Jeremy and The Girls

by NomdePlumette

Backstory and new characters and story lines

Jeremy & The Girls

A Here Come the Brides Fan-Fiction Novel

by "Nom de Plumette"

Addressing the questions:

Why do the Bolt brothers look so different?

Why is there so much space between their ages?

Why does Jeremy seem so different from his brothers?

Chapter 1: Philippe's Journal

My name is Philippe Richard Du Saule. (In English – "Phillip of the Willow Tree") I was born 20 October 1843 in Calais, France. I begin this journal in parallel with one of my son Jon as we move from France to the United States of America in the summer of 1877. I don't know who will read this in the future, but I want to make record of my life in France for those who may be interested.

My father, Chrétien Du Saule, and mother, Lucie Fievet Du Saule, were the last of their generation in their immediate families, who, like so many others around Calais, were involved in the sheep trade. (Calais is particularly suited for raising sheep, with a mild climate and cold winters.) My father lost two older brothers in war and my mother lost all her family to various illnesses. My grandfather, Richard Du Saule, founded a small bank in Calais for sheep farmers – primarily to offer them more favorable rates on loans. My father joined him in that business when he finished school. My parents had hoped to raise a large family, but my poor mother suffered four miscarriages before I survived to be born – and two more miscarriages after my birth.

My parents lived in a small house near the family bank in Calais when I was born. Upon my birth, they felt that their luck with having children was improving. My father purchased a larger house and several acres from a Widow Rousseau with which he intended to begin raising sheep himself, taking over his father's herd and expanding it. The property had a creek, lined with willow trees, running alongside the long driveway. That seemed a favorable omen for a family named Du Saule, and so we moved there when I was about two years old. The only issue was the large R for Rousseau on both the front gate and built into the brick on the front façade of the house. But 'creek' in French is 'ruisseau' – and so my parents named their new farm Ruisseau de Saule (Willow Creek) and we never removed the Rs on the gate or the house! In time, Willow Creek Wool became known as a high-quality brand, which we marketed in the immediate area and in nearby England. We also sent mutton to market.

My mother was a compassionate woman who learned a great deal about plants and herbal medicines through dealing with illness in her family and those of others. As the years passed, she expanded the old Willow Creek kitchen garden into an enormous garden of vegetables and herbs, enlisting my rather grudging assistance from an early age. Not only did we eat our produce, but my mother took me along with food gifts and herbal medicines to visit people who suffered from poverty, illness, or a death in their families. While our little family enjoyed good health and good fortune (other than all the miscarriages), I learned early that other people did not.

I had a pleasant and uneventful childhood – playing on the farm, doing chores, and learning all there is to know about raising sheep by my early teenage years. The worst thing that ever happened to me in my childhood was falling out of one of those willow trees and breaking my collarbone when I was around nine years. My mother worried and hovered, as she always did with any illness of mine, but I recovered fully.

When I was old enough, I rode in to town with my father in the mornings to attend a school for boys, then back home with him in the evenings to do my chores and homework. I began to play the cello around the age of 10 – beginning as a sort of therapy for my healing shoulder and affected arm – and I later played with small ensembles in school and, eventually, in the small orchestra in Calais for a few concert seasons before I graduated. I love to play the cello! And it was to alter the course of my life.

Graduation for me was the usual emotional pain: seeing long-term friends making plans to go here and there – the military, university in some distant city, or to diverse jobs in Calais and elsewhere. Foreseeing that great dispersion into adulthood made me sad, although I knew that I would have continuity on our family farm (which I was almost running by myself by that point) and in the bank with my father. My mother noticed my sadness as graduation drew near and mentioned it to my father.

My father had already noticed. He was a quiet observer of people's behavior – an important trait for a banker. He was looking forward to having me at the bank to teach me that trade as my formal schooling came to an end. With Calais being so close to England (just across the English Channel from Dover and a pleasant day's ride up the Thames to London by paddle-steamer), many people in Calais spoke a little English, including my father. However, my father thought it would benefit our business in the wool trade and banking if I learned to be truly proficient in English. My parents, therefore, gave me some months in England as a graduation gift – to study cello with a teacher there and, by force of the situation, to learn to speak English fluently.

So, within a few weeks of graduation, in June of 1861 at age 18, I found myself in London, moving into a boarding house near a small music academy and spending a miserable first week feeling more isolated than I ever had in my life. I studied English in school and made good grades, but everything was a struggle for me in England, where hearing the language spoken by English people could sound so very different due to their individual accents and colloquialisms. I felt exhausted at the end of every day after trying to read signs, menus, and find my way around. My conversation at boarding house meals was limited to saying "please" and "thank you" and trying to appear more sociable than I was able to be, struggling to make any sense at all of the conversation around the table.

My boarding house was named The Brown House, located across from a small college, their music academy recommended through my cello teacher in Calais. The boarding house was built of brown brick and run by a Mrs. Brown – a long-time widow. What plays on words! There were sixteen residents: some students at the college and some single people with employment in the area. Mrs. Brown took one look at my cello case and assigned me the room on the third floor, perhaps fearing that I played poorly and wouldn't disturb others in a room located in the treetops. I was just as happy: I didn't worry about disturbing others since the top floor was just my room, a storage room for luggage, and a washroom which I didn't have to share, plus the exercise of three flights of stairs. The rent included breakfast and dinner in the evening, but not lunch. (Most residents were in classes or at their jobs in mid-day.) The other boarders were courteous to me, but I was not able to respond with more than nods, a few words, and imitating their ever-present smiles in that foreign culture. (People in France do not smile so much or so easily.)

A day after I moved in, I auditioned for a music teacher at the small academy, seeking private cello lessons. I played a few pieces for him that I had learned in school and in the town orchestra. It was just as well I had brought some music with me, for the teacher and I could scarcely communicate. During my audition, there was a knock on his studio door and the teacher had a conversation with another man, who seemed quite upset about something. The teacher pointed to me and introduced me to the man, a Professor Johnson, who had studied music for a year in Paris and returned to England. He taught violin at the music academy and conducted their small student orchestras. He spoke a little French from his time in Paris, which was a great blessing for me. The two professors decided that Professor Johnson would give me lessons and Prof J also offered me a third-chair cello position in the student summer orchestra. It turned out that he was upset that the two cellists who were recommended for the summer orchestra did not strike him as serious about participating. He was worried that he would wind up without any cellists in the summer orchestra at all. The Lord – and Calais – provided one, as it turned out. The first rehearsal was the following Tuesday afternoon.

I had a lot of spare time in the next few days, not being enrolled in classes, cello lessons, or having employment. I went daily to a café at the edge of the campus near the boarding house for lunch. Their menu was a general English mystery to me, but I sat there or in the little campus park and watched the people passing by, trying to guess from their dress or behavior what they did.

One fine day, I was sitting on a bench in the park and saw a pretty, dark-haired young lady about my age, walking through the park with a little blonde-haired girl skipping along beside her, holding her hand, looking up at her, and chattering to her in way that small children do with their mothers – but the young woman looked too young to be her mother: yet another English mystery I couldn't solve. About fifteen minutes later, the two returned – this time accompanied by a dark-haired boy and girl who looked to be school-age and were carrying books. I then thought that the young woman might be an au pair, who had taken the young blonde with her to pick up the other two from school. A smart-looking barouche with a well-dressed 40-something driver passed by the park next, carrying two passengers: another school-aged girl (blonde) and a red-headed boy. The red-head shouted something to the brunette boy and they bid each other good-bye – schoolmates, I assumed. I didn't know that I had just seen members of my future family, including my future wife.

Chapter 2: Jonathan Bolt

Jonathan Bolt was born in Kilmaron, Scotland, the younger of a set of identical twins by five minutes. Their parents must have known from their birth that, even though their sons looked alike and would grow up together, their lives would have to diverge and so they had named the older one an un-rhyming Duncan. And, as primogeniture law declared, Duncan inherited the entire estate upon the death of their father when they were 16 – and Jonathan inherited nothing. But English taxes had grown to become a greater burden than many estates could pay and, after the death of their mother a year later, Duncan sold off much of the property and gave the proceeds to his twin as an inheritance. Jonathan pondered what to do with it.

There was no point in buying other property in Scotland, for the same high taxes would be an issue anywhere. Jonathan heard that land was cheap in the young United States of America and, like so many others, he decided to seek his fortune there. He left Scotland with the courage that only an 18-year-old male can muster and took ship for New England. There he found that all the land was already sold and occupied. He heard that land was cheaper in the American West, as the young country sought to entice settlers, so he took a stagecoach – not for the faint of heart or tender of bottom! – and went west, across the entire continent. The very long ride over the flat plains depressed him. He didn't think he would make much of a farmer, which was also obviously impossible in the Rocky Mountains due to terrain. So he kept going, reaching California Territory before the gold rush days, and then learned that there was land to the north seeking settlers and selling at even cheaper prices. He took another stagecoach in that direction and eventually found himself in a wild and beautiful area which would become the State of Washington. Land was selling for pennies an acre! Jonathan couldn't believe his good fortune: he had begun to think that he would go broke before he could find available land that he liked. He met an odd collection of settlers in the area which would become Seattle, most of whom welcomed his friendship. He decided to commit himself – and bought an entire mountain! He spent time exploring his new holdings and built a small log cabin. He named his property Bridal Veil Mountain after a delicate waterfall near his new cabin, but he was also thinking of Margaret Cameron. He returned to Scotland because of her – and his return trip seemed to go much faster.

Where Jonathan had come from, people did not enter marriage for romance as much as for family alliances. He had known Margaret Cameron since they were children and their families had long considered them a suitable match. Jonathan liked that young Margaret seemed restless with life in Scotland and he noticed that, when she learned that he was leaving for America, she seemed genuinely distressed. He had begun writing to her while he was gone, describing his travels and search for land. He later proposed by mail and she accepted, so he returned to marry her and bring her to a new life where people could talk about something other than taxes and, hopefully, be happy.

They married in Scotland and were briefly happy as newlyweds there. Margaret became pregnant within a month of their wedding, before they could set sail. But she was not well and pregnancy seemed to weaken her, so they delayed their departure from Kilmaron. The physician put her on bed-rest after a few months, while Jonathan hovered and felt helpless. Margaret was eventually delivered of a healthy son whom they named Jason. He had the same dark hair and blue eyes of both his parents, and his mother's thick curls. Margaret, however, did not recover from childbirth and died within a week.

Jonathan was devastated. He gave the baby to a wet nurse and took odd jobs on Duncan's estate, spending as much time as he could with the baby and wondering what to do. He knew he could not impose on Duncan's hospitality forever and wanted to return to Seattle, but he could not take a baby on such a rough trip across country and care for him alone in the wilderness. And Margaret's parents now hated him, accused him of 'killing' their daughter, and wanted to take the baby to raise themselves. Jonathan resisted that notion. He felt that he owed it to Margaret to raise their son and he didn't want the boy to be raised to hate his father. So, he dithered….

Jerusha Clayton reluctantly accompanied her school chum Amy Duckett to the Scottish Highlands that summer after their graduation in London. Amy wanted to visit some of her mother's distant relatives and learn about the Scottish side of her family, but Jerusha preferred tramping around the countryside and not poking through musty old documents.

One day while Amy was viewing some family mementos with a great-aunt, Jerusha asked the postmistress for information on notable sites to see in the area. The postmistress hailed a rather sad-looking young man passing by, recruiting his assistance for her. "This is Jonathan Bolt. He grew up here and can show you around."

Jonathan was grateful for a break from his depressing routine to play Tour Guide. He had never seen a woman with such a head of thick blonde hair. Jerusha was spunky, lively, and inquisitive and still seemed feminine in field boots with her skirts hitched up above the thistles. They had a pleasant afternoon of hiking around the area, enjoying exceptionally good weather. Jerusha had a ready smile and cornflower blue eyes which seemed to find wonder or humor in everything around. Jonathan found himself enjoying life for the first time in over a year. Once he even laughed!

When they neared town in late afternoon, Jonathan said that he needed to meet someone at a crossroads. Jerusha waited with him until a farm woman with a three-month-old baby appeared. She said something to Jonathan in a language Jerusha did not understand, handed him the baby and a bag of supplies, and walked away. Jonathan introduced Jerusha to the baby: "This is my son, Jason."

Jerusha was momentarily speechless. Jonathan then told her about his brief, ill-fated marriage and that Jason had not known his mother. Jerusha felt a rush of compassion for both of them. She asked to hold the baby and Jason responded positively to her. An idea crept into Jonathan's mind….

After a whirlwind courtship of a few months, Jonathan and Jerusha were married in a civil ceremony in London and left immediately for Seattle with the baby Jason. Jerusha's mother, Elizabeth Clayton, had a heart attack and died the week after they left. Margaret Cameron's parents never forgave Jonathan for remarrying so soon and taking their grandson away. It may have been for the best that the new little family left England forever.

Chapter 3: The Grayson Sisters

Helen and Sophie Grayson were spinster sisters in London, England. They had had a fairly privileged middle-class upbringing with their older sister, Elizabeth, and settled into a life of teaching and administrative duties in a small academy for girls in London. Elizabeth had married a Clayton and birthed one daughter, Jerusha, who married a young Scottish widower at age eighteen after a brief romance and moved to the western side of North America with the widower's infant son. Elizabeth (widowed herself just the year before) had not been able to cope with two such emotional blows and had shortly died of a heart attack.

While the whole situation with their niece had been troubling to Helen and Sophie, both now retired, they resolved for Elizabeth's sake to try to maintain contact with Jerusha if she was willing, and so they wrote to her. To their satisfaction, Jerusha responded. Mail delivery took a very long, but her letters were so novel and fascinating! Jonathan and Jerusha had settled into their life in the near-wilderness of Washington Territory with Jonathan's infant son Jason, who grew up to regard Jerusha as his birth-mother since he had known no other. They named their property Bridal Veil Mountain, since they were starting out there in his cabin near a picturesque waterfall. Three years later, they had a daughter of their own, whom they named Julie (continuing a family pattern of J-names). In three more years, there was a son, Joshua. Four years more: another son named Jeremy. Two more years: another daughter, Jessica. Two more years … and Jerusha's letters stopped. For six months, there was silence.

Then came a letter in different handwriting—from Julie! And oh, what news she sent:

I'm sorry to have to tell you that Mother has died. She had another baby (Jennifer) and we couldn't stop the bleeding. I dropped out of school, which I had almost finished anyway, to take care of the younger children. Jeremy took Mother's death particularly hard and started stuttering after her burial. Jess had just started to talk, but now she says nothing. We found a nanny-goat to get milk for the baby, but life has become a struggle even with my brothers and sisters helping out as they can. Jason is now 14 and helps Daddy with hunting and other things. Joshua (now 8) tries to help out, too.

The sisters conferred briefly, then took their life savings and booked passage to the American West, intending to help Jonathan out with their sister's descendants. What other way was there to help their dwindling bloodline to continue? The passage took nine months around the southern tip of South America. A good thing that they liked to read and knit! They had never known such leisure.

Jonathan Bolt reflected on the ups and downs of his life: Margaret and their baby, now 14 and hunting at his side. The delightful surprise of meeting Jerusha – his great love and soulmate – and the five children they now had. And then came the second loss of a wife in childbirth, which had crushed him more deeply than the first time because it was so unexpected and Jerusha was so dear to him.

He grieved in addition over how badly Jeremy and Jessica had taken their mother's death, which seemed unreal to them at their young ages and barely real for Josh. Jeremy had seen Jerusha's coffin put into the ground near their cabin and had begun to stutter right afterward. Jessica had asked many times for her mother and then she stopped talking at all.

Eleven-year-old Julie had dropped out of school and did a pretty good job of taking care of the house and the youngest children. (The tiny one-room school in Seattle did not offer much education anyway.) Jason was out of school and already considered himself full-grown – as most teenage boys do.

They had enrolled Jeremy in school early as a way of taking some pressure off of Julie at the house and also trying to give Jeremy something new to think about, but the other students made fun of his stuttering and he would come home and cry himself to sleep. All Jonathan could do was hold him while he cried and know that Jerusha would not be coming to save the day for him again … and things were so much worse with so many little mouths to feed. Still, some neighbors, who were almost as bad off as they were, had helped them in small ways and he felt that they would be able to get through together in time.

Jonathan stepped on a boulder to look for the deer they had been tracking. It gave way beneath him; he felt a sharp pain in his head and knew no more.

Chapter 4: The Children

Jason was barely 15 years old and knew that things couldn't get much worse. Since his mother (who was actually his stepmother) had died in childbirth and his father had died a few months later, hitting his head in a fall, the adult-level challenges for Jason had been non-stop. His eleven-year-old sister Julie had stepped into the gap left by their mother with an almost-adult level of competence around the house. Neighbors – even some of the local Indian tribe – had helped in small ways, but life was just plain hard scrabble for everyone settled in that undeveloped wilderness area of Washington Territory, and especially for them. The law allowed a juvenile son to inherit property from parents if there were no other adult survivors, but they were just barely scratching by. Jason was glad that they lived in such an isolated area that no territorial official could easily find them to check on their welfare.

Then one day, two older women got off a ship on the shaky wharf in what passed as a settlement, asking for Jonathan Bolt – not knowing he had died – and someone directed them to Jason and his siblings. Jason didn't know that he had two great-aunts through his stepmother – or if Julie had told him, he had forgotten it with so much else on his mind.

Helen and Sophie Grayson took in the children's dismal situation, including how thin Julie was under the burden of foster-motherhood. They set in to learn how things were done in the wilderness with none of the conveniences to which they had been accustomed in London. There were only two rooms and a loft in the little cabin and it was a tight fit, even before the great-aunts arrived.

There was no doctor in Seattle in those days. After a close call with a cholera epidemic in the area, Helen and Sophie proposed that they all return to England and raise the young children there in better circumstances, at least temporarily. Jason adamantly refused to go and stated that he would remain in Seattle with their father's property claim. This prompted a huge argument with Julie, who felt that the younger children might not survive in the wilderness as things had turned out for them. What was the point of maintaining a property claim if they did not survive to live on it? Julie agreed to go with the great-aunts to England; Jason still refused. He stopped speaking to any of the rest of them in his fury.

Julie and the Grayson sisters packed up and boarded a ship bound for California with all the younger children. As the ship began to move out, Joshua dove off the stern and swam to shore, opting to stay with Jason. Julie screamed in horror. Having pulled a dripping Joshua out of the Sound, Jason called to Julie from the shore, "I'll see that he is raised." Those were the last words they exchanged for a very long time.

Days later on-board ship, the Grayson sisters exchanged a look of concern. Julie had slept almost non-stop since leaving Seattle, exhausted and relieved that someone else was in charge now. Jeremy seemed stunned at the loss now of his brothers and yet another traumatic change in his five-years of life; if possible, his stuttering worsened and his large blue eyes were so heartbreakingly sad. Jessica, age three, keened herself to sleep and clung tightly to Baby Jenny, who seemed oblivious to everything and content as long as she was held. And Jenny had lots of people to take turns in holding her, since those people now had plenty of leisure to do so.

The trip from Seattle to England took some nine months, around the tip of South America and across the Atlantic Ocean without a stop in New England. In that time, Julie's energy returned. The Grayson sisters began to read with the children as a form of schooling, to teach the girls knitting and crocheting, and their new family slowly gestated into life.

Once back in London, the aunts made immediate changes in their rather staid, spinster townhouse to accommodate their instant family of four children. They stored the formal dining set in the attic and turned the small dining room into an activity room across from the parlor for the children to do homework and, later, to practice their musical instruments. The old kitchen on the back side was so large that it became the heart of their home, where they ate and spent much time, learning to heal and find joy in the life they created together.

Helen and Sophie Grayson were devout Roman Catholics. They were horrified to discover that none of their new charges had been baptized. (There was no church in Seattle, after all.) Therefore, they had all four of the children baptized as soon as they arrived in England and began to take them to mass – which was an exotic novelty for them and they were full of questions.

In all this transition, Jenny probably fared better than the other children, being too young to remember the hard times in Seattle and seeming to think that everyone naturally had four female caretakers, none of whom was really her mother.

Chapter 5: School Days

Jeremy and Jessica were soon enrolled nearby in a very small academy for children with speech problems and children for whom English was a second language. Jeremy made good progress with his stutter in his first year there, as long as he didn't get upset or excited. Jessica still would not speak to anyone outside the family and only a few words to those in the family – but that was a tiny bit of progress.

The great-aunts enrolled Julie in a regular girls' academy, but that didn't work out. She was bullied by the other students for being different: talking 'oddly' in her American English and not being interested in the latest fashions and school gossip. The great-aunts thought that Julie had been forced to grow up too fast and observed that she was never interested in typical girlish pursuits, even when relieved of adult responsibilities. Julie passed the basic examination on Sophie's instruction and happily dropped out; but Sophie (a retired French teacher) kept encouraging Julie to venture out with her to museums, to read and discuss books with her, and to learn some basic French. And Julie continued to dutifully help with the care of the three younger children. She felt that that was her lot in life and owed to her parents.

One particular day in 1858, Jeremy's teacher, Miss Siskall, called him to her desk. She commended him on his speech progress in the past year. She told him that she had a new project for him which would help him and another student at the same time: a new student was enrolling who spoke German and very little English. Miss Siskall asked if Jeremy would be willing to help that student settle in. He readily agreed, remembering his own early struggles. Miss Siskall moved Jeremy's desk to the back edge of the classroom beside an empty desk, explaining that he and the new student could talk quietly about their schoolwork in the back without disturbing others as much. Miss Siskall had learned in the past year that Jeremy had a kind heart and was used to being around girls, living with three sisters and two maiden great-aunts, so she felt confident that he would be able to work well with the new girl. She forgot, however, to tell him that the new student was a girl.

The next morning, Miss Siskall left the classroom for a while and returned with a well-dressed, blonde girl who wore a guarded expression. "Class," Miss Siskall announced, "This is Marta Jäger. Her family has moved here from Prussia. She is here to learn English." She led Marta to the desk beside Jeremy and introduced him: "This is Jeremy Bolt. He will help you to settle in to our class." Jeremy gaped for a moment and wondered why it had never crossed his mind that the new student would be a girl. And such a cute girl!

Jeremy helped Marta with some test papers by pointing – directing her where to write her name – as Miss Siskall assessed her knowledge of math and basic English vocabulary. Since German and English have some similarities in words, it was not terribly difficult to begin to communicate with single words and pointing.

The time came for lunch and the rest of the class raced outside as usual. Jeremy led Marta to the globe at the side of the classroom where students had stuck pins at the location of their birth. He made Marta understand that she should do the same and she did so, near Bitburg, Prussia. She then appeared to ask him by signs which of the pins was his. He turned the globe to show her the side where his solitary pin was stuck at the location of Seattle. Her dark blue eyes flew wide. 'An American! How incredibly fascinating!'

Jeremy noticed that Marta had not brought a lunch pail that day. He walked with her down the hall and was nearly knocked over by Jessica, racing to hug him tightly, as usual. Jeremy introduced Jess to Marta, prompting Jess to reply, but she hid behind him and said nothing, frowning at the stranger.

Jeremy carried a large lunch pail with food for both their lunches, since Jess always wanted to eat with him. They walked outside with Marta and he offered Marta part of their lunch as well. Jessica frowned more at that, but Jeremy pointed out to Jess that she never ate all that was packed for her anyway. Marta observed that Jessica could understand speech, but, for whatever reason, would not talk.

The next day, Marta brought a lunch pail for herself including three nicely-decorated small cakes for their dessert, tempting and prompting Jessica to say 'please' before she could have one – and she finally whispered the word! No one ever let Jess forget that she could be bought for a cupcake.

Chapter 6: Dingle, Ireland

Fiona O'Sullivan had thought of naming her baby Brendan after Brendan the Navigator: local-boy-turned-hero/saint centuries before in their peninsula region on the west coast of Ireland. That was before her headstrong young husband, Cormac, drowned in amateur heroics, trying to right a small boat that was sinking near the little fishing town of Dingle. Cormac would never see his son. Fiona then felt it was tempting fate to name the baby for someone like Brendan, who was so closely associated with the sea. She named him Ronan instead, after some twelve Christian saints and at the suggestion of her local parish priest. She hoped that all those saints might give her fatherless boy some extra protection in life.

Both his parents had curly red hair and green eyes, so it was hard to say from whom Ronan got his classical Irish looks. He grew up to favor his father a great deal physically, but with his mother's more measured temperament. He attended the parish school in Dingle and, under the loving guidance of his numerous local relatives, the Church, and his gentle mother, Ronan grew into a sensible, good-humored young man. He had the kindness which can come from tragedy, a love for people, and a gift for resolving problems – all of which befitted the chief of the extended O'Sullivan clan. When he was twelve, he received the O'Sullivan clan's torque, which had been removed from his father's drowned body, and kept for Ronan when he would come of age.

Everyone knew that times were changing in Ireland from all of the past. Tensions were building that would create the Irish genocide in the potato famine of the 1840s, which Ronan experienced to a degree. They were somewhat protected, living in their isolated and clannish peninsula, but Ronan heard tales of so many of his countrymen starving to death or moving to America to escape. Ronan and everyone he knew hated English oppression as well as those of Anglo-Norman descent – the dark-haired, dark-eyed "Black Irish" – who had conquered Ireland in the late 12th century and forever destroyed their traditional way of life.

A great-uncle had shown Ronan an antique broadsword when he was a child which Ronan could not even lift. Irish clan-chiefs were no longer the victorious warriors of the past and battle no longer determined the clan-chief (or easily removed the clan's torque from the severed neck of the last one.) Clan leadership had become inherited, father to son, but no one really knew how that worked and results were mixed all over the country. Fewer and fewer clan-chiefs wore a torque, since many were lost, stolen, or melted down during times of privation. Being a clan-chief was a somewhat risky venture – but, really, that had always been the case.

Twenty-year-old Ronan and a few friends formed a band to play at social gatherings and local pubs. (Ronan played the tin-whistle and the uilleann pipes.) They had youthful high spirits and a determination to preserve and pass on what they could of their Irish heritage. But when Ronan saw Clarissa Pellan at a pub in Tralee where his band was playing, Ronan became part of Irish cultural change, rather than continuity.

Clarissa was an extraordinary Black Irish beauty with black hair and eyes, descended from their Norman-English conquerors. Both their families were scandalized at their instant attraction and subsequent marriage. They settled in Tralee rather than Dingle, because, oddly, Clarissa's family seemed a bit more accepting of Ronan than his family was of her.

Chapter 7: Pellan

Pellan O'Sullivan had as good a life as a hybrid child could have, growing up in Tralee with his mother's people, where he was born. He resembled his father, but had unusual emerald-green eyes and thick hair that was a darker red and more wavy than curly. His father taught him to swim, ride a pony, and play the pipes and tin-whistle by ear at an early age, to love people and nature, and the wisdom that the Irish people had accumulated of how to survive in an environment, both of nature and politics, which had been against them for millennia.

Pellan made many trips with his father down the peninsula to Dingle to visit his father's people. He was told that his father was clan-chief of the O'Sullivans and that he would be clan-chief too someday, but Pellan was not clear on just what it was that his father did. He knew that his father was away from home for days at a time "on business" and was often very tired when he returned. Pellan loved his mother, but relished his time with his father. They were all happy together, but Pellan could sense that in their extended family, there seemed to be some sort of strain.

Clarissa O'Sullivan was left to raise her strong-willed son alone when Ronan was gone on his clan-chief business trips, but the fact that they had given the boy the Pellan family name may have assisted his acceptance among her people in Tralee. Once Pellan, almost age five, stole some apples from a neighbor's tree while his father was away. Clarissa gave him a "talking-to" – but when he did it again the very next day, Clarissa took a switch to him. She knew Pellan was more willful than forgetful.

Another time, when Pellan was almost six, he defied his mother in his father's presence when she would not allow him to go fishing with a friend; his father had promptly given him the belt-strap for disrespecting his mother.

Inclined to run off when his father finished that unusual corporal punishment, Pellan was shocked to see his father crying more than he was. Ronan told Pellan that his mother was expecting another child and that she had had such a difficult delivery with Pellan that the doctors had not felt it advisable that they have more children. His father told Pellan that they should not add any stress to his mother's life in this time particularly, for her health's sake … and Pellan obeyed. His strong will could also be used to benefit his family members. He had a kind and loyal heart.

By age six, Pellan had a sister named Siobhan. Her birth weakened Clarissa's heart in a way from which she never recovered, but at least she had survived. Pellan was sent to stay with a nearby great-aunt during the childbirth itself. The old woman figured out a partial solution to Pellan's lifelong propensity to fall out of bed, putting him in a large feather bed for his stay. At last Pellan no longer had to sleep on a pallet on the floor like a baby! And he was proud to no longer be the baby of the family, after all.

Siobhan showed early promise of her mother's dark-haired beauty. She also had a fondness for mud puddles which no one else in her family shared. One Sunday morning, Pellan and Siobhan, then aged eight years and twenty-one months, were dressed for church. Their mother was changing clothes to accompany them and their father, who had again arrived home late, was eating a late breakfast in the kitchen, planning to rest. Pellan sat reading a book and had been told to watch his sister. He looked up at one point, alarmed to see that Siobhan was nowhere around! He went to look out the front door of their cottage and saw his sister's shoes and socks in the front yard. With a sinking feeling, he followed the trail of her clothing up the wet lane to the nearest mudhole, where she was sitting in naked glee like a pink pig. Pellan tried to coax his sister out of the puddle, but it was no use. He finally pulled off his own shoes and socks and waded into the slippery mud to pull her out. Siobhan resisted him and they ended up in a tussle … with predictable results.

Ronan accompanied his wife to their cottage parlor as she prepared to leave for mass, both suddenly realizing that the children were missing. Then they looked out the front door and saw Pellan coming up the road, half-dragging his squirming, naked sister who was too big for him to carry, both of them covered in mud and Pellan carrying collected clothing and his shoes in his free hand. Siobhan was howling with anger. Some neighbors drove by in a buggy at that moment and gave the whole family a disapproving look. Ronan nodded pleasantly to the passing neighbors as if there was nothing amiss, and then remarked to Clarissa that their daughter seemed to be a spirited and fully-Irish lass in spite of her diluted bloodline.

Ronan sent Clarissa on to attend church while he began the re-bathing of the children. Pellan insisted that he could bathe himself and was relieved that he didn't get the strap that day, since he had not noticed Siobhan's escape; but his parents seemed proud of his retrieving her on his own initiative – and that gave him a good feeling.

Pellan didn't understand why, but the next year his life changed radically. He was sent to stay with a Mr. Baxter – an attorney in London – and his wife, who became his guardians in that country. The Baxters did not have children of their own and were in their late 30s. They had Irish heritage on both sides – Mrs. Baxter actually being a distant cousin of Clarissa's – and could speak Gaelic, though they did not advertise that fact in England. His parents had told Pellan was that it was safer for him to stay in England for a while, but he found himself surrounded by the hated English, whose language he could not speak or understand.

Mr. Baxter hired a private tutor for Pellan in their home, but Pellan found such constant solitude hard to bear and did not apply himself to his studies, becoming moody and depressed. The next year, Mr. Baxter enrolled Pellan in a small academy for children who needed to learn English as a second language. It was to change his life in many ways.

Pellan arrived for his first day at the English language academy looking like a red-headed thundercloud: to be forced to attend school with the hated English! It did not help that no one spoke his native Gaelic and he could not read any English to test him in anything but math. Already tall for his age, he was placed in a class with younger children, adding insult to injury, and he seethed as he slid into his assigned desk.

He looked around at the other students and noted that some of them appeared to come from different countries, some even having dark skin. Then he noticed the very cute blonde in the back and tried to guess her nationality. She paid him no mind and whispered almost exclusively with a dark-haired boy who would occasionally stutter. Pellan thought that she must have been assigned to help him with his school work. He obviously needed help.

Pellan tried to show off at lunch and at recess, hoping to impress the blonde. He had always been strong and well-coordinated, loving sports and any kind of physical activity. The blonde again paid him no mind, focused on the dark-haired stutterer and a younger girl who seemed to be his sister.

Within a couple of days, Pellan decided that the blonde (whose name was Marta) seemed to be attracted to Jeremy the Stutterer and Pellan couldn't understand why. Could Marta not see that Pellan was taller and stronger, more coordinated, and certainly not a stutterer? Pellan would even be a clan-chief someday! But Pellan couldn't communicate with Marta or anyone – not even the teacher or headmistress – and they couldn't talk to him. While the teacher and headmistress were actually conferring about how to address Pellan's needs, it did not seem to Pellan that anyone wanted to try to relate to him. He radiated anger and continued to approach his boiling point.

All of that led to an altercation the next week. Pellan tried to involve Jeremy the Stutterer in tossing a ball – because Pellan thought that he would be better at it than Jeremy and it would make him more appealing to Marta. He insisted in Gaelic (which no one understood), but Jeremy declined, wary of Pellan's continually angry demeanor. Pellan pushed him. Jeremy backed farther away a few steps. Pellan moved toward him and pushed him again; Marta (who had eight brothers and was not intimidated by boys) assertively told Pellan to stop.

Pellan was too angry about everything to care by this point and took a swing at Jeremy, knocking him down and bloodying his nose. As Jeremy scrambled to his feet, Marta pushed Pellan herself. Pellan took another swing at Jeremy. Jeremy ducked … and Pellan hit Marta in the eye by accident. Jeremy's younger sister then launched herself at Pellan, clawing his face with her fingernails and knocking him down by the momentum of her charge. Marta kicked Pellan hard in the groin, and he crumpled up in agony. Jeremy, shocked, yelled for Marta to stop, just as some teachers ran up to put an end to their brawl.

They were a sorry sight in the headmistress' office: Marta scowling at Pellan with her blackening eye, Jeremy holding a handkerchief to his still-streaming nose, Pellan curled on a settee with his privates still smarting and ruing the day that he was scratched up in a fight by Jeremy's dirty, six-year-old sister Jessica, who glared at him still as if she would have a second go once adult backs were turned. Jeremy looked around at them all … and then started to laugh, which seemed bizarre and unfitting.

Jeremy stated to the headmistress: "We're not l-like this. We're b-b-better than this. We are! Even P-Pellan: we c-can't understand him, but he c-comes to school dressed c-clean and nice. I think s-someone has taught him s-some manners."

Jeremy asked the headmistress to give them all another chance and requested an English-Gaelic/Gaelic-English dictionary for Pellan, stating that perhaps that could help Pellan to learn to communicate and adjust to school.

Pellan didn't know what they were saying, but he was amazed at Jeremy's initiative and rather impressed by his long speech. (So was the headmistress.) Pellan had feared that he would be expelled from school for fighting and was relieved to learn that he wasn't. He didn't particularly care what the Baxters thought of him, but he hated for his parents to learn that he had been beaten up in a fight by two younger girls, one aged six.

The next day Pellan found that his desk had been moved to the back of the class beside Jeremy's. Miss Siskall decreed that both boys would do everything together until they could learn to get along.

Marta arrived a little late (her parents having had a firm discussion with the headmistress), dressed in her usual neat style and sporting a very black eye. She gave Pellan a look of loathing as she took her seat on the other side of Jeremy. It made Pellan feel sick to see what he had done to her and he put his head down in his arms on his desk.

Miss Siskall then came over and gave a book to Jeremy with some words that Pellan could not understand and then returned to her desk. Jeremy hunched Pellan in the arm and showed him the book: a Gaelic-English/English-Gaelic dictionary. Pellan flipped through it and immediately understood what it was, though the thought of having to learn half its contents made him feel defeated. He looked up the Gaelic word for 'apology' and showed its English translation to Jeremy, nodding toward Marta on Jeremy's other side.

Jeremy took the dictionary from Pellan and showed the word to Marta, adding that he thought Pellan was apologizing to her for the black eye.

Marta retorted, "You tell him that I said he can rot in Hell."

Jeremy stated firmly, "I'll n-not do anything of the sort! It's the f-first English word he's t-tried to say. It's an apology, and I think you should t-tell him that you accept it."

Marta gave Pellan a very faint and icy smile, and then pointedly turned her back on him to attend to her schoolwork. Pellan knew he deserved whatever he got from Marta from that point on – and that it would likely not be affection.

Pellan and Jeremy were forced to study, play, eat, and even take breaks together by Miss Siskall so that they would learn to cooperate and get along. Surprising everyone, their relationship improved quite quickly. Pellan threw himself into learning English as fast as he could with characteristic vigor, though he butchered English in his attempts and protested 'baby work' given to him by the teacher (coloring words, as the youngest children did). Jeremy would say, "Just do it. Miss S-Siskall has to s-see that you c-can do it," passing him the crayons.

After the fight, Pellan gave up hope of any sort of romance with Marta (fearing another kick in the groin, he always said.) Whatever it was that she saw in Jeremy the Stutterer, Pellan found that Jeremy, though a year younger, could be a very good friend. Pellan needed a friend.

Marta could be a friend, too. She decided that since Jeremy couldn't be rid of Pellan at school, she might as well learn to tolerate Pellan herself, though their interaction was frosty and strained at first. Pellan learned that Marta was from Prussia and Jeremy was born in America – so they were not the hated English after all! Indeed, he learned that none of his other classmates were born in England, and almost everyone was in the same shape as he was, having to learn English as a second language: a challenge for them all. Pellan's attitude improved with his ability to communicate. He didn't seem to care how many errors he made– just pressed on with attempts to communicate – and improved over time with practice.

Marta's father owned several acres in England and was breeding horses, as his family had done in western Prussia near Bitburg. Marta was already an accomplished rider at age eight and was teaching Jeremy to ride as well, even bareback. Pellan had ridden some Irish ponies, but Marta undertook to teach him to ride a small horse at her parents' estate. He fell off some, but improved quickly. Pellan taught Marta and Jeremy to fish in a stream there. They found ways to cooperate and get along, getting to know and trust each other.

Pellan bought tickets to a local horse race for the three of them. They were too young to bet on the races, but Pellan expressed an opinion about which horse he felt was strong enough to win. Marta informed him that the jockey was just as important and told him which horse she thought would win due to the jockey's skill … and she was proven correct! Pellan was amazed and asked her to always accompany him to horseraces once he was old enough to bet. Marta rolled her eyes derisively. As if she would ever go anywhere with Pellan O'Sullivan by herself!

Jeremy often invited Pellan and Marta to his great-aunts' home. Pellan instantly felt at home in the big, sunny kitchen. He teased Jessica, hoping that she would stop scowling at him, but had no success. He finally stopped trying, deciding that Jess would hate him until she stopped hating him – or not. Jess kept watching, though – surprised more by Jeremy and Marta: that they would become friends with the mean boy who had attacked them! It was quite puzzling to a six-year-old.

Pellan felt a little sorry for Jeremy, raised by his great-aunts and with three sisters. 'He must know more about setting a table than fishing, swimming, or hunting!' he thought. Pellan invited Jeremy to Mr. Baxter's club and taught him to swim in the pool there.

Pellan eventually learned that Jeremy had two older brothers who lived somewhere on the west coast of America and that their parents had died young. Pellan couldn't imagine what that must have been like, but began to have more sympathy for Jeremy's stuttering. 'What could help him?' Pellan pondered.

One day Miss Siskall passed out tin-whistles to the class and said that they would be learning to play them. Pellan rolled his eyes and didn't participate. The lesson began, with predictably dismal 'music.' Miss Siskall motioned to Pellan to play along; he shook his head "no," and made some long statement in Gaelic which no one understood.

Jeremy pressed him, "What do you mean?" So Pellan took up his tin-whistle and played – a lively Irish jig!

Jeremy turned to Miss Siskall, saying with a laugh, "I think he's w-way ahead of us."

The next day Pellan brought a case to class containing his own set of Irish uilleann pipes. Miss Siskall allowed him to play for the class and it was apparent that Pellan had a gift for music that had been cultivated for some years already, playing by ear.

Miss Siskall asked Pellan, "What new instrument do you want to learn?"

Pellan stroked the class piano and said, "This. Learn this. And read music."

He then threw himself into piano lessons with the same vigor and tenacity with which he did everything else.

The three made an unusual triad of friends. Pellan frequently picked arguments with Marta. Marta derided Pellan's tendency toward arrogance and snobbery. Jeremy played referee, but was more adaptable than Pellan originally thought him capable of being. They were all bright students and challenged each other. They worked on learning their instruments – Pellan on the piano now, Marta on clarinet, Jeremy on guitar.

The following summer, Pellan's parents suggested that he invite a friend to accompany him on his summer holiday to Ireland so that he would have a playmate. (Siobhan was just four at that time, and was never able to be a good playmate for a brother six years older.) Pellan invited Jeremy, and for two months they had quite the time – visiting many sites and O'Sullivan relatives in the western part of Ireland. (What the boys didn't realize was that Pellan's parents kept him moving around frequently for his safety.)

Perhaps their best time was while visiting a great-aunt of Pellan's on the remote island of Inis Mór. They ran wild on the beaches, watching seals and other sea life, and exploring the ancient hill fort called Dún Angus. Pellan and Jeremy hiked out across rocks to "the wormhole" – a natural rock receptable of sea tides, resembling a large rectangular swimming pool, where older boys and young men would do cliff-diving. Jeremy peered down the 300-meter depth and wondered out loud, "How drunk do you have to be in order to jump in there?" Pellan laughed, "More drunk than they will let us get at our ages." They agreed to defer that adventure for another visit.

They climbed a small hill to the ancient Well of the Salmon. Pellan explained to Jeremy how one approaches a holy well and showed him how to pray there, circling the well. Jeremy wondered if that was a Christian thing to do. Pellan said, "We can pray to whatever god we choose. I pray to the Christian God since I think that is the only God there really is." At the end of the rite, Pellan gave Jeremy an ancient Irish blessing which Ronan had taught Pellan years earlier. Even though Pellan was still young, he had developed a comfort in passing on the traditions of his culture. Jeremy felt a comfort in the rite and Pellan's blessing, even though he was not Irish.

Chapter 8: Julie

Julie Bolt closed the fairy tale book after reading five-year-old Jenny to sleep, tucked in the trundle bed which was stored by day under her own. Julie wondered why adults read such tales of "they lived happily ever after" to young children – and why children love them and seem to believe such is possible. Their life as a family had certainly not turned out that way, with their parents all dying young. She wondered for the thousandth time what Jason and Josh were doing on their own in Seattle and if they were alright – or even alive.

She had written to Jason after they arrived in London, telling him that they had made it safely and were settling in. Jason did not reply and Julie assumed that he was still furious with her for leaving. She had no idea if she would ever return to Seattle and no ambitions for her own life other than help her great-aunts raise the three youngest children. She never wrote to Jason again. Caring for her younger siblings seemed to be her lot in life – something she owed to her parents as the oldest girl in the family – and she tried her best to do it well.

When Julie was 14, her great-aunts persuaded her to take some music lessons from a teacher at a local music academy, since she was no longer in school. She chose to learn the viola because of her long arms, whereas other girls wanted to play the more fashionable violin. Julie rather liked the lack of competition for viola lessons, but had to admit that all stringed instruments sounded uniformly awful when played by beginners.

Now seventeen, at her lesson one day in early June 1861, her viola teacher surprised Julie by saying, "There will be a summer orchestra here for young students. I think it would be good for you to play in it. You are ready, I think."

"Do you really think so?" Julie asked, doubtfully.

"Yes. It won't be as formal or demanding as orchestra is during the school year, which will make it easier to try something new. I think it will be good for you to play with other students now."

Julie went home and told her great-aunts, who received the news with more enthusiasm than Julie had. They knew that Julie needed to find friends her own age and a wider world beyond their home, but even they did not know what that would be.

The next day, Julie dressed a little nicer than usual to boost her confidence for her new orchestra experience. She arrived at the side-stage of the auditorium in the early afternoon, where the young musicians were leaving their emptied instrument cases, and encountered Jack, a boy who worked odd jobs around the music academy to earn money for his books and lessons. He had been helping the conductor set out chairs and music for today's first rehearsal. Julie told him, "I'm new at this. I don't even know where to sit."

Jack pointed out a chair beside two violinists on the first row from the conductor's chair and added, "Maybe you can find out who the mysterious cellist is. I had to add an extra chair for him today. I hear that he's French."

Julie spotted the cellist in question: a somewhat over-dressed, good-looking young man with rather delicate facial features and unruly dark brown hair fluffing out from his head. His eyes were closed as he engaged in an elaborate tuning routine.

Julie looked at Jack with wide eyes of mock-alarm and exclaimed, "I hope we aren't all supposed to play as well as he does!" Jack laughed, "Oh, you aren't – and that's part of the mystery of who he is. Surely he could find a better opportunity to play than in our student orchestra!"

Chapter 9: New Friends

Philippe was long accustomed to tune his cello with his eyes closed. It helped him to concentrate on the concertmaster's tone and pay attention to the tones he produced, ignoring the others around him. He felt a slight movement of air as someone took a seat not far from him, but continued his tuning. Then he opened his eyes, only mildly curious as to the newcomer. His eyes swept up a long black skirt to see a beautiful girl with startling blue eyes gazing at him. Without realizing it, he inhaled and sat up just a little straighter. He had never seen such vivid eyes! Then, suddenly realizing that he was staring, he nodded slightly to her in greeting. She smiled shyly and turned her attention to her music stand. There were two seats between them – Philippe assumed for the mystery cellists, who did not appear.

The first rehearsal of a student orchestra is general chaos and this day was no exception. The young students had difficulties requiring the director's assistance which more experienced musicians might have known how to handle on their own. An oboe player had split his reed; he wound up buying one from Mr. Johnson's stores. A horn player had a loose valve; Mr. Johnson helped him rig a temporary fix.

Philippe studied the floor while waiting to avoid staring at the blue-eyed girl again. He shuffled through the music placed on his stand by an assistant to the conductor. Some of the pieces were familiar to him and the unfamiliar ones looked easy to learn. He had not expected a musical challenge in a student summer orchestra; he knew that his greater challenge would be to understand the conductor's directions given in English which he could easily follow in French.

It was now thirty minutes into the rehearsal time. Mr. Johnson went to his central chair and took up his baton, looking around at the new orchestra. He noticed the two vacant seats placed for cellos. He pointed to the seats with his baton, asking, "Where are these cellists?" No one answered. Mr. Johnson said, "Philippe, take the first chair." Philippe looked up at his name, hesitated for just an instant, and moved to the seat beside Blue Eyes.

Then there was a crash in the back as a stand in the percussion section collapsed. Mr. Johnson went to patiently help rig a support. Philippe turned to the girl and said haltingly, "I am Philippe Du Saule. I am [apologetic smile] French. I have very small, very bad English."

The girl listened attentively, and then responded, "I am Julie Bolt." (Philippe mouthed her name to help him remember it.) "I have very small, very bad French."

Philippe nodded once with a half-grimace, adding, "I am pleased to meet you."

Miss Bolt responded with a gentle smile, "Pleased to meet you, too."

Philippe's heart skipped a beat. He returned to examining his music, not even seeing it.

Mr. Johnson returned to the conductor's chair and began to address the orchestra at length. Philippe listened attentively, hoping to pick out anything he could understand.

Julie looked sideways at him and whispered, "Can you understand him?" Philippe pointed at the conductor with a question in his eyes; Julie nodded. Philippe held his finger and thumb apart by a half-inch. Julie began to scribble on a small notepad. Philippe continued his placid attention on the conductor. Julie passed him a note and he retrieved it with the finesse of a school graduate, never taking his eyes from the conductor, and put it in his coat pocket to examine later. Then they began to play.

