you wish to know something of the man you married, I shall cut my losses and take what little I have left and go home.”
“This was supposed to be our home.”
“Garrett and Catherine will take care of you. You’ll find someone…worthy of you.”
“I want you. I married you.” She reaches out, touching his chest softly. “I love you.”
“That will pass.” He offers her a ghost of a smile, and for a moment she can see James in his eyes. “I promise.”
**
Two months pass before she sees him again. She lives in the small room off the kitchen of the house Catherine and Garrett have acquired through means she is not sure she wishes to know. Garrett seems happy in his new position as shopkeeper, financed by a man who reminds Anne too much of Powers. She keeps her distance and applies for a position as a schoolteacher, for which she is vastly unqualified, but no more so than most of the other women who apply beside her.
She teaches her first class on a Monday, many of the faces known to her already from her walks through town. She tells anyone who asks that she is just learning her way, but those who don’t ask, those who know her, know what she is doing, even if she will not admit it to anyone, least of all herself.
The children are nice enough, and willing to learn, and she does her best to make her classes a mixture of entertaining and educational, letting havoc find its way in occasionally. It’s fulfilling in that it fills her days, but she spends her nights staring out the window, watching her own reflection in the light of the candles.
Catherine is slowly warming to her again, words said in frustration and hurt not quite forgotten, but perhaps closer to forgiven. They make the evening meal together, and Catherine gives suggestions on Anne’s book of lessons, but there is no longer that ease between them. Anne thinks she lost everything at sea, and isn’t sure that any of it will wash up on the shores of her life again.
“I’ve brought a guest.” Garrett opens the door, letting in a swift burst of cool air that makes the candles flicker and the fire die down before it rushes back to life. “I hope there is stew enough for another mouth?”
“Of course.” Catherine gets to her feet quickly, and in that instant, Anne realizes and laughs.
“Why, Catherine! You’re to be a mother!”
Time stops as a slow heat crawls up Catherine’s neck and cheeks. Garrett’s eyes go from Anne’s in surprise and then to his wife, changing like a flash of sunlight on glass until they’re shining, burning with emotion. “Is that true?”
Catherine nods, her smile nervous as it spreads, her eyebrows going up as she waits for his reaction. She nods again and then laughs as Garrett whoops in delight, surging toward her and wrapping his arms around her, spinning her in a circle. Catherine laughs and kisses him, the effort spoiled by the fact that neither of them can stop smiling.
Anne averts her gaze from their happiness, allowing them some semblance of privacy, her heart stopping as her eyes fall to the door and the man standing just inside it.
“James.”
He’s staring at her, not seeing Catherine or Garrett at all. “Anne.”
“Y-you’re here.”
“For dinner, though I fear that’s to be delayed. Perhaps another night.” He turns and starts out the door.
“No. Wait!” She rushes forward, stopping just shy of touching him. “Please. We could…I could gather some things. We could eat just outside. Give them their privacy and…and have a few moments.”
“For what?”
“T-to talk. You can tell me of you new life here. Here in America. What you’ve been doing. Where you’re living and…” She reaches out, touching his arm carefully. “Please, James? Please don’t leave.”
She hurries to the cupboards, grabbing an assortment of foods. She can hear the soft murmurs of Catherine and Garrett in their bedroom and feels them like a hole in her heart. She shakes her head and forces her hands to keep moving, gathering everything and then rushing to the empty doorway.
“Oh.”
“I certainly hope that’s not stew you’ve gathered in your skirts.”
She looks over, surprised to see him at the edge of the steps, his legs stretched out in front of him. She moves beside him, leaving space between them to spread out the makeshift picnic. It is much like aboard ship, bread and cheese, though two shiny red apples and small pieces of chocolate round out the meal. “Not quite.”
“You look well.”
She brushes back a loose strand of hair and shakes her head. “I look harried and worn down, according to one of my more discerning students. She has suggested I invest in her father’s newest concoction for youthful rejuvenation.”
