Chapter Twenty-One – New Acquaintances
Quentin and Amanda only imposed on Xzavier's hospitality for three days. They soon found out that the Shaw clan had a room to let.
On their third day in 1651 (they had found out the year by slyly asking their hosts how long they've been in Pomegranate Harbor, and when they'd moved), they went up to the Shaw cabin and knocked, nervous for their approval.
A young girl, maybe eighteen, answered the door. She had shoulder-length, unruly blond hair, and hazel eyes. "Hello?" she said timidly.
"May we speak to the man of the house, please?" Quentin smiled.
The girl nodded and ran into the house, and a broad-shouldered, brunette man took her place. "'Ello?" he said in a cockney-ish accent.
"We heard that you had rooms to let," Quentin said, smiling nervously.
"Ay, we do, sir," he said, his face splitting into a grin, "Would you an' the lady be needin' of those rooms, sir?"
"Yes, for a little while at least," Quentin nodded.
"An' whose this?" he asked in a babyish voice as he peered down at Jamison, who was asleep on his mother's shoulder.
"Jamison Thorn," Amanda said softly, rubbing her child's back affectionately.
"Ay, I remember when they were that little," the man smiled, "I have one of me own. The girl – Honora. Me pride an' joy."
Amanda smiled up at the man. He might seem imposing, but his spirit was kind. "You and your wife must be very proud," she said.
"Ay, we are," he said, his chest bursting with pride. He clapped Quentin on the shoulder, and asked, "What's ye handle?"
"My name is Fredrick Thorn. This is my wife, Prunella – Jamison, you've already met."
"How d'ye do, me name's Royale Shaw, and somewhere lurks me wife, Deirdre. DEIRDRE!" he yelled, causing alarm between Quentin and Amanda. "COMPANY!"
A slight, blond woman with violet eyes scuttled forth rapidly. She much resembled Carolyn, but was so prim, proper, and silent that they could not believe that they could be one and the same. "Yes, husband?" she asked in a whispery child's voice.
"Take them to their room – they're going ta let," Royale said, once again clapping Quentin on his shoulder.
Quentin and Amanda looked around the room: bare, but still very pleasant. "How long are ye fixin' to stay?" Deirdre asked in an accent as thick as her husband's.
"We'll leave as soon as our cabin is built," Quentin said, looking around the walls. Amanda stared incredulously at her husband – they had never discussed this! Quentin returned her gaze, and said, "Prunella, darling, stay here – I'll get our luggage from the Evans cabin."
Amanda nodded, and Quentin pecked her on her cheek as he left. Deirdre looked at her, then at the door that shut behind Quentin. "D'ye always do that?"
"Do what?" Amanda asked absently as she put Jamison on her other shoulder.
"Let 'im kiss ye in public," Deirdre whispered, as if it were some terrible secret.
Amanda laughed. "We're married, I assure you."
"I know, but . . ." Deirdre leaned in closer. "It tain't proper for a girl to let a man treat 'er that way."
Amanda sighed. She'd have to get used to this kind of life – how, she didn't know.
Quentin said his goodbyes and thank-yous to the Evans family, and returned to the Shaw home. He went to their bedroom/living room, and knocked on the door. "Yes?" he heard his wife say.
"It's Fredrick, darling, please open the door."
Amanda opened the door, and grabbed luggage filled with clothes. "How on earth did you find all these clothes, Fredrick?"
"Xzavier and his family gave them to us – they knew we had nothing."
"How kind," Amanda said thoughtfully as she put aside the garments. Behind the door, she noticed a crib. "They gave us that, too?"
"Yes," Quentin said, lugging the heavy crib into their room, "Since they have no children of their own, they said we could lend it – we have to give it back, though, if Elissa is 'with child'."
Amanda nodded in amazement, and helped Quentin put it in a corner of the room. Jamison, who was walking around the house in wonder, said, "Mama! Me want home."
Amanda kneeled next to her child, and said, "Jamison, honey, we can't go home." Her lip trembled as she tried to hold back tears. "We're lost."
Jamison, too, started to weep – mostly because he felt sad for his mother. Amanda picked him up and held on to him tightly. Someday, when he's older, perhaps he'll understand. Quentin, although sympathetic, rolled his eyes at his too-emotional wife and child. "Come on, crying won't get us anywhere," he said, joining in on this family hug, "We just have to make the most of it. Tomorrow I'll search for a place to build the cabin. We all can help – it'll be like a family project."
"You don't know how to build a cabin," Amanda pointed out as she wiped away her tears.
"So I'll ask Royale how he built his house," Quentin said soothingly, "We'll be all right."
"How are we going to get the money to pay these people?" Amanda whispered so no one could hear.
"I'll look for a job, too," Quentin said in an equally low voice. He kissed Amanda on the top of her head, which caused her to giggle. "What?" Quentin asked with a confused smile.
"Oh, Deirdre told me that I shouldn't let my husband kiss me in public," Amanda giggled.
"Hey, that's right, I forgot," Quentin said in a serious voice, "This isn't 1972 anymore. Public affection isn't allowed."
Amanda sighed. "It's all so different."
"But we'll adjust," Quentin said, kissing her softly on her lips. As long as Quentin's here, Amanda thought, everything will be all right.