Philippe struggled – not to play the notes, but to quickly understand the English words for the measure numbers so he knew where to resume playing after a pause. A few times Julie pointed to the measure on her own music, conscious of Philippe's struggle and helping him find the place.

After some twenty minutes of rehearsing, there was a disturbance as the two cellists arrived. One pushed his way to the empty seats and stood over Philippe, saying, "Move, Frenchman!"

Philippe replied, "Talk to him," gesturing toward Mr. Johnson.

The cellist said, loudly, "I said move!"

Mr. Johnson cut off the orchestra with a sharp snap of his baton, half-shouting, "What is this? You are an hour late to this rehearsal and now are creating a scene. I will not have that!"

The cellist protested Philippe's presence in the first chair. Mr. Johnson pointed out that Philippe was present before the time of rehearsal and was well able to play the first chair's part which had been reassigned to him. He dismissed the two cellists from the orchestra rehearsal over their loud protests and they left the auditorium.

Philippe sat during this clash, looking alertly from one to the other as Mr. Johnson and the two cellists argued. He was primarily concerned to protect his cello more than himself, since the young men looked inclined toward violence and he could smell alcohol on their breath. As they left, he looked at Julie and widened his eyes to express relief.

The cellists did not return and, by the next rehearsal, Mr. Johnson had recruited a 12-year-old student to play second-chair cello. Philippe continued in his seat beside Julie for the rest of the summer – to their mutual joy.

As that first rehearsal came to an end, the orchestra students vacated their seats and began packing up their instruments and music. Philippe looked at Julie and asked, "Finish today?"

She replied, "Yes."

He hesitated a moment and inquired, "Do you take tea?"

Julie frowned at him, confused about his question. "Tea?"

Philippe persisted, "Now?"

Julie shook her head, still confused.

Philippe gestured toward his chest with both hands, "With me?"

"Oh!" Julie exclaimed, "You're asking me to tea with you?"

Philippe smiled and nodded 'Yes.'

"Where?"

Philippe shrugged and suggested, "Café?" pointing in the general direction of the one at the corner of the campus.

Julie hesitated briefly, "Well, I guess I could…"

Philippe smiled brightly, "Good!" 'Life is looking up,' he thought. He'd had an actual conversation, understood every word, and had successfully asked a girl to tea!

"Philippe," Mr. Johnson called from his podium.

Philippe said to Julie, "Pardon me."

He went to talk to Mr. Johnson for a while in French, then joined Julie, packing up their instruments in the side-stage area.

She asked, "What was that about?"

Philippe showed her a new piece of music and pointed to a cello solo line. Julie understood and congratulated him.

As they walked to the café, Julie asked Philippe how long he had been playing.

"Eight years. And you?"

"Just three years. This is my first time to play in an orchestra."

"Oh?"

Julie thought to herself, 'Surely he can tell, but it's nice that he doesn't say so.' She continued, "Did you learn in school?"

Philippe paused walking and propped his cello case against his body so he could use both his hands to talk. "I had nine years, you understand? I go up a tree at my home." He made a climbing motion with his hands and raised one hand with the fingers spread like tree branches. "I…" He used the other hand to image himself on a tree branch-finger, then motioning a fall. "Here…" He ran his index finger along his collarbone and then made a breaking motion with his two fists.

"You fell out of a tree and broke your collarbone."

"Yes. My doctor make my arm to my body to repair. When better, my arm…" He motioned, bending his left elbow like the arm was stiff. "My doctor say my parents to take me learn music instrument, make arm…" He bent his arm freely, back and forth. You understand?"

"Yes. You began to learn cello to help you use your arm again."

Philippe smiled and nodded. He saw he could make this girl understand him with signs, if not English itself. He picked up his cello case again and they resumed walking to the café.

Once inside the café, the waiter remembered Philippe's previous people-watching visits and offered to seat them at a sidewalk table. Philippe said, "No. Inside. Better for talk."

Once seated and given menus, Philippe said apologetically to Julie: "I don't know these foods. You choose and tell the man. I pay. I have money!" [a smile]

"Oh. Alright. Are you very hungry?"

Philippe shrugged.

"How about a sandwich?"

"I eat anything. Even snails." [a mischievous smile; Philippe knew that non-French people generally thought escargot to be revolting.]

Julie wrinkled her nose and smiled. She had heard of escargot from her Aunt Sophie.

After the waiter had taken their order, Julie observed Philippe slowly rubbing the center of his forehead, top to bottom and back, eyes closed. Julie touched his arm, asking, "Es tu bien?"

Philippe opened his eyes, slightly startled by Julie's use of the French familiar form, though they had just met today. "Mal à la tête?" she persisted.

Philippe smiled, embarrassed. "Ah, non. Je suis fatigué à la tête."

"'Fatigué'?"

Then he looked at her more intensely with his dark blue eyes, asking, "Parlez-vous français?"

"Un peu. Très peu."

"'Très peu'," he repeated and sighed in defeat. "Alright. Bad English. I am sorry."

He gave her an agonized look of apology and began, haltingly, "I study English three years in school and make good marks. But here! – [he made a dismissive noise and gesture] – I talk to a man and I understand most what he say. I talk to other man and I understand a little what he says. I talk to another man and I understand nothing! It not to me sound English! I finish school in May. My parents give me a year in England to study cello and learn more English. I am in England one week and each day, all day, each small thing is – pardon – [he consulted a small pocket dictionary] struggle? – because language. Signs, menu, directions, rules at boarding house [pointing across the street to the Brown House]. I try read rules, but not understand all. I afraid I break rules I not know! Every day, my brains is … fatigue."

He did look tired after this long speech, Julie noticed. She touched his arm again in sympathy, saying, "It will get easier, I'm sure. I think you are brave to come here."

"Brave – or stupid?" he asked, with a crooked smile.

Julie displayed a lot of patience while listening to his English, which Philippe appreciated at the same time that he was sure it was full of errors. She asked if he was from Paris; he reacted like that was preposterous and said, "No, I am from Calais."

"I'm sorry; I don't know anything about France. Where is Calais?"

Philippe explained that Calais was at the end of the Thames River and across the English Channel from Dover – the closest approach of the two countries. Philippe then stated, "And you are English."

Julie half-laughed and said, "No. I'm American."

Philippe's eyes flew wide. "American! I never meet American! Where? New York?"

Julie laughed, apparently feeling about New York the same way he felt about Paris.

Philippe kept guessing: "Boston? New Orléans?"

Julie laughed, "'Orléans'? You mean 'Orleenz'."

Philippe winced and asked, "That is what they say it now?"

Julie nodded 'yes.' Philippe looked pained.

Julie said, "I'm from Washington Territory."

Philippe asked, "Washington capitol?"

Julie shook her head no, "Washington Territory."

Philippe was confused. He took out a small notebook and pencil, announcing, "Bad Map," scrawling a much-simplified map of North America pointing to "Big lakes, New England, Florida, Atlantic, Pacific, Canada, Mexico" – and handed her the pad and pencil to continue.

Julie took the notebook with a smile, explaining in detail how the territories were formed as settlers gradually moved west and then they later became states. She drew in California – a name Philippe recognized – and Oregon – which he did not – being already states. Then she penciled in the very northwest corner just south of Canada, stating that that was Washington Territory, where she was born.

Philippe was stunned. So incredibly far away! She drew an enlargement of Washington Territory on another blank page, to show the location of her strangely-named town – Seattle. Philippe asked how large Seattle was; Julie said that it just had a few buildings and was not really a town at all, but might be someday as the population grew.

About that time their food arrived and Philippe was pleased with Julie's selections for their tea. He then inquired, "Why you here now?"

She sighed and told the tale of her parents and family as briefly as she could. Philippe was better able to understand spoken English than to speak it himself. They occasionally had to look up words in Philippe's little dictionary to aid their communication. When Julie recounted her mother's death, her dropping out of school, then her father's death, her great-aunts' arrival, and her return to England with her three youngest siblings, leaving two in Seattle, Philippe looked genuinely pained for her. He couldn't imagine what a nine-month sea voyage would be like; he would probably go mad from boredom. For what he lacked of English, Philippe had an expressive face. Julie could tell that he had a sincere and compassionate heart.

She finished her story and he continued staring at her. She asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no! It is your eyes. I never see that color."

Julie smiled dismissively and looked down, saying, "We all have them."

"'We all' are who?"

"My brothers and sisters: we all have blue eyes like mine."

Julie then heard a clock chiming nearby. "Oh, is that the time? I need to get home!" she exclaimed. Philippe quickly paid for their meal and they left the café, crossing the street.

Philippe offered to escort her home. Julie said, "It's not far," as if to politely decline. Beside the Brown House, Philippe said, "Two minutes: Permit me carry cello my room," pointing at the top of the building. Julie agreed to wait for him in the lobby. Philippe went up the stairs, carefully carrying his instrument case.

Mrs. Brown, the proprietor, was a long-time friend of Julie's aunt Helen. She came over to greet Julie in the lobby, saying, "I see that you've met our young Frenchman. He seems to be well-bred and mannerly, but I fear he's been miserable without much English."

Julie smiled, agreeing, "He does have nice manners and is quite a talented musician. He took me to tea at the café after the orchestra rehearsal."

A clatter of footsteps coming down the several upper staircases preceded Philippe's approach. Julie confided, "He asked to walk me home."

Mrs. Brown said with a wink, "Enjoy! Something tells me that he won't be here for dinner tonight. Give my greetings to your aunts."

Philippe arrived at the ground floor and found them talking, "You know before today?" he asked, pointing back and forth between them.

"Yes," said Mrs. Brown. "I've known Julie since she was a young girl. Enjoy meeting her family!"

Philippe opened the door for Julie and they stepped outside and down the few steps to the sidewalk. Philippe offered his arm for Julie to take and she did so, a bit shyly. There is a first time for everything – especially on this special day.

It was only a few blocks to her home. Julie noticed Philippe paying attention to the street signs, sometimes asking what one meant. At the Graysons' townhouse, she entered the front door while Philippe stood a few steps below on the sidewalk, looking a little nervous. Sophie was near the door when Julie entered and exclaimed, "There you are! We were starting to worry. How long was the rehearsal?" Then Sophie caught a glimpse of the young man standing behind Julie and stopped suddenly in surprise.

Julie explained: "I met a new friend today: Philippe de Saule. He took me to tea at the café and we had a very slow conversation between his English and my French." She turned to Philippe and said, "This is my aunt Sophie Grayson."

Philippe climbed up the few steps and said, haltingly, "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Grayson."

Sophie replied, "Enchanté, Monsieur de Saule."

Philippe's eyes flew wide. "Vous parlez français! C'est Du Saule, Mademoiselle Grayson. Une petite difference."

"Bien sûr. Entrez, s'il vous plait, Monsieur Du Saule."

Philippe thanked her and entered the house which was to become his second home in the months to come. They moved through the small parlor area and into the large kitchen/dining/laundry area in the back. There seemed to be a crowd of people there to Philippe's perception, who all became silent when the three of them entered.

Sophie took over in her French and introduced her sister, Helen, and the three youngest children to Philippe: Jeremy, Jessica, and Jennifer.

Philippe looked at Sophie after greeting them and said with a smile, "Zhi, zhi, zhi." Julie did not understand, but Sophie did.

"Oui, leurs noms commencent tous par J."

Sophie explained to the family, "Philippe notices that all your names start with J."

Philippe squinted at them a moment and exclaimed, "I see you last week!"

He recounted to Sophie in French about seeing Julie and the children while he sat in the park. He told Sophie, "I thought Julie was an au pair." Sophie laughed and translated his words to Julie, who said with a laugh that she felt at times like a governess, but was not.

As Mrs. Brown had predicted, Helen invited Philippe to stay for dinner with them and Sophie translated the invitation. He hesitated a moment, but accepted graciously. Julie gave him an apologetic look and put on an apron to assist with the meal. Philippe expected that he would now be questioned thoroughly by the great-aunts to ascertain his character and background. This had never happened to him before: everyone in Calais knew everyone else. But Philippe understood their good intentions for Julie's wellbeing.

Sophie led the conversation in French and translated for Helen, Julie and the others, learning of Philippe's status as an only child, his father's businesses, and his distaste for Paris, which he found too large and busy. (Sophie had visited Paris once in her youth.)

Philippe was relieved that Sophie spoke French fairly well. It relaxed him to be able to speak his native language for a while and to feel competent in doing so, getting rid of his daily tension headache.

After a tasty, simple meal, Julie walked with Philippe to the door. She apologized for her aunts' extensive questioning over dinner. He shook his head and said, "It is no matter. I know they want good for you. I am a stranger, a foreigner. I see you at next rehearsal?"

"Of course."

He hesitated and continued, "I would like to see you more than in rehearsal. If you like."

She smiled and said, "I would like that." He smiled in response.

Julie offered to show him around the area to help him find services. He said that would be very helpful, made plans to do so in a few days, and took his leave.

Sophie and Helen had a whispered conversation in their shared bedroom later that night.

"I didn't expect her to find a beau in the orchestra."

"Well, he seems to be a nice young man, well-dressed and mannerly. If his story is true, he must be of good family. They must be well-off to have sent him here for a year as a graduation present. I also wager she'll be more motivated to study French now!"

They giggled in agreement.

Chapter 10: Philippe's First Letter to His Parents from England (translated)

Mes chers parents –

I hope that you have not been worried, waiting all this time to hear from me about my new adventure in England. As you may have guessed, my first week was full and exhausting as I found a room in a boarding house near the music academy and began to find my way around. Although the journey from Calais was pleasant, everything else has been a jarring change, especially as it involves speaking English – but that was the object, was it not? Indeed, I did not want to write to you during that initial week, since I might have sounded as miserable and lonely as I was in odd moments. I knew that it would take some time to feel any comfort here, but as it turns out, I have been fortunate in that regard.

The boarding house and its residents are pleasant enough. The proprietor, Mrs. Brown, assigned me a room on the third floor, perhaps trying to protect everyone else from the possibility of poor cello-playing. But I am content: it is just my room, a storage room, and a washroom which I am happy not to have to share.

I found a cello instructor at the music academy on my second day – Mr. Johnson. He studied a year in Paris, so he speaks a little French. He also conducts the summer student orchestra and invited me to join it. And, at the first rehearsal, I may have had fortune sufficient to change my life, for there I met Miss Julie Bolt, who plays viola in the chair beside mine.

I will resist the temptation to fill several pages of how much I admire Miss Bolt. She is beautiful, gentle, kind, very patient with my bad English, has a quick smile and a very courageous spirit. She is an American: the oldest girl in a family of six children whose parents all died tragically and young. Her two great-aunts brought Julie and the three youngest children back to London to raise them in safety, compared to where they were born in the wilderness on the northwest coast of North America near Canada. Indeed, the entire family is charming and fun and all have such startling, vivid blue eyes. I have eaten dinner there a few times already.

Their mother died when the youngest, Jennifer, was born. Jenny (now age 5) seems to regard Julie as her mother and, indeed, Julie mothered the four younger children by herself for some five months before the aunts arrived, feeding Baby Jenny with goat's milk. (Her two brothers – one older and one just below her age – are still in America.) I can't even imagine living through half the hardships they have seen.

You will be happy to know that having met such a wonderful young lady is a motivator to learn English like nothing else! The Lord provides, no?

One of Julie's great-aunts, Sophie Grayson, was a French teacher for some years. She has made my life easier in many ways. She helped me find an English conversation group for immigrants to England which meets twice a week. It has helped me already, even if the topics so far have been introductions, the weather, furniture, and articles of clothing. Miss Sophie also suggested that I read as much English as I can to help me look at correct grammar and sentences and, of course, the dreadful spelling challenge. I am, however, limited to children's books at this point – like little Jenny's book about farm animals. When I read it to her, I make animal sounds and she roars with laughter. See how growing up on a farm has helped me in life!

So, life is turning out to be fun here after all and more quickly than I had thought possible.

I think of you often with great love and gratitude and hope that you are well. Give Raoul and Intrépide a treat for me.

-Philippe

Lucie Du Saule read the above letter to her husband and then looked at him with an expression between helplessness and dismay.

Chrétien chuckled over his evening brandy. "Well, you were worried because he had not found a girlfriend in all these years. I'm just glad that he's applying himself to learn English – whatever his motivation – although I had not planned to be funding a courtship for him!"

Chapter 11: Georg Jäger

Georg Jäger sighed. Having seven, mostly teenage sons was a constant chore of peacemaking and finding something constructive to occupy their energies. And then there was the youngest, another boy, who would, thankfully, be too much younger to get into the same quantity of mischief as his older brothers. There were also the two girls – Marta and Frieda – just above the youngest boy in age. What good were girls anyway except to marry off for alliances?

Georg had eventually realized that it would be difficult to find husbands for his daughters in their newly-adopted homeland of England if they did not speak the language. Frieda had refused to even try to learn English and stayed home, learning household duties from their mother, Catherina. Marta had agreed to attend a school for foreign students learning English. There had been some problems with an Irish boy there in her second year and Marta seemed to prefer to make friends with boys rather than girls, but they were all children yet and Marta was a tomboy in many ways. She would grow up soon enough. He had other more pressing worries at the moment.

Chapter 12: Philippe and Julie

Philippe and Julie became inseparable, seeing each other almost every day. Aside from orchestra rehearsals, the great-aunts kept them close to their home at first or carefully chaperoned in the community, trying to ascertain Philippe's character, since there was no way to learn about his family.

Philippe began attending mass with their family. (They were all Roman Catholic.) Julie and the others were very patient with Philippe's halting English. He soon discovered the language problems they already had in the family – Jeremy's stutter and Jessica's taciturn behavior – and Philippe realized that the others had learned patience with language problems because of the children, so his poor English was little different. It did not annoy them when Philippe himself would hesitate or stutter a little while searching for an English word. Philippe found that comforting.

One day Philippe helped the youngest children to repair some old hand-me-down toys from one of Helen's friends. Another time he accompanied young Jeremy to the library to return some books and check out more. On the way back, they heard squeaking cries from under a hedgerow and found a small puppy tangled in the underbrush. They freed it and brought it home – where Jeremy, of course, begged to keep it – and Philippe proved that he had some knowledge of animal care, bathing the puppy and mixing up a flea treatment from kitchen ingredients.

Philippe ate so many meals at the Grayson home that Mrs. Brown eventually gave him consideration on his boarding fee. Philippe usually appeared at the Graysons' door with some treats or flowers a gesture of appreciation for their hospitality.

Philippe and Julie attended every free concert at the academy and at local churches. Philippe knew that Julie did not have money for luxuries and he did everything he could to keep Julie from feeling bad about her more-humble circumstances and, indeed, trying to play down his own modest affluence.

Time with Julie became one long, enjoyable English lesson for Philippe, since Julie seemed to like addressing his innumerable questions and confusion about all-things-English. Of course, there was that embarrassing incident at a museum one day early on when he had become accustomed to follow Julie around, trustingly. She said that they would "take a break." He following her toward a door and she suddenly spun around, saying, "No!"

"No?"

"No!" She pointed at a sign on the door which said 'Ladies' – not an English word that he knew at the time. "Les femmes!" She insisted, then pointed across the hall at another door. "Les hommes!"

He had blushed as red as une betterave and ducked his eyes, looking at her and laughing at himself while she smiled, too. "Pardon! Pardon!"

One hot summer day, he bought them dishes of ice cream at a street vendor and they sat on a bench under a shade tree to eat it. Julie could not, however, explain why fraises were called strawberries. English was so bizarre at times and Philippe said as much. Julie laughed in agreement, which pleased him. She added, "English is hard for every child. We take spelling tests every week in school and don't make good marks unless we study hard."

"Well, that is a comfort. I don't think I will ever write five English words without misspelling at least one."

"You'll get better in time."

"Reading it does help. You had school to help you."

"Not here. I dropped out soon after we came here."

"Oh? Why? Not spelling?!"

"No, the other girls weren't nice to me."

"Why?"

"They made fun of the way I talk and other things."

"What do you mean?"

"American English doesn't sound like British English. You can't hear the difference?"

"No…."

"Well, it does. And some words are different."

"What words?"

"Lots of them. Like that lorry on the train over there; in America, people would call it a railroad car. Or biscuits here are called 'cookies' in America. An American biscuit is a small quick-bread and is not sweet. British English was a little difficult for me when I first came here."

"Oh. I thought English is English anywhere."

"No, not so! Aren't there differences in French in places?"

"Well, country people may talk a little different from people in towns. And parts of France that are near other countries take on some of the flavor of their neighbor country."

"What 'flavor' is Calais?"

"Something like Belgium and The Netherlands, since they are just to the north. Doing trade in Calais by boat is easy and important, the same as Belgium and The Netherlands; we are all on the sea."

Even if she didn't realize it, Julie was learning, too – about France, the French language, and about the personality and character of one young Frenchman in particular.

In late summer, the aunts allowed Julie and Philippe to walk to a nearby street festival. Afterward, on the way home, it became apparent that a thunderstorm was imminent. "Your hair!" Julie exclaimed to Philippe. Usually fluffed out from his head, it was now standing out in a fan. He nodded, feeling electricity in it. "We need to find under a place" – and he pulled her into an empty shelter for a statue in the side yard of a church, where there were trees and taller buildings around. He looked around anxiously, waiting…. Then – BAM! Julie screamed and buried her head in Philippe's shoulder as he simultaneously clutched her body to his own and hid his face in her hair, while Julie was shaking against him.

Philippe quickly looked around to find the damage. He said, "That tree…." Julie looked and saw a tall tree split in half by lightning perhaps fifty yards away, the grass around it charred. She half-sobbed into his shoulder, "I hate storms!"

Philippe held her while the wind whipped up and her trembling subsided, saying, "Nature is very powerful. Sometimes frightening." The rain began to blast; Philippe moved slightly to shelter Julie with his back.

She looked up to his face and said, "I didn't mean to just grab you…."

"Well, I think we grab each other." He shrugged and smiled slightly. "I don't mind."

They searched each other's eyes for an intense moment and then Philippe moved very slowly to tentatively kiss Julie's lips, then followed up with a few, more-assured kisses, delighted to feel her lips responding to his own. He buried his face in her shoulder and felt tears of joy well up in his eyes. Looking again at her, he confessed intently, "I love you."

She smiled and said gently, "Je t'aime aussi, Philippe."

That was not the response which Philippe expected. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back with a broad smile akin to a laugh.

Julie ventured, "Did I say that right?"

He looked tenderly into her eyes. "Perfectly."

"Well, you laughed. I hope I didn't say 'I'm a vegetable.'"

"No, no. I laugh at our wall, our language wall. We try to climb over, reach through, knock down …. We are so perfect for each other!"

Julie laughed, skeptically. "'Perfect'! Why do you say that?"

"Well, music. And we like the same, simple things. We don't argue."

"It would take us all week to argue."

"Then forget arguing! And…" He hesitated, searching for a word.

"Describe it."

He paused, then said, "We have the same weather inside."

"'Inside'?"

"Not one hot, the other cold. Not one rain, the other sun. We have the same pleasant day inside both us."

Julie nodded and suggested that he meant 'temperament.' It was true. They did seem to be perfectly compatible. Philippe continued, "We are almost the same height."

"What difference does that make?"

"Well, it is easier to embrace."

Philippe smiled slyly and took advantage of that commonality again for a few more kisses.

"You don't think speaking different languages makes us not perfect for each other?"

"No, language is … a tease. 'See this beautiful woman … and all that keeps you apart is language.'" He laughed. "My father wants me to learn better English. I don't think he had in mind me learning English to talk to a girl, but it works very well!"

They laughed together and indulged in more kisses while the rain pelted down just beyond their tiny shelter.

Philippe ran his face alongside Julie's, up and down, saying, "Forgive me. I have wanted to kiss you a long time. Now I can't stop."

"I'm not complaining." [a mutual sigh]

"I have never been in love before."

"I haven't, either. And I never would have imagined falling in love with someone from France."

"I would never, never, ever think I fall in love with an American – and not from the west coast!" – with humor – "I did not know that people live there! And such wonderful people! I love your whole family – your sisters, your brother, your aunts. You have been … very kind to me."

Julie said shyly, "I've never kissed anyone before. Do I do it right?"

Philippe gave a short laugh, "It feels good to me." He hesitated, then added, "I only kissed one girl before. Then she hit me."

"What? With her fist, like men fight?" Julie balled up her fist to show him.

"Ah, no." He demonstrated a slow-motion slap against his jaw.

Julie said, "Oh. A slap – with the hand open. How awful! I can't believe she did that to you!"

"It hurt, whatever she hit me. In December, it will be four years. There was a party in Calais for young people. We were eating and dancing and laughing. This girl – I had seen her in Calais since we were children. I thought we have fun and I asked to walk her home. At her house, I felt affection, so I kissed her. And she slap me." He sighed and shrugged. "I don't know if it too fast or too much or what." He shrugged. "I was a stupid 15-year-old. It was a bad time for first kiss – bad memory. And then I became a little fear of girls. I talk to girls and maybe dance, but not kiss. Until today." He smiled.

"No wonder! But you know, if I kissed someone and they hit me, I don't think I would even count that as a kiss."

"Then what was it?"

"I don't know…. A miscommunication?"

"A miss – what?"

"Mis-communication. When someone misunderstands what you mean."

"Oh. Long word! – 'Miscommunication.' It was that."

"It seems like, for a kiss to count, two people should feel similarly about each other – or at least curious – and respond in kind."

Philippe nodded. "Well, if that, today was my first kiss. And I am glad it was you."

They held each other gently while the storm began to subside, then Julie said, "Did you say you were 15 that December four years ago? And you are 18 now?"

"My birthday is 20th October."

"Oh, you'll have to let us give you one of our silly birthday parties – unless you have other plans."

"Julie, don't spend money on me."

"Oh, we won't! We can't! Those are our Party Rules. We can only give each other something we've made or something we already had. If you tell me what flavor of cake you like, that will be my gift to you."

"Well, chocolate is always good."

Chapter 13: Parties, Illness, and Plans

Philippe walked back from the Graysons' house after his birthday party, carrying his gifts: the paper crown which little Jenny had made for him; the English book which Jeremy had given him of some adventure story, written for a boy Jeremy's age which Philippe hoped he would be able to read; a very presentable winter scarf, hand-knit by Jessica; and some extra pieces of chocolate cake, fruit, and sweets from Julie and the Grayson sisters. It had been quite a good time. He was sure that the great-aunts had frugally made the Party Rules about handmade gifts to ease household finances with so many children to support, but it really did make for a more personal celebration. Julie's birthday was coming in mid-January, so he had to think what to give her as a gift. And Christmas was coming, too! Life was endlessly exciting now that he was in love!

But the most precious memory of the evening for Philippe was after Jenny, overwrought from not having had a nap and too much excitement from the party, had lost control toward the end and dissolved into tears. The Graysons told Julie to take Jenny upstairs and put her to bed. After the two had left the room, Helen apologized to Philippe and said that when Jenny had these rare crying spells, she refused to be comforted by anyone but Julie.

They talked on for a while and then Philippe thanked them for his party and asked to take his leave. He went upstairs to tell Julie good-bye as well, and found her finishing a bedtime story to an obviously drowsy Jenny. When he saw the two of them sitting together in the bedroom lamplight, he suddenly knew in the depths of his being that he wanted Julie to be the mother in the nursery in his house with their children at some future day.

Julie prompted Jenny to apologize to Philippe for crying at his party. She did so, with a huge yawn. Philippe stated not to worry – that he was sure that they had all cried at someone's party in the past. He helped Julie tuck the sleepy girl in her bed with her doll, kissed Julie good-bye in the hallway, and left the house with his heart on fire.

In early November, Philippe tagged along as Julie went shopping, stopping in a yarn shop. Julie began to rummage through a bin of marked-down yarn, looking for some odd bits to use in Christmas projects for her great-aunts and siblings. Philippe also browsed around and found some yarn he recognized. He suggested, "What about this yarn?"

"Oh, that's far too expensive. I never buy that type. This here is fine for socks and hats."

She continued in her rummaging, moving on to other parts of the store. Philippe slipped over to the shopkeeper and asked how much yarn was needed to make a shawl. The shopkeeper assisted him with his purchase and wrapped it up without Julie noticing.

When they left the shop, Philippe gave Julie the package as a gift. She unwrapped it and saw it contained the expensive yarn. She protested, "Oh, please don't tell me you bought this expensive yarn for me! I don't need anything this fine!"

Philippe ignored her outburst and mused, "My bigger problem is what my father will say when I tell him that I bought some of our own yarn back at retail prices. See that tag – 'Willow Creek Yarn'? That comes from my family's farm in France.

Julie looked puzzled. "But the words are English."

Philippe smiled slyly and explained, "Marketing, Julie. Imagine an English patriot goes into a yarn shop and sees French words on a label. She will say, 'Pah! I hate the French!' – and throw the yarn back in the bin. But if the yarn label says 'Willow Creek,' she may think it is good English yarn and buy it without reading any more. 'Willow Creek' is Ruisseau de Saule in French – the name of our family's sheep farm."

Julie protested, "Isn't that misleading?" Philippe pointed out that the label clearly stated 'Product of France' on the back side. "That's required by law. And having English on the tag works! I thought that up and made the English labels. Our sales in England increased." He winked with a chuckle.

Julie admired the light texture of the yarn. "I've never had anything so fine."

Philippe said emphatically, "And it is for you – not your aunts or your sisters or brother or the dog. Make yourself a fine shawl and remember where the yarn came from."

Julie felt warmth through and through … and thoughts of a fine new shawl had only a little to do with it.

In late November, Philippe was again in the sunny kitchen with the Grayson sisters and their charges. Helen reminded Julie about the pudding. Julie exclaimed, "Oh! I forgot! I need to get in that habit again." She got a tin down from the pantry shelf, unstopped a bottle which filled the kitchen with a strong alcoholic scent, and poured it over the contents of the tin.

Philippe crossed to Julie and took a brief whiff of the bottle of brandy. "What is this?!"

Julie laughed and said, "It's the Christmas pudding."

Philippe looked askance, "Christmas? That is in late December?"

Julie nodded with a smile.

Philippe grinned and pointed, "I want some of that."

Julie replied primly, "You'll have to wait until Christmas."

Philippe spent Christmas with the Grayson-Bolt household, of course. It was the first Christmas he had not spent with his parents, but was not nearly as dismal as he might once have predicted. He felt more fortunate than some others in the boarding house since he had somewhere else to go. And he got to finally have some of the exceedingly well-preserved Christmas pudding, as anticipated, deeming it excellent. He was light-hearted and content, playing cello and singing Christmas carols with the family and in church. Life seemed very nearly perfect.

On January 16, 1862, at Julie's birthday party in the evening, Philippe began to feel poorly but said nothing, not wanting to ruin the party mood. When he stood up from the kitchen table to take his leave, he had to clutch the back of his chair from a dizzy spell. Helen felt his forehead and exclaimed, "Philippe, you're burning up with fever!" They prevailed upon him to stay at their home overnight, saying, "Who wants to be sick in a boarding house?" The aunts moved Jeremy into their room on a pallet and let Philippe use Jeremy's bedroom. Philippe stripped and fell asleep, more comforted than he wanted to admit that he was not sick by himself in the treetop room at The Brown House.

Philippe's fever grew worse over the next several days. He mumbled at times in French or raved at other times, once calling out to 'Raoul' and seeming distressed. Helen Grayson informed Mrs. Brown of Philippe's illness and borrowed some too-large nightshirts and a robe for him from an elderly neighbor who had nursed her brother until his recent death. The neighbor also gave her some new leather slippers – a gift to her brother which he had never worn. They kept pressing Philippe to drink water and were able to get him up for short periods to eat a little, but his awareness was so hazy that he did not stay up for long, complaining of headache and muscle pain.

After a few days of no improvement, Helen contacted a doctor to request a house-call and left a note, updating Mrs. Brown. The doctor examined Philippe and shook his head, saying to Helen, "Whatever the illness – probably a form of typhus – half the residents at The Brown House have the same thing; I think someone may have brought fleas in on them that spread it. Mrs. Brown is run ragged, trying to tend to them all. It's just as well that Philippe is here – better for him and for Mrs. Brown."

The Graysons did not know that Mrs. Brown sent a telegram to Philippe's parents, advising them of Philippe's illness and lack of improvement.

On the tenth day – a Sunday – Philippe's fever finally broke in the night and, when Julie knocked on his bedroom door in the morning, he responded. Julie was overjoyed and relieved! Philippe looked peakèd from the fever and had a ten-day growth of beard, but was clear-minded and on the mend, despite sore muscles and general weakness.

"What day is it?"

"Sunday, January 26th."

"Ten days? I have been here ten days? And missed how many rehearsals?"

"I told Mr. Johnson that you were very sick." Julie hesitated and said, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Of course; you may ask me anything."

"Who is Raoul? You called out to him in your fever."

"Oh!" Philippe laughed. "Raoul is my dog. He's getting old now. I worry about him. I'm afraid he may die before I see him again."

"Oh! I wondered!" Julie laughed.

Philippe thanked Julie for taking care of him in his illness and apologized for putting her family through trouble.

"I'm just so glad that you're better!"

Philippe put his arm around her waist and pulled her onto the bed beside him, kissing her and holding her close. Julie was a little uneasy at the reclining intimacy, but did not protest, still so relieved at his improved health. Philippe murmured, "At night at the boarding house, I lie in my bed and try to imagine what it would be like to have you there, holding you close. It must be something like this. I wonder if you think of me at the same time…?"

"Of course. I think about you all the time."

"Mmm," he sighed contentedly. "Julie, I want to marry you."

Julie drew away gaped at him. "Wha-at? Are you proposing?"

Philippe winced as he still did when he didn't know some word in English. "What is 'proposing'?"

Julie looked down and stammered, "It's when a man formally asks a woman to marry him. 'Proposing marriage.'"

Philippe gave her a mischievous look, tilting his head. "How do they do that in England?"

Julie was flustered. "I don't know. I hear that they dress up and go to a nice restaurant or to a park. And the man gets down on one knee and asks the woman to marry him and presents her with an engagement ring. I – I don't know if that's actually what happens. That sounds rather silly, really…." She trailed off, red-faced and embarrassed.

Philippe had been reacting to every phrase Julie said with exaggerated expressions of amusement, surprise, or alarm. He remarked, "I had no idea the English were so dramatic! And they accuse the French of being strange! Well, if I was proposing like the English, I'm messing up in every way. We aren't at a restaurant or park. I'm not dressed up – at all. I probably look the worst that you have seen me and may smell bad, too. I don't have a ring. And I don't think you want me out of bed and down on one knee right now." Julie blushed and shook her head 'no,' ducking her eyes from his.

Philippe chuckled and hugged her closer, then said, "I'm not formally asking you to marry me – yet. I think you need to come to France first."

Julie looked blankly at him. "France."

"You know I will go back to France. I need to go back. My parents are not so young. The day will come when they will need me. I am their only child; I want to be there to help them. And I can make a far better living in France with our two businesses than here, where I can barely speak the language."

"When will you go back?"

"Sometime in April. In May we shear the sheep and they need me there at that time. It is when we make the most money on our farm, but it is difficult – long days; dirty, hard work. Maybe in the summer you and Sophie could come to visit. You need to see how we live – decide if you want to share it. In France, if the house is large enough, children live with their parents and grandparents and maybe great-grandparents. Our house is large – for all the children which my parents hoped to have and didn't. You need to see the house and farm, meet my parents, and we will see how everyone gets along. I know that my parents will love you! If we all agree, then we can be formal about it and make plans. That's the way we do it in France, when a couple has been spending time together. They state how they are feeling and try to find out if the other feels the same. That's what I am doing today – trying to learn if you feel the same."

"Oh, Philippe! I can't imagine living without you, even when you go back to France."

He smiled contentedly and held her close. "Then surely things will work out that we can be together."

"The way you talk about the sheep-shearing makes me think I should go with you to help out in May."

"Oh, ha! That would surely make you run away from us! And my mother would want you to see us at our best, which is not then!"

"Well, it seems like a good way to see what your life there is really like, as you said, to help me decide if I want to share it. Let me get you some water for washing and I'll make your breakfast. Are you hungry?

His stomach growled at that moment and they laughed together. "I guess so!"

Helen and Sophie had taken the other children to mass. Julie made oatmeal porridge for Philippe and put it before him on the kitchen table. He had seen such porridge served at his boarding house and had avoided it, thinking it looked too horrible to consume, but Julie fixed it up for him like she did the younger children and he found that he actually liked it – if he didn't spend much time looking at it. Julie lingered with him, having another cup of tea while Philippe ate. She asked, "What is that medallion you wear?"

"This? It is from Lourdes."

"Where is that?"

"You have not heard of Lourdes?"

Philippe recounted the story of Bernadette Soubirous in Lourdes, France. She had been born a few months after Philippe and had her visions of the Virgin Mary at Lourdes in France when she was fourteen in the spring and summer of 1858. He elaborated: "Some friends and I clamored to go on pilgrimage to Lourdes in mid-summer that year when school was in recess and my parents allowed it. I was fourteen, almost fifteen. We went with someone's uncle named Jean-Paul, who was at home from université for the summer; he was to chaperone us and be sure we did not disgrace our families with bad behavior."

"And did you?"

"Well, one night I drank too much and vomited. I felt so sick and embarrassed, but that was the worst of it from me. Jean-Paul was kind about it and told me that he thought everyone needs to get sick-drunk at least once so he learns his limit – and also to learn how drinking too much makes him act. Some people get angry; others get silly; others pass out, you know. I and two of the other boys were serious about being on a religious pilgrimage; the two others were along to let loose away from their parents, I think. I bought this medal at the shrine at Lourdes. I like living in a world where such things happen." He smiled to himself, remembering.

"Philippe, I need to tell you, in case it is important to you: I don't have a dowry."

"Okay," he closed his eyes and winced. "What is a 'dowry'?"

"It's money or property that some women can bring to a marriage. I don't have that."

"Oh. Dot – that is the French word for it. And it isn't important to me. You don't know my family – yet – but we are just sheep farmers back as far as anyone knows. It's only the bank that has made an improvement in how we live. I don't think anyone in my family ever married for money or advantage; I think everyone in my family has married for love. It's what I want – to marry for love. Don't worry about not having a dowry. And I don't think my parents care about that, either. (He added to himself, 'I'll bring it up when I see them in April. Because if they do care about a dowry, I don't want them to ever mention it to you.')

Neither of them knew that Julie would be meeting Philippe's parents long before the summer came.

Chapter 14: Visitors

Helen and Sophie prevailed upon Philippe to stay another day or two to rest before returning to the boarding house, since it had snowed a little. They borrowed a razor for him from the same neighbor and had washed the clothes that he had worn to their home some ten days earlier.

Jeremy watched Philippe shave that morning in the laundry area off the kitchen with great interest, saying that he couldn't wait until he was old enough to shave. Philippe told him, "You need to thank God every day that you aren't old enough to shave. It's not pleasant." But Jeremy was not convinced.

In the late afternoon, Helen said to Julie, "Go see if Mr. Garber brought the eggs today. He has been getting later and later since his wife fell ill."

Julie went to check at the front door. Just as she opened it, looking down and spying the eggs, she nearly bumped into a well-dressed, older man with dark blue eyes and graying hair, startling them both. He handed Julie the eggs, for which she had begun to reach, saying, "I am very sorry, Miss. Very sorry." He continued: "I am Chrétien Du Saule." He gestured to the woman standing behind him on the sidewalk, "My wife is Lucie. We are looking for the Grayson sisters' home."

Julie would have recognized a French accent anywhere by this point – as well as those dark blue eyes. Julie smiled warmly and replied, "Yes, you have found it. I am Julie – Julie Bolt. Please come in."

She stepped aside so they could enter the house and offered to take their wraps. They hesitated a few seconds, Julie realizing that they had a lag in understanding her English words. They complied and Julie laid them across a parlor chair.

Lucie Du Saule was a short, somewhat overweight middle-aged woman, dark hair with a few gray strands pinned in a bun. She carried a satchel with her and stepped toward Julie, concern burning in her dark eyes. "My boy – is well?"

Julie smiled and put a hand kindly on her arm, "He is better. He was better yesterday."

Chrétien translated for Lucie, whose English was obviously much more limited. Lucie smiled, teary with relief, and crossed herself.

Julie motioned them into the kitchen, saying "Philippe is in here." As they entered the kitchen, where Philippe sat at the table talking to Sophie, Julie said, "Philippe: your parents."

With a cry of joy, he leapt up and crossed the kitchen at a half-run, hugging both his parents at the same time. There was much chatter in French for a few minutes. Julie moving away near her aunts on the other side of the kitchen to give the Du Saules privacy for their reunion.

"What are they saying?" Julie whispered to Sophie.

"They are catching up. His mother is asking him many questions about his illness. He protests that she is treating him like a baby and says that we have taken good care of him. His father asks where Philippe got the ill-fitting robe."

"I guess people are all the same." They smiled.

After a few minutes, Philippe introduced Helen and Sophie to his parents. Julie brought the three younger children downstairs and Philippe introduced them as well. The Graysons invited the Du Saules to stay for dinner and, though they hesitated, Philippe and the Graysons prevailed upon them and they agreed. Julie hastened to make extra portions and some American-style biscuits, which the elder Du Saules had never encountered.

Because of the surprise of their arrival and joy at Philippe's recovery, this meeting between the two families was not as tense as it might otherwise have been. Philippe and Sophie were both able to translate and move the conversation along, as well as Chrétien's simpler skills with English. By this time, Philippe had indeed written a great deal about Julie and her family to his parents in his letters home. Chrétien and Lucie were charmed by the manners of the children and impressed with the generosity of the Graysons, taking in four children to raise in what should have been their peaceful old age.

Lucie remarked as much to her husband in the carriage ride back to their hotel that night, after dropping Philippe off at his boarding house and making plans for the morrow. "Life is so strange. We wanted children and could not have them, though we had the resources and health to raise them. And the parents of those beautiful children had them and then died young so that they could not raise them. Still, it is generous of the great-aunts to step in."

"As Philippe wrote, they are kind and generous women. And Philippe has not exaggerated in his description of Julie's beauty and character either – don't you agree?" Chrétien winked at Lucie.

"But I can't talk to her!"

"Perhaps she can learn to talk to you instead?"

Chrétien pointed out that they had gotten along well enough at dinner – and he had very much liked Julie's American-style biscuits. Chrétien also observed that Philippe now spoke English easily – so that goal was achieved!

Since Lucie did not need to nurse Philippe back to health, they stayed on in London for a few more days of sight-seeing. Philippe showed his parents around, inviting Julie along as well. Julie had the opportunity to feel awkward herself for lack of French during that time, but otherwise comported herself to the satisfaction of the Du Saules. She seemed to them to have been brought up with good manners, if in humbler circumstances.

The evening before their return to France, Philippe visited with his parents in their hotel suite. "What do you think of Julie?" he ventured.

"She seems like a nice young girl and has a good family," Lucie responded. "I'm glad you made a friend in your time here."

Looking his mother in the eye, Philippe stated firmly, "She is more than my friend. I want to marry her."

"Philippe! You are both so young! How can you know that at your age?" cried Lucie.

"Perhaps you should wait for a while after you return to France before you decide about that – to see if your affection cools?" suggested Chrétien.

Philippe stated, "We are not much younger than you were when you married. Please do not treat us like Henri's family is treating him and Annette." (Henri Allard was a slightly-older friend of Philippe's from school, engaged for well over a year to Annette Henin. Their parents would not allow them to marry until they were 25 – another three years.)

Chrétien replied, "I know that when young people are in love, they want to be together as soon as possible, but I would still like for you to wait until you are twenty years old."

Philippe said, "Fine. That is just nine more months – in October. The timing will be perfect."

His parents realized suddenly that that was true: their teenaged son would be twenty years old in October. They couldn't argue with that – or alter the ultimatum Chrétien had given.

Philippe mulled over Julie's idea that she felt she should visit Calais during the sheep-shearing. He knew that his mother would not like it since it was their most chaotic and messy season, but the more he thought about it, the more logical it seemed to be. What more honest way for Julie to really see what life would be like at Ruisseau de Saule than to see it in the season when things were as demanding on their farm as they got? Julie needed to see that in order to be able to realistically decide if she wanted that life with him. And his mother would surely see how helpful, practical, and mature Julie was at the same time.

He addressed the idea in a letter with his parents ('to get the argument begun and finished,' he thought to himself, smiling grimly and he sealed the letter for the post.) Next, he brought it up to Julie and her family over lunch one warm Saturday in early March. Pellan O'Sullivan, who was also a frequent visitor at the Grayson home, was present that day. It was decided that Sophie and Julie would visit France in May. Jeremy and Pellan clamored to be included and Philippe invited them go along as well to help out. The boys seemed big enough to assist with some things if they would obey his instructions. They enthusiastically promised to do so. That way, Philippe reasoned, Helen would only have to look after the two young girls in England by herself – which was not too demanding for her at her age.

After lunch, Philippe taught the boys how to build a new trellis for beans in the townhouse's tiny and rather shaded back garden. Jenny came out into the garden where they were working and addressed Philippe solemnly: "Are you a prince?"

"No…," Philippe answered cautiously, not understanding what she meant.

"Then you won't take my Julie away?"

Jeremy burst out laughing. "I know what Jenny's thinking! She wonders if you are like a prince in one of her storybooks, who is going to ride off with Julie someday."

Philippe was momentarily speechless. Jenny ran back into the house, in tears from Jeremy's teasing.

Pellan persisted to Philippe, "Well, are you going to marry her?"

"I don't think that is your concern," Philippe replied as courteously as possible.

"I'll be a clan-chief someday. Clan-chiefs express opinions about who is a suitable match."

"I am not in your clan. And neither is Julie."

"If you don't want to marry her, perhaps I'll ask her myself."

"You! Aren't you a little young for Julie?"

"I'll be a clan-chief. She may want to wait for me." Pellan laughed, knowing that was absurd. "Anyway, I'm just practicing to be a clan-chief now. But I still care about what happens to this family. You should ask her if you are going to – before the boy at the butcher shop does."

"What boy at the butcher shop?"

Julie brought out some refreshments for them at that point. Pellan addressed her: "What's the name of the boy at the butcher shop?"

"You mean David?"

"David." – to Philippe – "See there! She knows his name."

Julie looked puzzled. "What are you talking about? Why shouldn't I know his name? I'm in that shop twice a week."

Jeremy explained, "Pellan thinks that David is in love with you."

"What? Don't be ridiculous!"

"Well, he smiles at you and you smile back."

"That doesn't mean anything. I don't flirt with him. I can hardly afford to be rude to him or he will give me a worse cut of meat than what we can afford!"

She rolled her eyes at the boys, whirling around and returning briskly to the kitchen.

Pellan continued to Philippe: "You should say something to her soon if you're going to. I think David has a sausage he wants to give her."

Philippe gasped at the lewd analogy, which even he understood. Jeremy laughed and smacked Pellan on the side of the head while Pellan danced away, grinning.

That night back in his room at the boarding house, Philippe reflected on the conversation and fumed to himself, 'Does being born to be a clan-chief give you just limitless gall? But who is this David at the butcher shop?'

Philippe knew that most girls of Julie's age and humble circumstances would be married before the age of twenty. Julie was 18 this past January. And he had said something already, just not made it concrete – in what Philippe had believed was fairness to Julie. And it was not any of Pellan's business, regardless. So why was he so angry? 'A sausage!' He flipped over on his side and punched his pillow, trying to sleep.