“You’ve no need for that.” He tears off a piece of bread and takes a bite. “Student, eh?”
“Yes. I’m teaching now.” She rubs her hands over her knees, sure that the sudden dampness from her palms is likely to stain her skirt. “And you?”
“This and that.” He shrugs. “I have pondered becoming a shipping tycoon, but I fear that far too much work is required for it. As it stands, most things require far too much work, far too many rules and a sense of decorum that is not one of my stronger suits. Apparently the one thing I am perfectly suited for is being a first-born son and inheriting all my land and money. Sadly, as you know, that’s not the case.”
“Were you a first born son, I would not have known you.”
“And thus would be safely ensconced in a grand mansion in the south, the lady of a fine tobacco plantation.”
“Unhappy and in a marriage I did not want.”
“So not so different from now.” He smiles slightly and shrugs. “Though perhaps teaching makes you happy.”
“I was a fool, James. What I said…what I didn’t say.” She frowns, fighting to find the right words in the rush that comes to her. “I love you. Have since…since that first ridiculous abduction, fight it though I did. I thought you were lovely and so brave…and it was a terrible proposal, but it was right. Far more than you on your knees asking for my hands. We can be partners, James. And it will work. I promise.”
“I cannot be the man you want, Anne.”
“You are the man I want, James. I don’t…need…I…” She exhales, nearly sobbing in frustration. “It will take…time and understanding. It will take…mistakes and…The only thing I need from you is to know that you…that you love me. I thought I could live with actions and thoughts, but I was wrong. I need those, yes, but I need more. I need…I need you to tell me. To say it. To…I need to hear your voice.”
“I’m not good with words. I’ve proven that.” He laughs and she can’t help but do the same. “Action suits me far better.”
“I know, I…” She stops as he offers her a small box. “What is this?”
“Action.”
She takes it from him with shaking hands, glancing up to look at him before opening the case. Even in the muted candlelight from the window, the golden metal gleams.
“I find I have a very difficult time living without you, Anne Strang.”
She laughs again, the sound choked thick with tears. “Anne Strang.”
“So I fear I’ve no choice but to keep you on as my wife. If you’ll have me.” He takes the ring from its place and waits for her to place her hand in his. “If you love me half as much as I love you.”
“I’ll thank you not to underestimate me, husband,” she smiles, watching through watery eyes as he slides the ring on her finger. “Or how much I love you.”
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING:James/Anne
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: By love's quick motion, find a way.
DISCLAIMER: The Abduction Club and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to inlovewithnight for the beta. Um, this is more than 1000 words. By, just, you know, a little. Written for the aos_challenge prompt: Obscure Fandoms
It doesn’t dawn on Anne until she hears Garrett talking to Catherine that she’s never once asked James about his life. She knows he’s a second son, that he stands to inherit nothing from his family and was likely destined for a life of a parson, but beyond that, she truly knows nothing at all. She listens as they ride on the boat, as Garrett regales Catherine with stories of growing up and growing older, a small frown forming between her eyes.
She gets up, surprising both of the newlyweds. She can smile a bit that they’ve forgotten her presence, but it just drives home further that she’s uncertain as to where her own new husband is and, for that matter, who he is.
She finds him eventually, asking questions of the men on the ship, much to the shock and disgust of several of the women on the ship. He’s below decks and, though she expects to find him drinking or playing cards or some other sort of disastrous activity that would likely unhinge whatever positive start they have for their marriage, she instead finds him helping the crew.
She watches for a moment from the doorway, moving over into the room as someone comes up behind her. It’s hot in the small room and she can see James’s clothes clinging to him, stripped down as he is to just his shirt, the fabric gone gray with the air, dark with sweat. He moves only as much as needed, all his energy contained, and she wonders at him, uncertain that she recognizes this man, wonders whether this is her husband or if he is the brash and bold creature who stole her away.
She leaves before he sees her, slipping out of the room and moving up to find fresh air, to clear her head. She sees Garrett and Catherine again and avoids them; uncertain she wishes to see their happiness, their closeness at this moment. It is enough, she thinks, that she’ll have to see them tonight, together on the opposite side of the room, so obviously longing for peace and quiet and their own quarters rather than the small, cramped room they four share.
He finds her when she doesn’t show for their evening meal. He’s washed somewhat, the strong, heavy scent of male sweat no longer on his skin. She doesn’t look at him as he sits beside her, as her mind races with the thought of him washing the sweat away, stripped to the waist and damp with sweat and water, skin glistening.
“I’ve brought you something.” He passes her one of his handkerchiefs, the ends tied together. She unties them, and lets it fall open on her lap, some bread and cheese in the center, the bread smeared with something she suspects might be butter. “It’s nothing much.”
“Thank you.”
“You weren’t at dinner.”
She pinches off a bit of bread and places it in her mouth, tasting it on her tongue before chewing it and swallowing. Her eyes narrow as she stares off into the distance, the endless roll of waves. “Do you love me, James?”
“I…I’m sorry?” He freezes, eyes wide and uncertain.
Whatever he expected of her, she knows it was not that, and she fights to keep herself from smiling at his look of sheer horror. “Do you love me? It seems a simple enough question. A yes or no answer, which I’m sure even one of your dubious education could suffice to answer.”
“You ask me if I love you and then you insult me.”
“And how does this differ from most of the other conversations we’ve had in our short, though not at all uneventful, courtship?” She takes another bit of the bread between her fingers and rolls it there, her skin slick with the butter. She sets the bite in her mouth and then licks her fingers, watching his eyes as he watches her movements. “In all honesty, James, I think you would be quite uncertain of what to do with me if I made the mistake of being solely nice to you.”
“True enough.” He shifts, leaning back on his hands and staring out at the sea himself, his eyes the same blue as the shifting water. “Do you question my love for you, truly? I would think that the fact that I risked life and limb…and neck, to be certain, for you, not to mention went against my own moral code by not leaving you to your promise to Powers just to secure you as my bride would be proof enough.”
“You have certainly shown an attachment, that I do not deny. And you did propose on bended knee.”
“I did.”
“But you’ve not said that you love me. Garrett says it to Catherine all the time, and I wonder why you do not.”
“I’m not in love with Catherine, of course.”
She glares at him and then finds herself smiling, shifting closer so she can lean her head against his shoulder. “And you are not Garrett.”
“For which I’m sure Catherine is most grateful.”
Anne nods, not moving from her place against him, barely smiling as he slides his arm around her waist, holding her close. “As am I, James. As am I.”
**
She finds Garrett the next day while Catherine is resting, while James is off in the bowels of the ship. He’s sitting on a bench on one of the decks, paper in his hand. Sitting beside him is easy, striking up a conversation less so.
“I will be sending a letter home soon,” he breaks the silence with a smile at her, and his soft voice, so well suited to Catherine’s own. If Anne herself were a more fanciful woman, she would think they harmonized well together, but she finds herself far too practical for such thoughts, so she simply returns his smile. “If you’d like to send one along to your father.”
“Are you parents likely to be displeased with the course of your life?”
“I doubt there will be much of an allowance, if that is your question. Hopefully your sister is not adverse to a husband who is forced to work for his living and to the simpler things in life.”
“I do not think Catherine will mind overmuch, no.” She adjusts her skirts, averting her eyes so he cannot see them. “How long have you known Strang?”
“James? Ah…let’s see.” He fights his smile, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Nearly ten years as best I can guess. Perhaps longer.”
“What is he like?”
“Very much as he appears.” Garrett shrugs. “He is boorish and rude, he does not think before he acts, he’s stubborn, set in his ways, he’s irritating beyond measure, he cares only for himself, he cannot hold his liquor and he is, by far, my dearest friend in the world. Why do you ask?”
“He never speaks of his family, of his life.”