Chapter 15: Departure

April came and Philippe bought his ticket to return to France. In another two weeks, Julie, Sophie, and the two boys were coming for the sheep-shearing at Ruisseau de Saule. Julie and Sophie went to see Philippe off at the boat landing on the Thames.

He embraced Julie at length and whispered his thanks to her for the many happy months he had enjoyed in England. They were both more than a little teary. Philippe gave Julie a small box and told her to open it after he had gone "to remind you that there is someone in France who loves you." He lingered until he had to board the paddle-steamer at the last minute. They watched each other until his boat went around a bend of the river.

Julie showed Sophie the little box, tied with a blue ribbon. "Open it," encouraged Sophie. Julie did so and found a gold heart-shaped pendant inside with "Je t'aime" engraved on it in intricate scrollwork. On the back, the letters 'PRD' were engraved. They both exclaimed at its unusual beauty.

"What do I do now?" snuffled Julie, already feeling forlorn.

"Come home and start working on your trousseau, I suppose," Sophie laughed, hugging her around the shoulders. "That boy loves you and I'm sure that he won't rest until he talks his parents into letting you marry. Besides, we have to pack for our trip in two weeks."

Chapter 16: In Calais

Back at home in France, Philippe also felt a little empty. He played catch-up on things about the farm and at the bank, where his father described his future work there and assigned him a small office on the first floor near his, a window overlooking the street below. They also continued preparations for the sheep-shearing to come, though his mother daily expressed great misgivings about having guests at the same time.

Philippe busied himself on the farm, in change of the shearing operation by himself now.

One day, he found two of the field shepherds whispering. "What is it?" Philippe asked.

"Gerard."

"What about him?"

"Look there."

Philippe looked and saw with horror the third field hand, having his way with one of the ewes. Philippe was suddenly furious and strode in that direction, kicking Gerard off the ewe and excoriating him, while simultaneously tying his neck kerchief around the unfortunate animal. He fired Gerard on the spot, forfeiting his wages for the price of the ewe, then returned to the barn, loaded a shotgun, and returned to the unfortunate animal.

One of the onlooking shepherds observed to the other, "Master Philippe looks like an avenging angel when he is angry."

That evening Philippe told his father that he had dismissed Gerard and why. His father approved his actions and mourned the loss of a ewe just before shearing. "But it seems that you are fully capable of handling the sheep operation here by yourself. That's as bad as it gets."

A few days later, when Philippe and his father arrived home from the bank before dinner in the evening, there was an unfamiliar carriage in the barn.

"Who's this?" Philippe asked his father.

Chrétien replied, "It must belong to the Carettes. Your mother invited them to dinner tonight."

"Why was I not told we would have guests?" Philippe asked, puzzled. The Carettes were not intimate friends with his family. His father remained silent and gave him a meaningful look. Philippe suddenly comprehended the situation.

"The Carettes have a daughter, do they not? About my age?"

Chrétien remained silent, now with a half-smile on his face, unhitching their team from their buggy.

Philippe hesitated for a moment, his mind racing and feeling increasingly angry. Then he made a decision.

"Papa, please give my apologies to Maman and your guests. I have suddenly remembered something which Henri asked me to do for the militia. I'm going to ride back into town and attend to it promptly. I'll get something to eat there."

He saddled his horse, Intrépide, and left at a gallop. His mother watched him leave from a window and frowned, her plans scuttled.

Philippe rode through Calais to the little shed outside of town where the town militia kept their supplies. Henri Allard was the militia captain; Philippe had just been elected his assistant when he had returned to France.

Philippe had not told his father a complete lie: Henri had indeed asked Philippe to keep a count of their supplies on a monthly basis. This seemed an excellent time to do so! All was in order, as it had been last month when Philippe had first done the count with Henri.

Philippe locked the supply shed and then rode Intrépide hard up and down the beach until both were tired. He went back into town, found water for Intrépide and a sandwich for himself and they both rested near the ferry station with a clear view to England. Philippe then rode home more slowly, going in the back entrance, out of sight of the front of the house. He gave Intrépide a brush-down and his feed, then crept silently up to his bedroom in his stocking-feet, carrying his boots, and undressed for sleep. He lay in the gathering dusk, listening to the Carettes taking their leave below and still feeling annoyed. He knew that his mother would come to his room sooner or later – and she did presently, with a gentle knock. He said, "Enter."

Lucie came into Philippe's little room, where he lay already in the bed. She said, "We missed you at dinner. Did you get something to eat?"

"I did. And I ate where I had a good view of England."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You know how I feel about Julie. And if you ever have another of these dinner parties to force me to be around other girls here, I will be moving to England permanently. Is that what you want?"

"No, it isn't. But Philippe: I can't talk to her!"

"I'm sure that she will be happy to learn enough French to talk to you instead."

Lucie sighed, resigned now to the future. She would not push away her only son.

Julie, Sophie, Jeremy, and Pellan were all excited on the ferry to Calais in their different ways. Pellan's parents had requested that he delay his usual summer visit home without stating exactly why, but Pellan was in high spirits at the prospect of having a new experience and visiting another country. He assumed that he would visit Ireland later on in the summer.

It was a clear day and, from Dover, they could see France during the entire crossing, which made it all the more exciting to be able to see where they were gradually heading. The land at Calais was very flat and they could make out the town and, soon enough, the ferry landing as they slowly drew nearer.

Julie said to Sophie, "Is that him?" She could see a young man on the sidewalk beside the dock, who raised his arm high. "Oh, it is him! I'm sure!" She raised her arm in greeting as well.

Philippe had been talking to Jacques, a friend from school days, and had enthused about his American girlfriend, who was soon to arrive. Jacques inquired if perhaps this lovely girl had a sister. Philippe said that in fact she had two beautiful sisters – ages nine and seven. Jacques rolled his eyes and jostled Philippe's shoulder.

Philippe spied Julie on the ferry with the others and raised his arm, thrilled when Julie responded in kind. It seemed to take the ferry a particularly long time to reach the dock and tie up. Philippe welcomed them with hugs and kisses – one longer and more intimate than the others.

He had brought a carriage with him and they piled into it with their luggage and began a trip through town in the late afternoon sun. Philippe pointed out notable buildings, including their little bank and the upper window in his little office. They then rode out into the countryside and on to Ruisseau de Saule, approaching by the back way so that Philippe could point out the extensive pastures of sheep, and then in through the front gate (labeled with "R") and up the long flat drive to the house (also labeled with an "R" built into the brick over the door). Lucie Du Saule came out to welcome them and only Philippe could tell that her manner was just a little stiff.

As they finished settling into their rooms, Julie called to Philippe, "Where are you?"

"In here." Philippe's voice came from a door on the side of the upper level. Julie went toward the sound of his voice and found Philippe changing his shoes in a room which could only be described as tiny.

He grinned, "Go ahead and say it. My room is like a closet." Julie hesitated, not knowing how to tactfully respond.

Philippe continued, "When I was just old enough not to sleep in the nursery near my parents – which was the room where you and Sophie are staying – I asked for this room to be mine. I liked how I could see the stable, barn and the pastures from the window. It seemed to just fit me then. I've been here ever since, though it seems to have become smaller as I have grown! I promise to move out into a larger room once I am married. But for now, it just makes sense for the larger rooms to be available for guests. After all, I was not even here for the better part of a year."

Pellan would be twelve in August and Jeremy eleven in July, so their bodies were now large enough to be of some use in handling the sheep when they were sheared. The next day Philippe gave them quick instruction in sheep-handling and safety and allowed them to help – and they did help once the shearing began with very little playing around as one might predict from boys their age, seeming to take the job seriously.

The days were indeed long and tiring. Philippe and the boys slept very soundly almost immediately after dinner every night. Lucie, however, found that her work in the kitchen was actually easier with Sophie and Julie to assist her, plus the housemaids. They worked on meals and refreshments most of every day and enjoyed the work together, talking companionably as they worked, as women do. Everyone had good appetites, which was gratifying.

Julie came to appreciate the immense work which went into shearing some 300 sheep, then washing wool, sorting it by type, sending some of it to spinners, inspecting the health of the newly-shorn animals, making decisions about which ones would go to market in the future, etc. She admired Philippe's competence and manner with the workers, and observed that he did not speak French nearly as slowly as he did English. (Philippe had told Julie that speaking English always made him feel like he was swimming underwater.)

While it was a busy and intense time, everyone worked together well and it was not miserable. Furthermore, Philippe was proud of her, Julie could tell. His dark eyes held a smile whenever he looked at her. The visit was going well.

On Sundays, all the work stopped so that they could attend mass. Philippe showed Julie the graves of his grandparents in the church yard and the font at the door of the church where he had been baptized … and his ancestors before him. It seemed such a stable, settled, pleasant life. Julie was a bit envious.

And then after three weeks of intense work, it was over! They made plans to celebrate at the beach the next day.

Philippe walked down the long drive from the house toward the pastures with Julie in the evening after dinner, the boys running far ahead of them in the distance now. Raoul, a German Shepherd, walked slowly alongside them, having accepted the new visitors of whom his master seemed fond.

"Well, how do you like our leisurely life here in France?" Philippe teased with a grin, pausing at a bathing pond in a circle of willows, created years earlier by damming the creek with stones.

Julie laughed. "It's been busy, as you said would be the case. But it's been so interesting to see how everyone works together and to see where you come from. You're so competent at coordinating all this with the sheep! Your parents must be proud of you and they've been very kind to us, too."

"And would you like to live here too, Julie Bolt? Nothing would make me happier than if you were my wife. It is also a wonderful place for children to grow up – I know personally."

"Oh, you know I will. I love you so!"

They kissed and Philippe lifted Julie off her feet, spinning her around. Even Raoul jumped around at bit and seemed to understand that there was some unusual excitement. Then Julie said, "I do have one request."

"Anything!"

"If something should happen to my aunts before the children are grown…"

"… then we will bring them to live here with us. They will be my brother and sisters too, you know."

"Oh, thank you! That eases my mind!"

"Let's go tell my parents and Miss Sophie!"

Off they ran to the house, bursting into the parlor. Lucie drew breath to reprimand Philippe for creating a scene, but she quickly guessed what was happening.

"Maman et Papa! Nous sommes fiancés! Miss Sophie – we are engaged! Oh, we are so happy!"

And, indeed, their glowing faces made that obvious even without words or the language barrier. So Julie's transition to France began. Indeed, it was a transition for everyone.

Chapter 17: Transitions

The next day they took a picnic lunch to the wide, flat beach south of the ferry landing in Calais. It was a lovely day, the food was all the better for eating outdoors, and the boys enjoyed running on the beach and playing in the sand. The adults, too, enjoyed the relaxation after so much effort expended in the sheep-shearing project, plus celebrating the engagement of Philippe and Julie.

Then a horse and rider arrived: it was Marc from the ferry office with a telegram for Sophie. He delivered it to her on the side of the road in the presence of Chrétien and Philippe.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Sophie, reading it, hand going to her mouth. "What is it?" asked Philippe. She read –

Sophie:

Mr. B informed me that P's father has been killed. His mother says he is to continue his summer plans and under no circumstances to return to Ireland at present. Mr. B knows no more. So sad.

-Helen

"What should we tell him?" gasped Philippe.

"Tell him the truth. Let him read the telegram," Chrétien sighed.

They called Pellan to them. Jeremy followed, holding the ball they had been tossing.

Sophie said to Pellan, "We just received this telegram. I'm so sorry." She handed the paper to Pellan with a look of sad compassion. Pellan took it from her apprehensively and read it, then handed it back and blankly walked off some distance without saying anything.

Jeremy asked his great-aunt with concern, "What is it?" Sophie replied, "His father has been killed." She let Jeremy read the telegram as well. Julie and Lucie came over at that moment, sensing that something was amiss. When Chrétien told Lucie the contents of the telegram, she exclaimed, "That poor boy!" The adults began to murmur about what to do for Pellan, Chrétien advising to give Pellan some space at the moment.

Jeremy started to walk off in Pellan's direction. Philippe caught him by the arm, saying, "Let him be. You don't know what he is going through."

Jeremy looked at Philippe's restraining hand, then up at his face, stating, "I think I do."

Philippe looked at Jeremy for a moment, then let go of his arm and clapped him on the shoulder. "I apologize. You do know something of what he must feel."

Jeremy walked down the beach to where Pellan had dropped to the sand, staring out at the sea, hugging his knees to his chest. Jeremy sat down beside him.

Pellan said, "My father! I will never see him again. He will be buried by now." A tear rolled down his cheek. "I wish I could be with Mam."

Jeremy hooked his hand on the older boy's shoulder and leaned against him, saying nothing. For some things, no words are better.

A few days later, on the ferry back to England, Sophie looked at the distracted faces of her three charges: Pellan still largely blank, thinking about his father's death. Jeremy, who had been thrown back into ruminating on the deaths of his own parents. And Julie, at intervals admiring her new engagement ring from Philippe and discreetly keeping her happy thoughts to herself due to Pellan's grief.

In September, Jeremy greeted Pellan at school and invited him to come to the wedding in late October in their small church in London. Pellan had just returned from a short visit to Ireland to see his mother and sister and had something new to show Jeremy – the O'Sullivan family torque of the clan-chief, removed from his father's body and now applied permanently around his own young neck. (It had to be heated and bent to go around his neck, then bent back to cool in place – done by a jeweler in Galway.)

His mother had asked if he had wanted to receive it; he had eagerly agreed, thinking that she would like that and be proud that he wanted to wear it. Pellan later thought that it made his mother sad to see the clan torque on his neck instead of his father's and wondered why he had not thought about that at the time when he agreed to receive it. But he felt an obligation to his father's family to continue the role of clan-chief, even though the role had changed over time and he was even less sure than his father had been as to what being clan-chief meant.

Jeremy poked fun at Pellan about the torque, calling it a dog collar, but it was a particularly handsome piece. Though he didn't say so, Jeremy admired Pellan for agreeing to wear it and was a little in awe of him for doing so.

Ronan O'Sullivan had been working as a mediator, trying to help some mortal enemies to settle a longstanding dispute for some years, but this had only resulted in both of them hating Ronan and making threats against him and his family. Those threats had caused Ronan and Clarissa to become cautious and very protective of their children. Pellan had not realized it, but his parents had moved him around rather rapidly in his visits to Ireland for the past few years – including the visit with Jeremy – to keep his whereabouts more nebulous to their enemies. Clarissa O'Sullivan's weakened heart had not coped well with the constant stress, nor with the loss of her murdered husband. One of her aunts in Tralee had already been keeping Siobhan part-time for more than a year and continued in that role.

Chapter 18: Philippe and Julie Du Saule

On October 19, the three Du Saule family members took the early ferry for England. They celebrated Philippe's 20th birthday with the Grayson-Bolt household the next day and were present to help with other preparations for the intimate wedding planned at the chapel on Saturday, October 24. Julie had not wanted a large or fancy wedding, but her aunts did have several local friends in town after their many years there and wanted her to be married in a church. Philippe and Sophie were busy as translators for Philippe's parents and they were not really very isolated with all the English chatter of preparations.

Philippe would always remember the moment of their wedding vows. Julie seemed so delicate and lovely – like a fragile flower – with her vivid blue eyes behind her veil looking into his, full of love and trust.

His parents hosted a luncheon in a small restaurant after their simple late-morning wedding. They were surrounded by their friends, including Pellan and Marta, and were all so very happy.

One of Julie's fondest memories of their wedding day came at the end of their luncheon, when Philippe gave small gifts to his new brother and sisters, as he termed them: an elegant pocketknife for Jeremy and dainty necklaces for the girls. Philippe realized that Julie's move to France would be difficult for them, especially Jenny. He promised them that they would see each other in France at Christmas in less than two months and issued an invitation to their whole household for the holidays.

Philippe opened the door to his hotel room for Julie in mid-afternoon, saying, "Do you like this room? I have been here almost a week. It isn't large, but it has a private water closet. If you don't like it or want a larger room, I will get another." Julie seemed distracted, crossing the room to gaze out the window at the city street below, which was not very scenic. She replied, "It's fine. We'll only be here one night. It doesn't matter."

Philippe thanked and tipped the porter with Julie's steamer trunk and the porter left. Philippe then went over to Julie and put a hand gently on her shoulder, saying softly, "But it is our first night together. I want to make it as close to perfect as I can."

Julie turned to look sorrowfully at him and said, "It doesn't matter. I've already ruined it."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I need to sit down."

Indeed, Julie was trembling, he suddenly noticed. They sat down together on a small loveseat in the room. Philippe began to be alarmed. "Julie, are you ill?"

Julie looked down at her clasped hands, silent for a moment, then mumbled, "I'm getting my monthly."

Philippe was confused. "Monthly what?"

"Monthly cycle."

"I don't understand."

"Menstrual cycle" – suddenly looking him in the eye.

"Oh! Cycle menstruel. Règles."

Now it was Julie who didn't understand. "Règles?"

"The week of bleeding? Règles is the French word."

"Yes, that's it. I was late. I think it was all the excitement. I saw this morning that it was beginning. I'm just so sorry I've ruined our wedding night for you."

Tears began to spill out of her eyes. Philippe pulled her close and gave her his handkerchief. "You don't need to ever apologize to me for how you are. It is normal, is it not? Every month?"

"I didn't eat much today. I was afraid I might get sick."

"You haven't eaten?"

Suddenly Philippe realized that what he had seen as delicacy at the wedding ceremony was really her physical weakness of this time of month and lack of food. He observed, "I don't think either of us ate much at lunch with all the talking." Julie agreed. He asked, "What do you need? Tell me what I can do to help you."

"I just want a plain dinner – nothing fancy. And probably a good night's sleep. I didn't sleep much last night."

"I didn't sleep well last night, either." He smiled. "Well, let's do that: let's just take care of ourselves and each other for a while."

They took a nap in each other's arms, then had dinner in the hotel restaurant and returned to their room.

That night, Philippe modeled his new silk pajamas for Julie with a laugh. "I've never had silk pajamas before!"

"The dark blue suits you."

Julie later emerged from the water closet in a buttoned-up nightgown and carrying a bath towel, which she spread folded on the bed and laid down on it, giving an apologetic look to her new husband. "It's in case I leak – to keep from ruining the sheets."

"You have to lie on that?"

"For a few nights, until the heavy part is over."

"That's sort of miserable. I'm sorry."

They were quiet for a few moments, both staring at the ceiling on their separate sides of the bed. Philippe then turned his head to look at his bride, "I would like very much to hold you while we sleep, if you agree."

"Alright."

He slid over to Julie-on-the-towel, who turned to meet him. "I love you so," he murmured.

"I love you, too."

"It was such a wonderful day!"

"Yes, it was perfect – except for this part."

"If you apologize for your natural functions again, I am going to get angry. I'm a farmer, remember? I'm used to coping with nature, whatever it brings."

They giggled then and drifted off in each other's arms, exhausted and happy. And so they became roommates for a while.

Early the next morning, the newlyweds met Philippe's parents and boarded the paddle-steamer on the Thames for Dover to then cross the Channel to Calais. It was a nice, clear day for late October. They planned to adjust Julie's passport with her married name in Calais where they were well-known. Julie did not possess a birth certificate and they thought this the easiest way to made the legal adjustments.

In the ladies' water closet on the paddle-steamer, Julie clutched the washstand, sweating and feeling nauseated along with the relentless abdominal pain. Lucie knocked softly at the door and entered when Julie replied. Lucie saw in an instant that Julie was ill. "Es tu malade, Julie?"

Julie hesitated a moment and gasped, "Oui. Règles."

Lucie drew in breath with an expression of sympathy and inquired, "Les crampes?"

"Oui."

Lucie then said a great deal in French which Julie did not understand, but she realized from her manner that Lucie understood the problem and was expressing compassion. They left the water closet, Lucie's arm around Julie's waist, intending to lead her to a shaded lounge on the boat; but Julie suddenly lurched for the rail and began to retch, crying tears of shame as well. "I'm so sorry! So sorry!" Julie felt awful – physically, but also for this humiliating way to begin a relationship with her mother-in-law. Lucie, however, totally empathized and rubbed Julie's back while she struggled to get over her bout of sickness.

"Oh, there you are!" Lucie said, turning to her son, whose quick footsteps Julie heard behind them. Philippe's eyes widened in horror and concern when he saw that Julie was sick, looking at his mother with alarm. Lucie was calm and assured. "Go and buy a bottle of that strong Prussian ginger ale and bring it to the lounge. Be sure that it is cold."

"Oui, Maman." And he was swiftly gone.

Chrétien encountered Philippe leaving the refreshment stand and asked, "Where are the women?"

Philippe replied, "Julie is sick. Maman is with her and told me to get this for Julie and bring it to the lounge." He gestured with the bottle.

"Whatever is the matter?"

"It is the règles."

"Oh, my," he sighed. "You're being thrown into the worst parts of marriage from the very beginning, aren't you?"

"Well, it is normal for women, is it not?"

"It is. You left her alone, didn't you?"

"Of course. Do you think I am a ram in the field?"

"Of course not. Here –" He handed Philippe a substantial amount of cash. "Take another week for your honeymoon. This is a difficult way to get started in marriage."

Philippe took the money and thanked him humbly, then carried the ginger ale to Julie. Lucie directed him to translate for her to Julie: "Here. This will help settle your stomach." Julie had never tasted ginger ale so strong and she began to feel better almost immediately.

"Stay with her here in the shade," Lucie told Philippe. He sat down beside Julie and pulled her close.

Lucie confided Julie's problem to Chrétien a few minutes later. "That poor girl, coming down with the règles on her honeymoon! Why don't we give them some money so that they can stay away longer?"

Chrétien smiled gently and replied, "I already have."

After all these years of ups and downs, they tended to think alike. Lucie gave him a fond smile and squeezed his arm in gratitude.

The brick buildings of the downtown square in Calais radiated warmth in the late afternoon sun. Gulls wheeled overhead in the salt-scented air. Julie and Lucie rested in a shaded outdoor café while Chrétien and Philippe finished up with the town authorities regarding Julie's new passport with her new married name and new residence town of Calais.

Julie was feeling better since her bout of sickness, but Lucie took no chances with her. She obtained a medication for les crampes from a nearby apothecary for Julie to take, which was already making an improvement. Julie thanked her for her kindness in her rudimentary French. Then Julie and Philippe left on ship for Bruges, Belgium, in the late afternoon sunset. Chrétien and Lucie waved good-bye from the dock, then returned home to their normal life.

Julie thought that Belgium was a long way from Calais, but Philippe told her that it was really a just short distance up the coast. He added, "My first idea for our honeymoon was to rent a small cottage on the beach, and then, when you got tired of me in a few days, we might go into Bruges for a few more days. But now I think we might stay in Bruges first. A hotel there will be more comfortable for you and, when you feel better, we could go to beach cottage, if you like."

It was just one more example of the kindness of her new husband and Julie was very grateful. They sailed on as darkness fell on them in the cool autumn breeze off of the Channel.

Philippe made a pig of himself with Belgian waffles every morning at the hotel and they continued on, as roommates, for the better part of a week, strolling in the scenic town of Bruges, taking a canal ride, attending an evening concert, and buying Christmas gifts for family members.

One morning after breakfast, Philippe flopped down onto the bed while Julie was in their private water closet, opening a newspaper he had just purchased in the hotel lobby. Julie came out of the water closet and flopped down on the bed beside him, taking the newspaper out of his hands and tossing it on the floor. She began to kiss him.

He protested in jest, "I was reading that." She continued kissing him.

"Of course, I could read it later…" [more kissing]

"Or tomorrow…" [still more kissing]

"Actually, I don't know why I wasted money on it. I don't care if I ever read it."

They giggled and snuggled together.

"I think you are feeling better."

"Perhaps we can move to the beach cottage now?"

Philippe smiled broadly and they hastily began to pack up together.

After a week at the beach cottage, no longer just roommates, they returned to Bruges and took ship for Calais. Philippe did indeed move out of his tiny bedroom into the upper front room to share with Julie and they settled in together. Chrétien and Lucie shared a room with fewer windows which they preferred for having less of a draft.

After breakfast the day after their return, Philippe kissed Julie at the front door as he prepared to leave for the bank with his father. Chrétien drove up with the buggy and said with a chuckle, "Come on, Philippe. We'll be late. You'll see her again at lunch after all."

Julie then drifted up the stairs to their bedroom and sat down at a small desk, looking at the long list of wedding gifts they had received from the Du Saules' friends in the area and not knowing how she could go about writing thank-you notes without her rudimentary French sounding ignorant and giving a bad first impression.

"Julie," Lucie interrupted her from the doorway. Julie looked up. Lucie held out an envelope to her. It was from Lucie, but translated in an unfamiliar hand on a second sheet:

My Dear New Daughter-in-Law –

I wish that I could tell you how happy we are to have you as a part of our family now. I am sorry that I did not apply myself to learn English early in my life. I do have a friend in town, Corinne, who is something like your Aunt Sophie. She taught English to students here for some years. I have asked her to meet with us twice a week to help us learn to communicate. Philippe told me that you have been learning French and she can help you, as will I. We are going to have lunch with C and P in town today and then meet Corinne for the first time. Please write down any questions that you have so that we can get started well.

Again, we are so happy to have you here and want you to be happy and at ease.

My love, Lucie D.

That was the manner in which Julie began to settle in at Ruisseau de Saule with the woman she soon called "Mama Lucie." Perhaps ordinary days and times seem boring, but not when one is a newlywed in a new country. Each day was full of new experiences, new faces, new customs, and Julie felt welcomed by her new family. She, Lucie, and Corinne formed a tight friendship and enjoyed their "teas" together. Corinne was fascinated to meet an American and get to know her. Corinne and Lucie helped Julie to write her thank-you notes in proper French and in Julie's own handwriting.

One of the first things that Lucie did was to locate a doctor in Calais who could speak English so that Julie could have that comfort if she needed it. Lucie came to admire Julie's homemaking aptitude and skill as they worked together in the kitchen and elsewhere. Julie had never been around such an extensive garden and Lucie began to teach her about plants. Lucie did not understand how Julie had never learned to garden, but Julie explained (through Corinne) about life in the wilderness as a child and the limits of a tiny, shaded back garden in London. Julie could cook many simple, tasty foods and Lucie was amused by some of them. "'Hoe Cake'! Who would think of such a thing?!"

Chapter 19: The Orphan

In mid-November, a telegram came to the Baxter residence, asking for Pellan to be sent to Ireland: it appeared that his mother's life was coming to an end. Mr. Baxter complied, sending 12-year-old Pellan on the boat to Ireland for the first time by himself since Mr. Baxter had obligations in court. Pellan felt both very mature and very alone. His mother was ill and weak, but she knew him and they had brief talks before she would tire. She lingered a few weeks, and then died during the night while Pellan slept in another room of the house.

The traditional Irish wake was the following night. A few of his father's people even came up from Dingle, which delighted Pellan. They were up all night with much talking, stories, alcohol, food, music, and noise. Pellan tried to stay up with everyone else, but was emotionally exhausted and fell asleep in the wee hours on some cushions in the parlor, getting about three hours' sleep.

Someone woke Pellan early the next morning and, hazy with fatigue and grief, he went with his relatives to his mother's funeral and immediate burial in the churchyard plot beside his father.

Back at the house, there was still more food and drink, talk, and family stories told. While Pellan felt that it was important to listen to his family stories, he finally thought that if he could not find a place to catch a nap, he would pass out. He wove his way among the guests and finally came to a small bedroom where people had left coats on the bed while they visited. Pellan thought this might do for his nap, then heard a soft sound behind him. He turned to see his third-cousin Lynette standing behind him. She had closed the bedroom door – and locked it.

She was some three years older and larger than Pellan. He said nothing, feeling uneasy and, in his mental fog, not able to imagine what Lynette intended. She crossed the room to him, suddenly clasped Pellan to her none too gently, and began kissing him firmly on the lips. Pellan had three thoughts in rather rapid succession in his numbed mind. The first thought was one of disbelief: he couldn't believe that any girl was kissing him! The second thought was more masculine: "So this is kissing!" and he began for a moment to enjoy the sensation. The third thought was more properly a thought than shock or sensation: "She is my cousin! I don't want to be kissing my cousin!" He began to struggle to be free from her, but she was larger and stronger than she looked and it took a while. Pellan finally staggered back a few steps, still speechless at the incident, staring at her in confusion and indecision of how to escape.

Lynette looked him over, head to toe, then gave a smirk at his obvious arousal and turned slowly to leave the bedroom, her hips swaying. Pellan continued stunned for another moment, then rapidly left the bedroom and made his way back to the public area of the living room, soon falling asleep on the same cushions that he had used the night before, feeling that he was safe there from Lynette with others around.

He told no one about the incident. And he realized that he would have to start protecting himself. He now had no parents to protect him.

Chapter 20: Christmas 1863

Julie frequently wrote letters to her great-aunts and siblings, of course. They all came to visit at Christmas as planned, bringing along the now-orphaned Pellan. Lucie was delighted to have the house full of children for the holidays and they played music together in the living room at night.

Philippe noticed Pellan's gold torque during that Christmas visit. He asked to examine it, admiring the fine workmanship. He also expressed concern for Pellan's safety, wearing such an obviously valuable artifact, and asked if Pellan would perhaps allow Julie to create a custom cravat which would cover it. Pellan agreed and seemed relieved.

A day or so later, Julie produced some muslin cloth for Pellan to try on.

"That's ugly," he pronounced.

"I agree. This is scrap material. Since I've never made anything like this, I'm using this muslin to create a pattern first and not waste good material if I mess up in the process. When we get the pattern right, we'll buy some nice material to make the actual cravats. You will choose what you want.

"Oh!" He flashed his bright smile. 'Why do I even hesitate to trust these people?' he wondered to himself.

Julie had a talent for working with children, even those not in her family – or such a one who no longer thought of himself as a child.

Chapter 21: Friends and Then Some

From the first day that they had met in the English language academy, Jeremy and Marta had been very close friends. It was hard to explain, given that they had such different backgrounds. Marta had seen a fair bit of privilege in her upbringing, but, having seven older brothers, she understood boys and had tomboy tendencies. Jeremy began to have a wider world from the day he left Seattle with his great-aunts and sisters. Learning that there were sailors and others who spoke different languages and came from different countries and had different lifestyles sparked a life-long curiosity about language, people, and culture. Marta was the first Prussian that Jeremy met. She was eager to learn English and they were remarkably compatible. When Pellan also became their friend, they seemed more like a group than a couple and this did not seem concerning to Georg Jäger, who had more pressing things on his mind.

In the early summer of 1864, Jeremy, Marta, and Pellan all finished the final grade in the English Academy and would have to attend other schools in the fall. Pellan (now thirteen) left promptly for one of his summer visits to Ireland.

One afternoon, a few days later, Marta and Jeremy took a ride on two of the Jäger horses, riding bareback out to the perimeter of the Jäger property. They dismounted and flopped down in the tall summer grass. Jeremy exclaimed with satisfaction, "That was a good ride!" Marta stated, "Those horses needed that ride, too. They're too confined."

Jeremy smiled with contentment at the moment, then looked over at Marta, who was regarding him intently, propped on her elbow. The tension grew and Marta leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Jeremy stayed very still, not knowing how to react. Marta leaned away and stated solemnly, "That is for teaching me English." She smiled and leaned in again, kissing him longer and more intensely. Jeremy moved his arms to grasp her shoulders. Marta leaned away again and said, "And that is for the person that you are: so kind and generous and patient."

Jeremy regarded her for a moment, then turned on his side and returned the favor, kissing Marta with initiative. He pulled his head away and she smiled, asking, "What was that for?" Jeremy answered simply, "That's because I love you." They rested in each other's arms for a moment without saying anything. "Not that it makes any difference," Jeremy added.

"What do you mean?"

"You know there's no future for us. Every time I come here to visit, your father is more and more cold to me."

"I don't think he pays us that much attention. He sees us as little children."

"Well, I'm sure that he has in mind your marrying someone rich and important if he can. And Frieda, too."

"We'll see about that."

"Yes, we'll see."

They were silent a few moments, as close as they ever came to a spat. Then Marta inquired, "Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

"From you – just now. Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

"From you – just now. And also from watching Fritz and his girlfriend in the barn."

"You spied on them?!"

"What are older brothers for? Anyway, if they can't take the time to be sure that they're alone before they start kissing, is that my fault? I was in the barn loft the first time that they came in there, making so much noise that I couldn't fail to notice them. So I just stayed in the loft and watched."

Chapter 22: Pellan, Jeremy, & Siobhan

The Baxters had not thought that they were taking Pellan to raise when his parents had sent him to stay with them "for a short while until things settle down" when Pellan was eight. Not having any children of their own, they were puzzled and troubled by Pellan's moods, but the three of them learned in time to tolerate each other. The Baxters were more sympathetic to the upheaval Pellan was experiencing than he realized and were relieved when Pellan finally settled down in the English academy and made some friends.

Mr. Baxter knew that Pellan would need to go to a prep school in time and since Clarissa had not thought it safe for Pellan to return to Ireland, Mr. Baxter found a modestly priced prep school for Pellan in England. He was pleased when the Grayson sisters proposed that Pellan and Jeremy room together there, since it gave Pellan some continuity and support. It was just as well; the prep school was not a good experience for either boy.

As had happened with Julie's schooling in England, the other boys at the prep school made fun of those coming from somewhere other than England. Jeremy and Pellan found themselves working together to defend each other at times. Their tormentors made fun of Jeremy's American English and stutter (which worsened while he was there) and they hated the Irish; Pellan was delighted to return the sentiment. Pellan learned very slowly to control his temper and his mouth, but was caned by the headmaster more times than he could count. Jeremy avoided canings for the most part, and was a calming influence on his roommate, but they still had times when they had to physically defend themselves and each other from the other, bigger boys there.

Pellan's sister, Siobhan, was six years younger and had remained with various relatives on their mother's side in Tralee while she grew up after her mother died. Mr. Baxter became her legal guardian as well upon Clarissa's death and he felt it best that Siobhan continue in her same school and live with her same relatives in Ireland until she finished school there, giving her that stability. Ronan had sold off old clan-chief tenant properties and created a fund for their children's education, which Mr. Baxter managed for them.

Pellan and Siobhan both spoke Gaelic as their native language, but had different experiences of their parents since Siobhan had been barely six when Clarissa died. Indeed, they had had different experiences in life since Pellan had been in England for years, while Siobhan had remained in Ireland. But they were very conscious that they were siblings and wrote letters back and forth once Siobhan was old enough to read and write.

Pellan received his mother's Claddagh ring upon her death and kept it for Siobhan to have when she was around 15, as should have been the Irish custom. He wore it on the small finger of his right hand; it helped him feel a connection to his mother. On his left hand, he wore the ring with the O'Sullivan family crest which had been his father's. And, of course, the clan torque.

Pellan was too young as yet to do much as clan-chief and everyone knew it, including Pellan. But he spent most of his summers in Ireland after his parents' deaths and talked with many older relatives about their lives and what being clan-chief meant; they all had different ideas. One very elderly great-uncle thought he ought to take lessons with a broadsword. Pellan couldn't foresee that ever being useful in their contemporary world, but listened respectfully.

Whatever clan-chiefs did in the past as warriors who won their position in battle, now it had become somewhat ceremonial in terms of giving advice or requested blessings or, as in the case of his father, trying to settle disputes. The major dispute, though, was always with the English government, whose taxes were still brutal even after the famine years eased.

Pellan discerned over time that the younger generation were less and less involved in the old ways; he knew that he would have to adapt to that as a clan-chief … if that was possible. None of the clan-chiefs could live like the old-time clan-chiefs – or else they would have to charge brutal rent to their crofters in order to pay the taxes, and Ronan had not wanted to do that. Like Jonathan and Duncan Bolt, years earlier, taxes had changed the O'Sullivan clan culture radically.

Pellan also noticed that girls who had paid him no mind in the past were suddenly much more friendly once he started wearing the chief's torque. He didn't find that so much a useful opportunity for flirting, as a reason to distrust their motives – like those of Lynette. For some reason, he trusted his friends in England more. They had known him longer than he had worn a torque and the torque didn't seem to have an effect on them.

Chapter 23: Separation

Time passed very pleasantly for Philippe and Julie in their first months of marriage. Then, one morning in the following spring, Philippe found a letter from the French government in his mail at the bank. He went to his father's nearby office, saying, "I need to go talk to Henri. This letter is a call-up of our town militia." Chrétien did not express his foreboding upon reading the letter, but replied, "Go see Henri and then meet us at the café for lunch, as we had planned." Chrétien knew that Lucie would take this news hard, unless there was some way around it. He must think quickly….

Philippe's head was swirling with thoughts and worries as he approached the Allard farmhouse where Henri, leader of the Calais militia lived with his parents. As he rode in the driveway on Intrépide, he heard a gunshot … and then a woman's scream. He kicked Intrépide to a canter.

Chrétien, Lucie, and Julie waited at the café. It was not like Philippe to be late. Chrétien shared the militia's letter with Lucie and Julie and, as he anticipated, Lucie became instantly distraught – more so than Julie, who displayed her typical composure. Chrétien reassured them that he had a tentative plan. Philippe finally arrived, looking exhausted, and dropped into his chair at their table.

Chrétien began, "I think there is a way out of this. We can look for a young man in the area not in the militia and pay him to take your place. Others have done that in the past."

Philippe pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, and interrupted his father. "Papa, something terrible has happened: Henri is dead."

His family members gasped. Philippe told them that Henri had shot himself just as Philippe rode into the drive to the house. Henri had held a copy of the same letter in his hand when his mother found him dead from a bullet to his head.

Lucie exclaimed, "Poor Marie! I must go to her!"

Philippe interjected quickly, "Not right now, Maman. The police are still there. I have just given them my deposition. And Papa: I must go with the militia to serve. How can I not go now? They will be demoralized by Henri's death. I will not abandon them to deal with this without either of their elected leaders."

Lucie wailed, "How can Henri have done such a thing?"

Philippe replied, "Oh, I'm sure that it had to do with Annette. They were just starting to plan their wedding after having had to wait all these years. I think he couldn't deal with another long delay. It was probably too much for him to bear."

On a gray morning a few weeks later, the militia from Calais prepared to depart for training and their assignment to back up regular military in the east of France near Alsace. They looked smart in their freshly laundered militia uniforms, yet still felt sad and demoralized. Some, such as Philippe, had served as pallbearers at Henri's funeral. They were leaving their families with Henri's loss heavy on their minds.

One wealthy family had paid a young man from an impoverished family, Matthieu Garnier, to go with the militia in the place of their son. Given the murmuring in town about this arrangement, Chrétien was grateful that they had not made similar arrangements. Chrétien had to admit that sometimes his son showed himself to be the better man, even if he was just 20 and on the young end of those childless, able-bodied young men,18-25 years old, who served in the militias of France, subject to serve their nation when called up. Indeed, his unit had elected Philippe their captain after Henri's death.

Philippe embraced Julie and told her again, "If you want to go back to England to be with your family while I am gone, I won't blame you. I will write to you and come for you when I return. I feel so terrible about this. We have not even reached our first anniversary."

Julie said, with tears in her eyes, "No, I will stay with your parents. I may be some comfort to your mother, in particular." Philippe well knew that his mother was frightened for him and taking this deployment particularly hard; he was grateful to Julie for wanting to stay in France and with her.

Privately Philippe told his father, "If anything happens to me, please help Julie to go wherever she wishes." Chrétien promised, "Of course, we will."

And so, they were off.

Truthfully, there was never much to write home about, but Philippe and the others tried their best. They did endless guard duty, dug latrines, and did other tasks which more trained soldiers considered beneath them. The worst thing that happened to them occurred early on: a wagon came unhitched and rolled down a hill, gaining momentum, and crushed one of their unit who did not see it coming in time to spring out of its path. Philippe had personally vowed to bring all of his men home, but that was now impossible and he felt spiritually rebuked for thinking, in his pride, that everything was in his control.

Philippe did take responsibility for the care of his men and recruited the women of Calais, through Julie and his mother, to knit a continual supply of sturdy, reinforced socks to protect their feet. That project was a turning point for Julie, for she undertook to coordinate that project with her rudimentary French, and the women of the town seemed to respect her efforts for their men all the more.

The time of the militia's deployment dragged on for all of the families connected to the militia, but for Julie and her in-laws, this space gave opportunity to cement them as family even without Philippe at home. Julie's French gradually improved and she made some good new friends in town, also learning about the local customs and festivals in Calais.

Chapter 24: Reunion

More than two years later in the late summer of 1866, Philippe and the Calais militia got the discharge orders that they had long desired. They then made a pact to make the fastest possible trip home, hitching rides on wagons and any other means to cover the territory. Their hearts were very light and the trip was almost sport for them.

Once back in Calais, Philippe took his time ordering the returned equipment in the militia's storage shed after the other young men had quickly departed for their homes. He needed that quiet moment to "turn the page" on this chapter of his life. He then started the walk home as summer showed signs of turning to autumn. As he caught sight of Ruisseau de Saule, Philippe saw some movement in the garden and climbed over the rock wall into the pasture to run there faster.

Julie was picking some vegetables for dinner, her back to him. She turned at the sound of his footsteps and gasped, dropping the basket and spilling its contents. They clutched each other tightly, weeping for joy. "Lucie! Viens!" Julie called. Lucie appeared and was as overjoyed as they were to have her son home – safe and whole.

Philippe was amazed at how much Julie's French had increased in his absence, but they still spoke to each other in English when alone. Philippe insisted that he didn't want to forget what English he had learned. He also noticed how many new friends Julie had around town through coordinating the knitting project for the militia. Philippe's parents noticed that Philippe now seemed more mature/less boyish, and his stature as a leader in town had increased from his time in the militia. Several militia members opened new accounts at their bank, which Chrétien knew had more to do with his son than himself – and that was a good sign for the future. Matthieu Garnier had become Philippe's trusted friend as well during their tour of duty. Philippe had obtained extra socks through Julie for Matthieu, knowing his family's limited finances, and, once they returned, Philippe found some extra work for Matthieu to do around Ruisseau de Saule.

A few months after Philippe's return to Calais, he came up the stairs one Sunday morning, looking for Julie as they prepared to leave for mass with his parents. Julie was sitting in a chaise in their bedroom, looking pale and sweaty. Philippe exclaimed, "Julie! Are you ill?"

"You all go on without me. I just lost my breakfast. And I think I may be pregnant."

Philippe was momentarily stunned. After all the difficulty his parents had with having children, he had expected that they would have a longer wait before their first child was on the way – but not so! He bounced downstairs to send his parents on to mass, telling them good news, while he stayed behind with his beloved.

Chapter 25: Upheaval

Some six months later, Philippe received a telegram from England while he was at work. It was actually addressed to Julie, but Philippe opened it anyway, wondering if there might be trouble. An attorney was informing Julie that her great-aunt Sophie had been killed in an accident on the sidewalk when a horse went out of control and then her great-aunt Helen had died of a sudden heart attack a few days later. Julie's sisters had been put into an orphanage for the time being while their next-of-kin was notified – the reason for the letter. Jeremy continued in his prep school, now in his last year and nearing graduation, his tuition paid.

Philippe informed his father and then left work, going home to deliver the horrible news to Julie and his mother. He was the more worried by having to tell Julie this bad news while she was nearing her time for childbirth.

Perhaps because of her early acquaintance with tragedy, Julie took the news rather stoically and stated that she would go to England immediately to get the girls. Philippe protested that she was in no condition to travel, but he could not deter his wife in this matter of her siblings, not even when he pointed out that she had promised to obey him in their marriage vows.

Lucie then insisted that she would go along as well and gave hasty directions to their hired help and Matthieu about furniture rearrangements in the empty bedroom which they selected for the girls to occupy. Lucie thought that perhaps Jeremy might take Philippe's old room when he came there after graduating, and gave instructions that it also be cleared out and cleaned.

They departed for England the next morning on the earliest ferry. Philippe hovered around Julie, insisting that she rest as much as possible and promise not to strain herself. He was terrified that she might go into labor in England or, worse, on the ferries there or back.

They did locate the girls fairly quickly in the orphanage – frightened, but in good health. (Jessica was now 14 and Jennifer, 12.) Philippe had the Grayson house opened for them and made arrangements through the attorney to have the Grayson sisters' estate settled in their absence, given Julie's condition. Philippe told them all, "We don't need to take the tea towels and chamber pots; just pack up what you really want to take to France. And you" – to Julie – "stay seated, give directions, and don't strain yourself." He was then off to the prep school to see Jeremy.

Philippe had a discussion with the headmaster of the prep school about their changed family situation and asked that the name and address for Jeremy's family contact be directed to Julie and himself. They decided that it was best for Jeremy to finish the remaining six weeks of his term and graduate while Philippe took Julie and the girls back to France. Julie might have delivered the baby by the time that Jeremy graduated. Philippe would then bring Jeremy to France and decide what path he might choose next in life. Philippe had some doubts about Jeremy's future in France since Jeremy did not know any French, but it was what seemed best in the short-term and they would figure out the details in more leisure at a later date. At minimum, Jeremy could work on the farm.

Philippe talked to Jeremy and Pellan in their shared room in the school dormitory. Pellan was packing up for a very quick trip to Ireland (scouting for a university for himself), planning to return in time for graduation. Both the boys were gaining height now. Jeremy would turn 16 in the summer and Pellan, 17, a month later.

They talked about the plan with the headmaster for Jeremy to stay on in England at the prep school and graduate, then come to France. They agreed that this was best, so that Philippe could – hopefully! – get Julie back to France in time to deliver the baby there.

It amused both boys to observe Philippe getting nervous about the approaching birth. As Philippe strode to the door after taking his leave, Jeremy called to him, "Philippe: you and Julie are going to be great parents." Philippe grinned and rolled his eyes. He hoped so! He thanked Jeremy and left to go back to Julie and get her home as soon as possible.

Chapter 26: New Lives

Lucie Du Saule was having the best time of her life. Her first grandchild was soon to be born and, suddenly, there were two young girls in the house to care for. Philippe had teased his mother for a long time about how she wanted a daughter rather than him, which was not true; she had wanted a daughter in addition to him. If not her own flesh and blood, these two adolescent girls were the next best thing – sisters of her beloved daughter-in-law. She busied herself in helping them settle in and seeing about some additional clothes and pretty things to help them feel welcome.

Chrétien was privately amused at his wife: she was always at her best when taking care of people. And he was becoming rather fond of the youngest girl – the blonde – who asked if she could call him "Grandpa" since she had never known her own. Well, why not? They became close over the years ahead. Once, when eating shellfish at a restaurant, Jenny found a small pearl in an oyster; Chrétien had it set in a pendant for her, which she always treasured.

A few weeks after their return to France, Chrétien and Lucie took the girls with them to mass on a Sunday. Julie was feeling more and more gravid and sleepy and said she needed to stay home. Philippe, of course, stayed with her.

They ate a late breakfast together in the kitchen and Julie said that she wanted to walk outside a little. She was now so large that her robe would no longer fasten around her and Philippe wrapped her in an extra shawl and held her close in the cool spring air as they walked slowly near the house.

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to use the latrine again," Julie said before long.

Philippe walked with her and stood a short distance away. It seemed to be taking a long time, though…. "Julie, are you alright?"

"Yes. Something's happening."

"What do you mean?" He was alarmed.

"I think my water broke. I'm just going to sit here until it stops."

"Is that safe for the baby?"

"Of course. Don't be silly. It won't be born that quickly."

She finally came out from the latrine, marveling at how much fluid was now gone from her much-smaller belly.

"Shall I send someone for the doctor?"

"I haven't even had a contraction yet. Let's just wait."

She wanted to keep walking while she could.