“It is very much as my own. Parents and an older brother, which is truly all that is needed to define him. He was either to be parson or military, and James has the temperament for neither and the skills less so. He could be compassionate, but he would not be good at counseling others, as his sole driving force is to live his life to the fullest, to take from life what it refuses to give him. And, while advice I choose to live by as well, not quite so suited to the hollow where he would most likely have lived. As for military…well, I think you’ve seen James’s ability to take orders.”
Anne laughs at that. “No. Not quite suited, is he?”
“He is a good man, Anne. Knowing his family history and lineage will tell you nothing of who he is. He is good and kind. He will spend every cent and breath to help those he loves.”
She nods and sighs softly. “I will write a letter to Father, I think.”
“I think he’d like that.”
She gets to her feet and sighs again, exhaling slowly. “How do you tell?”
“Tell what, Anne?”
“If you’re one of those that he loves?”
“You simply know.”
**
“I’m beginning to think you don’t like our little room much at all, you know.” James stands next to her by the railing, leaning against the metal and closing his eyes. “Which really I find surprising, given the roominess and overall sense of style. Where else can you fit four people in a room designed for two with such a lovely curtain separating the expansive accommodations?”
She smiles, biting back her laugh. “It is lovely.”
“Garrett says you were asking after me today.” He places both hands on the railing and she notices the darkness around his fingernails, signs that he’s been working again. “Did he tell you what you wished to know?”
“He told me very little, to be honest. Only that you were rude and self-involved.”
”Told you quite a bit, as I see it.” He’s smiling, but she senses something beneath it. Weariness, perhaps, or regret. “James Strang in a few meaningful words.”
“I don’t think those things are true at all.”
“You don’t?” His disbelief is ripe in his voice as he turns, facing her, his back to the railing. “As I recall, my dear wife, you’ve called me that and worse several times yourself.”
”Yes, well.” She blushes, annoyed at the rush of her pulse as he teases her, as he calls her his wife. “It is my privilege, as you wife, to insult you as often as I wish.”
“I believe, as my best friend, it is his as well.”
“You’re infuriating, you know.”
“Yes. So I’ve been told.” He shakes his head and exhales, offering her a slight smile. “I wish I knew what you needed, Anne, my dear. I would give it to you in a heartbeat if it would soothe your frown.” He reaches up and touches the wrinkled skin between her eyes. “Are you so unhappy?”
“Unhappy? No. I did not say that, James.” She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip as the movement dislodges his touch. “I am not unhappy.”
“Neither are you happy though.” He nods and brushes his finger across her cheek. “Go to bed. I’ll not crowd you this evening.”
“That is not what I want. Not what I…”
He cuts her off, his finger warm against her lips as he kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Anne.”
**
Catherine slips past the curtain and climbs into the small bed with her, wrapping her arms around Anne. She shakes her head, denying herself the comfort, even as she presses her face against her sister’s shoulder, soaking the thin shift she wears as a nightdress with her tears. “It’s all right, Anne. Let it out.”
“No.” She shakes her head again, her voice thick and rough. “I’ll not cry.”
“You are crying, my darling Anne, and Garrett has gone to find James and bring him back.”
“No.” She pushes Catherine’s comfort away and shakes her head. “I don’t want him here under someone else’s whim. I want him to be here because there is nowhere else he wishes to be, and that is not the case.” She sits up and buries her face against her knees, wrapping her arms around them. “He thinks I am unhappy, Catherine.”
“Are you?”
“I chose to come with him, I accepted his proposal. I’m his wife.”
“None of which is an answer to my question, Anne.” Catherine’s hand is warm at Anne’s back, rubbing softly, attempting to soothe. “Are you unhappy?”
“How can I know that? We’ve not had a chance to find out, have we? Living like this on the journey, uncertain of what the future holds. He does not talk to me save for at meals and to wish my good night as he falls asleep beside me like a comfortable stranger. How am I to be happy with that?”
“You’re with him.”