By the time that the rest of the family returned from mass, Julie had had a few contractions and her labor slowly began, continuing into the night after the doctor was called and arrived.

Philippe fell asleep on the chaise in the front salon. Jenny, who was not allowed in the bedroom for the birth, put a shawl over him, noticing the dried tear-tracks on his cheek. Julie's occasional cries were agony for him.

Sometime after midnight, there was a baby's cry in the front bedroom upstairs. The delivery had been normal and comparatively easy for a first child. The doctor said that he would check back again later and left the house.

Lucie went looking for Philippe, finding him in the salon. She woke him. "Philippe." Philippe startled, awake. "You are a father!"

"Is it over? Is Julie alright?"

"Yes, she's fine."

Philippe threw aside the shawl and dashed up the stairs to the bedroom, knocking hesitantly. Jessica called for him to enter.

Philippe crossed the room in two steps, onto the bed to hug Julie close. "Are you alright? How are you?"

"I'll be fine. I'm actually pretty hungry!"

"I'll get you something to eat."

He was halfway to the bedroom door again. Julie said, with humor, "Don't you want to see the baby?"

"There is a baby?" (Philippe was laughing at himself.)

"I should hope so – after what I went through!"

"What is it?"

"Didn't your mother tell you? It's a boy."

Jessica said, "Let me get Julie something to eat. Here he is, all clean and presentable." She gave a bundle to Julie, who took him in her arms.

Philippe crept back onto the bed so as not to jostle her and the baby while Jess left them and headed to the kitchen. Julie offered the bundle to Philippe, saying, "Do you want to hold him?"

"You don't want to hold him?"

"Believe me, I'll be holding him plenty in the days ahead! I think you need to hold him all that you can when you're at home so that he gets to know you."

"I'm afraid that I will hurt him."

Philippe had never held a baby before. Julie showed him how to hold the baby and of what to take special care. His parents marveled at his tiny fingers and toes, even his perfect tiny fingernails. Julie said, "Your mother and I think he looks like you."

"I don't have a wrinkled red face."

"He'll be pink in a few days. He has your dark hair and that same little crease between his eyebrows."

There was a knock at the bedroom door. Lucie entered with Chrétien, who greeted Julie and asked how she was. Philippe looked at Julie, asking, "Are we agreed about the name?" She nodded. "May I give him to my father?" She nodded again with a smile.

Philippe carefully slid off the bed with his son and carried him to Chrétien, who took him from Philippe.

"Papa, this is your grandson. We are naming him Jonathan Chrétien Du Saule – for his grandfathers. We will call him Jonathan or Jon; two Chrétiens in the house would be confusing."

There were tears in Chrétien's eyes as he looked down at his namesake.

Lucie asked, "You are calling him 'Jean'?"

Philippe said, "No. 'Jon' like the English – or Scottish, I mean" – grinning at Julie.

Lucie said, "You know people in Calais will call him 'Jean.'"

Philippe said, "Well, we will call him 'Jonathan.' Or 'Jon' for short while he is young. That was Julie's father's name."

Chapter 27: A Horrible Turn

Pellan returned from Ireland and was puzzled not to find Jeremy in their room. It looked like Jeremy's things were gone as well. Perhaps Philippe had already come and packed him off, skipping graduation in two days. Pellan hated that he had not had a chance to say good-bye – but Pellan didn't have long to wonder.

Another student knocked on his door and told Pellan that he had a visitor in the prep school parlor. He went downstairs, half expecting to find some of the Du Saule family, but instead he found Marta, who dissolved into tears at sight of him. He had never seen her like this. She sobbed, "He's gone! He's gone! He's gone!"

Pellan held her close to him for a while, waiting for her to regain some composure and give more details, but her sobbing continued. Pellan realized that Marta was referring to Jeremy and a cold feeling of dread began to creep up his spine that Jeremy must have met with some mishap, perhaps been killed…. Pellan finally whispered, "Please tell me what has happened."

"He's gone. They sent him away."

"Jeremy? To France? What happened?"

"No, some police came yesterday morning and arrested him – out on cricket field. Said he had drugs in his bag. I saw him in jail last night. And today they put him on a ship out of England before I could even visit again! He's gone. I don't know where."

Pellan was stunned. He tried to find out more information – even went to the harbor and asked around. All he could learn was that Jeremy had been put on a ship heading out of England, but no one knew the name of the ship or where it was headed. The headmaster of the prep school did not know anything more than they did; he was not advised or consulted in the matter and had only bagged up Jeremy's possessions in his room for whoever would come to claim them.

Pellan sent a telegram to Philippe in France, then went through with prep school graduation the next day as if sleepwalking. It was a nightmare.

Philippe left Julie and the week-old Jon in the care of his parents and Julie's sisters and sailed immediately for England upon receiving Pellan's telegram. He could not find out any more information than Pellan had and was particularly angry with the headmaster for not having telegraphed him, even after the fact. (The headmaster had lost the paper with their contact information.)

Philippe returned to France with the trunk of Jeremy's possessions, feeling like he had failed Julie but, more particularly, Jeremy. Who would have imagined that this would have happened? When he saw the little pocketknife that he had given Jeremy at their wedding, he thought his heart would break.

Pellan managed to see Marta in town a little while after Philippe left. She was pale and still numb with shock. She told Pellan that she was suspicious that her father might have had something to do with Jeremy's deportation: what else made sense? And she was afraid that, sooner or later, her father would try to force her into a marriage which would be to his advantage. Pellan didn't like to see people forced to do anything they did not want and made a pact with Marta that day: "If you find out that is happening, leave immediately and come to me. I will find somewhere to hide you. It might even be good to keep a suitcase half-packed so you can leave very quickly."

Pellan proceeded with plans for college for himself in England in the fall. Other than burning a candle for Jeremy at mass, he didn't know what he could do.

Candles were also being burned in the church in Calais.

Chapter 28: Jeremy's Story

Jeremy had been arrested on the school cricket field and jailed. He had at first thought he would have a hearing but was told that he was to be deported since he was not an English citizen, was an orphaned juvenile, and did not have any rights to a hearing or otherwise.

Marta came to see him in the jail that night after she heard of his arrest. They could only talk through the bars while her ladies' maid stood a short distance away. The worst memory Jeremy had for a long time was Marta's face, distorted with crying. She removed the gold crucifix from her neck and pressed it into his hand, then ran out of the jail when the guard said that their brief visitation time was up. She had said that she would return the next day.

Jeremy looked at the crucifix. He did not care so much that it was gold: a wooden one that had come from Marta would have meant just as much. Then he became fearful that someone might accuse him of stealing it – steal it from him. He used its sharp corner to pick apart the stitching in the waistband of his trousers and pushed it further into the band; there it remained for a long time. He didn't take it out to look at it or allow anyone else to see it, but he was comforted in being able to feel it there.

Jeremy needed that comfort, since the rest of his life soon turned into a nightmare. Before dawn the next morning, he was put on a cargo ship without any question as to where it was headed. He was assigned to be a "cabin boy" since he knew nothing about sailing. The crew looked to be an unsavory lot – filthy and crude. There was one other cabin boy a good four years younger than Jeremy's 15 years: a withdrawn, skinny boy named Evan.

Within forty-eight hours of departing England, Jeremy learned why Evan was so withdrawn. At least on this ship, the role of cabin boy was apparently to service the physical needs of the crew. When he found himself surrounded by several snickering crew members with that on their minds, Jeremy decided that he would die rather than submit. Suddenly grateful for every fight he had ever had in school or with Pellan, he fought them like a crazed animal. When the captain intervened to stop the fracas, the crew decided Jeremy was not worth the trouble and left him alone – at least that day. For the duration of the voyage, Jeremy became hypervigilant, easily startled, scarcely sleeping, and his stuttering got much worse.

After some months at sea, they made port in Jamaica. Jeremy considered making an escape while there but realized that he would be on an island and still need a way to get to where he wanted to go. He overheard the captain say that they would next head for New Orleans. Jeremy decided "better the devil you know than the devil you don't" – one of Pellan's favorite Irish sayings – and stayed on board until they made port there. At least he had made it to the mainland of the States.

Jeremy wasn't really at liberty to leave the crew, but he had no possessions other than the clothes on his back and he took an opportunity to slip away and make a run for it. His main tormentor from the crew took off after him and they ran through back alleys and the marketplace, creating a disturbance … until both of them were arrested. They spent the night in different cells and were arraigned the next morning in court for charges.

Judge Williams entered the courtroom with the same bland detachment that he had come to use at civil proceedings for several years. Some people's lives were so poor and desperate, coping with after-effects of the Civil War, that it was a depressing business.

One of the cases on the morning's docket was a fracas in the marketplace the day before: a seaman of hard-bitten appearance and an unkempt teenage boy. They were both, of course, filthy. The seaman was from Wales, but the boy turned out to be from Washington Territory! That was odd. How did they manage to have both been on a ship from Jamaica – and England before that?

The seaman was predictably surly, but the boy seemed to have manners and some upbringing and was, he said, an American citizen. The captain of the ship had come for them both, but something seemed amiss to the judge. He and the bailiff had had to call down both the adults for shouting at the boy. Judge Williams asked the boy to come to his chambers, where it was quiet.

He told the boy to take a seat. The boy politely declined, saying, "I know that I'm filthy. I don't want to soil your upholstery." Judge Williams questioned the boy about his history: quite a story to have been born in Washington Territory and been taken to England at age five to be raised by great-aunts, then deported in a hasty manner! He asked the boy if he had gotten into some trouble, perhaps with a girl. The boy denied any trouble or wrongdoing and said that he had been within a week of graduating prep school before being falsely accused of possessing contraband and deported the next day without a hearing. The boy said that he wanted to proceed on to Washington Territory, where he had two older brothers.

Although Judge Williams had learned to doubt almost everything that people swore was the truth in the courtroom, there was something about the stuttering boy that seemed credible. He returned to the bench, fined the seaman and his captain for the fracas and dismissed them, then released the boy into his own custody. His wife, Ruth, had said something that morning at breakfast about needing to hire someone to help around the yard and garden.

Thomas and Ruth Williams had had a son who had died in a horseback accident the previous year at the age of 17. They had no other children and the last year had been difficult. Thomas Junior had not been a great deal of help with chores around their home, preferring to hunt and fish, but those chores now went undone. Perhaps this teenaged orphan could help out and earn some income to continue his intended journey.

Ruth took one doubtful look at the filthy boy, but a quick conversation with her husband led her to have some compassion for him. Jeremy Bolt did seem to have nice manners. He insisted on bathing in a tub in their barn rather than using the tub in their indoor water closet, stating that he knew he and his clothes were in a sorry state.

Ruth brought out some of Tom Jr.'s old clothes for Jeremy to put on and stated her intention to burn his others. Ruth gathered his old clothes with a pitchfork. Jeremy cried with alarm for her to wait, extracted something from the waistband of the pants, and then told her with a smile to go ahead and burn them. "What's that you have?" Ruth inquired.

"It was a gift from my girlfriend in England," Jeremy replied, showing her the crucifix. "I was afraid someone would steal it or accuse me of stealing it, so I hid it in my waistband all this time."

Jeremy thanked the Williamses repeatedly for his release, for the opportunity of a bath, and for the new clothes – which fit, though the legs were a bit long. Ruth had thought to have Jeremy sleep in the barn and take his meals there as well, but Judge Williams invited Jeremy to sit at their table. When they heard more of his story, they began to regard him differently and to give him meals at their table all the time as well as his own room in their home. They could tell that he had good manners and had been raised well, whatever else had happened.

Ruth discovered that Jeremy was a hard worker in the garden and could tell a weed from a flower. She found that he could read and write, set the table, and play some guitar and tin-whistle. Judge Williams began to use Jeremy for some filing chores in his office, finding out that he was eager to learn. But Jeremy insisted that he wanted to move on to Seattle once he regained his strength and health and saved a little money.

Thomas learned that Jeremy, unlike his son, didn't know anything about shooting or survival skills like camping. He began to teach him and to consider routes to the West which Jeremy might follow. He offered to try to contact Jeremy's brothers, who might send money for Jeremy's travel. Jeremy thanked him, but stated that for some reason he wanted to make the journey on his own. While it might not have been entirely realistic, Thomas understood a young man's desire to prove himself in the face of odds, so he helped him to plan.

Chapter 29: Pellan and Marta

Pellan made secret arrangements to meet up with Marta for updates. He considered Marta now to be like a feral cat: moody, lashing out, and unpredictable even when she looked placid. They had frequent arguments, as they always had; it was part of the tension between them and the tension of Marta's home situation after Jeremy's deportation.

Finally, the anticipated and dreaded day came: Marta came home from a shopping trip to town one afternoon. Her father called her into his study and informed her that she was to be married in a month to a Mr. Carter – 52 years old! – as a second wife after his first wife's passing six months ago. Marta listened without reaction, though her heart was pounding. She then went straight to her room, threw a few more items into her half-packed suitcase, went out the back way to the barn, saddled a horse, and was gone in less than a half-hour.

She turned the horse loose in town and went on to find Pellan, telling him the news. He immediately booked passage for Ireland and they left on the first available boat within twelve hours and no advance notice to the Baxters.

He handed Marta the Claddagh ring from off his right hand. "Put this on like a wedding ring. It looks more respectable while we're on the boat."

Pellan had an advantage in the west of Ireland which allowed him and Marta to "disappear" among the many kinfolk of his extended clan. And they assumed that this pretty young Prussian woman with him must be some sort of romantic interest of his – perhaps the future wife of their clan-chief – so they were glad to protect her as well and say nothing about it to any outsider.

Pellan placed Marta outside Galway with an elderly kinswoman who spoke more English than she wanted to admit. She needed some help on her subsistence farm which Marta agreed to provide in exchange for room and board. Pellan had intended to enroll in university in London, but he switched to one in Galway for a year (to be sure that Marta was safe and established), then transferred to Dublin when he felt that Marta's family had given up looking for her, assuming that she had eloped or left the country.

With her knowledge of horses, Marta eventually became a licensed farrier, affording her the opportunity to pay for her board and education at the university in Galway. She remained a little behind Pellan in classes because she was also working, but she liked being able to support herself. It gave her independence and confidence and she needed both.

After leaving Marta (in case they had been followed), Pellan went to the isolated island of Inis Mór again to visit his great-aunt, who was getting up in years. He ran into some local youths at a pub one night, who all dared each other to jump into The Wormhole the next day. They got fairly drunk before doing so – which was advisable due to the cold sea water.

Pellan stood at the edge of The Wormhole and thought of Jeremy with despair, wherever he was. He remembered standing there with Jeremy years before. He didn't know how he would manage all that he had gotten himself into with protecting Marta, but he knew that it was something that Jeremy would want. "This is for you," he thought, toasting Jeremy's spirit with the nearly-empty bottle of whisky, draining it, and tossing it aside. Then he jumped.

Chapter 30: Letters

Dear Loved Ones,

I'm sorry it has taken me this long to send a letter to you. I'm sure that you have been worried sick about me. I left England with only the clothes on my back and no money for anything like paper and postage, so that was an issue with writing. Indeed, I'm not sure that many of the crew on the cargo ship from England had ever written a letter – or anything. I was assigned to work as a cabin boy and deck hand, knowing nothing about sailing. It was not a good experience. I'll leave it at that.

The first place that we landed was Jamaica, which is quite lovely, but not the USA, which had become my goal. I overheard that their next port would be New Orleans and I decided to stay on board for that long to get to the mainland. Once in New Orleans, I made my escape – barely – although it cost me some time in jail and in court. By a happy turn of events, I was released into the service of Judge Williams and his wife, Ruth. I have done odd jobs around their house – weeding, painting, etc. – and some filing in his office. This helped me through a dark chapter in my life. I earned a little money and learned some new skills.

The Williamses lost their only son in an accident a year ago. They have been very kind to me – given me food, clothing, and a room of my own. And Judge Williams has taught me some survival skills (hunting and trapping) and helped me plan the next leg of my journey to Seattle.

I have chosen to go by the southern route through Texas to California and up the west coast. It is a long journey and has desert areas. It was this or the equally long northern route through the Rockies where many settlers have succumbed to disease (or cannibalism) and I am too much of a sucker for hard-luck cases, so I probably wouldn't survive.

Judge Williams has found a party of herdsmen heading west and gotten permission for me to go along and help out. The Indians in this area have been known to kill settlers in inventive ways. Pray for me and the rest of us. If something bad happens to me, I hope you will remember that I love you. I will write again when I get closer to California.

Don't try to write me here. I will be headed west before you receive this letter. My love to you all,

Jeremy

Upon receipt of this letter, Philippe mailed a cheque to Judge Williams, trying to reimburse him for his kindness. The judge returned it, stating that he and his wife were glad to do a good turn for Jeremy since, as his wife said, they could do nothing more for their son.

Dear Loved Ones,

I am now in the town of Santa Fe in New Mexico Territory, having made it through the desert lands in the Southwest. I am waiting tables in a restaurant – all the table manners you taught me have come in handy! I rent a small room above a saloon, saving as much money as I can for the next part of my journey. I do believe that any vice that exists in the world is present and flourishing in this town.

I won't be able to give you details about my passage through the desert. Days and weeks ran into each other and many seemed the same as the one before – or the week before – so it was hard to even know what day it was. I traveled with the herders (sheep, goats, a few cattle) most of the way. Many were mixed-race, Cajun, Negro, and perhaps some Indian. Due to the dust, dirt, and constant sun, I came to blend in pretty well myself! I think that because we looked like such a ragged lot, the Natives left us in peace, so we were very fortunate and I am very grateful for safe passage.

I learned a little banjo from some men in that group. They played an interesting mix of music like I have never heard. And there is Spanish influence in this town, so this has been a different cultural experience for me, to say the least. I've picked up a little Spanish.

I've had a lot of days of being hungry, cold, filthy, and generally miserable, but my health is holding through it all. "Too stubborn to die," I guess. I hope to make it to California, accompanying some settlers in a few days. I will write again when I have made it further up the west coast, perhaps to San Francisco.

My love to all,

Jeremy

Jeremy censored part of his experience in his letters to his family in Europe. For one thing, some of it was disturbing and he wanted to spare them. He also suspected that Julie would find a way to get the letters to Pellan and Marta and he didn't know where the letters would finally wind up.

The 'small room above a saloon' in Santa Fe was actually at the far end of the third floor of a large bordello. There were some rooms to let (like his); other rooms were occupied by "business women," such as the room beside his, where there lived a girl who looked to be younger than he was.

Jeremy saved every penny that he could to finance the next part of his journey as soon as possible, but he did spring for some earplugs to avoid hearing what went on near his room. He often ate leftovers from the restaurant, which were free for employees. Once they had too many apples which had been distributed among the staff. He didn't see how he could eat so many without making himself sick, so he offered some to the girl (Linda) in the room beside his. She was appreciative of his kindness and offered him a "free ride" in exchange. He was briefly tempted out of curiosity and loneliness, but then remembered his 'little problem' and felt ashamed; he just was not ready for that. He declined, stammering, as politely as he could.

Linda teased, "I think you have someone in your heart." He admitted that he did. "What color is her hair?"

"Blonde."

"I have a blonde wig I could wear, if you like."

Jeremy again declined and fled into his room, thinking, 'That would be too entirely weird.'

Dear Loved Ones,

I think about you often and wonder how much everyone has changed since I left, which now feels like a very long time ago. I wonder if the baby was a boy or a girl and what you named him/her. I'm now in San Francisco and hope to catch a ship to Seattle from here once I can find one headed that direction and save up the fare. I did indulge myself a bit and bought a guitar.

I've been writing advertising copy and setting type for a newspaper here. Good to have had good spelling and grammar pounded into my head in the past! It has come in handy.

California is huge, I've found out the hard way. The weather has been mostly good and, since leaving a party of settlers in San Diego in the southern part of the state, I traveled up the coast alone, amusing myself in seeing how far and fast I could travel north each day, but it seemed to take forever. I'd eat from orchards or fish, hitching rides on wagons and carts if I could. It's been quite a long hike, but beautiful weather and dramatic coastal scenery. I've met some interesting characters along the way. No bad experiences, though. I'm too poor for anyone to consider a good target for a robbery.

The weather has gotten cooler as I've traveled north, but so gradually at my speed that it wasn't noticeable. I half-dread getting to S, wondering how I'll be received. I don't know what my brothers are doing, but I guess I'll find out before too long.

Again, I hope that you are well and happy. Love to all,

Jeremy

Dear Loved Ones,

Well, I made it after this year-plus of travel! The ship I took from San Francisco was headed to Vancouver, but let me off at Port Angeles and I was able to hop a mailboat across Puget Sound before long.

I don't remember much of Seattle from when I was a child. The scenery is glorious, but I have to say the town itself is a mudhole. I had no trouble locating Jason and Josh and they have been welcoming to me, so I'm relieved.

There really aren't all that many people living here – still – less than 150, I'd guess. Most of them are men working for various mills and timber operations, one of which is ours! Jason and Josh started a logging operation on our mountain and they are teaching me that trade. It's physically demanding, but it rains so much that we get well-rested while waiting for another decent day to work. The mud is constant, though. Good waterproof boots are a necessity around here. I bought some with my first paycheck.

I know that you, Julie, wonder how Jason regards you and the rest of us who left for England. I have to say that he is still a little angry about that, but I think he believed he'd never hear from any of us again and is, really, more angry with himself that he could not keep our family together. He seemed surprised and happy that I have come back and am interested in working with them. Josh, however, has made my life rather miserable for a while. Maybe he's glad to now have someone younger to push around. I don't need to tell you that this past year-plus I have had a severe relapse in stuttering, but J & J are patient with it and have never mocked me.

I wanted you all to know that I made it here, safe and sound. Don't worry about me or any of us here. It isn't a luxurious life, but we are surviving and comfortable enough.

Seattle is a rough town with so many men. If you're spoiling for a fight, you can usually find one at the local saloon. Don't suggest that I go to another one: there's only the one.

Thank you for all you have done for me over the years. Be well! I love you all!

Jeremy

Chapter 31: Philippe's Finishing School

After Jeremy's unexpected departure for the States, Philippe's family worked on settling into a new normal. Lucie Du Saule doted on her new grandson and the young teenage girls. Philippe worried that Jon would never learn to walk, since someone was always cuddling him and it seemed that his feet never touched the ground. But Jon was surrounded by love and that is a wonderful, healthy thing for a child. The same love also helped Jess and Jenny to recover from the trauma of the Grayson sisters' deaths and settle in to live in Calais.

One night after dinner, Philippe and his father sat alone in the salon. "Think we should take some fencing lessons, ah?" Philippe asked his father.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, in a few years we will have young men lined up at the door to court Jessica and Jenny and we might need to be prepared."

Chrétien chuckled at the notion, then mused, "Have you considered how difficult it is to raise someone else's children?"

"No…"

"We don't know what their parents hoped for these girls, how they would want them raised, where or how they want them to live, who they would want them to marry."

"I suppose, in that case, we just raise them as we think best."

"If anything happens to me, promise me that you will take responsibility for seeing that these girls make good marriages where they will be happy in life."

"Of course, Papa. I promise. They are my sisters now."

Julie had a strong say in the raising of her younger sisters, too. The three blossomed, happy in each other's company again, and were always engaged in some project around the house or a charity project in town. Philippe hired a private tutor who spoke some English to see that their formal education was completed and to teach them enough French to function in the community. The sisters used to laugh and call it "Philippe's Finishing School." And before long there would be another pupil to join them.

Pellan had some choices to make about his own education and that of his sister. Since their parents' deaths, Siobhan had stayed with various relatives in Tralee and had gone to a girls' academy in Galway, but Siobhan was now twelve and those schooldays were coming to an end. Her closest friends were heading to prep school in Switzerland, to travel the Continent with a great-aunt, and to art school in Italy. Pellan and Marta had kept in touch with Jeremy's family in France over the years after his deportation in the anxiety over what had happened to him. As Jeremy's letters had slowly arrived, Julie had sent them on to Pellan, who shared them with Marta.

Pellan had an idea and wrote to Philippe: Could Siobhan come to live with them in France while Pellan completed university? Philippe agreed. He and Julie then sailed to Ireland to escort Siobhan to France. They met in a restaurant in Dublin.

"Céad míle fáilte!" said Pellan by way of Gaelic greeting to the visitors from France, appearing at archway door of the small dining nook, looking dashing in rather fashionable attire … and sporting a black eye. Siobhan was with him, looking shy and a bit defensive.

Philippe and Julie were momentarily speechless, but quickly recovered themselves. Pellan introduced Siobhan to the Du Saules, then seated himself beside Julie and said to her, "I know this looks unappetizing. If you want, I will switch seats with you so you don't have to look at it." She demurred out of courtesy. Philippe wondered privately what sort of ruffian Pellan had become and thought to himself, 'It may be best for Siobhan that she comes to stay in France for a while.'

Pellan updated them: a magazine in Dublin had the idea to gather Irish clan-chiefs who still wore torques together to meet each other, be interviewed about changes in present-day Ireland, and be photographed visiting a few cultural points of interest. Seven had accepted, including Pellan. He had agreed more out of curiosity to meet other torque-wearers than for the magazine's readership. Two were older men who spent most of their time talking to each other. Pellan and two others were in their twenties. There was also an older teen, who seemed bewildered at the experience and was new to wearing a torque, having lost his father in the past year, and a man in his mid-forties.

In a pub a few nights before the end of their short tour, Murray – a 22-year-old from Ulster – again recounted the tale of 'The Great Cattle Raid of Ulster.' This was the fourth time that he had told this same story and each time he had told it differently. One time it was an ordinary cattle raid; another time it was a war of kings and queens; yet another time it was a mythic clash of gods and goddesses. This telling, Murray was drunk. Pellan interrupted him courteously as Murray began, requesting some other story from Ulster, which Murray took as an offense. A brief altercation took place, where he hit Pellan before Pellan saw it coming. The three older men pulled the Ulsterman off of Pellan. The group all went their separate ways the next day in Dublin and Pellan went to retrieve Siobhan from the train, then on to the restaurant to meet the Du Saules.

Pellan laughed about how the magazine's photographer lost interest in group portraits once one of the torque-wearers acquired a black eye. Pellan found it a hilarious end to a tepid idea gone awry – that clan-chiefs in the modern era would behave in disappointing ways akin to barbaric clan-chiefs in their past – but thankfully now without broadswords.

Pellan saw Siobhan off to France the next morning. She was teary and unenthusiastic. Pellan said to her in Gaelic, "You know that I can't get us a house while I'm in university and I need somewhere decent for you to live in the meantime, now that you're out of school. These are good people; they'll take care of you and I think you'll come to love them as I do. And you can become cultured from living in France and rub my face in it in the future! Besides, I'm sure Philippe thinks I'm a bad influence on you with my current black eye."

Siobhan sighed. "There's really not a place for us in this world, is there?"

Pellan agreed. "The world is changing in many ways, including what our family ever knew here in Ireland. We do best to enjoy what we can in life and try to find out where we can fit in and thrive in the future."

So, Siobhan reluctantly moved to France and began to know 'sisters' she had never had in life. The Bolt sisters lovingly did all they could to help her feel at home. They were accomplished in needlework of all types and Siobhan began to learn more than she had already picked up in Ireland and to share what she had learned. She became particularly close friends with Jennifer, who was a year older, studying French fashions, learning lace-making, and other crafts popular in their area. Lucie taught them all her gardening and cooking skills and what she knew of homeopathic medicine and mothered them all. Together, they had a lively, supportive time and were happy together.

Lucie laughed at herself: 'I used to grieve not having a daughter to pass on my knowledge. Now I have four young women who are all like daughters to me!'

Chapter 32: Awakening

Pellan, now 18, came to visit Siobhan at Christmas 1868 in Calais, bringing Marta along as well. Philippe picked them up at the ferry landing and transported them to the house, which the women had been working to transform into a particularly beautiful and welcoming place for the holidays.

Julie came to the door to welcome them with Siobhan close on her heels, overjoyed to see her brother and to help settle the guests in their rooms. A short while later there was a clatter as Jess and Jennifer arrived from a shopping trip into town. They didn't know that Pellan and Marta had arrived.

Pellan came bounding down the stairs to the hallway, dressed now for dinner, and ran into Jess as she turned the corner to ascend the stairs, each startling the other. Whatever Pellan remembered of the gangly pre-teen Jessica Bolt he had known in the past, it was not the tall, stylish brunette he now saw before him, who would turn sixteen in the spring. The reserve from her early days of silence had matured into a poised and measured grace. Pellan almost didn't recognize her, but recovered quickly. "Jess! You've … grown up." He felt his face reddening and hated himself for it.

"It's good to see you. You're looking grown-up yourself."

It was true. Pellan was growing to look something like his father: tall, dark red hair in thick waves, emerald-green eyes, and a dancer's grace in his stride. His chest was filling out. Jess had grown to five feet and seven inches – the tallest of the Bolt sisters; Pellan was now six feet and one inch.

As the holidays passed pleasantly with the Du Saules, Pellan grew irritated with himself: sometimes uncharacteristically tongue-tied around Jess and annoyed with Marta, who observed and didn't hide her amusement at his infatuation and awkwardness. Their last evening just after New Year's, Pellan walked outside Jess in the crisp winter air to get away from Marta's constant observation. Pellan and Marta would be leaving the next day for Ireland.

Jessica asked Pellan what he planned to do in life. He hesitated and said, "Will you laugh?"

"Is it funny?"

"Not to me."

"Then I won't laugh."

"I plan to study science at university and then go to medical school to become a doctor."

"That's very admirable! What causes you to choose that?"

"In my time around Ireland, I've heard so many sad stories of suffering and, of course, so many of my countrymen have had financial losses and moved to America or elsewhere. I wish there was some concrete way I could help people, so I got to thinking about that. I know that the old ways are disappearing. I hope I have it in me to get through all the schooling. It will be a long go, but I think the years ahead will be an exciting time to be a doctor. They're discovering new things in medicine all the time."

"I'm sure that you will. I know that you have the drive and the heart for it."

It felt unbelievably good to hear someone he had known much of his life express faith in him. He felt a sudden rush of affection and curiosity toward Jess and leaned in to kiss her, then pulled back.

"Are you going to attack me again?"

"Are you attacking my brother?"

"No. I think I'm past that now." Pellan laughed, then sighed. "Jeremy was the best friend I ever had and I miss him terribly. But this is the first time that I've actually felt glad that he isn't around."

He finished the kiss. They both smiled warmly at each other. For Jess, this was a dream of some five years come true, but she said nothing about that to Pellan. He smiled. "That was nice. It's good to be with friends."

"What does that mean?"

Pellan grimaced and turned aside from her. He explained: "All the time I'm around new people. University is even more new people. When I go to Dingle, there are always new people; the older people treat me one way – maybe ask for a blessing which I was taught how to give. The younger people don't seem to care about that, so I have to figure out how to relate to them in a different way. And every time I go, some of the old ones have died and the young people drift away. Girls in Ireland treat me differently since I wear a torque. I don't think they'd look at me twice if I didn't – not that I'm inviting that. It's just … strange. Like people don't see me; they see a role – or a torque! It's just nice to be here with people I've known longer than all that, who don't seem to be affected by it and treat me like a regular person. It feels comfortable – safe, I guess."

"You're safe with us. Always."

"May I write to you?" Pellan inquired on impulse.

"On one condition."

"What's that?" He was suddenly cautious.

"That you write about what matters to you – what inspires you – and your letters not be a recital of the weather, your classes, and how you happened to find a great deal on pocket handkerchiefs."

"That sounds … fair – if you will do the same. I do tend to hide behind words."

"I hadn't noticed."

But she had noticed. Jess had been noticing Pellan in detail for many years with as much opportunity as she had to do so.

And so they became pen pals for some four years while Pellan made his way through university. It was a strangely intimate mental connection for all their physical separation, but also mildly unsatisfying.

Marta gave Pellan an appraising look on the ship back to Ireland, noting his sudden interest in Jessica. He bore it in good humor. The conversation turned to university.

"I think you should go to university yourself," Pellan ventured. "What do you want to do in life?"

"I don't know. I've been content with the farrier work."

"Which is fine. But going to university would widen your world. Why don't you become a physician? You're ten times smarter than many of my classmates and a more dedicated student. You've got a good, rational mind."

"I don't know…. It would be a battle, being a woman."

"Most things worth having are a battle – and worth it."

"I'd really rather work with animals."

"And you probably could do that as well with a medical degree in some country place. But I'm not sure that a school for animal science would be more accepting of you as a woman than one for humans."

"I'll think about it."

"Sometimes I believe that you think about Jeremy – like he's going to reappear in your life."

"Maybe; maybe not."

"Well, that's your business. But everyone needs some way to support themselves in life and something to do which interests them if what they hope for doesn't happen. Or ends too soon."

Marta did think about it and decided to go to university in Dublin to see how things would go, working with a goal of attending medical school. Pellan was ahead of in Marta in university by six months because he had taken classes in the summers, while she continued to work to pay her way. After a few years, both she and Pellan graduated with degrees in science from Dublin. Pellan visited France for a few days every year – to see Siobhan … and someone else.

[It was about this time that, half a world away in Seattle, the Bolt Brothers wagered their mountain against Aaron Stempel on getting marriageable women to come to Seattle and that part of the story began.]

Chapter 33: A Loss

In Calais, Julie and Philippe conceived a second child. And, one unexpected day, Lucie Du Saule had a heart attack. She lingered a few weeks and her family hovered around her. In some ways that was a blessing, for it gave everyone the opportunity to say what words they wanted to say before the final parting.

Julie sat with her mother-in-law one day and told her of her newly-discovered pregnancy. Julie added, "If it's a girl, we want to name her after you and maybe my mother – as we did with Jon's name." Lucie smiled and said that she would be honored. She hoped, as always, that Julie's pregnancy would be successful and that the baby would be healthy.

After two weeks of declining energy, Lucie had a second heart attack which ended her earthly life. Anyone around Calais who had known her grieved her loss, for she had comforted many families in their own difficulties. Her funeral was well-attended and her family received many gestures of comfort and support.

Chrétien was then grateful in a new way to have the younger female residents in his household, easing the transition after Lucie's loss. Julie took over the household management at his request. Also at his request, they went through Lucie's clothing and possessions, distributing them to others in need if they did not want them. They were all grateful for the pending birth to have something cheerful for which to look forward.

Chapter 34: Ivy Hill

Pellan graduated university in Dublin, then applied and was accepted for medical school in London. Mr. Baxter was now his financial advisor instead of his legal guardian since Pellan had turned 21. Mr. Baxter saw an opportunity for Pellan to earn income on investments when he learned of a small boarding house for sale by a widow. She had earlier expanded the original house with a newer, more modern wing in order to accommodate a few boarders. Mr. Baxter thought that Pellan would find students who were eager to have low-rent housing and thus be able to keep a stream of decent, stable tenants – and rental income – and thus be able to pay for the building itself.

Pellan agreed to the proposition, but thought he needed someone to help him run the boarding house after he purchased it. So he invited Marta Jäger to move to London to help him run the boarding house six months later once she finished university in Dublin. They kept the name the widow and her husband had given to the house decades earlier: Ivy Hill.

Mr. Baxter had not envisioned the boarding house being co-ed, but many decent boarding houses were. He had met Marta Jäger long ago and did not really understand Pellan's relationship with her, but he felt that was their business as long as it appeared to be morally upright. Pellan termed Marta his "sparring partner." Mr. Baxter did not know if that meant they would marry someday or not and did not inquire. In the case of Ivy Hill, Pellan and Marta formed plans for the boarding house together. And they continued to challenge and assist each other as they began medical school a semester apart.

"Ivy Hill" was located on the edge of town, a few blocks from a hospital and not much farther from the medical school which Pellan and Marta attended. It sat among other houses and was on a small rise, only appearing to be on a hill from the street in front, where considerable ivy grew on the ground up to the entrance. The front door opened to a small entry hall. There was a common area of living/kitchen/dining around a large table which could seat ten if crowded together, a parlor off to the right side. The men's wing led off from the right side of the dining area and had three bedrooms (the original family bedrooms) with a common water closet at the end of the hall. The apartment of the owner had been added off from the end of that hall with its own private water closet; this became Pellan's space as "landlord." The new wing added by the former owner, led off from the kitchen to the left. This became the women's hall, with four rooms, a pantry/storage area, and another water closet at the end. There was a backyard in view from the dining area between the two halls with a shed and clotheslines on both sides where laundry seemed to be constantly drying. The back garden tended to stay in shabby disarray since no one living there had much time or inclination to tend its plants.

The first house rule they made was "No hanky-panky." Other rules had to do with the division of cleaning, household chores, cooking, and respecting sleeping hours with quiet. Since everyone living in the house were students or working a job, they all needed to pitch in to help out and, for their efforts, their rent was lower than many boarding houses in the area. After an initial period of adjustment, the system worked well – as long as they were selective about tenants. Pellan and Marta both had friends from school and even as far back as the English academy of their childhood who became tenants. Some stayed six months, others longer. The rent of the residents paid for the house, its upkeep, and their supplies.

Chapter 35: Jess Relocates

The new baby at Ruisseau de Saule was a girl, born in September. She was christened Lucie Jerusha Du Saule after her grandmothers. With Chrétien's blessing, she was called Lucie. Rather than finding it painful to have another Lucie in the house, he seemed to be happy that his granddaughter carried that much of his wife with her. "Oh, how my Lucie would have doted on this baby girl," Chrétien mused with a wistful smile.

Jessica had been growing restless for some time. The birth of Baby Lucie prompted the need to reshuffle some bedrooms and Jonathan, now five, needed his own room as he prepared to begin school. Jess and Jenny had always shared a room and Siobhan had moved into the former guest room. But Jenny and Siobhan were closer in age and had by now become quite close friends, causing Jess to feel a bit displaced.

Jessica joined Julie one day in the nursery, where Julie was nursing the new baby. "I need some advice," ventured Jessica.

"I can try," smiled Julie.

"I'm thinking of moving to England."

"Oh! Well! That's a big step. May I ask why?"

"I just feel the need to do something different – to try living on my own. To decide what to do with my life."

"To be closer to a certain medical student in London?"

Jess laughed. "That's part of it, though he doesn't know anything of my idea to move. How many years have we been pen-pals now? Four? I need to know if there's going to be anything more for us, one way or the other."

"That should definitely be helpful in learning how to plan your life. Where will you live?"

"Perhaps that boarding house where Philippe stayed that year that you met. Suppose Mrs. Brown is still running it?"

"I don't know. She's got to be getting up in years. You weren't planning to live at Ivy Hill, were you?"

"I don't think that would be appropriate."

"Good girl!"

When Jess moved to London, she did not let Pellan or Marta know in advance of her plans. She went straight to her old neighborhood … and found Mrs. Brown sweeping the stoop at The Brown House, which looked a little run-down from what Jess remembered. Mrs. Brown told Jess that she had very few residents anymore and was planning to close her boarding house in a few months and move to the country with her daughter. She kindly advised Jess to try to find a room elsewhere, but didn't have any recommendations.

Not knowing where to go, Jess dropped by Ivy Hill late that same afternoon, intending to ask Marta for a recommendation of a reputable boarding. Ivy Hill was bustling as the residents returned from their classes or jobs.

Marta was surprised and delighted to see Jess and said, "A female resident moved out two days ago. Why don't you stay here?"

"Oh, I don't think I should. I'm not in school anywhere."

"Not everyone who lives here is in school."

"It might be awkward.…"

Marta smiled knowingly. "Perhaps we should find out what he says about that."

Jess protested, "Oh, no, please don't—" but Marta hailed a young man heading down men's hall: "Kenny, ask the landlord to come out here." Kenny raised his hand in acknowledgement and continued down the hall.

A minute later, Pellan came up the hall, cravat undone, saying, "I'm telling you guys, you've got to learn how to handle some of these repairs yourself or the landlord may have to raise the rent— Jess! I – I didn't know you were coming to visit."

"Well, I've actually moved to London," Jess began.

Marta added, "Which is still in process. She hasn't found a place to stay yet. I wondered about Rosalind's old room."

Pellan hesitated a few minutes, feeling his face reddening, then recovered to say, "Well, come have a look at it."

The room was more than adequate, located across the hall from Marta's room, with a window viewing the side street. Marta excused herself to attend to the dinner team's preparations … and to give them some privacy. Pellan went briefly over the rent and house rules.

Jess stated sincerely, "Pellan, I did not come here looking for a room. I swear! I went to The Brown House in our old neighborhood to see if I could get a room there, but she is closing down. I came here to ask Marta's advice about some other decent place. If this is uncomfortable for you, please say so."

Pellan hesitated a moment and declared, "We'll make it work."

"And if it doesn't, I will move out somewhere else. I promise!" Jess declared.

It was a bit awkward to be in the same building with Pellan after so many years of letters – in fact, Jess rather missed his letters! She kept her distance as she settled in and Pellan seemed to be doing the same. But one day Pellan invited Jess out for dinner. "I might as well formally welcome you to England," he said with a grin. He took her to a small restaurant near the university, saying he had discovered it with Marta one day.

"What is your relationship with Marta?" Jess ventured, hoping she was not asking too much.

"I hardly know!" He laughed. "A very solid friendship, that's for sure. I wouldn't have thought it possible to have such a brutally honest friendship with a member of the opposite sex, but I do."

"Are you romantically involved with her?"

"Oh, heavens no! We'd kill each other! There's not a day that we don't argue about something. We've never been romantically involved: that's an unspoken line we don't cross. I believe she still thinks about your brother a lot, but I don't ask or criticize that. She saved me from dating a 'golddigger' in the past, though I didn't appreciate her opinion at the time. She was right, though."

"When was this?"

"It was shortly after we moved to Ireland, when I hid Marta away from her father. Some girl in Galway I'd met, but Marta had met her at school already."

"Does she still advise you on your social life?"

"What social life? Nobody has a social life once you enter medical school! We do well to find time to eat and sleep."

They enjoyed a lively dinner, catching up. When their hackney carriage dropped them off at the foot of the front walk to Ivy Hill, Pellan affectionately pulled Jess to sit on a bench in the ivy near the street. "What?" she laughed, protesting in jest.

"Well, there's no hanky-panky allowed in the house by my own rule, so I guess we could settle for here. But I don't really fancy furnishing entertainment for any tenants watching from the windows long-term, so maybe I'll have to give a memorial bench to the local park or put up a tent somewhere…."

He nuzzled her neck as she ran her fingers through his hair. Jess found that she no longer cared about Pellan's relationship with Marta.

It was fortunate that Jess appeared at Ivy Hill when she did. Marta was a year behind Pellan in school, taking a lighter load of classes to work and to manage Ivy Hill. The latter was becoming more than she could manage with school and her farrier work. Jess was willing to help her and soon took over organizing meals and posting the cooking/cleaning schedule for the residents, as well as overseeing repairs. It was not unlike what she had done at Ruisseau de Saule with Julie and, in fact, gave her more leisure than she had had in France, since all the students pitched in together to cook and clean. Jess found some work with a women's clothier doing alterations and other fine work and still had time for herself.

Jess soon saw Pellan, unshaven, on a Saturday afternoon and remarked it. He said it was his weekly "shaving holiday," to let his skin heal from the razor. That evening Jess presented him with a small container. "What's this?" he asked.

"It's an attempt to help soothe your skin from shaving. You'll have to let me know how it works for you and I can adjust the formula as you need it."

It seemed that Lucie Du Saule's home remedies would have a second life with Jess after all, plus her own creative application. She soon concocted herbal remedies for the other house residents as well. She began to feel a growing confidence in her abilities.

It is true: there is no better way to get to know another person than when you live under the same roof. She and Pellan saw each other in that semi-domestic setting for the remainder of the three years that he was in medical school. And yes, Pellan and Marta did get into frequent arguments, which intimidated Jess at first. She felt that that Pellan picked at Marta to provoke an argument as a sort of sport and sometimes Marta did the same to him. Jess stayed out of it, not even playing referee. But she grew to not be disturbed by their arguing, since she observed that they were not aggressive or cruel to each other. Pellan called Marta his sparring partner and Jess decided that arguing some point was just the way they had settled on communicating.

Julie and Philippe were somewhat apprehensive about Jess living under the same roof with Pellan, but they had some experience with how boarding houses could work decently. And Marta was something of a chaperone for Jess – or at least they hoped that she was. Julie said to Philippe, "If we haven't raised Jess right by this point, there's not much hope."

Chapter 36: The Artist

When Little Lucie was almost two years old in 1873, Philippe met with a young man at the bank in Calais who was seeking a small business loan. He said that his name was Gaston Rameau, from Amiens in France – the youngest of three brothers in his family. He had just graduated with a degree in fine arts from Sorbonne Université in Paris. He could draw, paint, and was learning the new art of photography. He showed Philippe his portfolio, which looked to Philippe's judgment to be extraordinary. Philippe granted him a loan and helped him get established in Calais over the next few years. Philippe also hired him to give art private lessons to Jon and the two young ladies in his "finishing school" at the house. And once Gaston Rameau saw 17-year-old Siobhan O'Sullivan, he felt that he had found his "muse" for a lifetime. He had never seen a woman who was so beautiful, graceful, and competent in many things.

The two girls enjoyed their art lessons with Gaston and even six-year-old Jon took some drawing lessons from him. Gaston was personable, encouraging, and enthusiastic to an extreme – always fascinated by any novel idea, angle, or concept for how to create in any of the visual arts. While distractable in general, Gaston displayed enormous concentration when absorbed in his art projects, staying up late or forgetting to eat at times.

Gaston brought his creativity to photography, which was rather a new art form. Various amateurs experimented with cameras if they could afford them with very mixed results, learning through trial and error. People sitting for a photograph found it an intimidating experience – and it showed in their guarded, stolid expressions. Gaston found ready models with the young family at Ruisseau de Saule (especially Siobhan). He loved experimenting with different light and settings and the family grew relaxed with being photographed – with superior results, some of which Gaston displayed in the windows of his small studio near the bank as advertisement of his growing skill.

Pellan, Jess, and Marta came to spend Christmas at Ruisseau de Saule that year and Pellan met Gaston Rameau for the first time. While Gaston had tried to hide his feelings for some months, it was becoming obvious by then that he was besotted with Siobhan – and very nervous to meet her brother. Pellan did nothing to be less intimidating to Gaston, privately alarmed that someone – an artist! – had designs on his sister. He was then doubly relieved that Siobhan was living with the Du Saules and appropriately chaperoned.

Marta and Jess giggled behind Pellan's back at his discomfort with Siobhan's suitor. When Jess warmly observed that Gaston was a fun person with pleasant manners and good breeding, Pellan just scowled. 'Now I'm a sparring partner for him, too,' Jess laughed to herself.

Chapter 37: The Break-Up

Jeremy awoke suddenly from another of his Marta dreams – which were always nightmares: separated from her by some barrier, the image of her face distorted with tears. "Please, God," he prayed, "Don't let me ever call Candy by Marta's name or say Marta's name in my sleep." That was his greatest fear in his approaching marriage to Candy Pruitt. He had never told Candy about Marta, just as he did not talk about his former life in England around his brothers. He had tried hard to put all that behind him. But he still dreamed….

They had finally set a wedding date in early April 1874, just after Easter. And, as happens to so many prospective bridegrooms, it seemed that Candy was swept away from him in a swirl of plans and talk of fabrics, colors, decorations, and food with her roommates in the Brides' dormitory. It was, ironically, rather lonesome for him, but he knew it wouldn't last forever. 'Let the girls have their fun,' he thought; he focused on working and saving money. He would soon have a family of four to support. His brothers helped him to build a cabin large enough for them and the two children who would live there – Candy's much-younger siblings, Christopher and Molly Pruitt – plus extra rooms and a loft for their own children in the future.