“I am not like you, Catherine.” Anne looks toward the wall, the wood as splintered and rough as she feels. “My happiness is not solely dependent on having a man in my life.”
Catherine’s hand drops to the bed and she sits there in silence for a long moment that refuses to end until she slides away. “I cannot imagine why James would chose to spend a night elsewhere.” Her voice is rough with unshed tears and Anne cannot bear to turn to see them standing in Catherine’s eyes. “Given his warm and welcoming wife.”
“I did not mean…”
“No, Anne. You did.” Catherine clears her throat, her voice stronger. “You meant just as you said. You find me weak and inconsequential, willing to balance all her life’s happiness in the hands of one man whom she loves beyond others. I am not strong like you, not a rebellious child who lashes out whenever she does not get her way. I do as I’m told and I’m happy with my lot in life. Garrett loves me, and that is enough for me. Pity James that, no doubt he will never be enough, no matter what he does or how much he loves you.”
“He does not love me.”
“He does, Anne. You don’t wish to see it, because seeing it would mean that it mattered to you more than you care to admit. So pity you as well, little sister.” She turns and draws the curtain sharply between the two beds. “Pity you.”
**
A week passes and no one speaks to her beyond the perfunctory requests for the passing of bread or butter. She never sees James really, just the shadow of him changing in the dark at the edge of her vision, sliding in as they all sleep and gone before anyone is truly awake. Garrett simply ignores her, though occasionally he glances at her with eyes torn between sorrow and anger. Catherine simple goes on as if Anne is not there, moving around her when necessary and blindly ignoring her when not. It is worse than being alone, being snubbed, and she wishes she had some idea what to do to repair the damage she’s caused.
She spends much time on the deck, hiding beneath the parasol that shades her from prying eyes as easily as it does the sun, beating down on the thin fabric so she can still feel the heat at her back. She asks one of the men directions, so she can know which way is home and which is America, which she imagines will be home soon enough.
“If you wish it.” She starts at the sound of James’s voice, soft and nothing at all like she is used to. She turns to him and catches her breath. His face is thin, as if he’s ceased eating, and dark circles rim his eyes, as if he’s ceased sleeping as well. “When we reach America, no one need never know that we’ve wed. You can live with Garrett and Catherine for a time until you find a…suitable husband. Someone who can make you happy.”
“James…I do not wish it.”
“And if I do, Anne?” His voice nearly cracks under the pressure of the words. “If I wish a wife who will be happy with me, with what I can give her, with what I offer? Will you do it for me, Anne?”
“No.” She shakes her head, looking up at him with eyes she knows must be desperate. “No, James. I’m…I am your wife. You…”
“Very well.” He nods and moves away from her, out of the sun and into the shadows like those in his eyes. She drops the shade and moves after him, hampered by her dress as she hurries into the ship.
“James. James. Wait.” He doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t falter in his step as he goes further below decks, dropping down ladders in a single jump rather than climbing, hurrying in his haste to be away from her. She stops finally, breathless and sick with the swell of tears in her throat and behind her eyes. She shakes her head and they fall, and she’s tired of shedding tears. “James. Please.”
**
The landing in America is a joyous affair for most aboard the ship, happy to indulge in food found fresh and not salted or pickled, picked free of weevils and other bugs. There are advertisements ringing the area, offering deals on rooms and food and more, some advertisements painted on flesh where others are mere paint on a sign. Anne hangs back as they disembark, careful to keep her place behind her sister. She is uncertain of her status here, when her husband has not spoken to her in three weeks, when her sister only speaks when necessary.
Garrett smiles at Catherine and then at James, his eyes now adept at skirting over Anne altogether. “A hotel for the night and then we shall plan our assault on the good Americas?”
They assemble together off to the side of the ramp, James standing apart from them, away from her. She turns her eyes away, stumbling slightly as her balance shifts, the water no longer moving under her feet. James catches her, his hand warm just above her elbow.