Then something unanticipated occurred: the preacher who had been serving the little community church in Seattle for years had a major heart attack and was forced by weakness to surrender his pulpit and move away to live with his sister in Oregon. Especially with an eye to the upcoming Bolt-Pruitt wedding, there was a hurried search for another available preacher whom the Seattle church could call. A Reverend Morris accepted the call. His experience looked good … on paper.

Rev. Morris began his pastorate in Seattle on a Sunday in early March, Jeremy sat with Candy and the Pruitt children, as had become his habit for over a year. Rev. Morris read his chosen text – Revelation 21:8 – and then began his first sermon with a sudden, intense outpouring of invective on all those who will burn in hell, including "sorcerers" and "idolaters", whom Rev. Morris defined as Roman Catholics.

Jeremy sat there – an incognito Roman Catholic – and began to cast about in his mind for what to do. After a little while of more of the same (which seemed an eternity to Jeremy), he decided that he could not stay for several reasons, whispered an apology to Candy, and slipped out of the pew to the center aisle, hoping that people might think that he was ill with pre-wedding jitters as he departed the building.

"You there, young man! Where are you going?" Rev. Morris bellowed. Jeremy closed his eyes briefly and prayed for strength for the scene about to transpire. He turned around to face the preacher.

"I can no longer stay."

"And why is that?"

"I am Roman Catholic. I gather that you don't want me here."

"You need to repent of this evil! On your knees before the altar this very instant, young man!"

"No. I cannot stay here."

He turned and continued his path out the church door. Jason and Joshua exchanged a glance and rose to leave behind him. A few other loggers did the same, loyal to their bosses or for reasons of their own. Candy and the children remained tensely in the worship service. She felt shocked and confused.

Jeremy silently preceded his brothers back to their cabin, where they followed him inside.

"Well, that was interesting," Jason remarked. "You never told us that you're Roman Catholic."

"Our great-aunts were Roman Catholic. They had Julie and all of us baptized in England. We attended mass at a small Catholic church every Sunday. Philippe and his family in France are Catholic. Several of my friends from school were Catholic. I just can't listen to that type of preaching. I don't believe any of those good people I have known are going to Hell for being Catholic."

"Hmm," Jason mused. "I doubt Rev. Morris will be available to preside at your wedding."

"I don't want him to preside even if he is."

"I wonder what Candy will say about this," Joshua interjected. "If you wanted to create a scene, this did it."

"I didn't want to create a scene. But I can't listen to that stuff. I just don't believe it!"

The brothers moved to the front porch while they pondered how to handle the situation. Jason doubted that people would want Rev. Morris to stay on, being very different from the style of the former pastor, and yet some others might like his vigorous style. At any rate, it would create division in the town and Jason hated town squabbles.

Jeremy looked up after a while to see Candy striding rapidly toward them. Josh remarked, "I think you've got it coming," and slipped inside. Jeremy braced to be criticized for creating a scene.

"I can't believe you!" Candy began, obviously upset.

"I didn't intend to embarrass you."

"I'm not embarrassed; I'm angry! You never told me in all this time that you are Catholic! I thought you were Protestant!"

Jeremy was surprised and spluttered, "What d-difference does it make? We've only got one church here and if a p-person attends, that's where he goes. I've been there every S-Sunday I've been in town. You know that!"

"Don't you know how incompatible that makes us? I won't marry a Catholic! I want you to convert!"

There was a long moment of silence. Then Jeremy stated, "I won't convert."

There was another moment of silence. Candy jerked the engagement ring off her finger and slapped it into Jeremy's hand with a look of fury. "Here. I'm just glad I found out before we were married. I've never been so humiliated in all my life!"

She whirled around and stormed off without a backward glance.

Jeremy turned and sank down on the porch bench beside Jason, stunned. Jason had witnessed the entire break-up and sighed, putting a supportive hand on Jeremy's shoulder, remaining silent.

Jeremy remarked, "I can't believe she just threw away the 3½ years we've known each other."

"Well," Jason sympathized, "if she feels that strongly about it, like she said, it's best for both of you to learn that before the wedding."

So their long-delayed wedding was off. Jeremy kept his distance, hoping that Candy might reconsider. But Candy didn't reconsider and one day Jeremy stopped by the cabin he had built for them and noticed that the curtains Candy had made for it were gone. A month later, one of the loggers got engaged to a woman in Tacoma. Jeremy sold him the engagement ring that Candy had returned. It was over.

'At least I don't have to worry about my Marta dreams anymore,' Jeremy thought to himself, a bit relieved. He wondered, for the thousandth time, where Marta was and what she was doing.

Chapter 38: Mourning and Celebration

Pellan was sound asleep at Ivy Hill one Saturday in mid-April 1874 when he was awakened by a knock on his bedroom door. He called out "Enter" and Jessica walked in – dressed for travel, wearing black.

"Jess! You— You're wearing mourning! What-?"

"I'm sorry to wake you on a day when you can sleep late. I got a telegram that Chrétien has died. I'm going to Calais."

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry! I feel like I should go with you."

"You have exams coming soon. I'll probably be there a few weeks. We all understand your situation."

"I feel terrible about this. Look: hand me my wallet there." She did so and he gave her a good bit of cash. "Take everyone out to eat somewhere and tell them I'm sorry for their loss and that I can't be there."

She thanked him and kissed him good-bye for a while.

Chrétien was buried on a Saturday with a large attendance at his funeral mass in Calais. Two days later, Philippe returned to work and was very busy all day, including moving his office into his father's old office at the insistence of his bank employees. It was far larger for meetings with private clients, even if the change just seemed to add to his grief.

That evening, the family waited at their new chairs around the dining room table at Ruisseau de Saule, hearing Philippe's quick steps approaching from the stairs and down the hall. He began speaking while still a few feet from the open door to the dining room – "I'm sorry to keep you all waiting. I've run late everywhere I have gone today—"

He stopped short when he saw them standing behind different chairs and the one where his father had always sat at the head of the table was still empty, waiting now for him. (Jon was standing where Philippe was accustomed to sit.)

Julie announced, "We made some changes around here today, too. If you don't like this seating arrangement, we can easily change it to your liking. But I thought this would be easier than looking longer at an empty chair."

Philippe was silent a few seconds as different emotions played across his face and Julie feared for a moment that the change might lead him to cry, thinking perhaps she should have warned him ahead of the meal.

Philippe swallowed hard and remarked, "It seems that I have been sitting in my father's seat all day and now here, too."

"It's your seat now, Love," Julie said with a gentle, sympathetic smile.

Philippe nodded, accepting the change. He smiled with some pain, seating his wife while the others sat down. He then sat down himself, now at the head of their family table, and began saying the evening grace as his father used to do.

Jess returned to England a few weeks later, accompanied by Siobhan and Jenny. They found Pellan burning Shepherd's Pie in the Ivy Hill kitchen, trying to cook dinner to welcome them.

The younger girls had come to attend Pellan's graduation from medical school. With his father's death, much business was required of Philippe at the bank as well as the annual sheep-shearing and he sent his apologies along with a fine gift for Pellan. Julie had stayed behind with Philippe and their children to create some normalcy in their lives again.

Pellan's graduation in May was a lovely occasion and he was celebrated by his sister, Jess, Jenny, and Marta; then Jenny and Siobhan returned to Calais.

Marta was a year behind Pellan at this point and needed to do an internship the next year. There had already been some difficulty finding a doctor who was willing to take on a female intern. Another student in her class had also been bullying Marta at the school on a frequent basis for two years and even tried to assault her in a closet one day. Although the professors had backed her story against her tormentor, Marta was puzzled about how to proceed. At least she had the summer before she had to deal with him again. She felt happy about that.

Chapter 39: Emergency

After his graduation, Pellan immediately flung himself into studying for his board exams for medical licensing. Although he was at Ivy Hill most of the time, he spent hours over his books and was beginning to look quite drained. Jess and Marta grew concerned about him overworking himself. Marta was doing farrier work during the summer recess. She left for another assignment with a breeder and told Jess, "Once he finishes that board exam, see that he gets to a doctor if he doesn't snap out of it. He looks terrible."

With the end of the semester, the boarding house had emptied out of everyone but Marta, Jess, and Pellan, as the students went their separate ways for the summer or longer. Jess found herself cooking just for herself and Pellan, but he seemed preoccupied and withdrawn. She wished him well on the morning of his board exam and he went off, appearing relieved to be getting done with it at last. When he returned home some hours later, he seemed exhausted and ate almost nothing. The next day he scarcely got out of bed, sleeping most of the time and eating little. Jess resolved to get him to a doctor the next day.

Around 3:00 a.m., Jess awoke with a start. Pellan was sitting on the edge of her bed, fully dressed. He apologized, saying, "I'm sorry to startle you. I tried to wake you up with a knock on your door, but that didn't work."

"Oh! I—" Jess didn't know what to say and, in her summer gown, felt underdressed.

"Jess, something's wrong. I've been vomiting all night to the point of dry heaves and I'm wondering if it's appendicitis. I need to go to hospital. Would you mind going with me? I'm … a bit afraid that I might pass out on the way or something."

"Oh! Of course! Just let me put on some clothes."

"I'll wait in the kitchen." He got up to leave her room.

"Leave a note for Marta about where we've gone. She'll be home in late morning."

Off to the hospital they soon walked in the pitch dark. Pellan had another retching spell on the way, remarking afterward that he was glad that he had nothing left in him or the widow who lived at that house would likely have come out with a broom for him ruining her petunias, even at 3:30 a.m.

At the hospital, Pellan was examined by Tom Porter, a student surgeon almost at the end of his residency, who agreed that it appeared to be appendicitis. Pellan had known Tom in medical school, a year ahead of him. Pellan laughed about how he was "some doctor – can't even identify appendicitis coming on in myself!"

Pellan was prepped for surgery. They had to wrap his torque in layers of gauze since it couldn't be removed. He gave his two rings to Jess for safekeeping while he would be in surgery. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Jess, I want you to just have that Claddagh ring. It's more a woman's ring than a man's. It belonged to my mother."

"Shouldn't Siobhan have it, then?"

"I asked her about that, but she didn't want it. Truthfully, she didn't know our Mam as well as I did. She was just six when Mam died and had been living with a relative for a year before that due to Mam's health and our Da's death."

"It's a curious design."

"It's a Claddagh ring. The heart stands for love, the hands for friendship, the crown for loyalty – all strong Irish values. It's usually a gift from a father to his daughter when she is about fifteen and starting to look around for a man. You wear it on your right hand with the heart pointing toward the nail while you're looking. When someone turns your head and you aren't looking any more, you turn the ring around with the heart pointing up your arm. Saves all that tedious business in pubs about who's looking and who's not." He laughed shortly.

Jess put the ring on her right hand, the heart pointing up her arm. Pellan noticed and said, "If that's not about me, I'll be worried."

"You don't need to worry."

"And Jess: if anything happens to me in surgery, my important papers are in the lower left-hand drawer of my desk with Mr. Baxter's address. Take the papers to him."

"Don't say that. You'll be fine."

"Jess, this is important. Please listen: the papers are about Siobhan's guardianship as well as my will. Sometimes people aren't fine after surgery. People do die in surgery and some aren't right in the head for the rest of their lives due to the anesthesia. Just promise me that you will take those papers to Baxter if something happens; it's important to me and for Siobhan."

Jess agreed to see about the papers, if needed. Pellan thanked her and asked for a kiss just before the orderlies arrived to wheel him off to the operating room.

Jess had never been inside a hospital before and the nurse on Pellan's ward was kind, directing Jess where to find some breakfast. Some hours later, the orderlies returned Pellan to the room, still asleep. In late morning, there was a knock at the door of the ward and Marta came in, a look of alarm on her face. Jess filled her in.

Shortly Dr. Porter came to the room to report on the surgery, having done another operation in the meantime. He stated that Pellan's appendix was falling apart in his hand when it was extracted. He felt that Pellan's recovery would, therefore, be slow and take some months. Marta and Jess exchanged looks, for they knew this would alter Pellan's plans to enter the surgery residence in a few weeks. Marta encouraged Jess to go home and rest for a while and she would sit with Pellan. Jess agreed to return to take 'the night shift' sitting with him.

Pellan drifted in and out of awareness, restless, but unable to stay awake. He finally regained sufficient consciousness to recognize Marta sitting beside him. He whispered hoarsely, "Are you going to shoot me?"

"What's that?"

"Are you going to shoot me – like you do with horses?"

"Well, it's a thought. A little extreme, though."

"Might spare everyone the trouble of my recovering."

"Well, there's less of you now to deal with now, but Tom says you should be fine in time. Let me give you a little water. Your mouth must be very dry."

Chapter 40: Better to Just Jump

Three days later, Jess knocked on Pellan's bedroom door. He said, "Come in."

"Good morning! I thought that I heard you up and moving around."

"I was for a while: washed and shaved. Then thought I should take off the bandage since it's been – what? – three days? After that, I got to shaking like I couldn't make it down the hall, so I just climbed back in bed. I think it was the shock."

"'Shock'?"

Pellan fixed her with a steady look, then slowly pushed his bed quilt down to reveal two incisions and stitches on his upper and lower abdomen on the right side, while keeping his private parts covered. The upper incision was horizontal, just below his ribs. The lower incision was really three cuts in the shape of an asterisk. In addition to the black stitches, there was bruising and swelling around the very red incisions – not a pretty sight at all.

"Why did they cut you in two places?"

"I'm not a surgeon – yet – but this is what I think they did: Your small intestine goes back and forth, back and forth, in the middle" – he motioned with his free hand – "and the appendix is located where the small intestine joins the bowel down here. But that's crowded together and also near the pelvic bone, so I think they cut me up here so they could reach in and pull the bowel up and out and allow them more room to get to the appendix down there and cut it off. Then they cauterized the area to stop the bleeding, stuffed everything back inside, and stitched me up. You realize, too, that they had to cut through skin and muscle to get to my organs, so I have stitches in my muscles as well as what you can see in my skin. I think they use gut or silk stitches inside so that they dissolve in time."

Jess had listened to this description with a grimacing frown and then responded, "Ugh. Wow. That's … really quite smart! I wonder if I would have ever thought to do that?"

Then Pellan pulled the quilt up again and asked, "Is that revolting to you?"

"The stitches will come out, right?"

"I don't mean the stitches; I mean the scars: I'll have scars. I've got scars."

"You think I find you revolting because you've got scars? I'd far rather have you alive with scars than dead with a perfect body."

Pellan chuckled. "A dead body won't be perfect for long!" He sighed sadly. "It's just ironic. All these years before now, I had the body that God gave me and I wasn't involved with anyone. And now that I have a girl I'm serious about, I wind up with a tic-tac-toe board carved on my gut."

"Maybe you just need to think of the scars positively."

"Like how?" he asked, doubtfully.

"Well, instead of saying they're scars, say they're 'a vest pocket' for your upper scar and 'a sparkle' for the other one."

"'A vest pocket and a sparkle'? I was thinking more 'punctuation' – an asterisk and a dash."

"You could hope to get some parentheses later for your collection."

"No! No more!" Pellan protested.

"At least I've got you laughing about it now. I'm sure scars are a blow to anyone's morale, but going through this will probably make you a better doctor. You'll be able to empathize. And scars fade in time.

"In a long time." He sighed and tears welled in his eyes. "Jess, I'm so discouraged."

Jess regarded his evident distress with compassion and said, "Slide over."

Pellan began to slide over in the bed with some difficulty, bunching up the quilt to brace his abdomen and turning very slowly onto his side, all while saying, "You're not going to commit hanky-panky, are you? Because I don't think I'm capable of it."

"No hanky-panky. House rules, you know! Are you hurting yourself to turn on your side?"

"No, I slept like this all night. It just takes a minute to settle." He paused and his face smoothed out after a moment. "See? Good as new."

Jess noted the sadness in his eyes and gently laid down beside him, holding him close and running her fingers through his hair. After a peaceful moment, she said, "You know, I was thinking that, if this had to happen to you, it happened at a good time."

"Oh, it did?" Pellan's tone was sarcastic.

"Yes. You finished med school and graduated. You took your board exam and passed it – so, you don't have to worry about missing classes or forgetting what you learned before you can take any exams. You didn't start the residency and have to drop out immediately; whoever took your place got to start with the others and not be at a disadvantage. You're already on the list for next year and don't have to re-apply. You can take your time recovering and be fresh and ready to start the residency next year. You might even be in better shape then, being rested. And, knowing you, you'll find something to do in the meantime when you're recovered. You'll sub for some doctor or help out somewhere."

"You're right about all that." Pellan sighed and hesitated. "What you don't know is that once I started the residency and had an income for a change, I was going to ask you to marry me. In fact, I was tempted to ask you just before they took me to surgery because I wanted you to know how strongly I feel about you. But I didn't want you to be engaged to someone who was not right in the head … or dead."

There was silence for a moment.

"But now you're not going to ask me?"

"Jess, I can't support you."

More silence.

"Jess, say something. Anything. Yell at me, even."

"I'm sorry, I'm confused. In Philippe's Finishing School we once discussed how to accept a proposal; we didn't discuss how to accept a non-proposal, so I don't know how to respond."

Pellan sighed. "I think the worst part of it is that I'm afraid that, while I'm flopping around, trying to get my life together, someone will come along and offer you fifty-thousand pounds and then I'll lose you, too."

"You think I'd marry someone just because he waved fifty-thousand pounds under my nose?"

"Hey, if it's fifty-thousand pounds I think you should consider it! Even if I become the most successful doctor who ever lived, I'll never be able to give you that kind of life."

More silence, less tense.

"Still not speaking to me?"

"I'm considering whether I'm more puzzled by a non-proposal or insulted by the fifty-thousand-pounds remark."

They giggled together.

Jess continued, "You worry too much about having things perfectly arranged. I don't know but what people do better when they just jump in with marriage."

"Like your parents? Like mine? I'm sure that went over well in the western part of the Old Sod! And here we are, their orphans, all these many years later, trying to decide if we can manage a normal life after all the fall-out over the years! Sometimes I wonder if I'm capable of being a normal husband and father after what happened in my family."

"You will be. Your heart's in the right place."

"Which I owe largely to your family. I don't know what I would have become without you all."

More silence, companionable now.

Pellan sighed again, bit his lower lip – and then he did 'jump,' saying, "Jessica Bolt, will you have this broken-down Irishman to husband?"

"Of course, I will!" She gave him a warm, bright smile and hugged him close. "That's a question that I know how to answer!"

They kissed enthusiastically for a while and Pellan chuckled shyly. "It seems I may not be as incapable of hanky-panky as I thought I was. You're making me better already!"

Jess blushed and asked, "Suppose that's any good?"

"What? Sex? I think probably so." He nodded rapidly, wrinkling his nose with an impish smile. "No reason why it shouldn't be. We're young, affectionate, and healthy – well, you're healthy."

Jess smiled slightly at his reassurance. "I did come to ask what you want for breakfast."

"Since I can't have hanky-panky, how about porridge?"

Over breakfast, Pellan told Jess the rest of the use of a Claddagh ring – that for engagements it can be moved to the left hand, heart pointing toward the fingernail. And for weddings, it can be turned around with the heart pointing up the arm.

"This was your mother's wedding ring, wasn't it?" Jess asked.

"She used it for that. But it was her father who gave it to her, not my father. And if you don't want to use it that way, it won't insult me. I'll get you whatever kind of ring you want. If we have a daughter someday, I'll offer it to her when she's fifteen."

"No, I like the connection to your family."

"And I like that it fits you without having to be adjusted: seems like it was intended to be on your finger, too." He smiled broadly, truly pleased.

Jess took the ring off her right hand and handed it back to Pellan, allowing him to place it on her left-hand ring finger now. He did so, declaring, "Jess, I swear to you that I will marry you someday when I can stand up and wear clothes again."

"Maybe we should plan for the wedding in France, since more of our family are there. You know that Siobhan and Jenny will be insane to be involved with the planning."

Pellan groaned. "They'll have flowers, ribbons, and lace plastered all over everything, including me – but you're right. That's probably our best option. Maybe we could honeymoon in France, though you'd have to do all the talking."

Chapter 41: Change of Plans

A few days later on a Sunday afternoon, Marta, Jess, and Pellan were at home at Ivy Hill. There was still an aura of happiness between the three of them about the new engagement, of which Marta thoroughly approved. Pellan had gone down the men's hall to his room for a moment when a knock came at the front door. Marta opened it and encountered a London bobby [policeman] there, asking for Jessica Bolt. Marta went to fetch her, but stood a short distance away in case there was bad news or some trouble.

The bobby informed Jess that her brother Jeremy had been cleared of drug charges due to some circumstances and the Law was informing her as his next-of-kin, since they did not know how to contact him.

It seemed that a Fritz Jäger had been arrested for dealing contraband. He was working on a plea bargain with his counsel, informing on as many people and situations that he could think of in order to reduce his sentence – including that his father had directed him to put contraband in young Jeremy Bolt's school bag years before and then tip off officials to its presence. The bobby apologized for the misapprehension and false charges, then walked off down the steps. Jess shut the door and turned in time to see Marta sinking to the floor in a faint.

"Pellan!" cried Jess, as she caught Marta and tried to prevent her hitting her head on the floor.

"Yes?" he responded, coming around the corner to the entry hall and taking in the situation, eyes widening with alarm. He grabbed a pillow from the bench and tossed it to the floor where Marta's head could rest. He dragged the bench over where he could sit and direct Jess on what to do to help bring Marta around. She soon began to stir, reviving.

Pellan said to her, "Just stay put for a minute. You fainted. What was that about?"

Jess repeated what the bobby had said. By the time she had finished, Marta was in control of her senses again, able to sit and stand. They all moved into the parlor, Pellan and Jess sitting on either side of Marta on the settee.

"I want to see him! I've got to go there!" cried Marta. "I want to apologize, tell him what happened..." She was half-hysterical, sobbing.

"You could write," Pellan suggested.

"No, I've got to see him. I want to, want to …"

"I'll go with you," Jess said, compassionately.

"What?! No!" Pellan protested. "Have you lost your minds? That's halfway around the world! You can't go all that way by yourselves. It's dangerous!"

The two women looked at him – Marta with a face of teary desperation and Jess with a concerned look at Pellan, then at Marta. Pellan comprehended that Marta would swim to Seattle if she had to and Jess was not going to let her go alone. Pellan also knew that he would not let the two of them go without him. It wasn't safe.

"Do you mind if I play Devil's Advocate for a minute?" Pellan ventured.

Marta hesitated, then nodded. Pellan continued: "Suppose that Jeremy decided, given the situation, that it would be best to try to move on and let you move on without him. Suppose he did move on – met someone, got married, maybe even had a child. He's had time enough to do that, you know. He might have thought that it was in kindness to you that he stopped writing – that he was allowing you to move on as well, not pestering you when there was nothing he could do to change or improve your situations."

Marta looked down at her lap, saying nothing. Pellan continued on: "Then suppose that one day, you arrive, unannounced, in Seattle and get off the boat or train or goat-cart or however one gets there. If I were him in that situation, that would rip my guts out. Is that what you want to do to him? To yourself? It's an awfully long trip for that. At least let's try to find out what his situation is now before you swim there."

Marta nodded and swallowed hard, still tearful. "That makes sense."

"OK, I'll compose something and send a telegram the first thing tomorrow morning – or as early as I can get there to send it at the speed I'm moving right now. In the meantime, if you've got to do something, we can all make lists of what all we would need to do before we go and what we need to pack."

"'We'?" quoted Marta with a questioning look.

"You don't think I'm going to let you two ladies go all that distance alone, do you? It's not safe. Besides, recuperating while traveling sounds infinitely better to me than laying around the house here. I need to update my will; Baxter's going to kill me."

About thirty minutes later, Pellan's voice came from down the hall in his room. "Would you ladies come down here for a minute, please?" Jess and Marta glanced at each other with amusement, then walked down the hall. "Is this an invitation to commit hanky-panky?" said Marta, giving Jess a wink.

"Please. Ménàge á trois would probably kill me at this stage of my recovery. Not to mention that the landlord is such a prick if he caught us."

The girls laughed and joined him at the small round table in his room. (Pellan always made disparaging, disrespectful comments about 'the landlord.') "How's this?" He handed them a scrap of paper:

Greetings. I hope this finds you all well.

Jess, Marta, and I would like to come for a visit, if convenient.

Also inquire if you are still single.

-Pellan

"Nice that the English language is nebulous about whether 'you' is singular or plural, isn't it?" Pellan remarked, cleverly. The girls approved of the telegram contents. "And now I want to tell you that I've changed my mind about when to send this and why."

Pellan walked over to the small globe on his desk and tilted it so that they were looking at the north pole. "When we go to Calais, it's an hour later. I remember because I have to re-set my watch going and coming. Going east, it's later; coming back west to London, it's earlier. There are 24 hours in a day. 8:00 a.m. here is 8:00 p.m. on the other side of the world. Here's our longitude. Here's the one for Seattle – roughly one-third of the way around the globe – so about eight hours' difference. (Eight times three is 24 hours.) Eight hours earlier there than here because it is west of here. If I was even physically able to get out at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow and if telegram delivery to Seattle is instantaneous – I doubt it – it would be midnight there. I suspect that there's a time delay for the message to be relayed – I don't know how many times – but I'm pretty certain that there's not someone sitting beside the telegraph machine in Seattle in the wee hours of the morning in the off-chance that someone will send a wire to what few people live there. What do you think of our sending the telegram in the afternoon here? He'd still likely get it sometime in the morning there and, if he responds promptly, we might get a reply here by nightfall."

The girls approved that plan and began to tentatively make plans for the journey, their excitement growing in spite of themselves.

Jeremy was grateful for his work more than ever. He had buried himself in it since his break-up with Candy, staying most of the time in the logging camp and not venturing into town. He resumed practicing guitar and tried to keep his mind off the break-up.

One morning in mid-June, Ben Perkins, owner of the Seattle General Store, came striding up the hill to the office-tent of the Bolt logging camp from where he had tethered his horse. Jeremy greeted him from the outside table and pointed out where Jason was working a little further up the hill. Ben said, Well, it's you that I've come to see, Jeremy! I've got a telegram for you."

"For me?"

Jeremy took the paper and read the most astounding news, immediately getting lost in his thoughts.

"Will there be a reply?" Ben asked, bringing him back into the present.

"Oh! Yes. Let me get something to write with."

He went into the tent for a few minutes and returned with his reply to transmit.

There was a knock on the door of Ivy Hill in the early evening. Jess answered it and tipped the messenger for delivering a telegram addressed to Pellan. She skipped down the hall to Pellan's bedroom, where he was just waking up from a nap. (He would not admit to Jess how draining he had found their trip to the telegraph office and to inquire about maps of the States and ticket sales.)

"Who would be sending me a telegram?" Pellan teased in mock confusion.

"Open it!" Jess seemed like a child again, bouncing up and down on her toes.

Pellan opened it and read it quickly, handing it to Jess with a smile. "Go make Marta's day."

We are all well and still single.

Would love for you to visit any time.

When and for how long?

Love, Jeremy

Jess gave a little happy skip and ran back down the hall with the telegram, calling for Marta.

Jeremy showed Pellan's telegram to his brothers. Jason seemed stunned that Jessica was coming to visit Seattle. "I thought we'd never see the girls again."

"Or me?" Jeremy observed, dryly.

"Well, now, I just assumed they would meet men in England, get married, and settle there."

"Or men in France? Just remember that the telegram says that they are coming to visit, not to settle."

"Who are the other two?" inquired Josh.

"Friends from school. Pellan is actually a year older, but was held back due to moving to England from Ireland and not being able to speak English."

"And the girl?"

"She's … I guess you could say she was my girlfriend from when we first met when we were seven. She was from Prussia, having to learn English when her family moved to England. I was assigned to help her on her first day."

"How'd you meet all these foreign people?" asked Josh.

"I was at the same school, trying to learn how to speak English myself. You know how I am," Jeremy laughed.

"How do you meet all these women who keep falling in love with you?" Josh prodded.

"'All these women'? How many women are you talking about? I've only been involved with two girls, neither of which worked out, as you can see."

"Well, I've never been involved with a woman who was willing to cross a continent and an ocean to visit me."

"Maybe you should change your cologne?"

Jeremy dodged a blow from Josh with a laugh.

Pellan knocked on the doorframe to the girls' hall at Ivy Hill a few days later, when they were in a frenzy of packing for the journey to Seattle. He said, "I don't know how this traveling thing will go—accommodations and all. I just want you to remember what Jeremy wrote about Seattle being 'a mud hole' so that you don't take a lot of those fashionable dresses that drag the floor. I rather doubt there will be many places where you can wear them, even while traveling. We all need to think Practical with what we pack. And also, could you two please not take nightclothes that are, um, very lacy and, uh…"

"Alluring? What sort of chaperone do you think I am?" scoffed Marta with a grin.

"I just don't know what our sleeping accommodations will be on trains, or such," he finished lamely.

Marta laughed at Pellan's embarrassment. This should be fun.

Pellan went back into the kitchen and put on water to boil for tea. Jess joined him shortly at the table. Pellan remarked, "Well, this will be our opportunity, I guess."

"For what?"

"Old Doc Rodgers at med school once told some of us that, if we were thinking about marrying some young lady, we should find a way to take a long journey with her beforehand."

"Why is that?"

"He said that when you travel, things happen. You miss connections, get robbed or swindled, get angry, miss meals, feel too hot, cold, hungry, tired. Can't sleep. Get sick off of bad food or water. He said that you find out a lot about a person's personality when you travel and, if you can put up with how the other handles such problems – and vice versa, I guess – you know more whether you might have a successful marriage. I guess this will be our chance."

"You don't think we know each other already? It's not like we live in different countries anymore."

"Yes, but things are pretty pleasant and predictable here, aren't they?"

"You have a point."

Chapter 42: Letter to France

Philippe gave a thick letter to his wife, noting that it was from Jessica. "She must have quite a lot to say." Julie began to read out loud, sharing the letter with him with accelerating expressions of surprise and shock:

Dear Julie,

I'm sure that you notice how thick this letter is. You had better sit down before you read it.

Firstly, we so enjoyed the visit from Siobhan and Jenny for Pellan's graduation. It was such a happy time! I'm sure that they have given you all the details. Pellan had worked so hard, especially in the time before graduation. I'm glad that we could have a good celebration together – just wish that you and P could have come, too, but we understand, of course. And Pellan continues to regret that he could not attend C's funeral and be of more support. (I did convey to him your appreciation for our lunch that day, following the funeral.)

After graduation, Pellan immediately started studying hard for his licensing exam with the same concentration with which he does everything. Marta and I worried about him, though, because he looked increasingly pale and exhausted. He did take his exam (and passed). Then he couldn't get out of bed the next day and, after midnight, he decided that he needed to go to hospital since he had vomited several times and felt something was badly wrong. I went with him, of course. (Marta was gone on a farrier job.) It turned out that he had appendicitis and they operated just in time! The surgeon felt that P will have a complete recovery, which is proceeding – slowly. P is impatient at this point, but I think that's a good sign of returning energy.

A few days after we got him home from hospital, he asked me to marry him! (I accepted.) So there's that to look forward to! We were discussing maybe coming to Calais to have the ceremony with you all and perhaps a honeymoon in France somewhere. But we didn't get too far in our plans…

A few days after that, a bobby came to our door and told us that someone had confessed to setting Jeremy up with those drugs – Fritz Jäger (Marta's brother, acting on direction from her father!) – and that Jeremy's name had, therefore, been cleared. Fritz was caught selling contraband and was making a plea bargain, squealing on everyone he knew who was up to no good, including his own father. Marta is humiliated, but has suspected for a very long time that her father was behind Jeremy's deportation. She asked Pellan's attorney, Mr. Baxter, to be sure that Jeremy's name is indeed cleared, as well as his banishment from England – and to write a stern letter to her father and brother Fritz, renouncing ties to them.

Marta strongly wanted to go to see Jeremy, to give him that news and to apologize for (as she says) his association with her messing up his life. I'm sure she also wants to find out if he still has feelings for her; she has never forgotten him, you know. Pellan insisted that we first send a telegram to find out what Jeremy's situation is and, really, if we are welcome to visit. And it turns out that all of them are still single, we are welcome and, well, by the time you receive this letter, we three will be onboard ship for America! Pellan says that he is escorting us single ladies in our travels so we'll be safe. (He is still weaker than he admits, so it's more like we are nursing him along in his recuperation.) Marta says that she is chaperoning Pellan and me. And I guess I am going as referee between M and P, since they seem to find a way to argue every day. I may write again as we proceed. We are to land in New York, then take the train to California, then look for a ship to Seattle. Pellan wants to add something before I use up all this paper.

Much love to all,

-Jess

Hello, all! I'm sorry not to have written sooner to thank you for the elegant traveling desk for use in my doctoring. I will treasure it and the enclosed fountain pen and hopefully not lose or break either so that they will last me for all my medical career. Indeed, Jess has been using both to finish this letter as we get ready to board ship.

Jess told you of our troubles here. I'm getting better – slowly. The doctor said that my appendix was dissolving in his hand when he had removed it, so some of that poison got into my system, slowing my recovery. Pray for my patience, which we all know is not my strong point. Travel should help me to tolerate recuperation better than moping around the house, however.

Love from-

-Future Brother-in-Law Pellan O.

"Mercy!" exclaimed Philippe to his wife. "Is that appropriate for them to all go off together on such a long trip?"

"As we said when she moved into Ivy Hill, if we haven't raised Jess right by this point, there's not much hope," Julie replied. "At any rate, I'll let the girls here know there will be a wedding to prepare for someday. They'll go absolutely wild with planning. I almost dread it, myself."

Chapter 43: Life on the Atlantic

Two mornings after leaving England, Jess did not find Pellan in his cabin after breakfast on the ship. She went walking on the deck and discovered him, sitting on a bench and swathed in the blanket from his bed in the chill wind. He still looked rather feeble to her, with the dark circles still under his eyes from surgery.

"Hey," he smiled, looking pleased to see her.

"I wondered where you went. I was a little bit worried."

"I wanted to get some fresh air. I don't think it's healthy – sitting in a cabin all the time below decks, breathing everyone's air. Some people may not believe in miasmas, but I think there's something to it. I think we need to be out here every day that we can for our health."

"May I join you?"

"Of course. And it's warmer under the blanket, though it will likely upset the two old women who keep walking around, supervising everyone's moral propriety."

"Here comes Marta."

"Well, having two women under the blanket with me should really shock them into apoplexy!" He laughed.

That sounded to Jess like the old Pellan emerging again, which was encouraging.

Sometime during the first week onboard ship in the girls' adjoining cabin, Pellan complained heatedly, "What the hell is wrong with me?" He yawned hugely, shuddering, and fell over on his side on the spare bed where he had been sitting across from the girls, who were sitting on the opposite bed.

Marta inquired, "Are you in pain?"

"No, I can't stay awake – especially after lunch."

"Well, Doctor, perhaps you need to take a nap."

"I've never taken naps, Doctor."

"You've never had major surgery, either, so maybe your body is telling you something and you need to listen, Doctor."

Pellan yawned so hard that there were tears in his eyes. He grimaced. "Whose bed is this?"

Jess had been watching this lead-up to what she assumed was the daily argument between Pellan and Marta and decided to assert herself: "It's mine. And I say that you just curl up there and take a nap." She arose and removed his shoes, preparing to cover him with her blanket.

"Do you know how long it took me to tie those this morning?"

"Well, I'll tie them again for you when you wake up so you don't have to do it twice in one day."

She tucked the blanket around Pellan and kissed him on the forehead as if he was Jon. He smiled wistfully.

"I don't think anyone has tucked me in since my Mam."

"I'm not your Mam."

"I noticed." With a sly smile, he nestled in to sleep.

Jess returned to sit on Marta's bed where they were sorting out materials for the various handwork projects they had planned for the trip. They exchanged 'looks' about Pellan. When he was obviously sound asleep a short while later, Jess whispered, "I'm sure that this time is difficult for him since he's always been so active." Marta replied, "Yes, that's true. But it's good for him as a doctor to learn that there are people who can't live that way."

An hour or so later, Pellan stirred and opened his eyes. Marta inquired, "Less cranky now?"

"Yes – for the moment. I guess I've returned to being a baby and have to be put down for a nap every afternoon."

"So, take a nap! It's not like there's that much to miss in our present circumstances."

"I'm so bored. I can't read – can't seem to concentrate. I'm afraid my brain is messed up from the ether."

"I wouldn't worry about it. I talked to a woman who had an operation and she said that her concentration was affected for six months and then it returned, same as always. And the fact that you brought the Bible, of all things, to read on this trip probably doesn't help your concentration!"

"I've always said I wanted to read the Bible all the way through. I thought this trip would force me to get serious about doing it."

"So read it one chapter at a time – or even just a few verses. You've got the whole trip to Seattle and back to do it. Take your time and don't fret about getting tired. Just take the opportunity to rest when you need to."

Jess had an idea: "Why don't you learn to crochet or knit? It's something you can take up and put down if you get tired. I could teach you."

Marta added, "You know that some men knit, don't you?"

Pellan said, "Yes, I know that. I don't think it's beneath me, if that's what you're inferring. I just never learned. I can try it."

So they set him to learning to crochet a potholder.

"But I don't want to make a potholder."

"Everyone makes a potholder to start out."

"What am I going to do with a potholder?"

"You can give it to Jeremy and his brothers. I'm sure they'll be thrilled to be presented with your first effort. You can make a beer mat afterward, if that is more palatable."

"Fabulous."

And so Pellan began, grumbling, to learn to crochet and knit to keep from losing his mind while traveling and convalescing. It was a social activity as well and gave the three companions something more in common to discuss – or to argue about. While he did not want to admit it, Pellan enjoyed the activity as well as their banter. And he kept up his Bible reading as well, gradually recovering his ability to concentrate.

A few days later, the girls were ready for breakfast and knocked on the adjoining door to Pellan's cabin. He was shaved, but still covered up in bed, appearing to be naked. Marta remarked dryly, "Good morning, Doctor! You're looking en déshabillé today."

He said, "I think these stitches need to come out; I can't stand them anymore. I didn't know if you would prefer to do that before breakfast or after, so I haven't dressed."

"Before, I suppose. Let me wash my hands." Marta returned to their cabin.

Jess nodding toward the girls' cabin, "I'll just wait in there while you two do that."

"Actually," Pellan said, "unless you're going to faint or be sick – and I won't think less of you if you do – it would probably be better if you would stay. Marta may take advantage of me in a vulnerable moment."

"What's he saying?" Marta asked, returning to the door while wiping her hands with a towel.

Jess replied, "He said I should stay while you take out the stitches so that you don't take advantage of him."

Marta scoffed, "He wishes! But he probably thinks it more appropriate if you're with me when I work on a near-naked man for the sake of my reputation."

Pellan gestured to the empty berth in his room, "I set out everything you'll need over there."

"Very considerate."

Pellan bared his torso, carefully keeping his privates covered and holding down the bedding with one hand to secure it. Marta pondered in what order to remove the stitches; Pellan gave directions to her and added, "Will you give me a lollipop if I don't cry while you do this?"

Marta grimaced and said, "If you give me one for not crying while I have to do it to you."

Then they agreed that, since they would have to wait until the ship docked in New York to obtain lollipops, they must be very large lollipops.

The stitch-removal was a slow process. Marta asked, "Does that hurt?"

"No. It rather tickles."

"If you want that lollipop, you should say it hurts."

They laughed and Pellan pulled some exaggerated faces, as if being tortured.

Jess sat beside Pellan's head and held his free hand during the procedure, wondering yet again about the relationship between Pellan and Marta, who could argue twenty times a day and still cooperate in this sort of intimate procedure in a companionable, trusting way.

Once the stitches were out, Pellan rejoiced: "Oh, you don't know how much better that feels!"

Marta pointed out, "You still have internal stitches, you know. You must still take it easy, even if you do feel more normal now."

"Of course, Doctor," he retorted. "Now if you ladies will excuse me while I get dressed for breakfast."

An unanticipated advantage the three travelers had was their ability to speak four languages between them (English, Gaelic, French, and German). Ten days into their sea voyage, Pellan violently scratched his head in the girls' cabin and exclaimed that he was going mad from the itching while not being able to wash his hair. Jess volunteered to help him with their temporary dry-shampoo solution and accompanied him to the deck with a stiff hairbrush and a tin of talcum powder. She directed Pellan to brush his hair vigorously, then carefully work the powder down into the roots with his fingers to absorb as much oil as possible, then brush it all out thoroughly in the ocean breeze.

As he followed her instructions, Pellan overheard a sailor in the rigging above say to his mate in Gaelic, "Look at that pathetic bastard down there being bossed about by his woman."

Pellan responded in Gaelic, "Name me one man who does not spend his entire life being bossed by his mother, his woman, and eventually by his daughter."

The sailor laughed in surprise and delight and suggested, "Perhaps that's why there are so many Irish sailors."

Pellan laughed at his retort and conversed further with him in Gaelic, discovering their mutual Irish roots. The sailor's name was Seamus Murphy, born in Derry, and his shipmate was Ciarán O'Connor. The three became friends for the remainder of the voyage, Pellan learning some things from them about sailing and the progress of their voyage.

Returning to their cabins, Jess remarked to Pellan, "I tend to forget that English is not your native language."

Pellan responded, "I take that as an extreme compliment, given how badly I started out."

Chapter 44: Culture Shock

Seamus pointed out their progress a few weeks later, sailing parallel to the coast of New England. He later warned Pellan a day in advance of their arrival in New York, so Pellan and the girls were packed and prepared for their landing at Castle Garden, Manhattan.

Passengers were funneled into three groups. The largest and most chaotic group were the immigrants, with which they thankfully did not need to contend. Pellan and Marta joined the line for foreigners seeking visas, hoping to get an extension on the typical visa due to the length of their trip to the west coast.

Jessica was terribly anxious to have to go through the line for citizens returning to the US since she did not have a birth certificate and could not prove her story. Indeed, when their ways split for the different lines, Jess nearly had a panic attack at thoughts of having to proceed on alone and deal with strangers and called out to Pellan.

Pellan left Marta with their luggage to talk steadily to Jess over the barricade: "Remember that you have done nothing wrong. These officials are bound to have to deal with people who were taken somewhere as babies and their paperwork was lost, if they ever even had any. Ask him how you go about getting a birth certificate once we are in Washington Territory. Tell him that you have three brothers there, if they need to send a telegraph to someone for proof of what you say. You're not lying. You are an intelligent, confident young woman. You can convince them that you are telling the truth. You can do this."

Jess smiled at him, less frantic now. Pellan smiled back, kissed her on the forehead, and spied a landmark sign where they agreed to meet once they got through their separate lines. Then he returned to Marta.

"Sometimes I forget how young she is. I guess she has never had to go anywhere alone."

"Other than between Calais and London. And she's not really alone now. She'll be fine."

Jessica had an easier time convincing the official of her situation than she anticipated. She told him that she believed that her brothers had a family Bible in Seattle with all their births recorded. He told her to take that to the territorial capitol in Olympia to have a birth certificate made, hopefully in the company of her brothers who could vouch for her. Jess felt proud of herself for handling this encounter well.

Pellan and Marta had an easy time of getting extended visas since Pellan pointed out the, by-then waiting Jessica as his fiancée and introduced Marta as their chaperone, stating that they were heading to Washington Territory so that he could meet his fiancée's brothers. He also obtained information on where to buy train tickets and change their English pounds to American currency.

So, they were admitted to the United States and bought tickets for a first-class railroad coach all the way to Sacramento, learning that they had three days in New York City before their train would depart for the west. They sent another telegram to Jeremy, advising of their progress and asking directions on what to do once they got to Sacramento.

Jeremy replied promptly to their hotel address-

I think there is a short rail from Sacramento to San Francisco.

In San Francisco book passage on a north-bound ship.

Capt Clancy on the Seamus O'Flynn makes a regular run to Seattle.

Or find a ship going to Vancouver and see if they will drop you off.

Safe Travels.

Jeremy

Jeremy had been slowly losing his mind in suspense for some months now. He knew that Julie's marriage and move to France was still a sore subject for Jason and he didn't want to be obnoxious, talking constantly about his excitement, so he kept his feelings to himself. He did initiate discussion with his brothers about where the visitors might stay while visiting. His own new cabin was unfurnished. The rental cabin was in poor condition due to rowdy tenants during the French trappers' rendezvous in the Spring. The "vacation cabin" was too remote. The brothers decided to let the visitors stay at Lottie's for a few days until they could learn their preferences and then figure things out.

Mostly Jeremy's mind raced with excitement over seeing Marta again. What could have changed that she was coming there? He knew there had to be some reason. And he knew that the main reason for the trip was that she was coming to see him.

Chapter 45: Cross-Country by Rail

Pellan felt a bit guilty at first, paying for a first-class coach for the cross-country train trip. That lasted less than two hours, however. He walked the length of the train for exercise and saw Second Class sitting on little benches in enclosed cabins and Coach sitting on bare benches without backs. He knew that he could not have endured to ride across the continent like that while he was still recovering his strength.

And he was recovering, slowly. By the time they had arrived in New York, the circles under his eyes and his pallor had disappeared. Traveling by train made him restless to move around, but he took that as a good sign. He enjoyed looking at the sights outside the windows, though he had to admit that railroad tracks were not put in the most scenic parts of the cities they passed.

Pellan and the girls worked out a system for sharing their private rail coach so that they had privacy for dressing. The girls got up first to use the washroom, then returned and woke Pellan. He carried his clothes to the washroom and took longer than he really needed to wash, shave, and dress, giving the girls privacy that they needed for dressing in the coach. He did become privy to their hairdressing activities and was thankful that he was a man and spared such ordeals.

He also laughed privately at himself for requesting that the girls to find unalluring night clothes for the trip. Jess had bought a man's over-sized flannel pajamas and adjusted them to fit her smaller waist, but Pellan somehow found them just insanely enticing. The first night she had taken off her robe to climb to her upper berth, he had immediately hidden his face in his Bible, half-laughing at himself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Having crocheted two potholders and a set of beer mats, Pellan was now learning to knit with a simple scarf. The three travelers chatted companionably while they worked on their projects. It was better than watching Nebraska outside the window, which seemed to go on for decades of monotony.

Breakfast was served to them in first class by the train porters. They then had two short stops a day for lunch and dinner, during which there was a mad dash by train passengers to buy food from vendors who had been eagerly awaiting their arrival. The three companions soon decided to coordinate their efforts to buy food on these stops to save time – one person getting all three main-course foods (like sandwiches), one all the drinks, one enough fruit, snacks, or cookies for all of them, if available. It was faster than each person shopping for themselves in the crowd.

Pellan came back inside the car one day, bearing their sandwiches and laughing.

"What?" Marta inquired, setting her armful of drinks on the table.

"They have 'working women' here." He nodded at a two-story building. "See there?"

Marta saw the women, hanging out of two upper windows, waving at passengers. "You're kidding! We only stop for thirty minutes."

"I doubt there's much foreplay involved."

"How did you notice that?"

"Another one was walking in the crowd and approached me. I must look like I have money and enough energy to produce and move on so she can hope to find a second client before the train departs. I must truly look better now than I did when we left England!" He barked a laugh.

"Look at that man right now!" exclaimed Marta. An overweight, middle-aged man was walking out of the building, arranging his clothes and looking overheated. "I can't believe it! And with the whole train looking on!"

Jess returned to their coach with fruit and cookies. "I got extra snacks to last us 'til dinner if the next stop is as late as it was last night." She saw Pellan and Marta snickering. "What?"

"Nothing," said Pellan.

"I'll tell you later," said Marta, rolling her eyes and thinking to herself, 'Pellan can be such a prude.'

They finally arrived in Sacramento and had to change trains for the short rail to San Francisco, riding in second class for that day trip. And then they made it to San Francisco one day in early August, finding it cold and foggy.

"I thought California was supposed to be warm," Pellan remarked to the porter. "Southern California is warm. Anything from here north is not," was the reply.

While the girls settled into their hotel room, Pellan strolled down to the harbor, asking for the Seamus O'Flynn. Dock workers knew Captain Clancy well, but said that they had not seen him for more than a week since he had sailed north. Pellan located a ship leaving in a few days for Vancouver and booked passage, then sent a final telegram to Jeremy with their progress and plans.

Chapter 46: Seattle at Last!

The three travelers didn't know it, but they sailed in far greater luxury on the ship heading to Vancouver than they would have on the Seamus O'Flynn. The voyage to Seattle still took a good week. Late one afternoon, they could feel the ship tacking to starboard; it then docked at Port Angeles on Puget Sound for the night and cast off at daybreak to cross the sound to Seattle.

Pellan packed up after their very early breakfast and spent most of the remaining time on deck, exulting in the surrounding scenery and the orcas swimming near the ship while they navigated the Sound to Seattle. A deckhand warned Pellan when they were drawing close and he went below to alert the girls, who were almost finished packing up.

They still had not come to the upper deck when the ship docked. Pellan looked at Seattle, which must have had heavy rain in the night, and he had to turn his back on the town to laugh privately. Marta came up to him, asking, "What's so funny? Why are we stopping here?"

"This is it. Seattle."

Marta looked blankly at the fog-shrouded, muddy square with its few buildings. "Oh."

"Jeremy said it was a mudhole."

"True."

Jessica emerged from below. Pellan, glad that he had recovered somewhat from laughing so that Jess wouldn't see it, informed her that they had arrived. She gazed at the town, displaying no surprise, then observed, "It looks like how Julie always described it – maybe bigger. There wasn't a church. I don't remember much at all, really."

Pellan asked a dock worker where they could rent rooms. He pointed out a building with a sign that read "Lottie's." Pellan tipped some workers to carry their trunks to Lottie's and their adventures in Seattle began.

Jeremy had spent some nights at the Bolt cabin in town, not wanting to miss the arrival of his visitors, but the previous afternoon he had gone to the camp to work for a while and calm his nerves and then he had spent the night there. He left camp that morning with an empty buckboard wagon to get supplies for the camp and was halfway to town when he heard the bell ring at Lottie's, announcing the arrival of a ship. He urged the horses to a faster trot. Perhaps their visitors had arrived….

Pellan and the girls entered Lottie's. A few men were eating at tables. Pellan saw an older woman at the bar with bottle-blonde hair and wondered if she might be Lottie. He approached her, followed by the girls. "Are you the proprietor? Lottie, perhaps?"

"Indeed, I am! Lottie Hatfield. How may I help you?" she said with a confident smile.

"We need two rooms: one for these ladies to share and another for myself."

"Certainly! How long will you be staying?"

"That's hard to say right now. We are friends of Jeremy Bolt and he may have made other arrangements for us."

"Oh! Are you the three friends from school that he mentioned?"

"Yes. That would be us!"

"Right this way."

The visitors and their baggage porters followed Lottie up the stairs. Pellan was pleased to see that the rooms to which they were led seemed clean, if not luxurious. His small room had a desk as well as a single bed, washstand, and chest-of-drawers. It overlooked the street – if that was the right term for the muddy square. The girls' larger room was across the hall, overlooking the back lot.

Lottie left them to settle in, saying, "I imagine that Jeremy will be checking on you soon. He's been asking every day." She went out on the balcony and rang the bell, announcing a ship in port – although their ship was readying to cast off at the moment.

It didn't take Pellan long to unpack and he went to the girls' room, remarking the copious mud and a need to wear practical attire. He also repeated their previous agreement about gradually telling Jeremy all the news of changes in their lives so that Pellan did not have to treat him for a heart attack. They had just begun to wonder how to go about finding the Bolts, when they heard some quick steps on the stairs, bounding up more than one step at a time.

"Did I hear an Irish accent?" Jeremy's face beamed at them from around the staircase, now sporting much longer and shaggier hair than he had worn in England when last they had seen him.

"Oh!" Pellan crossed the space between them with a few strides and clasped Jeremy in a bear-hug, both pounding each other's back. Jeremy looked up the few inches to Pellan's face from his own and said wryly, "I knew you'd turn out taller."

"It's the Irish."

Jeremy rolled his eyes, "The Irish. Of course."

Jessica moved close to Jeremy with a warm smile. "And Jess" – Jeremy hugged her – "You're all grown up – and I missed it," he said sadly.

"Just the awkward, boring parts."

"I doubt you had any of those. I was going to take you to your first dance."

"You were?" She looked coy. "Do they ever dance in Seattle?"

"We've been known to do that at times."

Jessica rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, flirtatiously waiting.

"OK, you've got an escort for your first dance here."

"Wonderful!"

At that moment, Pellan exclaimed excitedly: "Jess, you've got to see this! There is a balcony out here which has the most glorious view of the sun on all the mud! Come see! It's blindingly beautiful!" Pellan pulled Jess away with him, while grinning at Jeremy. Jess let herself be led away, laughing. They were giving Jeremy privacy to resume his relationship with Marta and he realized it.

Jeremy hesitated a moment before even turning to look at Marta, taking a deep breath. She had hung back in the doorway of her room, leaning against the frame. She was wearing blue (which she knew was his favorite color and which also flattered her blonde hair). His eyes began to fill with tears the instant he looked at her face. Then he spoke: "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Yet here we are." Marta smiled kindly with humor.

Jeremy took a few steps toward her, then stopped to look down at her. "When did you get so short?"

"I haven't grown a half-inch since the last time you saw me."

"This is the first time in my life that I've felt tall."

"You look plenty tall to me."

"Well, I'm the runt of my brothers at five-feet-nine."

He looked down at Marta and grimaced. "This will take some getting used to. Come here."

He grabbed her hand and led her to the settee in the girls' room, pulling her into a sitting position next to him. "That's more what I remember: looking you in the eye." His eyes traced over her face. "You're more beautiful than I remember."

"And more beaten up by life."

"Well, maybe – aren't we all? – not that it shows on you. I've been losing my mind for three months since I learned that you were coming here. And I have to ask: Has something changed that you are here?"

Marta sighed and looked away. "Well, yes." She recounted the story of the visit from the bobby, then looked at Jeremy with deep sorrow in her eyes. "I'm so sorry for what they did to you."

Jeremy winced. "Fritz. Well, I have to say that I figured that your father had something to do with it. Nothing else made any sense."

Marta looked down. "I'm ashamed of them – and I let them know it through Pellan's attorney! He wrote them a stern letter from me."

Jeremy inserted kindly, "I'm sure that your father was ambitious for you."

Marta scoffed, "My father's only ambitions are for himself. I have severed acquaintance with him for years, now formally so in that letter. I'm so furious with them for how they ruined your life."

"And by that you mean…?"

"You didn't finish school. And the horrible journey you had to get here. I've thought about you every day, prayed for you, hoped that you were alright…."

"Well, I almost finished school. Jason even had me take a test with the teacher here to prove that I could get a certificate; I passed easily. I know that I have as much or more education than many people here – and probably a better education – but I don't talk about that. If a man can read, write, and do basic arithmetic, that's all most people here need. Beyond that, it's about learning a trade and being able to work with people. I have people on two continents and – what? – three countries who care about me. I have a good job, own property, and, between my family, the property, and my job, I have something of a position in this town. Things could be a lot worse. What I didn't have was you. Every day since I left England has been like having to keep going with a gaping hole in my chest, knowing that every step I took was farther away from you. I've thought about you every day, wondered what you were doing, and hoped you were well…."

"I wish I could have come with you."

"Oh, I've been very thankful that you didn't! There were times that I could barely take care of myself and, if nothing more, I was glad that you weren't along to also be in danger. I've been hungry, cold, wet, filthy, and a few times I was worried that I wouldn't survive. But I did and everything has worked out for the best. Did you have a good trip here?"

"Better than yours by a long shot. I have your letters, you know."

"I hoped that you would get them eventually. I didn't dare write to you, although I wanted to. I wasn't sure where to write and I didn't want to risk someone else getting them or reading them. I knew that if I wrote to Julie, she would get them to you and Pellan eventually. And really – when I think back on my journey here, I've forgotten enough of the misery that it now seems like some kind of epic adventure. I know that it made a man of me, having to fend for myself most of the time. There were some good moments, too."

"Are you happy here?"

"Yes. I'm content. It is a rougher life than your life in England, I'm sure."

"We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Yes, we do. Let's start with this."

He took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly, then they both gave into more passion. After a moment, they paused in an embrace. Jeremy said over her shoulder. "Well, that much hasn't changed." Marta laughed and hugged him tighter, which he returned, face buried blissfully in her shoulder.

Pellan knocked on the open door shortly. "Have you two come up for air yet?" The relaxed smile on his face told Marta that Pellan had been a little worried about her reunion with Jeremy, but no longer. "What's on the agenda for today?"

Jeremy responded, "I can give you the grand tour. That will take about ten minutes – unless we go up to the logging camp."

Pellan responded, "Sounds good to me. And do you agree with me that the girls can change from their finery, now that you have seen them in all their feminine glory, and put on something that goes better with mud?"

"That's the second of innumerable 'mud' remarks, I assume. And I agree."

Chapter 47: Change of Plans

While the girls changed clothes, Pellan followed Jeremy downstairs. The other patrons had finished their meals and left, emptying the room. The tables had been neatly cleared. Jeremy offered Pellan coffee and he accepted. Jeremy went behind the bar to get cups. He pointed out hard-boiled eggs in a jar and also offered toast.

"You work here, do you?"

"Seems that way at times."

"What sort of place is this?" asked Pellan, looking around the room.

"Hmm...hotel. Boarding House. Pub. Fine dining. Meeting hall. Social hall. Smaller room through there for meetings or private dinners. Place to take a tub bath if you don't have a tub at home. Let's see…. Courthouse.

"Courthouse!"

"Yes, when the judge rides through. Um, hospital."

"Hospital?"

"Yes. We've had people passing through who got sick or injured and needed a place to stay while they recovered."

"Do you have a doctor here?"

"Yes, but she just has a small clinic and there are only two beds there. If someone is laid up for a while, it makes more sense to put them here where there's a kitchen and you don't have to carry their meals across the street in the rain. And one time we had something stupid happen with so many people injured that we filled all the beds upstairs and just started laying men out on the floor here."

"'Something stupid'?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

"I see. So, it's not a, um …"

"Bordello? No. Lottie's not that sort. And there are no bordellos in town. You'll have to go out of town for that, if you're interested."

"Ah, no. Well, I'm relieved."

"You don't think I'd put you and the girls up in a bordello, do you?"

"Well, you lived in one yourself, didn't you? 'Small room above a saloon'?"

"That was different."

"Mm-hm."

"So. What have you been doing?"

"A few odd jobs. Mostly trying to get out of school."

"School? All this time? Can't you pass English without me?"

"No," Pellan chuckled. "I think I can do okay with English at this point. It was, ah, medical school. Finally finished in May."

"Medical school? You're … a …. doctor?"

"Yeah!" Pellan beamed. "Licensed and everything!"

"Wow! I'm … impressed! That must have been a lot of work."

"It was. And the ironic thing is that two days after I took my licensing exam, I wound up in hospital, having my appendix out. Isn't that rich? A doctor who couldn't diagnose himself when he was coming down with appendicitis!"

"Appendicitis? Isn't that-?"

"Fatal? It can be – would have been in my case. All the blood, sweat, and tears of getting through university and medical school and I nearly cashed it all in before I even started using my education."

"Are you okay now?"

"I'm … getting there. Gradually. It's been slow, as they predicted that it would be. The surgeon said that my appendix was falling apart in his hand when he removed it."

With light steps on the stairs, the girls joined them at the table and Jeremy poured coffee for them as well.

Marta asked Jeremy, "Is the brand-new doctor telling you about his hospital adventure and saying that's he's all better now? Listen, I know how men are, especially you two. You—" to Jeremy – "need to know that he has two incisions on his abdomen and also internal stitches even if his external stitches have been removed. He should not be straining himself lifting heavy things or engaging in stupid competitions of any kind for another three months or more." (Pellan rolled his eyes, listening to Marta's protective speech.) "Promise me that you won't get him into trouble. He doesn't have the sense to take care of himself at times."

Jeremy said, "Of course. I promise."

"Changing the subject," Pellan intervened, "you should ask Marta what she's been doing."

Jeremy looked at Marta. "And what have you been doing?"

"I've completed two of the three years of medical school."

"You're going to be a doctor, too?"

"Yes. I think I'd really rather work with animals, but I got the impression that the old boys' network would never let me into veterinary school."

Pellan inserted, "She's also a licensed farrier and has put herself through school with that work."

Jeremy remarked, "That doesn't surprise me." He looked at Jess and asked, "Are you in medical school, too?"

Jess burst out laughing. "Certainly not! My job is to prop up these two who are."

Marta stated, "We all live together."

Jeremy was stunned. "You … live together?"

Pellan protested to Marta: "There! You'll give him a heart attack and I warned you about that." – to Jeremy – "It's really all quite innocent. My counselor, Mr. Baxter – remember him? – thought it would be a good investment for me to purchase a boarding house while I was in school in England and a small one was available. Marta started out managing it for me and then Jess moved to England and eventually took over the management. We've had male tenants on one wing with me and females on the other with them. No hanky-panky: that's Rule Number 1. We all cooperate to cook and clean. Jess sets up the schedules."

At that point, a boy about ten years old burst through the swinging doors into the saloon, asking "Where's Lottie?" Jeremy pointed at the door to the meeting room, where Lottie was working on her books in the back. The boy ran there. A few moments later, he burst back out of the door and ran out the front again. Lottie was close behind him, tossing the keys to Jeremy, saying, "Lock up for me, will you?"

Jeremy inquired, "Is it Maggie?"

Lottie said, "Yes" – and she was gone with her bag.

Jeremy turned back to his friends and sister, seeming preoccupied.

Marta asked, "What is it?"

Jeremy's expression suddenly changed. He said, "Maggie Shipman – that boy's stepmother. She's pregnant. Our doctor went to San Francisco to some kind of required medical training last week, thinking she would be back before Maggie would deliver. I haven't seen Maggie in over two months, myself. Dr. Wright put her on bed rest, I think. I'm not a doctor, but I've never seen a pregnant woman look like Maggie did even two months ago. She is huge … distended. I think Dr. Wright thought that she would have twins. But Dr. Wright still seemed worried about her somehow. That's all I know. Could you" – to Pellan – "help her, maybe?"

"What? Isn't there another doctor here who knows her?"

"Dr. Wright is our only doctor, and right now she's a thousand miles away at a conference. Can you do it? Have you delivered any babies?"

"Well, I've been present twice at childbirth."

Marta scoffed, "What Pellan is trying to say is that he was elbowed out of the way by the 'prima donna' doctor both times. The first time, Pellan got sick."

Pellan retorted, "I didn't get sick – just a little light-headed. There was more blood than I thought there would be. I was doing better the second time before Dr. Sturgeon arrived and took over, so I just observed. I think I could have done what he did. But twins…. I don't know…."

Jeremy stated, seriously, "This is the sort of situation where people around here die. Perhaps it is Providence that you arrived today, with Dr. Wright gone. If you can help Maggie, I'll take you there. If I were her husband, I would be so very grateful for any help you can give."

Pellan was momentarily speechless. Marta offered, "I'll go with you, if you wish. But you mustn't tell them where I have most of my experience with birthing."

Pellan nodded. "Let me get my bag." He went upstairs.

Marta watched him go, then confided to Jeremy, "I think Pellan will be a very good doctor. He graduated second in his class. He could probably have done okay with assisting a birth, but for the senior doctor interfering. If I'd been training him, I'd have let him try to do it himself and only taken over if he had trouble. But that wasn't the case."

Jeremy began locking doors of the saloon and putting the "Closed" sign out. Pellan came down the stairs, carrying his medical bag.

Marta addressed Pellan: "Okay, we go do this. You realize that she may die?"

"Yes." Pellan looked annoyed.

"And that either or both of the babies may die?"

"Yes."

"There will be blood."

"Yes," snapped Pellan, getting angry.

"And if you pass out on me, I will personally slap you back to consciousness and none too gently?"

"Agreed. Can we just get on with it?"

Jeremy drove the three newcomers to the Shipman cabin not too far away, using the wagon from the logging camp. An attractive young woman with auburn hair answered his knock at the door. Marta sensed a tension between them.

Jeremy said, "Uh, hi. These are some friends of mine from school: Pellan O'Sullivan. He's a doctor and might be able to help. And Marta Jäger, who also has medical training."

The young woman said tersely, "This way."

Pellan asked to speak to Maggie's husband first. The redhead pointed them toward a disheveled man sitting at the eating table, who looked like he might have been drinking.

Jeremy introduced Michael Shipman to Pellan and asked how he was holding up. He looked sorrowfully at Jeremy and said, "If this goes like with Matthew's mom…." Jeremy reassured him, introduced Pellan and Marta to him, and offered to take Matthew to school today so Michael could remain at the house. Michael agreed and Matthew gathered his books, while Pellan spoke with Michael briefly, obtaining permission to treat his wife.

Jeremy and Jess nodded good wishes to Pellan and Marta as they prepared to enter the bedroom, where they could all hear a woman crying out in pain.

Jeremy and Jess then drove Matthew Shipman to Miss Essie's one-room school.

Matthew asked them, "Is my stepmom going to be okay?"

Jeremy replied, "I'd be lying to you if I said she doesn't run a risk of dying. You know that from your own mom and it happened in my family, too. But I think it's very lucky that my friends with medical training arrived just in time to help, since Dr. Wright's not here right now."

Matthew nodded, a little tearful, adding, "Maybe I should have stayed at home with Dad…."

Jeremy said, "It could take a very long time. You might still get home before the babies are born. Being in school will take your mind off worrying in the meantime. Your dad will be okay." Matthew nodded as they entered the path to the school.

Jeremy beckoned to Miss Essie from the schoolhouse doorway and she came to the back to speak with him. He told her the situation and said that it might be well if she could keep Matthew with her until someone came to get him later. She agreed and returned to talk to Matthew about the day's lesson.

Christopher and Molly Pruitt spotted Jeremy from their desk and slipped out the door to greet him while Miss Essie was talking to Matthew.

"Hi, Jeremy. We miss seeing you," said Molly.

"I miss seeing you, too."

"Candy says we aren't to talk to you," added Christopher, looking troubled.

"She does what she thinks is best for you, but I'll always be your friend. You know that, don't you?"

Both children nodded. Jeremy gave them both a brief hug. "I've got to go now. You get back to your schoolwork."

As they left, Jessica gave Jeremy an inquiring look with raised eyebrow. He replied, "I'll tell you later. I've got to pick up some supplies for the camp at the store and then we'll head up to the camp."

Jeremy decided to detour by the old Bolt family cabin, even if it was a round-about way to the logging camp. They stopped and dismounted to go inside. Jess looked around at the cabin and remarked, "You know, I don't remember anything. I remember the people more."

They also visited their parents' graves across the road from the cabin. Jess remarked, "It seems more wooded than I remember."

"The trees have grown since you lived here. And no one's been living here for a long time to keep the land cleared off."

"I guess that's true."

"Jess, will you be offended if I warn you about something?"

"No. Warn away!"

"You're twenty-one now, right? You know that Dad left his property to his sons, but we think of you girls as having some right to it as well – at least if you're resident here. I suspect that there are men around here who may want to pay court to you if they think it might give them some opportunity to acquire any of our land."

"Ah! Really?" she grimaced, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, I think so."

"Well, if you're worried about who I might marry, you need to focus on Pellan. We got engaged earlier this summer."

"What?!"

Jess smiled smugly at him, her eyes laughing.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"You heard Pellan: He warned me and Marta about feeding you information too quickly and provoking your having a heart attack. We'd have gotten around to it if we hadn't all run out the door to start delivering babies."

Jeremy threw back his head, rolling his eyes skyward. "You'd give me an Irish brother-in-law."

"I didn't think you'd mind if he was Pellan."

"Not at this point, I guess. Has he improved? I know he has a temper."

"We all have tempers. And he has matured over the years. Our relationship has developed very slowly for some six years, four of them as pen-pals in different countries while he was in university."

"And you live together now? Jason will explode."

"Well, we live in the same building on different halls separated by the common area. It's actually a very good way to observe how someone behaves in their good days and bad days. Dating by going out somewhere, dressed in your best clothes and on your best behavior, is artificial, don't you think? I know Pellan quite well by now. He doesn't have any intolerable habits, to my mind."

"Well, let's go break the news to our brothers."

They got back in the buckboard and continued on to the logging camp.

Hitching the horses to a post near the "Main Office" tent, Jeremy stuck his head inside. Joshua was working on the books and only glanced up a second to see Jeremy's face, then returned to the ledger, remarking, "'Bout time you got back."

"I had a change of plans."

"Uh-huh."

"Would you like to greet our sister?"

Josh looked up and his eyes flew wide as Jeremy entered with Jessica standing just behind him. "Jess!" Josh jumped up and gave her a welcoming hug and smile.

"Where's Jason?"

"Up a tree on the ridge, I think. I thought there would be three visitors."

"That's part of the change in plans we can tell you about."

Chapter 48: The Marathon

Pellan and Marta entered the Shipmans' bedroom, where a young woman lay in the bed in obvious distress. Lottie, the redhead, and two other young women were present with her, lending support.

Pellan nodded a greeting and began, "Miss Lottie, Ladies: I am Pellan O'Sullivan. I just finished medical school this spring and got licensed as a doctor in England. And this is Marta Jäger, my friend and a third-year medical student, who has also been present at birth many times."

Lottie responded pleasantly, "Oh! Jeremy didn't tell me that you're a doctor."

"Well, he just learned it himself a short while ago. We spoke to Michael outside. We'll be glad to help in any way we can since your town doctor is away."

Maggie Shipman gave a sob of happiness and relief from her bed. "Oh, thank God! I'm so afraid!"

Pellan went to her side and took her hand. "This is your show, Mrs. Shipman. May I call you Maggie? You're the one who'll have to do the hard work. But we'll do all we can to make it a success."

They settled into the room, asking Maggie questions about what Dr. Wright had told her and examining her. Maggie's belly was indeed huge and distended, which was troubling.

Pellan asked Maggie if she had run footraces as a child. She said that she had with her two brothers.

"You know the difference between a marathon and a sprint? In a sprint, you throw all your energy into running a short distance to win. In a marathon, you have to budget your strength to run a much longer distance."

"Yes."

"Today is a marathon, not a sprint. I want you to save your strength unless I tell you otherwise, okay? I don't want you wearing yourself out too soon."

"I'll do whatever you say."

Marta asked Maggie if she, too, could examine her belly. She pushed and felt gently, all around. She said to Pellan, "Feel here." He did so. "Consider where her spine is." He realized that it was not what they were feeling, which felt rounded. He looked at Marta and mouthed the word "Three?" Marta shrugged and said, "Might be. It would explain the distention. We'll know after the first one is born."

Maggie asked anxiously, "What is it?"

Pellan explained, "This baby" – he placed his hand low on her abdomen – "is in position to be born. This one" – placing his hand higher up – "is facing the wrong way right now; we'll need to try to turn him when it's time. But there may be a third baby in behind these other two. We can't really feel much right now. After the first one is born, if there is a third baby, he will have more room to move and for us to feel – so you may be carrying triplets. That may be why you've grown so large."

"Triplets! How will I ever do it?" Maggie teared up again. There was a buzz of conversation among the other women as well.

"As I said, this is a marathon, not a sprint. You're young and healthy and those things are in your favor. You must pace yourself and use your strength wisely. We will coach you along, concentrating on one baby at a time. Just think about one baby at a time."

Marta was proud of Pellan. He conducted himself as if he had delivered a hundred babies – relaxed, confident, and good-humored. He used his Irish gift of gab and clan-chief skills at small talk to ease the tension in the room, chatting with Maggie and the assisting women between her contractions. During this conversation Pellan (and Marta) learned about the Bolts' venture to bring one hundred marriageable women "brides" from New Bedford, Massachusetts, to Seattle to marry, which was how Maggie had met Michael: a widower with a young son and one of the loggers at the Bolt camp.

"I'll never let Jeremy live this down," Pellan remarked to Marta.

Marta smiled in response, but also noted that the auburn-haired woman named Candy had very little to say and did not smile much or engage in the banter. Marta kept her counsel during this time as well.

The first baby – a girl – was born within an hour, just going with Maggie's natural contractions and resting as much as possible in between. Marta stayed near Maggie's head, verbally encouraging her. Pellan cut the cord and told the assisting women to write down the time of Baby One's birth. He also asked them to tie a string around the baby's ankle.

One woman, named Biddie, asked, "Why do we need to do that?" Pellan responded, "At least two of these babies are probably twins and we'll need to be able to tell them apart. Will someone also please go tell Michael about this baby – and show her to him, once she's cleaned up?"

The suspected third baby did begin to move at that point and Marta and Pellan exchanged a quiet glance of relief: he was alive, at least, and moving into a good position for birth.

That second child – a boy, smaller than the girl – was born within fifteen minutes. Pellan again directed them to note the time and tie a string of a different color on his ankle. "But can't we tell a boy and a girl apart?" giggled Biddie to general tittering. Pellan laughed with them and said, "Well, the next one is probably the twin of one of these, so we'll see which one."

Marta had been pushing in places on Maggie's belly, trying to turn the last baby … and it turned on its own!

"What a thoughtful child!" exclaimed Marta. "She's making things easier for her mother already!"

"Why do you say 'she'?" asked Maggie.

"She's about the same size of the first baby, who is a girl. I'm guessing this one is her twin."

The third birth proceeded, and the baby indeed turned out to be another girl – the predicted twin. There was much laughing and relief, praising and congratulating Maggie's strength and endurance.

"Congratulations, Doctor," Marta said quietly to Pellan, who was beaming with joy. "All your future deliveries will be downhill from this point, I imagine." Pellan agreed, "I certainly hope so!"

"Triplets born in Seattle!" The word spilled out all around town, someone even rode up to the logging camp with the news, since Michael had worked at the camp before Maggie was confined to the house and he had started to work at the closer location of the Stempel Lumber Mill.

Jeremy said to his brothers and Jess, "I guess we need to go help them celebrate. Dinner tonight at Lottie's? Seven o'clock?" His brothers agreed.

On their way back into town, Jess said to Jeremy, "Are you going to tell me now about those two children at the school?"

Jeremy sighed, "I have my own backstory here. I might as well tell all of you at the same time and not have to repeat it three times." "Very well," Jess said, agreeably.

Jess and Jeremy climbed the outside steps to the balcony of Lottie's and found Marta sitting in a chair in the late afternoon breeze.

"What's this we hear about triplets?" Jeremy asked.

Marta laughed happily. "That's what happened!"

Jess inquired, "How'd he do?"

"He did fine. People would never have guessed his lack of experience. He'll be a fine doctor; he already is."

Jess sighed with relief. "I'm so glad everything went well. Is 'the baby' down for a nap?"

"Yes: I insisted. He hasn't had such a strenuous day in months."

Jess smiled happily, "I'll go check on him." She slipped inside from the balcony.

Jeremy sat down beside Marta and asked, "What 'baby'?"

"Pellan."

"You call him that?"

"He started it himself early in his recuperation after his surgery, when he couldn't stay awake after lunch and had to start taking daily naps. I'm so glad that he had a good day today! That will help his confidence. Probably make him unbearable again."

"He never has lacked for confidence, has he?"

"Except when he didn't know English – and that just made him angry."

"Don't we know that!"

They exchanged a knowing glance, remembering the long-ago battle on the school playground.

"My brothers are coming into town for dinner with us tonight. Let me go make reservations with Lottie for the private room and I'll be back."

"Very well. I'm just settling my nerves here for a while. I'm so glad Maggie and the babies all lived. It could have easily been a massive tragedy."

Chapter 49: Family Dinner and a Walk

Jeremy went to the Bolt brothers' cabin in town around 6:15 in the evening to wash and change for dinner. His brothers arrived shortly to do the same. Then they went together to Lottie's, chatting briefly with others in the public saloon before making their way to the private dining room, with the table now set for six. Jeremy excused himself to go fetch their visitors upstairs.

Lottie remarked to Jason, as she helped set out drinks for their dinner, "What's this about you having a sister?"

"Actually, Lottie, we have three sisters – two more in France, I hear."

"Why didn't you ever mention them in all these years?"

"I was rather angry when they went away with Jeremy when they were all children and I haven't known until now that I would ever see them again. The oldest one, Julie, is married to a Frenchman and has two children. So."

Jeremy opened the door to the dining room and stepped back, allowing Lottie to leave and admitting Jessica and a tall, red-haired gentleman in a well-tailored suit followed by an attractive, petite blonde woman, wearing a navy-blue dress. Jess carried two slim parcels. She said, "Jason and Joshua, this is my fiancé, Doctor Pellan O'Sullivan. Pellan, my brothers, Jason and Joshua Bolt." They all shook hands.

Jason remarked, "So you're the famous doctor who delivered triplets here today?"

Pellan laughed, "I may be famous in Seattle, but nowhere else. And it was Maggie Shipman who delivered the triplets; I just coached."

Jeremy introduced Marta to his brothers next, Pellan adding that Marta's help was invaluable in the day's childbirth. "She was the one who located the third baby and coached Maggie along as well. I don't know that I could have done it without her help. She has completed two years of medical school and has one more to go."

Josh said to Marta, "How could you be so helpful today if you haven't finished medical school?"

Marta replied, "I've had a lot of experience – delivering horses, dogs, and other farm animals. Just don't tell anyone else!" They all laughed.

Jeremy said, "I'm sure there is no one in Seattle who knows as much about horses as Marta. You wondered where I learned to ride bareback? She taught me everything I know about riding when we were kids."

Marta explained, "I grew up on a horse farm and I've worked with sheep, cattle, and other animals, too. I have a lot of experience in assisting with multiple births – which came in handy today."

Jess gave a package to Jason and Josh, saying, "I brought you these to hang on your wall, maybe." Enclosed were beautiful, framed photographs of the Du Saule family when Lucie was an infant and one of the three Bolt sisters together. Jason and Josh admired the photos, remarking on the extraordinary quality of the images.

Pellan smiled tightly and said, "The photographer's name is Gaston Rameau. He has great talent as an artist and photographer."

Jess grinned impishly at Pellan and remarked, "That was generous of you."

How so?" Jeremy inquired.

Jess explained, "Gaston Rameau is in love with Pellan's sister, Siobhan."

Jeremy grinned impishly and inquired, "Is she as cute as she used to be?"

Pellan gave him a baleful glare while Marta supplied the answer, "She has become an extraordinary beauty. Smart, too. She has a good head for math and lace-making, which are somewhat related, I think. She works part-time for Philippe at the bank, doing bookkeeping."

Jess added, "Philippe used to have her working a window with bank customers, but it caused long lines with all the men lined up at her window."

Pellan looked pained.

Jeremy teased him, "Having such a beautiful sister must be a huge responsibility – to sort out all those men."

Jess laughed and pointed out, "It has been largely Philippe's responsibility to sort out Siobhan's admirers since Siobhan has been living in Calais since she was – what? – twelve? – while Pellan has been in school in Ireland and England. We called it 'Philippe's Finishing School' for we young ladies who have lived at their home in France during our teenage years."

Josh looked at Jason and observed, "Think of us having such refined sisters and a banker for a brother-in-law, while we here just do the cash-swap!"

Pellan inquired, "What's that?"

Josh continued, "Oh, we joke that there is only a finite amount of cash in the whole town of Seattle. Every time anyone gets paid, all people and businesses in town just exchange the same amount of cash and start over again with the next month's work and purchases. There's also a lot of bartering that goes on here as well."

"There's no bank here?" asked Pellan, surprised. "I may run out of cash!"

"Oh, we'll get you to a bank before you have to go begging. We have accounts in Tacoma and Olympia," Jeremy stated.

"Olympia!" cried Jess. "I need to go there to get a birth certificate made – so there won't be another issue with the port authorities when we go back!"

"We can do that at the same time," said Jeremy. "We just need to find a ship heading there to save time."

"How far is it?" asked Pellan.

"About sixty miles."

"Sixty miles!" exclaimed Pellan.

"Yes. Welcome to the American West … also without good roads. But the mud softens your fall from your horse when that happens, so be grateful."

Dinner was animated and plans were made for Pellan and Marta to come with Jess to the logging camp the next day for lunch. After dinner, Jason and Joshua returned to the logging camp. Jeremy stayed on with Jess and his old friends, catching up.

"What's this I hear about your bringing 'the Brides' here?" Pellan eventually asked, with a sly look.

Jeremy sighed, briefly resting his head in his hands, running his hands through his shaggy hair. He said, "I might as well tell you. You're going to find it out anyway, and I'd rather you'd hear it from me first." He glanced at Jess. "Jess saw part of the fall-out earlier today. I did go with my brothers to bring one hundred marriageable women here from New Bedford, Massachusetts, three years or so ago. And I didn't anticipate that it would affect me. At the same time, I was so sure that I would never see Marta again and knew I couldn't return to England, so I was trying to move forward here the best way I could figure. I got involved with one of the Brides – sort of their leader, actually – and eventually got engaged to her after a year or so. Her little brother and sister had just arrived here, and then we got word almost immediately that her mother had died in New Bedford. So, we waited another year to let the kids settle in to this new place before setting a marriage date. She broke up with me in March. We had planned to marry in April."

"She's Candy, isn't she?" asked Marta.

"Who told you?"

"No one told me; I just noticed tension between you two when she opened the door at the Shipmans' home this morning. And she had little to say the whole time that Pellan and I were there, but I thought she was listening to everything anyone said, especially when the others rather gingerly told the story of the Brides coming here. Why did she break up with you?"

"Long story: She found out that I'm Catholic when a new preacher came to our town church in March. I walked out of the church after the preacher started condemning Catholics. It was a public, embarrassing scene and I thought she was angry about that, but she wanted me to convert to being a Presbyterian which I just can't do and I told her so. She gave me back the ring and … that was that."

The three expressed shock and sympathy for Jeremy, then wandered out with him toward Lovers' Lagoon, where Seattle couples went sparking. Jeremy pointed out a nice path to Pellan and Jess, then strolled farther on with Marta. They found a suitable boulder and sat, looking out over Puget Sound in the moonlight. "Do you still have feelings for Candy?" Marta asked.

"'Feelings'. You can't be involved with someone for over three years and engaged and not have feelings. There's much about her that I respect and admire, but our romance is good and dead at this point, if that is what you mean. I was pretty humiliated by her rejection and I know people all over town have been gossiping about us, which is awkward in a town this size. I sold the ring to a logger heading out of town to marry someone else. I'm done; it's over."

"Mmm. I'm sorry you've suffered."

Marta laid her head against his shoulder for a moment. She then lifted her head and smiled impishly up at him: "But I'm not sorry you broke up!"

"Neither am I – now. Couldn't believe it at the time, though. I was devastated and I wondered why that would happen – why things never seem to work out for me with women. And then I got your telegram…"

"…asking if you were still single. Pellan insisted that I find out before coming here."

"Which was kind – in more ways than one – and I appreciate it. And it gave me some hope again."

They settled in to kissing and snuggling. Jeremy held Marta close to him, then he remembered. He reached into his pocket and drew out the gold crucifix. "Do you want it back?"

Marta smiled fondly upon seeing it, touching it in the moonlight. "It was a gift, if you want to keep it."

"I want you to know that I hid it in the waistband of my trousers for months until I got to Seattle. I was afraid I would lose it or someone would rob me if I wore it. But I could feel it there and it comforted me on that trip more than you know. It wasn't even that it's gold; it was just that it was some tangible evidence that I had known you, that you existed, that I hadn't gone mad or imagined my days with you. And now – it feels like we've never been apart. Why does everything always feel so entirely natural with you? It has from the very beginning, from the first day you came to the English academy."

"We belong together."

"I think you're right."

Chapter 50: Fancy

The next day, Jeremy drove Pellan, Marta, and Jess to the logging camp in the morning. Marta was immediately intrigued to a young black gelding in a pen at the camp. "What's this?"

"A mistake. Our camp 'pet', I guess you could call him," said Jeremy. "We bought him in with a lot of horses a few months back. Can't get a bit in his mouth or do anything with him. He won't let us ride him – won't let a lot of us even get near him. I've been able to get as close to him as anyone. He'll let me brush him and lead him by the halter; that's about it. I haven't been able to check his hooves – and certainly not ridden him."

"Hmm," replied Marta. "He looks healthy and well-fed."

"That's all we can do – feed him. And ponder what to do with him, since he's not good for anything else around here and we can't even think of selling him since we can't saddle him. He's getting a bit fat with so little exercise. Maybe we'll just put him in the stew some day!

"No! He's too handsome for that!"

"Now you're worrying me – getting that look in your eye."

"Oh, you know I love a challenge."

"He can be dangerous, we've found. Some are calling him 'Diablo.'"

"Naming a horse 'The Devil' just becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; you know that. Some male horses just do better with women for some unknown reason. A man may have abused him in the past. Perhaps you all smell dangerous to him."

"Thanks a lot. Just be very careful."

"Always am."

Marta began to look the horse over, appraisingly.

One of two newly-hired loggers approached Pellan that same day:

"You the new doctor? Can me and my friend ask you about something? We ain't goin' to that lady-doctor."

"Of course. Do we need privacy? Is there a tent we could use?"

Jason heard the conversation and pointed out a small tent a distance away, currently unused. While Pellan and the men walked in that direction, Josh remarked to Jason, "You know, if Dr. Wright and Pellan are willing, while he's here, maybe we could have Pellan come up one day a week or so to hold a 'clinic' for just such a situation. There are bound to be men here like Martin who are too embarrassed to go to Dr. Wright about some things."

"Good idea. But those two are trouble. They've only been here two weeks and seem like they are looking to create problems. I don't really trust Martin or Frank."

"I agree. We need to keep an eye on them."

Pellan returned a few minutes later and said to Jason, "Can I borrow a horse? I need to go in town for something and I'll be right back. I didn't know I'd be doing any doctoring here or I would have brought my bag."

Jason replied, "If you need medications, Dr. Wright left a key with me during her absence. Our loggers and the mill workers tend to be her frequent customers." He gave Pellan a key to Dr. Wright's clinic and loaned him a horse.

Pellan opened the door to Dr. Wright's clinic, pleased to find it clean, neat, and orderly. He took time to make mental note of her stock of medications, filling a bottle with what he sought, cleaning up after himself, and then returned to the camp and to his patients of the morning.

At lunch, Jason inquired about Pellan's new patients' problem. Pellan replied, "I don't think I should discuss that with anyone else except Dr. Wright when she returns." "Fair enough," said Jason.

By lunch time, Marta had gone into the pen with the gelding and been able to pet and brush him. There had been no attempt on the horse's part to misbehave or be aggressive or skittish. She had begged a carrot and some sugar from the camp cook to give to the horse.

"Making him fatter?" accused Jeremy.

"Not much – and with a goal in mind," she grinned.

The next day Marta and Jess came up to the camp in late morning, driving themselves in a small carriage from the livery now that they had learned where the camp was located. Pellan had gone to check on the triplets and was supposed to join them for lunch. They arrived at the camp office tent, where Joshua was again working on the books.

"Good morning! Where's Jeremy?"

"Up a tree, I think."

Sure enough, Jeremy was topping a hugely tall tree. Both women stared in horror. Marta turned away, whispering to Jess, "Tell me I didn't see that."

Jason walked up and overheard them, saying, "But you did! It's glorious up there! Such a view all around! But it's best that you not be calling up to him and let him concentrate on what he's doing."

"I think I'll go see your pet horse. Try to think of a new name for him." 'Anything to keep my mind off what Jeremy is doing,' added Marta to herself.

Marta continued to work with the horse that morning. He readily allowed her to examine his hooves; they could use new shoes, she noted without surprise. She could not help glancing up at Jeremy every now and then, shuddering and looking away. Toward lunchtime he began to descend the tree using a heavy belt and spikes on his boots. Marta and Jess couldn't believe the fitness that a man needed to do that work – and strong nerves!

"Hi!" Jeremy greeted the girls, jumping down the last few feet and glowing with the exertion of his descent as he removed his boot spikes.

"I don't want to discuss what you were just doing," said Marta.

"Just part of the job," said Jeremy.

"Your pet here could use new shoes."

"You want the job, Miss Farrier? You're the only one who's seen his hooves."

"Will do."

At lunch Jess worried, "I wonder where Pellan is? He talked like he would arrive here well before lunch."

"Maybe he was called to some emergency," said Jeremy. "It's really a relief to have him around with Dr. Wright gone."

That was indeed what had happened: Pellan was just leaving the Shipmans' home, thinking them very fortunate to have such a bevy of help from The Brides, when a man galloped up and asked him to come to the lumber mill, stating that a man had cut his finger off on a saw. Pellan examined the wound and found that there was nothing to be done to save half of the finger. He told the mill workers to get him drunk as an anesthetic and went to get some tools from his room at Lottie's, returning to remove scraps of the finger, cauterize it, and sew up the wound.

Aaron Stempel, the mill owner, paid Pellan $10 in cash for the call and thanked him generously. Pellan wondered if this would interfere with the town's "cash-swap", as Josh had termed it. He had become a new wage earner in the town economy, it seemed.

Pellan arrived at the logging camp well after lunch and told the girls how his morning had gone. Jess was horrified that Pellan had had to do an amputation. "He'd amputated it himself," Pellan clarified, "I just cleaned it up and put in a few stitches." Pellan looked around at the logging operation and remarked, "I'm beginning to think that all a doctor needs to do to find work in this town is to come either here or the mill and just wait until something happens."

"Which we always hope it won't," added Jason. He then shared Josh's idea of a weekly camp clinic with Pellan, who agreed conditionally, depending on what Dr. Wright would say when she returned.

The next day, Marta was able to successfully give the pet horse a new set of shoes without any trouble at all. Jason and Josh were amazed at Marta's success in working with him when no one else could. Then, just after lunch, there was a sudden shout and a thunder of hooves and here came the black gelding at a gallop, heading out of camp! In an instant, Marta tensed and grabbed his halter, swinging herself up on his back at the same instant that Jeremy shouted, "No! Oh, my God!" Jeremy grabbed for the reins of his own horse, then followed Marta astride the fleeing gelding.

Pellan asked if he could borrow a horse again, mounted, and directed Jess to hand him his bag. "I'll follow to see if I need to patch up one or all of them. Not that I know that much about horses." Off he rode.

Jason and Josh also mounted horses and followed, but not before asking foreman Corky McCormick how the gelding had gotten out of his pen. "I think I saw those two new guys around the pen just before it happened," said Corky.

Marta clung to the gelding's halter and mane at first, knowing that after a while (probably sooner rather than later, due to his lack of exercise), the gelding would slow down. She could hear hooves behind them and suspected that it was Jeremy in pursuit. She heard him shout, "Go left at the fork!" They came to that fork; Marta pulled the horse's mane to the left and got him to turn. She raised her right hand to brush back her flying hair and noticed that the horse tried to head right; she hastily put her hand down. Had this horse been trained to hand signals?

The trail to the left led down into a small, flat clearing – somewhat rounded and bordered by the river and the hillside. Jeremy had slowed. Marta called over her shoulder, "Stay back for a while." She experimented with the gelding in the clearing, raising her hands, lowering them, nudging with her knees, one side, the other. The horse was indeed trained to hand and knee signals! He would circle one way, then the other. She put one hand up over her head: the horse whirled tightly around; the same with the other hand, whirling in the other direction. She leaned forward to hug his neck and the horse bent into a bow, one front leg extended. "Aren't you a fancy boy!" she exclaimed, affectionately.

"How are you controlling him?" Jeremy asked from above, watching from the trail a little way up the hillside.

"He's been trained with hand and leg signals. He may never have had a bit in his mouth. It's just a matter of figuring out what he's learned. Perhaps he was a show horse or owned by someone without full use of their arms. Okay, come down here at a very slow walk. Is your horse a female?"

"Yes."

Jeremy complied. They let both horses graze on the vegetation for a while, resting them … and themselves.

"You scared the shit out of me."

Marta wrinkled her nose. "I guess you'll need to go home and change."

"Very funny."

"You know I'm not easily thrown. You didn't want to lose him, did you?"

"If it came to losing you in a fall over this idiocy, losing him would be fine with me. I just got you back." Jeremy's eyes filled with tears.

Marta smiled at him reassuringly. "Okay, I'm going to try to walk him back to the camp. I want you to walk your mount slightly behind. We will go very slowly. I'm having to be careful to not signal something accidentally and cause him to run again."

At the top of the hill, Jason, Josh, and Pellan sat on their horses and watched the activity in the clearing below in amazement. Then Marta and Jeremy left the clearing and began to slowly climb the hill, seeming in full control of the gelding. "Please fall in behind us," said Marta as they crested the hill and passed them. "I'm going to call him 'Fancy,'" she said, looking back at them with a brilliant smile.

Once back in the camp, Marta rewarded Fancy's placid return and their first successful ride with three apples and a brushing while Jeremy looked on from the fence.

"You're going to spoil him."

"I'm going to take him out again in a few hours."

"I know I can't stop you. Just let me ride with you."

A short distance away, Martin sneered to Frank and the other loggers, "It's a good thing that little woman didn't get herself kilt. Women don't belong around horses."

Jason observed, "She's done more with him in a few days than any of us have been able to do in months."

That same day Jason hired Marta to be the camp farrier for the foreseeable future: "Since you've been coming here to work with, ah, Fancy, we might as well make it worth your time. Thank you!"

This did not set well with Martin and Frank.

Chapter 51: Rearrangements

The Bolt Brothers offered their visitors various long-term housing options since they were staying for some months. Jess and Marta chose to move into the Bolt cabin in town. Pellan stayed on at Lottie's. He offered to tune Lottie's piano one day and she discovered that he could play – well! She then offered him free room and board in exchange for a few hours of piano-playing entertainment for patrons in the evenings, which seemed to him more like recreation.

About ten days after they had arrived in Seattle, Pellan failed to show up at the Bolt cabin for his new routine of breakfast there with the girls. Jess went to Lottie's to see if he was alright or might have been called out. His door was locked and no one answered her knock. Lottie said that she hadn't seen Pellan either and gave Jess the spare key to his room.

Knocking again without a reply, Jess unlocked the door and found Pellan sound asleep at nine-thirty in the morning! She woke him up with concern. He was groggy, but soon realized that he had slept past breakfast.

"I stayed awake until midnight, reading – which I shouldn't have done. At 2:30, a man came pounding on my door, asking me to come see his son. I threw on some clothes and went with him. It was asthma; I made an onion poultice until it broke up. Got back here about 5:15. Some men were already heading to work on the fishing boats. Ugh. I just fell in bed and passed out. I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who's sorry – for waking you after all that. We still have food left from breakfast, if you want it. Or we can serve it for lunch."