“T-thank you.” Her breath catches and she looks up at him. There’s a stranger in his face now, no shadow of the boy she knew even lingering. He is a closed off man, though she sees glimpses of him when he smiles at Garrett, at Catherine, at anyone who is not her.
He sees her steadied then moves off, apart from all of them now. Catherine frowns and then laces her arm through Garrett’s, letting him lead the party toward one of the establishments away from the dock. Anne hesitates for a moment and lets her gaze linger on James, see the changes that he has not been around for her to notice. He stands there, suffering her gaze for a moment before nodding after Garrett and Catherine. “You had best hurry, or you’ll lose them.”
“You’re not coming with us?”
“I’ll see you to your hotel, and then I think I’ll make my own way for the night.”
“You’re…not. You’re not coming with us.” She nods, unable to keep the shock out of her voice. “I told you I would not allow…”
“Fear not, my wife,” he assures her, his voice cool. “I have no intention of breaking any vows I set down before God. Just as, as far as I can tell, you have no intention of honoring them.”
“That is not fair.” She shakes her head, facing him angrily. “You…”
“I what, Anne? I did not coddle you? I did not coo and fawn over you as Garrett did Catherine? It was my understanding you had no wish for that. I gave you what you wanted. I let you alone and let you be whomever you wished. I had just assumed, at some point, the person you wished to be, was my wife.”
“James.”
“What? What can you say? You asked me if I loved you and I tried to be the man you said you wanted, let you be your own person, and to you that meant the opposite. And yet I am more than certain that, were I to have actually done as you apparently wished and treated you like a…a lover, you would have shunned me just as sharply as you ever did Powers. I could not win, Anne. And so, like a good gambler, which I am, by the way, if you wish to know something of the man you married, I shall cut my losses and take what little I have left and go home.”
“This was supposed to be our home.”
“Garrett and Catherine will take care of you. You’ll find someone…worthy of you.”
“I want you. I married you.” She reaches out, touching his chest softly. “I love you.”
“That will pass.” He offers her a ghost of a smile, and for a moment she can see James in his eyes. “I promise.”
**
Two months pass before she sees him again. She lives in the small room off the kitchen of the house Catherine and Garrett have acquired through means she is not sure she wishes to know. Garrett seems happy in his new position as shopkeeper, financed by a man who reminds Anne too much of Powers. She keeps her distance and applies for a position as a schoolteacher, for which she is vastly unqualified, but no more so than most of the other women who apply beside her.
She teaches her first class on a Monday, many of the faces known to her already from her walks through town. She tells anyone who asks that she is just learning her way, but those who don’t ask, those who know her, know what she is doing, even if she will not admit it to anyone, least of all herself.
The children are nice enough, and willing to learn, and she does her best to make her classes a mixture of entertaining and educational, letting havoc find its way in occasionally. It’s fulfilling in that it fills her days, but she spends her nights staring out the window, watching her own reflection in the light of the candles.
Catherine is slowly warming to her again, words said in frustration and hurt not quite forgotten, but perhaps closer to forgiven. They make the evening meal together, and Catherine gives suggestions on Anne’s book of lessons, but there is no longer that ease between them. Anne thinks she lost everything at sea, and isn’t sure that any of it will wash up on the shores of her life again.
“I’ve brought a guest.” Garrett opens the door, letting in a swift burst of cool air that makes the candles flicker and the fire die down before it rushes back to life. “I hope there is stew enough for another mouth?”
“Of course.” Catherine gets to her feet quickly, and in that instant, Anne realizes and laughs.
“Why, Catherine! You’re to be a mother!”
Time stops as a slow heat crawls up Catherine’s neck and cheeks. Garrett’s eyes go from Anne’s in surprise and then to his wife, changing like a flash of sunlight on glass until they’re shining, burning with emotion. “Is that true?”
Catherine nods, her smile nervous as it spreads, her eyebrows going up as she waits for his reaction. She nods again and then laughs as Garrett whoops in delight, surging toward her and wrapping his arms around her, spinning her in a circle. Catherine laughs and kisses him, the effort spoiled by the fact that neither of them can stop smiling.