"Let me clean up and I'll be there in a half-hour or so."

Jessica left and Pellan washed, shaved, and put on fresh clothes. He heard Lottie ring the bell again, announcing the arrival of a ship, and glanced out his window to see a well-dressed woman unlocking the clinic door across the street. 'That must be Doctor Wright,' he thought. He grabbed some papers off of his desk and headed out the door, toward the clinic. He knocked on the door and entered at her invitation. He greeted her: "Good morning! Would you be Doctor Wright?"

"I am! Good morning to you!"

"My name is Pellan O'Sullivan. I'm an old school friend of Jeremy Bolt."

"Oh, yes! Jeremy told me that he had some old friends coming to visit."

"Yes. What he didn't know to tell you is that I am a physician myself – well, just barely. I graduated from medical school in London in May."

"Oh, very good! Congratulations!"

"Thank you. And since we arrived here, there were some things that came up that I was asked to handle in your absence. I wrote them up for you, so that you can add them to your records."

He handed her the sheaf of papers.

"Oh, my! So much? I had hoped that things would be quiet while I was away. Come sit down while I look at these."

They took seats on either side of her desk.

"Maggie had triplets! I can't believe it!"

"Yes. Well, I couldn't either. Two girls and a boy. The boy was smaller, so I told Maggie to always give him the breast to try to build up his weight. I advised them to get a cow to help with feeding the girls."

"I concur. Let's see…. Two cases of venereal disease at the logging camp? Who?"

"Two new employees. Not much to do for that but treat symptoms."

"An amputation at the mill?!"

"Well, it was half of his index finger. He'd pretty much amputated it himself; I just cleaned it up and put in stitches. He's healing."

"Ronnie had another asthma attack."

"Yes, last night. I used an onion poultice."

"Poor boy. I wish there was some medication for it."

"I hope you didn't mind that I treated all these cases. You can take over now. Here's your spare key that Jason loaned me."

"Oh, not at all! I'm very grateful that you were here during all this when I wasn't – especially for Maggie. Would you like to go with me when I check in on them?"

"If you wish. Have you had breakfast? Or lunch? I haven't had breakfast, actually, because of that call with Ronnie. Would you like to go with me to the Bolt cabin and meet the rest of us visitors?"

Dr. Wright agreed and met Marta and Jess at the cabin. Before they imagined that it could happen, Dr. Wright offered to involve both Pellan and Marta in internship-type work while they were resident in Seattle and write it up for them to take back with them when they returned to school in England. She also felt that Pellan should be registered as a physician working in Washington Territory at least with a temporary license.

So, in a few days, they all journeyed by boat to the territorial capital of Olympia for that purpose and to get Jessica a birth certificate, taking the Bolt family Bible and her three brothers along to vouch for her identity. While they were at it, the Bolt brothers also obtained birth certificates, since they might also need them someday, and had a photograph made of the three of them to send to Julie and Jenny in France. The visitors thought that Olympia seemed like quite a lively, large town and laughed at themselves for having acclimated already to Seattle's tiny rustic situation.

Chapter 52: A Crisis

Marta went to the logging camp every day, continuing to work with Fancy and doing any needed farrier work on the camp horses. She finally felt that she had discovered all the signals that Fancy had been taught. She rode him out on trails with Jeremy alongside every day, but one day he was unavailable (up a tree doing topping, which Marta couldn't bear to watch), so Marta rode Fancy out by herself.

On her way back to the camp, Martin and Frank suddenly stepped into the path from the bushes alongside the trail, blocking Fancy. Fancy stopped so fast that Marta was almost unseated.

"You think you're somethin', don't you? You don't seem to know a woman's place. I think you need to be shown."

"Let me pass."

Frank and Martin approached on either side of Fancy, intending to pull Marta off. Fancy did not like this situation any more than Marta did and seemed to sense the men's ill intent. He reared up so suddenly that Marta had to grab for his mane, striking out at Martin with his hooves, and then taking off at a full gallop when Martin cringed back. Marta did not restrain Fancy and they rode hard into the camp, where Josh came out of the office tent in time to see their pounding arrival, Marta looking pale.

"What's the matter?"

"Frank and Martin accosted me on the trail and tried to pull me off Fancy. Fancy struck out at Martin and ran back here without my even directing him to do so. Very protective!" She gave the horse a loving pat on the neck.

"They're gone from here today."

Josh went up the hill to find Jason and they came back shortly. They fired Frank and Martin that afternoon and dismissed them from the camp, telling Marta to remain in camp until someone could go to town with her and be certain that the men were gone and would bother her no more. Jeremy climbed down from the tree to hear of the crisis a little later, asking Marta, "How many more heart attacks am I going to have with you around?"

Jeremy rode back into town with Marta later in the afternoon, both unusually quiet. Marta asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm not the one who was accosted today. We should never have hired those guys. I'm sorry."

"Hopefully they're gone now."

"I'm glad that Fancy protected you, too. Never would have guessed he had it in him."

"See what carrots, apples, and sugar cubes can do."

After another minute, Jeremy said, "I want to show you something." He headed off on a side path; Marta followed on Fancy. After a while, they came to a large clearing and a good-sized cabin. Jeremy dismounted and tied his horse to a tree; Marta did the same with Fancy.

Jeremy opened the door to the cabin and stepped back for Marta to enter. It was spacious and empty of furniture.

"It smells new."

"It is."

"It's rather large for a cabin, isn't it?"

"I thought there would be four people living here to start with when I designed it."

"You? This is yours?"

"Yes. My brothers and I built it earlier this year when I thought I was going to be marrying Candy this spring. I never got around to furnishing it."

Jeremy was even more privately grateful that Candy had removed the curtains she had made for the windows. "You see," Jeremy continued, "this is about the best that I can do to provide a home here. Do you think you could stand to live here? I know it's not about to be anything like how you were raised."

Marta looked steadily at him. "What are you saying?"

"I need to know if you can tolerate this before I ask you to marry me."

"Oh, Jeremy! It's beautiful – just perfect!"

"Then will you marry me?"

"Of course, I will!" They embraced, full of joy.

Jeremy continued to show Marta around the empty cabin: the large loft for storage and for boys, the small room off of the main bedroom, intended as a nursery for a very young child. Three more bedrooms downstairs for girls or guests, plus the main living area. He talked about the light exposure, heat from the stove, the water that he would pipe from the creek into the kitchen sink.

"Of course, there'll be more outbuildings. I've only dug the outhouse at present."

"Well, first things first!"

Marta was pleased and Jeremy was pleased that Marta was pleased.

Back at the Bolt cabin with Jess, Marta told Jess that Jeremy had gone on to Lottie's to see Pellan and get a table for them all for dinner tonight. She told Jess about the mishap with the two men.

"Why were you so late getting back? I'd have run all the way home screaming if it had happened to me."

"Jeremy took me to see our cabin."

"Your – Wait! What?"

Marta laughed and told her about the cabin and the proposal. Jess laughed, hugged her, and said, "I'm so happy for you both and so glad that this trip has a happy ending!"

Chapter 53: Jasper

Pellan became popular in Seattle from the time of the Shipman triplets' birth. His piano-playing at Lottie's in the evening helped him to meet more citizens of Seattle. He knew every Irish song there was and took requests if he knew a tune. He could often pick up an accompaniment if someone could sing an unknown song for him. ("Know nine chords and you can play almost anything around here," advised Jeremy.) Pellan knew that many Irish folk had immigrated to the States, but was still surprised that there were so many people on the west side of the continent who had Irish ancestry. When Dr. Wright returned, Captain Clancy came back to Seattle as well and was enthralled to find a true Irishman in town and at Lottie's piano every night.

On weekends, some of the local men would form an impromptu band at Lottie's. Pellan was quickly adopted into that group as pianist. Jeremy played guitar. One night, an old man – one of the loggers – requested to sing a song and, the tune being simple and predictable, Pellan played along with the others to accompany him. The old man (Jasper Daniels) sang of a lost love who died in her youth and was buried to be 'a flower' in the wild woods. Pellan found this image disturbing and maudlin and rolled his eyes incredulously at an angle which only Jeremy could see. Jeremy leaned over, still playing, and whispered to Pellan, "It's true. It's Jasper's story; he wrote this song. He's never married since she died." Pellan instantly felt remorse for his attitude and sorry for the old man.

A few weeks later, Pellan was tidying up from his weekly clinic at the logging camp when he heard a shout: Jasper Daniels had suddenly collapsed. Pellan ran to those around him and commanded, "Let me." The other men backed away to allow Pellan access. Pellan worked vigorously over Jasper for several minutes, but there was no response. "He's gone," Pellan finally admitted, sitting back on his heels in defeat. He seemed to Jeremy to be as grieved as the others, who had known Jasper far longer.

When Jasper's body was laid out in his coffin, Pellan brought a rolled-up piece of paper and pushed it into Jasper's cold hand. "It's the lyrics to his song," he explained to Jeremy.

Chapter 54: Log-Rolling Lesson

Toward the end of October, the loggers in the camp had try-outs for the upcoming competition with the loggers from Tacoma. Pellan and the girls went to the camp one unusually warm afternoon to watch the log-rolling competition at Jeremy's invitation. Pellan was very impressed as Jeremy eliminated one logger after another during the competition and was, unsurprisingly, declared the local champion to represent the Bolt camp again in the competition with Tacoma.

Pellan requested, "Would you teach me to do that?"

"Are you okay with swimming now?"

"I think so."

Pellan took off his shoes and shirt.

Marta warned, "You idiot! You'll get soaked."

"Oh, I know. I just want to try it. It's a warm day; be nice to have a swim."

"Mind your scars! You do not want me doing a hernia surgery on you."

"Something we can both agree on."

Jeremy had come to shore from off his wet log for a moment and removed his boots. "Here, I'll go barefoot, too. That will make us more evenly matched, plus I'm a bit tired." He eyed Pellan's still-red horizontal scar under his ribcage. "What happened there?"

"It's part of my appendectomy."

"I thought the appendix is lower down."

"It is; this is part of how they got it out. Details later if you want them!"

"I can wait for that. You're okay with swimming? The water's cold."

"Can't be any worse than the North Atlantic. Did I tell you that I eventually jumped in The Wormhole on Inis Mór?"

"No! Were you drunk?"

"I was properly insulated," Pellan stated solemnly.

Jeremy led Pellan out gingerly onto the wet logs. There were three loggers swimming near the big log being used for the day's competition.

"Why are they there?" Pellan asked.

"For safety. And they're coming for me eventually. It's traditional at the end of a competition to dunk the winner."

Jeremy gave Pellan a beginner-level lesson in log-rolling, which did not last long once Pellan attempted to increase the speed. He fell well clear of the logs and gasped at the temperature of the water.

"Are you OK?" asked Jeremy.

"Yeah, it feels good – after the initial shock!"

The competition and Pellan's lesson being over, the swimming loggers laughed and began to close in on Jeremy, still on his log, for the traditional soaking of the champion after jostling him off the log.

Dripping and laughing, Pellan, Jeremy, and the three other loggers came onto the shore and were offered towels and congratulations.

Jeremy grinned at Marta, "No hug for the champion?" She smiled coyly – and flung herself into his wet arms.

Chapter 55: First Thanksgiving

When late November came, Pellan and Marta encountered preparations for their first American Thanksgiving. Jeremy asked Pellan to go with him to hunt for turkeys.

Pellan was excited. He had recovered from his surgery completely by this time and was feeling well again. He chattered as they walked out of town toward a place where Jeremy thought prospects were good for finding turkeys.

Eventually Jeremy said, "Pellan, I know that you're excited to be hunting and probably away from the women for a change, but while we are hoping to find some turkeys, there are animals out here who'd probably be equally happy to make a meal of us. This isn't some game park in Europe."

"What kind of animals?" Pellan asked, turning a little pale.

"I hope that the bears are going into hibernation about now, though it's possible that they haven't. There are mountain lions, lynx, wild boar, maybe even an elk in rut – and they're dangerous this time of year. We need to be quiet and alert – and not warn away the turkeys, either!"

Pellan instantly changed his behavior and became hypervigilant, which Jeremy found amusing. And they were lucky to find turkeys without being found first by something bigger and more dangerous, going home with three.

On Thanksgiving Day there was a community meal like Pellan and Marta had never seen. A huge table was made out of planks and sawhorses in the town square after the worship service, which had been held outside the church because of the crowd. It was an abnormally dry day and Pellan had never seen so much food in one place in his life.

After the first general indulgence, he and Jeremy wandered along the table, taking some second helpings. Pellan removed the last drumstick of fried chicken from a blue platter and took a bite.

"Oh, you've done it now."

"Done what?" asked Pellan, chewing.

"Taken the last piece of chicken off that plate."

"Won't whoever washes it be grateful that there's not some annoying bit left over to store? Look at all these plates with just one serving left!"

"Well, see, that's the point. We have a tradition here that whoever takes the last piece of something on a plate has to kiss the cook."

Pellan stopped dead and turned pale. "Maybe no one noticed," he said, hopefully.

"Oh, they've noticed alright. This is high sport here. We don't get a lot of fancy entertainment, you know. Have to make our own fun."

"Well, who knows whose plate that is?"

"We'll just ask."

Jeremy immediately called out to the Brides standing nearby: "Who made the fried chicken on this blue platter?" "Biddie" came the tittering reply from several voices.

Jeremy turned back to Pellan. "Biddie Kloom."

Pellan had met the giggling, ever-flirtatious Biddie Kloom at the Shipman home the day the triplets were born. He closed his eyes briefly. He then said to Jeremy, "Will you go apologize to Jess for what I'm about to do? And tell her that I will eat the last piece of whatever is left that she made, even if I burst."

Then Pellan went looking for Biddie, who was, indeed, expecting him, blushing and giggling.

"Is it true that you made that most excellent fried chicken on the blue platter, Miss Kloom?"

"Well, yes. It was my grandmother's recipe."

"I enjoyed it ever so much. Your grandmother must have been an excellent cook."

Pellan slipped a foot behind her heels and tipped her over into his arms, giving her a very long, extended kiss to whoops around them. (Pellan was slowly counting to ten mentally while kissing Biddie, trying to make it look 'real'.) When he released her, Biddie looked dazed and befuddled.

"Biddie? Are you alright?"

Pellan was not going to let her go while it looked like she would drop to the ground, even though he was anxious to return to Jess.

"Ah – Oh – Ah, yes. I think so."

Pellan set Biddie on her feet. "Thanks again." He gave her a wink and a wave to the laughing, cheering bystanders, then crossed the square to Jess, who had been watching in horror while Jeremy, laughing, had explained the situation to her and Marta.

"That was mean," Marta opined.

"Just helping Pellan understand the local customs. Now I'll go have the last piece of that strudel that you made."

Jess gave an appraising look at Pellan, saying, "I understand that Jeremy set you up for that."

"True, that."

"Did you need to make it such a very long kiss?"

"Please, Jess. I was counting to ten to make it look real. The whole reputation of Ireland was at stake! Now what's left that you made? … And believe me: I'll then claim a much more desirable prize from the woman I love!"

Chapter 56: Christmas Surprises

Two days before Christmas, Pellan left the general store with a large crate on a borrowed pushcart, heading for the Bolt cabin. The stagecoach was just letting out passengers in the town square, one being a distinguished-looking older man with a white beard, wearing a kilt – of all things!

"You there, lad!"

Pellan looked around and realized with amusement that the old man was addressing him. He couldn't remember anyone calling him "lad" since his father had done so; people did not address those who wore their family torque as "lad" even if they were boys. He stopped with a respectful smile. "How may I help you?"

"Can you take a message to the Bolt logging camp for me?"

"Yes, I'm just heading that way shortly."

"Tell Jason and the boys that their uncle Duncan is in town."

"Oh, certainly, sir!"

The old man turned to walk into Lottie's, limping a little.

Pellan continued on to the cabin, greeting Jess and Marta. "Look what just arrived from France for you in the post!" he announced. They exclaimed at the size of the crate.

"I'll bet there's at least one thick letter inside, too. And guess who just got off the stagecoach: your uncle Duncan Bolt, Jess! He had a Scottish accent and was wearing a kilt! Is he the one who lived on the old estate in Scotland? He went into Lottie's. He asked me to let 'the boys' know of his arrival."

Pellan left them, returning the pushcart to the store, got a horse from the livery, and headed to the camp, joining the Bolt Brothers in their office tent. He informed them: "You have a visitor who just arrived on the stage: your Uncle Duncan."

Pellan expected that they would exclaim with something like surprise or happiness. Instead, they all groaned dramatically.

"I guess he's back from the Yukon. Or got thrown out of the Yukon," remarked Jeremy.

"Someone please just shoot me now!" exclaimed Josh.

"What's all this? I thought you'd want to see him," said Pellan with confusion.

"He first came here a year ago," Jason explained. "He caused a lot of problems for us and in town before he left to see the Yukon, though we got things resolved before he left."

"I suspect he's not well," submitted Pellan. "He was limping, going into Lottie's. Who is this man?"

"He's the head of our small Bolt clan," Jason explained. "He never married and has no relatives left except us. The old family estate that he inherited in Scotland fell to taxes, so he really has no one else and nowhere else to go. I thought that he might be back to spend his last years here, if something did not befall him elsewhere. How shall we handle this?"

They all gathered at Lottie's that night for dinner together in the private dining room. Jeremy arrived early to explain to Duncan what had happened with Candy and about their visitors from England.

Duncan had never met Jessica or any of the Bolt sisters and, truthfully, he was not much interested in women other than as sources of alliances between ancestral houses and to keep the family lineage going. Jess handled herself with her typical poise. No one, including Pellan, said anything to Duncan about Pellan's status within his own clan – and, indeed, Jason and Joshua did not know about that, either.

Jess shared that they had opened the crate from France after Pellan had left for the camp and read Julie's lengthy enclosed letter, inviting Jess and Pellan to marry in France in the late Spring and enclosing Christmas gifts for everyone.

Duncan seemed more subdued this visit and sought out Pellan the next day, asking if he could talk to him as a physician. Pellan readily agreed. Duncan disclosed that he had developed various health problems, including gout, while traveling and finally decided to give up roaming and return to be near his nephews. Pellan checked him over, gave him some medication and advice on his ailments (none currently life-threatening), and listened to him reminisce about his life and adventures.

Indeed, Pellan became a listening post for the old man in the weeks ahead, feeling privately sympathetic for Duncan's situation, yet still remaining silent about his own. Pellan, with his part-time doctoring and residence in Lottie's near Duncan's room made him more available to listen. Duncan was glad to have the young man's ear. His nephews were busy at the logging camp and, given what had happened in his visit last year, Duncan decided to let them do things their way and keep the peace this time.

Christmas was a happy, if somewhat crowded, celebration in the little Bolt cabin. It had become more home-like with the girls living there full-time. (The brothers had not kept the cabin well supplied with foodstuffs when they were not living there full-time; it drew vermin.) It smelled constantly now of baking, especially for Christmas.

The Bolt brothers had a hearty laugh at the set of beer mats and potholders that Pellan gave them, nicely wrapped to make up for the humble quality of skill. The gifts from France were opened. Philippe had sent several bottles of his own homemade wine to his brothers-in-law, saying in a note that he thought these were the best years yet for his tiny vineyard. Jason proclaimed that it was a grand thing to have a brother-in-law who made wine. There was a recent photograph enclosed of the Du Saule family (by Gaston Rameau) and Christmas cards and letters from Jenny and Siobhan, bubbling over with ideas about a wedding gown for Jess, possible wedding locations, flowers….

Pellan groaned and Jess laughed and chided him. "Be grateful: we'll have nothing left to do!"

Chapter 57: A Lucky Mishap

In mid-January, Pellan finished up his weekly clinic at the logging camp. He had been absorbed in conversation in his small tent, removing several large splinters and dressing a wound on a logger's arm. The January wind had been blasting around the small tent and Pellan had made a fair bit of noise, dumping water from an iron kettle and putting away his medications, so that he did not hear the warning call just before he came out of the tent. He heard shouts to him and saw men pointing up. He looked up and froze when he saw it: the top of a tree falling toward him. Jeremy was a several yards away and took off running to push Pellan out of the way. The treetop hit both of them indirectly.

The loggers hurried to pull and cut branches away from them. Jeremy was very scratched up, clutching his side in pain. Pellan, however, was a mess: his arm was obviously broken and blood was soaking his shirt on the same side and also half of his head, running down into his eye which looked like it would be black, plus a multitude of scratches.

Pellan, in obvious pain, gasped, "Tie my arm to my body. Take me to Allyn. Keep me awake. Don't let me pass out. Shock… Blanket..." They did as he said, loading him into the back of a wagon with Jeremy and Jason while Josh drove the horses, trying to keep Pellan conscious and warm on the trip into town.

Marta had been assisting Dr. Wright in the clinic that morning and was present when the Bolt brothers arrived with Pellan, creating a stir. Dr. Wright asked Jason and Josh to strip Pellan (a sensitive procedure, with Pellan being her colleague) and note if he had any other injuries below the waist while she treated Jeremy, who had three cracked ribs, plus several scratches. She strapped his ribs tightly and Marta began to clean his scratches.

Dr. Wright said, "You were lucky." He agreed, "Don't I know it! Thank you."

Jason and Josh had covered Pellan with a sheet, as instructed, telling Dr. Wright there were no other injuries below the waist. Pellan was woozy, in and out of consciousness. Dr. Wright and Joshua gently turned Pellan on his right side and examined the wounds on his left. There was blood everywhere, it seemed.

"Take off his cravat," directed Dr. Wright. "I don't want any risk of him choking or his neck swelling."

Jeremy and Marta exchanged glances and Marta untied the cravat, revealing Pellan's gold torque, gleaming in the clinic's lamplight.

"Whatever is that?!" Dr. Wright exclaimed.

"Your intern has more royal Irish blood than he wants people to know," explained Jeremy.

"Does it come off?"

"No. It was put on him when he was twelve years old."

"Oh, my! I guess we have to leave it, then."

Dr. Wright covered Pellan's arm with a small towel, hiding the nauseating sight. She examined Pellan's other injuries: "He has this long gash in his side, but it didn't puncture his lung – which is fortunate. We'll stitch that up. He has a rather small gash in his scalp, I see; it's bleeding so much because it's in his scalp. And we'll have to set his arm; that will be the worst part."

She started to work, stitching up the gash in Pellan's side with Marta assisting.

By now Jess had made friends with the few unmarried Brides. She had been with them that morning, baking pies, when the accident had occurred. Jason went to tell her and bring her to the clinic. She arrived with Jason and gasped in horror, her hands quickly covering her mouth, when she saw Pellan on the doctor's exam table, covered with blood.

Jeremy went over to her. "It may not be as bad as it looks." He led her to the far counter to watch the proceedings while Jess gathering her wits. Then she went to the side of the table opposite Dr. Wright.

Pellan gave her a faint smile through the blood streaming down his face. "Bad day at the office."

"Don't joke about this. Is there something I can do?" she asked Dr. Wright.

"In a minute," Dr. Wright replied. "You can wash the blood off these cuts and scratches once I see if he needs any more stitches. There's a pan beside the sink. Make some warm, soapy water."

"Of course." Jess went to comply.

Marta shaved some hair from Pellan's scalp to allow access to the gash for stitching. Jason and Josh went to Lottie's prior to the arm-setting, which was difficult for everyone and Pellan passed out early in the process.

"That's a mercy for him," observed Dr. Wright. Jess swallowed her nausea, but stayed on, Jeremy beside her, arm around her shoulders. Between Dr. Wright and Marta, they thought they found a good placement of the bone for healing.

Pellan came back to consciousness gradually, in a haze of pain.

"Stay still. I'm trying to get the blood out of your hair," Jess instructed.

"Is it over?"

"Yes."

"How bad is it?"

"I don't know how many stitches you have in your side and about ten in your scalp. Your left eye is turning black. Your arm is set now and Dr. Wright thinks it will heal well. And I've been cleaning up all these scratches. Good you were out for much of that."

"You'd better marry me soon or there won't be anything left of me."

"Nonsense. Again, stay still so this doesn't drip in your eyes."

"If you're going to be hanging out with doctors, maybe you should take that nursing course at the hospital. You have a knack for ordering me around: you'd make a good nurse."

"Emptying bedpans?"

"Believe me, when you need a bedpan, it's a great service to have. I've emptied some bedpans myself during my training: not much worse than a chamber pot. Where is everyone?"

"They're at Lottie's, eating lunch. They're going to bring us some food when they finish."

"Is Jeremy okay?"

"Three cracked ribs and lots of scratches."

"Ugh."

"You were both so lucky this wasn't worse, as bad as it is."

"I know. I'm very thankful."

It snowed on and off for the next week. Jeremy stayed at the Bolt cabin with the girls, recuperating from his broken ribs. The girls had the bedroom in the back while Jeremy slept in the bed in the front room. Marta laughed at his winter long-johns, worn under a buffalo plaid robe which he described, not as his robe, but as "the robe" for whichever of the brothers was needing one. It was a bit large on him. He told her that they should be grateful that this mishap had happened in the winter, not the summer, when his nighttime attire was often … less.

Jason, Josh, and Duncan dropped in for breakfast on the third morning after the accident. Shortly there came a knock at the door. Jason opened it – and admitted Pellan! He wore a thick sweater draped over his bare chest, the arms tied around his neck, and a jacket draped across his shoulders.

"Pellan!" exclaimed Jess. "You must be frozen! I was just packing a basket to bring breakfast to you! What are you doing here, half-dressed?"

"I got lonely and figured you were having breakfast. Couldn't dress any better than this with one arm. Couldn't get my sweater on without help. Thought I did well to get my pants on and my boots. My socks are in my pockets. Need help there, too."

"Let me help you," offered Jason, while the girls hastily set a place for Pellan at the table.

Duncan looked in surprise at the torque around Pellan's bare neck. "Is that an Irish torque?"

"Yes, afraid so. House of O'Sullivan."

"You're the head of that house?"

"Yes."

"Why have ye never said so, man?" (Pellan noted that he had now graduated from being addressed as "lad.")

"'When in Rome' and all that. It doesn't seem important here."

From that time on, Duncan and Pellan became closer friends – as peers now – and talked in depth about their similar experience in different Celtic countries as taxes and cultural change altered the ancient way of life, both agreeing that things would never be what they were. They were also bagpipers of different kinds, sharing tunes as Pellan regained use of his arm.

The Bolt brothers were grateful to Pellan for his friendship with Duncan, keeping Duncan occupied and out from under their feet, yet offering the old man a peer-level friendship in a changing world. And Duncan found that he could now do a good turn for Pellan, being a companion while he recuperated.

Chapter 58: Peacemaking

"He needs to have his tonsils removed. They're very swollen," Pellan stated to Candy Pruitt. She had brought her little brother, Christopher, in for an exam after yet another sore throat. "You can have Dr. Wright look at him, too, if you want a second opinion."

Marta also peered down Christopher's throat, observing.

Pellan explained in simple terms to Christopher what the problem was and how it could be remedied, ending with, "We would sedate you while we do it so you won't really be aware. The worst part for you would be a very sore throat for a few days while it heals up. That should fix your problem and you shouldn't have many sore throats every again."

Candy & Christopher agreed for the two doctors to do the operation the next day and left to make preparations and get homework from Miss Essie while he recovered.

The evening after Christopher's tonsillectomy, there was a knock on the side door of the Brides' dormitory. Candy opened the door to find Jeremy standing there, somewhat like 'old times.' He held out a small package and a sack, saying, "I heard about Christopher's operation. I thought he might enjoy this while he's healing up. I put some wood scraps in this bag to get him started; we have lots more, as you know, if he wants them later."

Candy had not spoken directly to Jeremy since their break-up. She was so surprised by his sudden appearance and this gift that she was speechless for a moment, but managed to say, "He's asleep right now."

"Well, don't wake him. I have to get on. I hope he feels better." Jeremy smiled slightly and turned with a cautious nod to take his leave, but Candy recovered herself and followed him outside – which also had an uncomfortably familiar feel for both of them.

"I heard that you're engaged to Marta," ventured Candy.

"Yes, we've known each other a very long time. We were both seven years old when we met in England."

"I guess she's Catholic."

Jeremy drew a deep breath. "No, she's Lutheran."

"She doesn't care that you are Catholic?"

"No. We're both Christians; that's enough for us. Good night, Candy. I hope Chris heals well."

And Jeremy walked out of her life.

Candy gave the gift to Christopher when he woke up: it was a child's whittling kit with a small knife and directions.

Chapter 59: An Invitation

Dr. Wright was happier than she had yet been in Seattle. It had been very convenient to have Pellan and Marta working with her in the past months, making her life easier and work more sociable. Yet as Spring approached, they would be leaving and that made her sad. She knew that Pellan planned to train in surgery and Marta had another year of medical school, so they needed to return to England. She wrote letters for them both to take to their future supervisors, praising the work that they had done in Seattle these months.

She gave Pellan the letters, saying, "I've written these letters for you and Marta to give to your supervisors in training, commending your work here. I really appreciate all your help in these past months."

"Thank you so much! They'll at least know that we have kept up our skills and learned more in actual field practice while we were out of the country this year."

"I'm going to miss you both so much. What will you do after you graduate from your hospital residency?"

"I'm not that far ahead yet and have no idea. Look for a job, I guess."

"Would you consider returning here?"

"Here? You would want that?"

"If you do. Someday very soon Seattle will need a good surgeon and, as you could see, we three were all three busy in these months. It may not be long before Seattle builds a small hospital and you could be in on the beginning with that – arrange things as you prefer. It might be a great opportunity for you if you have the patience to develop it. I have enjoyed working with you – and Marta, too – and I would like it to continue."

"Wow, thank you! Let me tell Marta and think about it. And talk about it with Jess. Guess I need to start involving her in my major decisions!"

"That's definitely a good practice to have with your fiancée!"

"She may take a little nurses' training program in London. I thought I could train her more myself if she does that."

"Some of these Brides here could make good nurses, as you know."

"Yes, you're right. That thought had occurred to me."

Chapter 60: Return Trip

Jeremy had the conversation with his brothers that he had been dreading. They had known early on about his engagement to Marta, but he had delayed until late winter to tell them that he wanted to return with the visitors to England while Marta finished her schooling.

"I will be back – we will be back. Dr. Wright has asked Pellan to return here to be in practice with her after he finishes his surgery residency. He and Jess have decided to accept that. Dr. Wright said the same to Marta, who is also interested. But I just can't live without her here, now that I have her back. I'll just be gone a year or so. I'm telling you, I will be back to resume my work with you here."

"Jeremy, if that is what you feel that you have to do, we understand, and we hope that you will return to work with us," Jason said.

"There's also Uncle Duncan. I'm sure that Marta and I will be married when we return. Maybe Duncan can move in with you and have my bed, feeling more part of the family? It would be more comfortable and settled for him than living at Lottie's – if you can stand him living here! Marta and I will move into my cabin – our cabin – when we return."

It was a sign of the great improvement in their relationship with their uncle that Jason and Josh liked that idea and didn't reject it out of hand.

In early March, Jeremy left Seattle with Jess, Pellan, and Marta – sailing with Captain Clancy on the early tide. Marta had trained Matthew Shipman to ride Fancy so Fancy could get exercise and attention when she left town.

From a window in the Brides' dormitory, Candy watched the ship leave – but the passengers didn't see her.

"Well, this is nice," Jeremy smiled as he climbed into their first-class railroad car in Sacramento, preparing for their cross-country journey.

"Glad you like it. This will be our little world for the next week or more, depending on how many stops we make enroute," said Pellan. "We'll sit here, eat here, sleep here, and be bored out of our minds here, especially crossing Nebraska, before we reach New York."

"Sleep – here? All of us?"

Pellan pointed out the four berths, curtains closed for the daytime hours. "I call dibs on a lower berth. Sorry. You know how I am."

"Where do we d-dress?" asked Jeremy, nervously.

"Never fear! We figured out on the trip here how to coordinate all that to maintain all modesty and proper decorum. The most you'll be treated to see are the girls' hair-dressing activities. And how they talk all night."

Jeremy fell into the routine of the trip back, reluctantly learning to crochet to keep company with Pellan and the girls. Pellan named it The Gentlemen's Knitting Club, even though the girls were present as well. Pellan had kept up his Bible reading all year and still not finished, but thought he might before they reached France.

One early morning, Pellan looked up from reading to notice Jeremy frowning out the window. (The girls had gone to the water closet to wash and the men awaited their return to do the same, having already gathered their clothes and shaving supplies.) He asked, "What's the matter?"

"This situation makes me nervous."

"What about it?"

"The train. We're sitting ducks."

"Explain."

"I've heard that the trains are frequently attacked or robbed. Anyone can hear and see us coming for miles. We're a very easy target, moving on a predictable route and schedule."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. Now I'm nervous."

"Well, just don't mention it to the girls. And keep an eye out."

However, they made it across the continent without incident. Many of the troubles with Native Americans were already in the past by this time. Nor did Jeremy and Jess fall afoul of the port authorities in applying for extended visas to Europe, having their citizenship records in order. This time the party sailed directly for France.

Chapter 61: The Wedding

Eight-year-old Jonathan Du Saule sprinted up the hill behind his home, looking for his father in his hobby-vineyard on the hill. "Papa?" he called.

"Over here."

"The people are here."

"What people, Jon?"

"Aunt Jess and the others."

"Oh, our guests! Wonderful!"

Philippe gathered up his pruning knife and twine. Walking down toward the house, Jonathan asked his father, "Who are they, again?"

"Aunt Jess you know. The tall man with red hair is Pellan O'Sullivan, her fiancé – theirs is the wedding the girls here have talked about nonstop for a year. After the wedding, he will be your uncle by marriage, since he will be married your aunt. The other man is Jeremy Bolt. He is your mother's younger brother and is your uncle by blood. The blonde woman is Marta Jäger. I think she will probably marry your Uncle Jeremy someday and then she will be your aunt by marriage."

"That's a lot of uncles and aunts."

"Yes – and all at once for you and Lucie to learn."

Julie clasped Jeremy tightly to her upon their arrival, grateful tears of reunion rolling down her cheeks. Pellan and Jess exchanged smiles, knowing that the Du Saules were more excited to see Jeremy than they were the Bridal Couple – and rightfully so. Jess, Jenny, and Siobhan exchanged hugs and chatter with each other and with Pellan. Marta stood a bit apart from the family reunion after they had all greeted her warmly.

Jeremy looked down the long drive toward the sheep pastures and saw two figures, who began a footrace. He asked Julie, "Is that Jonathan with Philippe?"

"Yes: their daily footrace up the driveway."

"Jon looks just like Philippe, only smaller."

"Yes, they do look alike. I could not have had a better husband or father for the children than Philippe has been."

"I'm not at all surprised."

Just at that point, Jonathan won the daily footrace with his father (as usual, being young, spry, and lightweight) – and found himself ignored. Jon was also surprised to see his father run past their "finish line" to grab the dark-haired young man in a tight hug, his eyes clasped shut.

Philippe exclaimed to Jeremy, "You don't know how I have prayed for you all these years. If I live to be a hundred, I will always regret that I did not take you from school that day and bring you back here! I just thought that it would be better if you graduated there, since you were so close to it. I am so very, very sorry for what happened to you."

"Well, who could have predicted that? And everything turned out alright," Jeremy consoled his brother-in-law.

The Du Saules invited everyone inside and began settling them in their guestrooms, the house now quite full. Jeremy and Pellan were assigned to share an impromptu guestroom created for them in the attic.

Jeremy found Philippe in the salon on the first floor a while later and inquired as to the whereabouts of the children.

"Hovering over dinner in the kitchen with the women, I suppose. I hope that it's not too hot in the attic for you two."

"It doesn't get that hot at this latitude, does it?"

"Well, summer is coming. I never thought that I would see a day when this house was too small for all its guests and residents. Did you find the chest we kept with your things from school?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good! Come back here and we'll have an aperitif."

"I'll do it. Pellan's on his way down."

Jeremy found Julie, the children, and all the women in the kitchen. "I brought some gifts for you kids. Jon, this is for you" – handing him a parcel – "and Lucie, this one is yours."

Lucie, now age four, had spent her time with the new visitors staying close to her mother and staring at them. She cautiously and solemnly took her strange parcel, which was wrapped in leather.

Jonathan had already torn the wrapping paper off of his gift, finding a nice whittling knife and booklet of basic instructions on woodcarving, plus some pieces of wood.

"I want you to ask your parents if it's okay for you to use that knife," said Jeremy. "The wood is from our property in Seattle, where your mother was born. Maybe you can carve something special with it."

"Maman?"

"If your father says so, it's fine with me."

Jonathan left the kitchen at a run to find his father, excited about his gift.

"Julie, do you remember Crying Bird?"

"Yes, I do!"

"I showed her the photos that Jess brought to Seattle of your family. When she learned that I was coming back here to see you, she gave me that for Lucie." – to Lucie – "Untie the leather cover."

Jeremy helped her to do so. Inside was a handmade doll in Native American costume. Lucie smiled up at Jeremy for the first time and everyone admired the exotic doll.

"Crying Bird said that you have a handsome man and beautiful children."

"How kind of her! She was so good to us as kids! Dinner will be ready in an hour. I think Philippe is serving aperitif for anyone who wants one in the salon."

Pellan stretched his long legs out straight on the chaise in the salon, and sighed with pleasure, savoring his aperitif. "Ah, Philippe!" he sighed, "You don't know how good it feels to be sitting on something that is not moving after two-and-a-half months. And to be away from people talking about weddings."

"That last I can fully understand. I've had to listen to it for a year now."

Jeremy joined them after his conversation in the kitchen and Philippe handed him a drink. Jeremy sipped it cautiously.

"Are you afraid that it comes from my vineyard?" teased Philippe.

"No!" Jeremy laughed. "We really enjoyed the wines you sent at Christmas. My brothers and I are just more accustomed to beer or whisky than anything else. I'm venturing into a new experience with this."

"There are no vineyards in Seattle?"

"No, nor much of anything alcoholic that isn't imported."

"Julie has told me what she remembers. I didn't know if it has grown since she lived there."

"Just a few more stores for hardware and household goods, a barber, and a church. Not much else. A tiny jail. And Lottie's."

"Yes, Pellan was just describing Lottie's multi-purpose facility. You have a bank?"

"No." Jeremy laughed again.

"No bank? How do you conduct business?"

"There's not much business to conduct. We pay cash or barter."

"Without a bank?"

"Well, there are banks in the general area. The nearest is in Tacoma, which is thirty-five miles. And there's one in Olympia, the territorial capital, which is about sixty miles. My brothers have accounts in both towns."

"Thirty-five miles! Sixty miles! I can't imagine living that way."

"Well, that's our world. We get by. We have to. If you could see Seattle, you'd understand why no one wants to build a bank there."

That remark prompted Pellan to launch into an animated description of the differing light on the mud in the Seattle town square.

Philippe often reflected about that conversation in the coming months, trying to imagine what life would be like in a town without a bank.

Pellan began to realize how lonely life can be for a bridegroom before the wedding. Jess was swept up in mountains of detailed preparations with her sisters and Siobhan. Philippe spent as much time as he could with Jeremy and Pellan as an apology, but still had to oversee the bank and farm, with the annual shearing just past and preparations for market of both mutton and wool. Philippe bought them both finely-tailored suits as wedding gifts, so they had to attend some fittings in town. Meanwhile, Pellan bought tickets for the honeymoon without telling anyone the destination and he and Jeremy dawdled around Calais and the farm, finding it odd to have so much time on their hands.

Walking down the long drive in the late afternoon as the wedding day drew near, Pellan addressed Philippe, "Okay, I don't have a father, grandfather, brother, or even an uncle to ask, so I'm asking you for advice before I marry."

"What? Are you a physician and don't know what goes where?" Philippe joked, caught by surprise.

"No, I think I know that by now. I want to know how to have a good marriage, how to stay in love with each other as the years pass. You and Julie have been married – what? – over ten years now? You seem to get along well and love each other still."

"It will be twelve years in October for us. But I don't feel so wise at age 31 to give you advice."

Jeremy interrupted, "You can advise me at the same time. I do have two older brothers, but I honestly think I know more about good relationships than they do – and they've never been married. You have."

Philippe considered for a moment. "Well, first you have to choose the right person to marry and to know them well before you marry. And much of marriage, like any close relationship, is mutual respect and consideration of the other's feelings and wishes. I would never say or do anything to embarrass or disrespect Julie in public – or in private – and she treats me the same way. She is truly my best friend and I value her opinion. I want to spend time with her. She makes my life easier and pleasant, and I try to do the same for her. I think of her when we are apart and demonstrate that by bringing her small gifts, romancing her – yes, still! – after twelve years!"

"Have you never had a bad day with her, then?" asked Pellan, somewhat incredulous.

"Other than the two years that I was in military service, which were just difficult to be apart? But there was a season, which I blame only on myself and my imaginings and no one else."

"What happened?"

"Jon was about ten months old, learning to eat solid food. My father was giving me more difficult clients for the bank. One was a tedious old woman, supposedly too feeble to come into to town to do her banking, so my father assigned me a monthly visit to her home, where she would recite all her illnesses and complain about people in town – probably complained to others about me after I left! I found it most trying to go to see her, month after month. I began to be angry about having to deal with her at all, plus some other clients who were not much better. Then I would go home, and things were always so pleasant with my mother, Julie, and the girls there and little Jon was always clean and content. I became jealous of the pleasant times that they seemed to be having at home with each other and felt sorry for myself and the difficult clients with whom I spent my afternoons. One day I got home early from visiting the old lady I mentioned. Julie was in the kitchen, not expecting me to arrive so soon. She was feeding Jon and looked hot and tired. I told her to go take a rest and freshen up before dinner and I would finish feeding Jon. She sounded doubtful – and grateful – and left me with him in the kitchen. I picked up a bowl of mashed squash that I saw on the table nearby among a few other bowls of his mashed food – and he promptly spat it all over me. It was on my face, in my hair, on my new shirt. It was like 'the last straw' in a rotten day for me. I was suddenly angry and Jon was too, since he was hungry and I wasn't helping him. I had to take a moment to go pick squash out of my hair and wash my face so I would not act angry with Jon, while Jon screamed louder and louder. My mother heard him screaming and came out to the kitchen, seeing the situation. She apologized and said that she would take over. I insisted that I wanted to do it and do it by myself and I did – which took a long time – and then I bathed him and went up to change clothes for dinner after I put Jon to bed. I felt chastised – by God, even! – for thinking that everyone at the house had it easy. I was newly grateful that Julie and the others had hidden such unpleasantries from me by the time I got home so that all seemed peaceful and pleasant for me and my father. I confessed all that to Julie and that I was ashamed of how jealous I had been about what I imagined of life here at home and my anger with the old bat whom I had such difficulty visiting. Well, Julie looked thoughtful and then asked to experiment with the woman, requesting that I take her and Jon along in my next visit. I did that with misgivings. Julie took her some preserves from our garden. The old lady just loved seeing the baby and Julie soon had her eating out of her hand! We didn't stay long, but it was such a turning point in my relationship with the old lady and with Julie. Julie can truly work miracles with people, and I realized even more that day how very fortunate I am to be married to her. I have made a particular point to never forget it. I am very grateful for her – in love with her even more than when we married – and I try to let her know every day in every way I can."

"Thank you. So you haven't lost your passion for each other?"

"We still have passion! But our love is seasoned now. We know each other so well that we think alike – can read each other at a glance! But Julie still surprises me at times."

"You haven't forgotten your English, either," remarked Pellan.

"Why would I do that? I worked so hard to learn it; I work hard to keep using it – every day! That's another gift Julie gives to me."

On the morning of the wedding, Jeremy knocked on the girls' bedroom door. Jenny opened it a crack. He announced, "The Best Man is here to repossess the ring for the ceremony."

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Jenny and ran promptly to get the Claddagh ring, polished and already tied to its lace-trimmed white pillow. Jeremy delivered it to Philippe and Jonathan, then rejoined the groom.

As the hour drew near, Pellan and Jeremy walked down to the pond below the drive at Ruisseau de Saule where the wedding was to be conducted, under the swaying willow trees. The weather had turned out perfectly pleasant for early June. The priest had just arrived – someone Philippe had located who could conduct the ceremony in English.

"Are you nervous?" asked Jeremy.

"No," Pellan replied. "I'm sure of what I'm doing and relieved that the long wait is over. I thought that you and Marta might make it a double wedding, but I guess not…"

"No, when you told me that her marrying prior to graduation might give her professors an excuse to say that she was unfit to be a doctor, I knew that we had to wait. We've waited this long; we can wait longer. I guess."

"Maybe the time will pass quickly."

"You think so?"

"No."

"I don't either." They both laughed.

They took their places under the willow trees beside the pond and waited while a few more guests arrived, including Marta, the Baxters from London, and Gaston Rameau. Jeremy stole a sideways glance at Pellan and hid a smile as Pellan studiously ignored Gaston's arrival.

Siobhan, Julie, and Jenny eventually came walking out of the house together, crossing the yard to the pond. They carried small bouquets of summer flowers and were laughing, arms linked together in a threesome, Siobhan in the middle, seeming already the sisters-in-law that they would soon be by law.

Jonathan came out next, proudly performing his duty as ringbearer. Then little Lucie came out, walking just in front of Philippe, who was escorting the bride and looking quite proudly 'paternal' in his role. Jessica was the first of his 'finishing school' to be married.

The ceremony was sincere and brief, joining Pellan and Jessica as husband and wife. They were relaxed and happy and, following a luncheon indoors, left onboard ship. Gaston Rameau, for his part, took some beautiful wedding photos, yet seemed most focused on Siobhan.

Chapter 62: The Honeymoon Project

"Where are you taking me?" teased Jess, once they were on the ship.

"Where do you think a man as Irish as I am would take his new bride?"

"Are there particular reasons?"

"I know that I will talk about some places in Ireland for the rest of my life. I want to show them to you so you'll know what I'm talking about: the house where I was born, my parents' grave, Dingle…. And eventually I want to go to the jeweler in Galway who applied my torque and have him remove it. I plan to give it to the University in Dublin for their museum."

"Oh, Pellan! Are you sure?"

"Yes. I've thought about doing that for many years. It really is a relic of another age, as well as the role that went with it – a time that's gone and not coming back. I want you to be with me when it's removed and when we give it to the University. Beyond that, I intend to spend the rest of our honeymoon getting to know you – in the Biblical sense and every other way."

Jessica laughed and leaned happily against his arm as France receded from view.

Pellan later opened the door to their stateroom on the ship and snorted, "I can't believe this! It's worse than the ships across the Atlantic."

Jess also stepped inside: it was a tiny room with two narrow, box-like beds fastened to the walls.

Pellan turned to her and announced, "Our honeymoon will need to be delayed until tomorrow. This is impossible! You deserve better than this."

That night Jessica changed clothes behind the dressing screen in their tiny cabin, putting on the flannel pajamas that she had worn during the trip to Seattle and back. When she came out, she found Pellan bedded down on the floor beside his bed, huddled under his blanket. "What are you doing on the floor?!" she exclaimed with humor.

"Face it, Jess: you've married a defective man. I guarantee that I will be falling off that narrow bed; I'm just sparing myself the bruises." He closed his eyes and frowned, looking thoroughly miserable. A pillow hit the floor beside his head and startled him. "What? –"

"Get up." Jess stood holding her own bedding, smiling down at him. "Let's make a decent pallet with your bedding and mine together."

"Jess, you don't have to sleep on the floor with me."

"I want to sleep with my husband."

"Jess –"

"I want to sleep with my husband."