Anne averts her gaze from their happiness, allowing them some semblance of privacy, her heart stopping as her eyes fall to the door and the man standing just inside it.
“James.”
He’s staring at her, not seeing Catherine or Garrett at all. “Anne.”
“Y-you’re here.”
“For dinner, though I fear that’s to be delayed. Perhaps another night.” He turns and starts out the door.
“No. Wait!” She rushes forward, stopping just shy of touching him. “Please. We could…I could gather some things. We could eat just outside. Give them their privacy and…and have a few moments.”
“For what?”
“T-to talk. You can tell me of you new life here. Here in America. What you’ve been doing. Where you’re living and…” She reaches out, touching his arm carefully. “Please, James? Please don’t leave.”
She hurries to the cupboards, grabbing an assortment of foods. She can hear the soft murmurs of Catherine and Garrett in their bedroom and feels them like a hole in her heart. She shakes her head and forces her hands to keep moving, gathering everything and then rushing to the empty doorway.
“Oh.”
“I certainly hope that’s not stew you’ve gathered in your skirts.”
She looks over, surprised to see him at the edge of the steps, his legs stretched out in front of him. She moves beside him, leaving space between them to spread out the makeshift picnic. It is much like aboard ship, bread and cheese, though two shiny red apples and small pieces of chocolate round out the meal. “Not quite.”
“You look well.”
She brushes back a loose strand of hair and shakes her head. “I look harried and worn down, according to one of my more discerning students. She has suggested I invest in her father’s newest concoction for youthful rejuvenation.”
“You’ve no need for that.” He tears off a piece of bread and takes a bite. “Student, eh?”
“Yes. I’m teaching now.” She rubs her hands over her knees, sure that the sudden dampness from her palms is likely to stain her skirt. “And you?”
“This and that.” He shrugs. “I have pondered becoming a shipping tycoon, but I fear that far too much work is required for it. As it stands, most things require far too much work, far too many rules and a sense of decorum that is not one of my stronger suits. Apparently the one thing I am perfectly suited for is being a first-born son and inheriting all my land and money. Sadly, as you know, that’s not the case.”
“Were you a first born son, I would not have known you.”
“And thus would be safely ensconced in a grand mansion in the south, the lady of a fine tobacco plantation.”
“Unhappy and in a marriage I did not want.”
“So not so different from now.” He smiles slightly and shrugs. “Though perhaps teaching makes you happy.”
“I was a fool, James. What I said…what I didn’t say.” She frowns, fighting to find the right words in the rush that comes to her. “I love you. Have since…since that first ridiculous abduction, fight it though I did. I thought you were lovely and so brave…and it was a terrible proposal, but it was right. Far more than you on your knees asking for my hands. We can be partners, James. And it will work. I promise.”
“I cannot be the man you want, Anne.”
“You are the man I want, James. I don’t…need…I…” She exhales, nearly sobbing in frustration. “It will take…time and understanding. It will take…mistakes and…The only thing I need from you is to know that you…that you love me. I thought I could live with actions and thoughts, but I was wrong. I need those, yes, but I need more. I need…I need you to tell me. To say it. To…I need to hear your voice.”
“I’m not good with words. I’ve proven that.” He laughs and she can’t help but do the same. “Action suits me far better.”
“I know, I…” She stops as he offers her a small box. “What is this?”
“Action.”
She takes it from him with shaking hands, glancing up to look at him before opening the case. Even in the muted candlelight from the window, the golden metal gleams.
“I find I have a very difficult time living without you, Anne Strang.”
She laughs again, the sound choked thick with tears. “Anne Strang.”
“So I fear I’ve no choice but to keep you on as my wife. If you’ll have me.” He takes the ring from its place and waits for her to place her hand in his. “If you love me half as much as I love you.”
“I’ll thank you not to underestimate me, husband,” she smiles, watching through watery eyes as he slides the ring on her finger. “Or how much I love you.”