Pellan got up and helped Jess arrange their bedding on the floor.

"Jess, are you sure?"

"How many more times do I have to say 'I want to sleep with my husband'?"

They embraced then at length. Pellan slid his hand slowly upward underneath her oversized shirt, on her bare back.

"Do you realize how many times I've wanted to do this in the past year?" he whispered in her ear.

"I know how many times I've wanted you to."

"Do you have any idea how insanely enticing you are in those flannel pajamas? Or anything, really. Such a beautiful bride today!" He looked at her with great love in his eyes.

"I thought that you approved these pajamas as acceptably un-alluring? I do have a nice French gown for our honeymoon, just so you know."

"I'm sure that it will be suitably alluring – whenever I see it. In fact, I'll bet you are insanely enticing in nothing at all…."

Jess awoke a little before sunrise and gazed at Pellan's sleeping face, watching him gradually awaken, smelling the scent of his bare skin, and trying to soak into her soul this changed life of intimacy with a man. He finally sighed and his green eyes opened to meet hers with something like surprise. His ready grin followed.

"There you are, my brave girl! I can't believe we spent our first night together on the floor. Will you ever forgive me?"

"You, of course. The maker of these beds, probably not. And I'm not really brave."

"Oh, I think you are much braver and stronger than you believe."

"Remember how I nearly went hysterical at Castle Garden when I had to go through the citizens line alone?"

"Well, sometimes when we are young we tend to doubt our own abilities. All we may need is for someone to point them out to us in order for us to be able to go forward. That's all I did with you that day – and you did fine." He hugged her closer. "Anyway, I promise you: we will find a real bed for the rest of our honeymoon – and hopefully for the rest of our lives."

The O'Sullivans relished their first weeks together, spending most of the time in the western part of Ireland. They eventually made it to Galway and Pellan kept his appointment with the jeweler, Cedric O'Sullivan, to have his torque removed. He was the same man who had put the torque on Pellan more than half his life ago and was visibly thrilled to know that he would have work installed in the Irish historical museum in Dublin.

Removing the torque was more of an ordeal than applying it had been, since Pellan's neck was thicker now as an adult than when he was twelve. The jeweler protected Pellan's neck from the heat as best he could with thick leather straps and, once the torque was off, left immediately with it to reshape it for the museum while the gold was still hot. Pellan, naked above the waist, was left in the back room with Jess.

"Are you alright? Did you get burned?"

"I think I have a few minor burns. Will you look at my neck and use that ointment I gave you?"

"Of course." She checked his neck area, dabbing on ointment.

"I guess I need to buy some normal cravats now." Pellan laughed. "Thanks for making so many of these custom cravats in the past." He sobered. "I never asked Cedric where he was when he removed the torque from my father's body. I don't suppose it was here on this table…."

"Oh, Pellan!"

"I also suspect that he's not going to take any money for this and is feeling just oh-so-honored to have a piece put in the museum. You look around his shop and pick out something you like – I don't care about its cost – as a way to compensate him for his time and as the wedding gift I have yet to give you."

Dr. and Mrs. O'Sullivan met with the curator to present the torque to the Irish museum at the University of Dublin. The torque was now displayed in a velvet box and the curator thanked them effusively for the handsome gift. Pellan gave him a list, tucked in the lining of the box, saying, "To my knowledge, these are all the men who have worn it." Before they left, the curator showed them the area of the museum where historical torques were displayed, where this one would be added to the collection. While the O'Sullivan torque was far from the oldest, it was one of the most intricate and beautiful. Then they left, Pellan feeling like one chapter of his life had ended while another had just begun. Jessica was wearing her fine new strand of pearls – her husband's wedding gift.

Chapter 63: The Residents at Ivy Hill

Having retrieved the keys from Mr. Baxter, Marta unlocked the side door to Ivy Hill and said to Jeremy, "Just leave the luggage here. I'll show you around first."

Marta showed him the entire building and let him select which of the vacant rooms on the men's hall he preferred for his own. No one had been in the building in their absence and they set in to cleaning the next day. Jess and Pellan would return from their honeymoon in a week and Marta and Jeremy didn't want to welcome them with a housecleaning party.

It did seem strange to be living together without chaperones, albeit in separate wings of a building, but the long months of travel had accustomed them to such forced togetherness. Marta had to check in for enrollment at her medical school before the newlyweds returned and Jeremy steeled himself to go looking for work. He was not particular about what he would find during his stay in London – just something tolerable that would contribute to the household cash flow.

He was fortunate to find a 'Help Wanted' sign in a grocer's window a few blocks from Ivy Hill, applied, and got the job on his first day of job-hunting. He became an assistant to the assistant, but that changed quickly when the assistant quit a week later in a spat with the proprietor, Mr. Gibson, who was a widower with two young teenaged sons. Jeremy had already proven his dependability and people skills in his first week and was "promoted" to be the grocer's primary assistant. It was nothing like he had ever done before, but the work was pleasant enough and not stressful. He was even allowed to purchase groceries at the wholesale price for Ivy Hill, which would help out with household costs and save others the trouble of shopping. He was satisfied.

Pellan and Jess arrived back home as Jeremy was unpacking some food, preparing to start dinner. They were all smiles and seemed relaxed after their honeymoon. They promptly began moving Jess into Pellan's larger room.

Pellan joined Jeremy in the kitchen later, as Jess continued unpacking and organizing. "Is this Men's Night for cooking?"

"It's always Men's Night for cooking. Marta gets back later than I do from her farrier jobs, so I might as well start it or we'll be eating at midnight."

"You're a good househusband, Jeremy."

"Thanks loads. Marriage treating you well?"

"Very well," replied Pellan, grinning broadly. "I recommend it!"

"Good to know."

A lot could be written about this year that the two couples spent in England, but to summarize –

Pellan entered the surgical residency at the nearby hospital, working long and sometimes stressful hours.

Marta entered her last year of medical school, much of which was working in an internship with some other doctors. She had unpredictable, long hours but was at least free of her persecuting classmate of her second year.

Jeremy worked days at the grocer's and had time to practice on his guitar and do chores around the house, helping Jess.

Jess took the short nursing course and picked up short-term jobs in various places, including the hospital where Pellan worked. She resumed doing clothing alterations and fine needlework. Jess was the one most responsible for running the boarding house due to her more flexible schedule, but Jeremy helped her a lot as he learned the situation.

They took in a few renters occasionally for varying lengths of time, but some of the time it was just the four of them living there.

Come Christmas, they encountered difficulties. Pellan had to be resident at the hospital for Christmas Day – part of the duty of being a surgery resident, on-call in the building for emergencies. Marta had to be on-call for her supervising doctors with a list of house calls to make on or around Christmas. Jessica was very disappointed that Pellan would not be at home on their first Christmas as a married couple, yet she would not leave Pellan alone to go spend Christmas in Calais and declined Julie's invitation, as did Jeremy. He put his arm around Jess' shoulders, saying, "Sis, we'll just have to hold the fort for these busy doctors. It doesn't really matter when we celebrate Christmas; we can do it another day and all be together. And, living with doctors, this probably won't be the last time we have to adjust." Jess nodded, resigned.

Chapter 64: Unusual Marriage Preparation

One evening in mid-January, the four of them were the only ones at dinner at Ivy Hill. Pellan, as usual, chattered away about all manner of things. Jeremy was unusually withdrawn. Pellan eventually remarked his silence. Jeremy hesitated and then said, "I … had to made a decision today and will be laid up for a while – not long, I hope – and that may result in me not pulling my weight around here. I may need some help."

"Oh?" said Pellan, while the girls looked puzzled.

"I will be in the hospital overnight and need to recuperate a while."

"In hospital? Why?"

Jeremy hesitated a moment, then locked eyes with Pellan, saying, "Circumcision."

There was stunned silence for a moment.

"Ow!" Pellan winced and cringed. The girls exchanged glances and said nothing, alarmed and speechless, given the intimate topic.

"Yeah, well. It's January 21st. And … that's it." Jeremy paused a moment. "This is humiliating. Excuse me." He got up from the table, left his dishes in the sink, and retreated rapidly to his room down the men's hall.

Pellan looked at Marta. "Did you know anything about that?"

"No, nothing."

"I did not handle that well."

A few minutes later, Pellan knocked at Jeremy's bedroom door.

"Come in."

Pellan did. Jeremy was lying on his side in bed, back to the door – and Pellan.

Pellan began: "I want to apologize for that. I did not react appropriately to your news."

"I don't blame you. Your reaction was honest. I'm not looking forward to it myself."

"I'm sure you're not. Do you mind my asking how you've come to this decision?"

"No. I just didn't want to talk about it in front of the girls."

"I can understand that."

Pellan sat down in the one chair in Jeremy's room and waited.

Jeremy sighed and began: "I went to a doctor today. I have an adhesion. I think I've had it all my life. When I was little, no one knew the difference. Then you know what happened to us and I wound up here in England, surrounded by girls and being raised by two maiden great-aunts. No one inquired about my private parts since I was old enough to bathe myself. Once I reached puberty and began to – you know – I wondered if something was wrong because it didn't look right and, actually, it didn't feel right, either. But I wasn't going to talk about that with my aunts or sisters! In my teens, I began to think maybe I ought to talk to a doctor about it and was just about at that point when I got deported and for a long time I was just concerned about surviving. I got to Seattle and, in those days, there was no doctor there. When we finally did get a doctor, it was Doctor Wright and I just couldn't! I kept thinking 'Maybe sometime on a trip to San Francisco, I'll find a doctor there,' but there never seemed to be any extra time for that. I've had to be very careful about cleaning all along to avoid infections, but sometimes got infections anyway. I recently got to thinking, 'What if I never address this, get married to Marta, and pass some infection to her?' I don't want to risk that, so I finally dragged myself in today. The doctor said that circumcision would fix this – get rid of the adhesion and the risk of infections, too – so I set the appointment. I've called this my 'little problem' for a long time, but I guess this will solve it. That's … it."

Pellan said, "That makes a lot of sense. I'm sorry you've had such a struggle to get this addressed."

"And waited ridiculously long, too, right? Tell me this isn't going to be as bad as I think it is."

"Well, it's going to be rather bad, but maybe not as bad as you think. You'll have to take a week off work and wear, I don't know, next to nothing, I guess."

They both laughed, ruefully.

Pellan added, "You could have asked me about it, you know."

"It seemed … too personal … to ask you."

"Well, I understand. I do think it's very courageous and generous of you to do this with Marta's health in mind as well."

"The first of many marital compromises, I'm sure."

"And hopefully the most painful – so that all the future will go better."

So Jeremy had his operation to fix his long-term 'little problem.' Pellan was sitting with him when he woke up in the hospital ward. In a little while, there was a familiar voice from the other side of the privacy curtain. Marta asked, "Is he awake?"

"Yes. You can come around."

She did, carrying a rather large box.

"Oh, good! You brought it! Here you go, Jeremy: your home-coming gift."

Jeremy seemed surprised at the size of the box and opened it to find two kilts which Pellan had found at a second-hand shop, and some thick knee socks – given that it was January, after all. They all had a good laugh.

Chapter 65: The Sacrifice

The Du Saules, Jenny, and Siobhan were disappointed that their family in London couldn't visit for the holidays, of course, but they understood. They never knew anything of Jeremy's hospital adventure in January. They all ruminated individually about the coming summer, knowing that it would bring an even greater separation, but they did not speak about that to each other.

One night in late January Philippe slid into bed as usual beside his wife and lay staring up at the ceiling, hands behind his head. She put her book aside after a while and curled next to him.

Philippe announced, "I have an outrageous idea."

Julie slid her finger slowly from the hollow of his throat, down the center of his chest, to circle his navel. "What is it?"

"Now I have two outrageous ideas. But when you hear the first one, you may not be interested in the second."

"Tell me."

"I have heard of a small town that has no bank. I think I will open one there."

"You mean a branch of the one in town?"

"No, we will have to sell the house and my shares in the bank here and move there when I start the new bank."

"What? Where is this town?"

"I'm not sure exactly where it is; I've never been there." He turned his head to face Julie. "But you have."

Julie stared at him for a few seconds. "Seattle."

"Yes."

"Did Jeremy ask you to do that?"

"No. He just mentioned that they have no bank in a conversation when they had just returned here last summer. I have been thinking about it ever since – how they struggle to get by with cash and barter and banking at a great distance in two towns a long distance away, wondering how a town can ever hope to grow without a bank. Then it occurred to me that I could go there and start one. I know how to do it. When I sell my share in the one here, plus the sale of this property, we could have the funds to start a small bank, plus build a house for us there. And I would not have to work with the stuffy old men on Board of Directors that my father set up here, who don't seem to realize that the world is changing rapidly from the past. I could do things differently, be more … free. But the main reason is so that your family can be together again. I just don't think you will be happy here when those four in England move to America."

"Philippe! You would do that? This is your home."

"Well, only since I was very small. It's not like it was in my family for generations. And my parents are gone now."

"What about the children – their schooling?"

"We can work that out. All I know is that I have been observing boys from families of wealthy bank customers here for a long while. Many of them have worse manners and attitudes after going away to some schools and université than they had before they left. I always make a point of asking those boys what schools they attend … to be sure that I never send Jon there. I don't want that to happen to Jon!"

"It would be such a big change for you. It's nothing like France."

"Yes, I'm aware – and aware that it would be a huge change for you, too. But it might be a healthy change for all of us. Think about it and let me know – but soon. It will take some time and effort if we sell out here in time to go to Seattle with the others by summer."

"And what is your second outrageous idea?"

Spring gradually came and the Du Saules, as well as Jenny and Siobhan, had all decided to move to Seattle and had let the Londoners know of their plans. Jeremy sent a telegram to his brothers in very early Spring to advise them that they would all be coming to Seattle, arriving in the early fall, and asking them to give some thought about where to house the ten travelers upon their arrival. Josh responded, also advising that Candy had moved back to New Bedford, finding things had become awkward for her in Seattle and never having found a buyer for her mother's property in New Bedford. Jeremy found that surprising, but not really disturbing, and observed how he himself had changed in the past few years.

Chapter 66: The Surprise

When Siobhan made the decision to move to Seattle, that prompted an outburst from Gaston and he and Siobhan broke up. Gaston did not appear inclined to leave France, nor did he appear ready to ask Siobhan to marry him and stay on. Siobhan, being of a practical bent, did not want to have a continent between herself and her brother and chose to go with him and the Du Saules.

The Du Saules, Siobhan, and Jenny all came to visit in England for Marta's graduation from medical school in May. Pellan would finish his residency in another month.

"Let's take a picnic to the lake tomorrow to celebrate having two doctors in the family now!" said Jeremy. "I know a great spot!"

So they made plans and the women began working on the menu.

The next morning, Jeremy helped pack for the lakeside picnic, telling the others that Marta had a small farrier job that morning and would join them later. They loaded a large wagon borrowed from Mr. Gibson and headed out. Jeremy pointed out a charming little cove by the lake and the women began setting up the picnic. The men carried down baskets for them and set up an awning for some extra shade.

Jeremy returned to the wagon and removed his jacket, waving at an approaching smaller wagon, whose driver returned the wave. Pellan had come back with him to see if there was anything more to take down. He noticed that Jeremy was wearing a particularly nice blue shirt and the gold crucifix around his neck which he rarely wore. Jeremy suddenly seemed to Pellan to be just a little too well-dressed for a picnic. "What are you about?" Pellan asked, suspicious.

Jeremy gazed at him steadily for a moment, smiling. He finally stated, "Getting married."

"What?!" Pellan barked a laugh.

"And I want you to know that I would have asked to you be my Best Man, but Marta wants you to escort her in gratitude for all the help you've given her over the years, saying you can celebrate being rid of her."

"I don't believe this!" cried Pellan, bending over to slap his thighs, laughing heartily.

The approaching smaller wagon pulled alongside: it was Jeremy's grocer-employer, Mr. Gibson, and his younger son Leon, bringing a cake for the wedding.

"What's going on? Is there more to carry down?" asked Philippe, walking up at that moment with Jon at his heels.

"They're getting married. Here! Now!" Pellan informed them.

"What?!" exclaimed Philippe.

"Well, you're all here," explained Jeremy. "We thought it would be convenient for everyone. And we waited for Marta to graduate – barely. Philippe, will you stand with me?"

"I've never done that. What do I do?" Philippe turned to Jonathan and said, "Go tell your mother and the others that Jeremy and Marta are going to get married today." Jonathan nodded and ran off at top speed down to the lakeshore.

Jeremy continued instruction to Philippe: "Here's the ring: don't lose it! Here's some money to pay the magistrate when he finishes; I might forget. And if I get hysterical or try to run away, try to talk me down … but I don't think that's going to happen after all we've been through to get to this day!" He gave Philippe a wink.

Jeremy then pulled a bouquet from the grocer's wagon and gave it to Pellan. "Give these to Marta from me when she arrives."

Another buggy drove up just as shrieks of joy and surprise wafted up the hill on the breeze when the women learned the news from Jon. It was the magistrate, who dismounted, was introduced by Jeremy, and then began walking down to the picnic cove with Jeremy and Philippe.

While they waited for the bride to arrive, Philippe said to Jeremy, "Did you not want to have a church wedding?"

"No, it would just create problems with her being Lutheran and me being Catholic, with clergymen wanting either of us to convert to the other's denomination. It's easier this way."

Marta soon arrived in a buggy festooned with garlands of flowers, driven by Mr. Gibson's older son Michael, thoroughly enjoying his 15-year-old self in the role of chauffer-for-the-bride-to-the-wedding-site. Pellan helped Marta down from the buggy. She wore an ankle-length gown in blue and green like the water, with ribbons streaming in the breeze among her long blonde hair, attached to a crown of flowers. Pellan gave her the bouquet as a gift from her bridegroom and a kiss on her cheek, wishing her all happiness and good fortune in married life. He escorted her down to join the rest of their family for the ceremony under the awning, everyone wreathed in smiles and the extra surprise.

Jeremy and Marta got into the flower-bedecked buggy to leave for their honeymoon. Jeremy told Pellan, "We'll only be gone a few days. Marta has to get back to cram for her license exam."

"Where are you going?"

"Just up the road; I don't really know! We'll find some place that looks clean and cozy."

"Have fun!"

"I'm sure we will!"

"You rascals, springing this on us! Didn't have time to get you a gift."

"What's the point in that? We're limited in what we can pack to move to Seattle."

"You're right. Okay, we owe you a wedding gift once we get to Seattle."

Jess took Pellan's arm as they watched the bridal couple drive away. "If they're half as happy as we are, it will be wonderful."

Jeremy stretched out his legs and pushed off on a bench-swing outside their chosen little honeymoon cottage. They had eaten a light supper after all the picnic wedding-lunch celebration. It was early evening – not yet twilight.

Marta came out and joined him in the swing. She had removed her flower-crown headdress before they went to dinner in the little hamlet, but still wore the blue-green gown. Jeremy began to move the swing again gently, pulling her close. "Are you moved in?" he inquired.

"Yes – well, there wasn't much moving to it."

"What a perfect day!"

"It is." Marta smiled up at him. "You seem peaceful."

"Making a mental adjustment to being married, I suppose."

"In what way?"

"Well, the legal way, I suppose. Spiritually, I feel like I've been married to you for a long time."

"Since when?"

"I can't say. Maybe since the day you first kissed me and I knew that you thought of me as more than a pal."

"Hard to believe we're finally married after all these years."

"Weird to have been living under the same roof, sharing meals and expenses for over a year and not be married!"

"Not anymore, finally! You're stuck with me now!"

"Mmm – happily so." He nuzzled her neck, pulling her onto his lap.

"May I say that you don't seem very eager, physically."

"Oh, I'm eager! Just trying not to be pushy about it."

"Are your 'renovations' all healed up now?"

"Yes. Still, I've never done this before. I'm sure there's going to be a fair bit of fumbling involved on my part. I may need a doctor to guide me."

"This doctor will be happy to assist you! May I say that you surprise me a little? Going to live with your brothers in 'the wild west' of the States, I'm surprised that you never indulged in the infamous bordellos in your travels."

"I know that Jason and Josh thought I was weird, but I guess I'm just different in that way. Having grown up around girls and women from the age of five, I just can't indulge myself with a woman and walk away without a care. Women are real people to me, not things to be used and discarded."

"Which is one of the million things that I love about you." Marta snuggled closer to him.

"So do you think you have the patience to put up with any fumbling after a perfect day?"

"I don't know but what that would make it even more perfect!"

They giggled together like the soulmates that they had always been and rose to go inside, beginning their next chapter of togetherness.

Chapter 67: Endings

Philippe had never had the experience of moving. He decided that it was more dismal than losing a parent. Week after week, life had turned into an endless series of excruciating "good-byes." He had talked to his banking and business acquaintances in town, asking for any guidance about starting a bank in a small, rural town, encouraging the growth of a new industry (such as a deep-water port, for which Seattle was said to have potential, according to Jeremy). His Board of Directors gave Philippe a tiny pistol as a farewell gift, saying "since you are moving to the American 'Wild West' you may need it."

There were endless business meetings about the sale of Philippe's share of the bank and plans to sell the farm – hopefully to someone who wanted to continue it as a farm, so the animals could remain where they were. They decided not to take furniture and household goods with them due to expense, voluntarily limiting what they would each take. Philippe made arrangements to have the remaining household furnishings auctioned and the proceeds wired to him in a new account at a bank in Olympia which Jeremy had suggested. He gathered their important papers for the authorities in England and New York, where he would apply as an immigrant. Julie fretted over not having a birth certificate – and Jenny didn't have one either.

Worst of all, Philippe grieved that he had to leave his parents' grave, although his friend Matthieu, from his militia days, offered to keep their grave clear of debris and put flowers there at times. They were all sad about leaving friends around town. It was the cost for having loved the area and the people there for more than one generation.

Siobhan was sad and withdrawn about her break-up with Gaston and finally asked permission for Jenny and herself to move to England a little early to help the Londoners with their own preparations to move. Philippe gave permission, knowing that it might help to cheer and distract her and she could spend more time with her brother, making preparations to immigrate to the United States.

Jonathan and Lucie were upset as well, knowing they had to leave their friends and pets behind. Philippe thought to himself, "If this doesn't end soon, I think I will go mad." But Moving Day crept ever closer with the beginning of summer.

Philippe appeared in Jon's bedroom doorway one afternoon, pleased to find him absorbed in a book. Jon's bedroom was the tiny one that Philippe had used as a boy, so Philippe always felt like he was seeing himself at a younger age when he saw Jon there. "I bought you a gift." He laid a thick parcel beside his son.

"What is it?" Jon unwrapped it, revealing a thick leather-bound volume … with nothing on the pages. "There is nothing written," observed Jon, puzzled.

"Not yet. That is a book for you to write: a journal. I also bought one for myself. I got the idea of us both writing a journal as we leave France and make the long journey to Seattle, then settle in there. Perhaps it does not mean so much to you, but someday when you are an old man and I am gone, your grandchildren might like to read the story about where we used to live here and how we moved to America. I also thought it would be interesting to compare what we write – see how we are alike and different, what we notice along the way. We'll have to write with small letters; there may be a lot to write about and limited space. What do you think of the idea?"

"Okay, I guess."

Philippe left Jon's room, smiling to himself. He'd probably have to lead that project by example and Jon might not keep his own journal, but he at least seemed open to the idea. Philippe knew that he himself would be the family member who best remembered life in France and he wanted to record that for his descendants who might be interested someday, even if Jon would not join him. It seemed one way to preserve it for them before his own memories faded.

A week before their departure, Julie came down in the evening to join Philippe in the salon.

"Are the children asleep?"

"Yes. Lucie cried herself to sleep about the cat again."

Philippe sighed deeply. "I feel so horrible about all this. I feel worse about everyone else's pain than my own."

"And that is so like you. I still hope that you're going to be okay with this move."

"I am absolutely sure that this is the right decision. And this is probably the most difficult part of the process right now."

"The house seems so empty, even though it isn't."

"Yes, I notice it too."

There was a knock on the front door. Philippe and Julie exchanged glances, realizing that neither was expecting a visitor.

Philippe opened the front door and found Gaston Rameau and another young man standing there. Gaston looked disheveled and miserable. Philippe wondered if he had been drinking. "Gaston. Bon soir."

"Bon soir, Philippe." Gaston looked like he was close to tears. He hesitated, then ventured, "Is Siobhan here?"

"We are moving to England next week. Siobhan and Jenny have already moved to England ahead of us to make preparations there. I thought that you knew of our plans."

"Yes, I – I was just hoping she was still here." He sighed and fell silent, turning away with an agonized look upward, flopping his back against the exterior wall of the house.

Philippe exchanged glances with the other young man – tall, clear gray eyes, and tightly curled dark hair – whom Gaston had not made any effort to introduce. Philippe took the initiative, saying in French: "I don't believe we have met. I am Philippe Du Saule." He held out his hand.

The young man shook his hand and calmly responded, "Enchanté, Monsieur Du Saule. I am Pierre Rameau, Gaston's brother."

Simultaneously, Gaston apologized and gestured toward each of the men, saying their names as an introduction.

"Oh, are you the brother Gaston has mentioned, who could never seem to get out of université in Paris?"

"Yes, that is me – and I finally graduated this Spring. I came home just in time for the big fight." – to Gaston – "Are you going to tell Monsieur Du Saule or shall I?"

"I will tell him." Gaston sighed heavily.

Philippe interjected, "Why don't you both come inside? This sounds like it will take a while and we can be more comfortable in the salon." He motioned for the Rameaus to enter just as Julie walked up.

Philippe introduced Pierre to Julie, who already knew Gaston, and they greeted her courteously. She could tell by looking at them that they were in some distress. "Have you had supper? May I get you a sandwich and some wine?"

They hesitated to accept, but Philippe insisted, thinking to himself, 'At their age, they can eat again even if they ate earlier. It looks like they need sustenance.' He whispered to Julie, "I think they may need something stronger than wine." To the Rameaus, Philippe invited, "Come into the salon where it is cool and we can talk."

Philippe poured some whisky for Gaston, who looked like he needed it. Pierre declined whisky and accepted wine instead. They sat and Gaston began to speak: "I have been so distressed about Siobhan and the move and our argument, though I understand her reasons, of course. I was hoping to ask for her hand in time, when I had saved more money and gotten more established in my studio here. Then I got word that our older brother, Robert, was killed in a carriage accident and I went home to Amiens to be there for the funeral. My father intended that Robert would run his estate, but that is now impossible."

Philippe said that he had not heard of their brother's death and expressed sympathy. The Rameau estate was outside Amiens, almost a hundred miles away.

Gaston continued, "Thank you for your kindness. Pierre came home from Paris for Robert's funeral. Then our family argued over what will happen now. My parents tried to pressure Pierre to agree to take over the estate; Pierre said that he has not spent all this time earning a master's degree in Paris to not use it in teaching. Then they turned to me with the same demand; I told them that I don't have the ability – you know that I don't have the aptitude for that!" Gaston laughed at himself and Philippe and Pierre smiled politely, knowingly.

Gaston continued: "I told them that I want to move to America and marry Siobhan, if she will have me. Then they began shouting and said they would disinherit me if I do that. And… and… I packed a bag and left!" Gaston looked like he was surprised at himself for taking that step of independence.

"And I left with him," added Pierre. "I can't let my little brother go off to America by himself. And I've got to find a job anyway, now that I've finished my education. America could be as good a place as anywhere – maybe better."

"What is your master's degree?" inquired Philippe.

"English Language and Literature."

"Well, that could work in America."

Julie returned with sandwiches and a look of inquiry to Philippe as to whether she should remain in the room or not. Philippe updated her on the conversation – including her, because Philippe wanted her input.

Pierre stated, "We both have some savings – not a lot. We need help to travel to America, if we could get a loan, perhaps?"

"I no longer own a bank here – but I can make you a personal loan, if you wish," offered Philippe.

The Rameaus left later with instructions from Philippe as to what documents they would need for the trip to England and then to the States. They would have a hard ride to Amiens and back in a week.

"Pellan is going to kill me," Philippe declared solemnly to Julie as the Rameaus rode off.

"Probably true."

"What else could I do? I do believe that Gaston and Siobhan have feelings for each other. I actually think they might make a good match together."

"I agree with you. If Siobhan doesn't run Gaston out of England, we'll know soon enough."

Chapter 68: Moving Day

Their days in France dwindled down to zero and Moving Day arrived. The Du Saule family was up before dawn to have breakfast and finish final packing in time for the rental carriage they had ordered. All their remaining household goods were to be auctioned.

They loaded into the carriage and rode down the long drive for the last time, looking backward at the house and grounds. "Say 'good-bye' to the house, children," directed Philippe.

"Good-bye the house!"

"Say 'good-bye' to all the animals."

"Good-bye the animals!"

"Say 'May the next people who live here be as happy as we have been.'"

"May the next people to live here be as happy as we have been."

Philippe was surprised that he felt as peaceful at that moment as he did and could sincerely wish these sentiments along with Julie and their children.

Approaching the ferry landing in Calais a little later, Jonathan exclaimed, "Look at all the people!"

His parents looked and were suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, realizing how many of their friends had come to see them off. They had brought baskets of food and gifts for their journey and there were many hugs, well-wishes, and tears shed. Philippe called out to them as the ferry cast off, "I will have a photograph made in front of my new bank in America. Perhaps the bank here will put it in the window so you can all laugh at me." Their friends laughed in response and he realized again how very wealthy they were – not so much as in money as in love of so many long-term friends in Calais.

The Rameau brothers were quietly present that morning after what must have been many rough days on the road, collecting documents and supplies for their trip. Philippe paid for their passage to England.

A half-hour or so later, Julie approached Philippe, who was sitting on a bench of the ferry, facing France. He was gazing solemnly at the receding shoreline, squinting a little in the low morning sun. "Would you like something to eat? I've given some to the children and to the Rameaus."

"No, thank you, Love. You know, I dread when our children are teenagers. I think I'll have to take a second job to feed them, given how much they eat already." He snapped his fingers at the children a short distance away: "You two don't lean over the rail! I don't fancy a swim in the Channel this morning."

Jonathan replied, "We won't fall over."

Philippe countered, "You might not, but Lucie is half your age and much shorter and lighter-weight. It would be much easier for her to fall over, trying to compete with how far out you lean. Set a good example and watch out for her safety … and your own."

Jonathan looked chastened and quickly complied, as did Lucie. All in all, they were obedient children – and their parents were proud of them.

Julie sat down beside Philippe and asked, "Are you alright? Today can't be easy for you."

"I'm well enough. I'm just watching France while I can see it, saying 'good-bye.' I don't expect to ever see it again."

"Perhaps we'll come back to visit one day."

"I don't want to return. Places change over time – every day, really. I would rather remember it fondly as I have known it, be grateful, and move on."

"Mm," sighed Julie, resting her head on his shoulder as he clasped her hand in his.

"Will you grant me an indulgence when we have built our house in Seattle?"

"Whatever you like."

"I want to put up a little stone for my parents, since I won't be able to visit their graves here."

"I think that would be lovely. They were dear to me, too."

"I think things will be easier for me after today. It will be good to have new things to see and do and not these endless, heartbreaking good-byes. I'm actually looking forward to the long journey to Seattle! I've never been farther than England and Belgium, you know."

Julie smiled, still hoping in her heart that he wouldn't regret his choice to leave France – but if that should be the case, she knew that Philippe would never say so to her.

Upon arrival in England late in the day, Philippe had to hire a good-sized wagon to convey the six passengers and their luggage to Ivy Hill with to all the additional baskets of food and gifts. The Rameaus helped with loading the luggage and goods on the wagon.

Julie sighed, "Suppose they will love us or hate us when they see all this?" Philippe countered, "There will be so many people in that house with us there too, that food won't last long. They'll probably be glad of it. If not, Jon will do away with it in a few days by himself." He ruffled Jon's hair affectionately with a smile which Jon returned.

Jessica, Jenny, and Siobhan were at Ivy Hill when the party from France arrived. Siobhan froze when she saw Gaston, who immediately asked to speak with her privately and they left for a walk in the park across the street.

The Bolt sisters were very happy to be reunited and started sorting everyone out to available rooms in the boarding house which was now full to bursting. The salon was hastily assigned to the Rameau brothers as a bedroom with pallets on the floor. Jess gave Julie "a look" privately when they had left Pierre to settle into that space. She whispered, "Breakfast should be fun – when Pellan comes home from the night shift and finds Gaston here."

"I know that Pellan's going to flip, but what were we supposed to do when they showed up at our house last week?" Julie countered. Julie then summarized the Rameaus' issues to her sisters, and they all knew that much depended on the conversation taking place that very moment between Gaston and Siobhan in the park.

In an hour or more, Gaston and Siobhan returned to Ivy Hill, faces peaceful and happy. They had sorted out their differences from the past. Gaston had told Siobhan about the death of his older brother, the Rameau family fight, and the break with his parents. He had, in the course of the conversation, proposed marriage and stated that he wished to go with Siobhan to make a new life in Seattle or any place of her choosing. Siobhan had given him reason to hope, but declined to answer until he had spoken to Pellan. Siobhan knew that Pellan should be consulted, if for no more reason than peace in their future family interactions.

The evening meal turned into something of an impromptu picnic with all of the baskets of treats from France. The newest residents went to bed early, exhausted from the emotional toll of transition from France. Jess had assigned kitchen duties for the coming day and told them that Pellan wished to talk to them all after breakfast when he returned from working the night shift at the hospital.

Philippe stripped for bed and cautiously laid down beside Julie. They were occupying the smallest bedroom on what was technically the men's hall and it was barely large enough for both of them and their luggage with a slanting ceiling over the bed, which was not truly large enough for two people. They would have to remember not to sit up too quickly and hit their heads on the ceiling.

"One thing is for sure," Philippe stated to his equally naked wife.

"What's that?"

"We can't wear any clothes in bed at all in this room. If we put so much as one layer of cloth between us, someone will be crowded out of the bed and it will probably be me since you are lying against the wall."

Julie smiled and snuggled close with him. "Do you want to make love?" she asked softly.

Philippe sighed. "You know some part of me always says 'yes' when you ask – and not the part you may think!" He laughed. "But honestly, after this day of all days, I think I'll be asleep in five minutes and that is not fair to you."

Julie smiled and hugged him. "Can I be honest?"

"Always."

"I'm also that kind of exhausted – just drained."

"Well, let's just sleep and do better by each other on another night."

"Oh, and Philippe: I still want to have another baby."

"Julie, please. I've told you before: let's get Jenny established and get a roof over our heads."

"Yes, I remember and agree – but I'm not getting any younger."

"Whatever do you mean? You're scarcely an old woman."

"I'm almost 33½ now. After 35, women can start to have problems with childbearing."

"Oh."

Somehow Philippe had not known that or noticed the passing years they had had enjoyed together. He thought Julie still looked almost as young and beautiful as the day they had married, but he considered her words for a few minutes. "Let's just get to Seattle and settle in."

"I'll hold you to it."

"It will be my great pleasure to make you happy in that and any other way." He kissed her hand, gazing fervently into her eyes.

They drifted off in each other's arms, both thinking that, in their tiny room, it was fortunate that they had always had a habit of sleeping close.

Chapter 69: Settling In

Philippe awoke feeling groggy and disoriented. Someone was shaking his shoulder. "Papa! Papa, wake up! Maman says to get up."

Philippe turned over on his back. "Jon?"

"Maman says to get up for breakfast."

Philippe glanced over at his other side: Julie was gone. "Where is your mother?"

"She's in the kitchen, making breakfast with my aunts. She said for you to get up, but not to bathe. We have to figure out how everyone will have hot water to bathe; we can't bathe all at once. She said to wear your robe to breakfast and it will be fine since we are all family."

"Well, family, plus the Rameaus. Hand me my robe, then, and those pajama trousers."

Jon did so, and promptly turned his back, since his parents had taught him that it was rude to watch people dressing.

"I slept like the dead. I didn't notice your mother get up."

"She said that you were very tired from yesterday. I've already bathed and dressed!" Jon stated proudly.

"You put us to shame," Philippe declared solemnly, thinking affectionately how much Jon reminded him of his younger self. Therefore, sometimes, it was hard not to laugh.

Jeremy had already gone from the house to his early job with the grocer. Jess took a break from the kitchen a short while before she thought Pellan would arrive from his night shift at the hospital, walking briskly down the hill and down the street to meet him. Her sisters had plenty of help from everyone else in the house, putting an eclectic breakfast on the table, still composed largely of food from the Calais baskets.

She met up with Pellan within a block. He smiled and said, "What's this? A lovely lady come to accost me on my way home?"

"More like your dutiful wife come to warn you."

"About what?"

"The Du Saules are here. And also Gaston and his brother Pierre."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!"

"Don't swear."

"I'm not swearing; I'm praying."

"Make it good, then. I think Gaston may ask for Siobhan's hand."

"Ugh."

"Do you hate him so much?" Jess teased.

"I don't hate him. It's just a huge responsibility to oversee Siobhan's choice in whom to marry – and an artist at that! I know that he's hugely talented, but, of the two of them, Siobhan has by far the more practical mind. I think she'd have to anchor him to any of the sort of dismal realities in life. Is that what's best for her?"

"Maybe that makes them a good team?" Jess suggested, grinning at her husband.

Everyone greeted Pellan enthusiastically when he and Jess arrived home. He was something of "the host" of the house, being the landlord. He greeted the Rameaus more warmly than Jess would have predicted. The Rameaus, of course, realized that Jess had warned Pellan that they were present since he gave no sign of surprise in seeing them. They all settled in to breakfast by shifts, since even the large table beside the kitchen was not large enough for the twelve of them.

After breakfast, Pellan asked to meet with the newcomers. He said, "Welcome again, everyone. I hope that you were able to get settled in and rest well. Jess will help organize our life here. I thought that on Friday afternoon those of us purchasing tickets for the voyage to America might all go together to get them; then we'll know better how to arrange our time before we set sail, once we know the date. Before I go in to sleep, I just want to make a request for all of you: If you have not seen a dentist in the past six months or have any reason to suspect that you might have a problem developing with your teeth, please have an appointment with a dentist here before we leave. There is no dentist in Seattle that I know of and if anything happens to your teeth during our trip, you will have to have me or Marta treat you and you are not going to like what that will feel like! A dentist here will have more skill and the proper tools so we don't risk that happening. Jess can direct you to some good dentists. See you later in the afternoon!"

There was a chorus of groans at Pellan's request, but they all saw the wisdom in complying and began to make plans accordingly.

Pellan went off to his room to bathe and prepare for sleep. Meanwhile, Jess introduced a household chart of chores and cooking, divided among those more or less skilled to make work easier on everyone. And they began a new ritual of boiling water and creating a scheduled order for everyone's bath around work schedules.

The men went together on Friday to the port to purchase tickets for passage to America. They were disappointed that they would have to wait another six weeks to depart, booking passage on a ship which could accommodate them all together, but it couldn't be helped in this peak sailing season. And Gaston did ask Pellan for Siobhan's hand in marriage. Pellan gave permission, but told him that he wanted to see him get established in America before the marriage took place.

Chapter 70: Full House

Life fell into a routine at Ivy Hill while they all waited to set sail for America. Those who had jobs continued to work at them. Others began to pick up small extra employment. Gaston making advertising posters for some local merchants (recommended by Jeremy) and Pierre was hired to do some odd jobs at the grocer's while they were there, also upon Jeremy's recommendation.

Life was not unpleasant. Jon in particularly seemed very happy. Philippe was glad to see that, since he feared that crowding together would create short tempers. But there seemed to be a subtle air of excitement and a common goal of getting along and preparing for the long journey ahead.

Those who could play musical instruments did so in the evenings. Jon had just begun learning to play the violin in the past year and Philippe and Julie both worked with him on technique. Philippe remarked that he now only needed to find another violinist to form a string quartet, while Jeremy teased Jon that he would make a good fiddle player in Seattle.

One morning soon after their arrival, Philippe asked Jonathan to help him spruce up the front of the house. They collected fallen branches from the masses of ivy under the trees in the front yard of Ivy Hill and took them to the burn site in the back garden. They also swept the long walk to the front steps and then admired their work.

"Why did they let all those branches lie here, Papa?"

"I think that your uncle-the-doctor works long hours at the hospital, comes home, eats and sleeps, and goes back to do it again the next day. I think your Uncle Jeremy does the same in his job at the grocer. Your Aunt Marta has been very busy finishing school and then doing farrier work to earn money to save for the trip and to pay bills. And that has left your Aunt Jess to deal with the house, plus work that she has done in nursing and other chores. I suspect that none of them have had much extra time to pretty up the lawn. But they are getting ready to sell this house and we can help them make it look nice for buyers."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"Let's go see if your mother needs help with lunch."

"I saw on the schedule that you are to help with dinner, not lunch."

"And I will. But I will do extra to help out around here since I'm not working elsewhere right now. I won't expect your mother to do everything herself or to wait upon me."

In the days ahead, Philippe was pleased to see Jonathan following his example, doing more than his assigned chores at Ivy Hill and even asking to learn to cook. When Jenny told Jon that there were already a sufficient number of experienced cooks in the house, Philippe asked that they still teach Jon some cooking skills if he wanted to learn. "You never know when you will need such practical skills," Philippe said, remembering his years when deployed with the Calais militia.

Philippe was pleased that Jon was eager to learn and help out since Philippe suspected that life in Seattle would be demanding of all of them, once they arrived. The children needed to be encouraged to do what they could to help out now … and later.

The Rameaus were excellent houseguests. They were extremely helpful and pleasant on their shifts for cooking and chores and, like Philippe and Jon, did more than they were scheduled to do. Although they had to sleep on pallets in the salon due to lack of beds, they kept their pallets and possessions cleared out of the way until bedtime so that everyone could use the salon for sitting.

Pierre in particular had a challenging adjustment, since he had not met any of the rest of the party before. It took him a while to learn names and sort out relationships. He tended to be quiet and a good observer.

One morning soon after they arrived in England, Pierre observed Lucie come to her father for a cuddle before breakfast. She was always dressed for the day before breakfast. Philippe kissed her and settled her on his lap, as usual, asking, "Which of your aunts did your hair this morning?"

"Aunt Jenny."

"Ah, Aunt Jenny! I can never guess. But you always look pretty, whoever does it."

Lucie smiled at his compliment and bounced off his lap to join her mother in the kitchen.

Pierre remarked to Philippe, "Your children are bilingual!"

"Yes!" agreed Philippe with a smile.

"How did you do it?"

"Just like any children learn language from their parents. We always spoke both languages around them."

"Did you intend for them to become bilingual?"

"Oh, yes! We knew we could do that for them and it would be to their advantage in life. My mother thought it was foolish and would confuse them, but we did it all the same, starting when they were infants."

"Were they confused?"

"A little when they were very young, but little children mix up words if they speak only one language. By the time they were four, they could keep French and English separate."

"Do they speak one language more than the other – as if it is what they prefer?"

"Hmm. I think Jon prefers French. When he is upset or excited, he will speak French – and he has been in school four years now, speaking French. I think Lucie may be more comfortable with English."

"How did that difference occur, growing up in the same house?"

Philippe reflected a moment, then replied, "When Jon was born, my mother was still alive. She was so very proud of Jon – carried him to be around her friends, showing him off. I worried that he would never learn to walk since someone was always holding him! Of course, all her friends in Calais spoke French. It was only in the house, around his mother and her sisters, that he heard English. When Lucie was born, my mother had recently died. While my father was still alive and fond of Little Lucie – she is named for my mother – she spent the bulk of her time with her mother and aunts, plus Siobhan, speaking English."

"What language do you speak with Julie when you are alone?"

"English."

"Really?"

"My father sent me to England after I finished school to learn to speak better English, which is where I met Julie. I don't think he envisioned my finding a girlfriend there, but there is no stronger motivation to learn another language, let me tell you!" They both laughed. "And I went to a lot of effort to learn English; I don't want to risk forgetting it! Pierre, I have been thinking. I don't want my children to be behind when they start school in Seattle. And Lucie has not been to school yet at all, though we have been teaching her simple numbers and letters. Do you think that you – and maybe Gaston – would agree to teach them daily lessons in English and arithmetic during the trip? And maybe start discussion of some topics in art or whatever even for the adults as we travel?"

"Teach both children – in English?"

"Yes. That is what they will be speaking in America, so I want you to stick to English. If you two are willing to do that, I will pay for your trips to Seattle. And I think it would make the trip more enjoyable for all of us."

Pierre was stunned, but pleased. It would be mutually beneficial…. "Well, yes. I will ask him, but I think Gaston will agree and that is certainly generous of you. We were planning to pay you back for travel expenses."

"Pay me back or not, but consider my offer and let me know."

"I've never taught a girl before," Pierre mused, seeming hesitant.

"They're just like teaching boys, but are more intelligent and behave better." Philippe winked.

"I haven't taught so young a child either. They had me teaching young teenage boys since no one else wanted to teach them. How old is Lucie?"

"She will turn six before we get to Seattle."

"Oh, I thought she was about four."

"She is small for her age. I think she takes after my mother, who was short-stature. She will be six in September. I think she is smart and will work hard to learn. Talk it over with Gaston and let me know."

Chapter 71: Three Less Teeth

Jonathan burst into the Ivy Hill kitchen from outside one afternoon, where Julie and Jess were cutting up vegetables for dinner. "Maman, viens vite! Papa es malade!"

Julie and Jess exchanged glances and immediately put down their paring knives. Julie asked Jon, "Where is he?"

"Outside at the street," said Jon, recovering his English.

Jess asked Julie, "Has Philippe ever been sick a day in his life?"

"He had that bad fever the year I met him and a few colds, but nothing major," Julie reported.

They all hastened outside the house, through the side yard, and across the street, where they could see Philippe standing with his back to them, braced against a fence at the edge of some woods. Julie saw Philippe lean over the fence rail and spit out some dark fluid which looked like blood.

"The dentist pulled his teeth," submitted Jon.

"I didn't know your father had any trouble with his teeth," said Julie, drawing near to Philippe and laying her hand on the back of his shoulder. "Philippe? What's wrong?"

Philippe responded in a hoarse, soft voice, "The dentist-surgeon cut out two teeth." He pointed up on both sides of his face. He spat out more blood across the fence, nodding and saying, "Don't walk there."

Jessica-the-Nurse took over: "The teeth were in the back on the top?"

"Yes."

"Wisdom teeth? Dents de sagesse?"

"Oui. Yes."

"Had they come in through the gum like teeth grow normally?"

"No. I did not know I had them. The surgeon said they were, uh, im– ?"

"Impacted? Impacted wisdom teeth?"

"Yes, that's it. He said they should come out or would cause more trouble later."

"You poor thing! We had a man at the hospital who had four taken out under anesthesia."

"That would be a better way." Philippe spat blood again. "I was almost undone by the first one, the surgeon leaning on my head and pulling hard, the tooth cracking off…. And then I had to sit there while he did the second one. It was very … rough."

"I'm so sorry. Are you in pain?"

"No, I am still numb. He gave me many injections, and that was bad, too."

Julie said, "Let's go inside and let you lie down."

Jess countered, "I think it would be best to have him sit on the chaise in the salon and keep his head elevated. That might help stop the bleeding faster. Pellan says to elevate any part of the body that's bleeding. We can ease him with pillows there."

Bowing to the wisdom of the family nurse, they escorted Philippe to the chaise. Jess directed Jon to bring a cup in case his father needed to use it as a spittoon. Lucie held back, watching all that was happening.

"Have you had lunch?" Julie asked Philippe.

"No. I don't want anything, just a little water."

Julie went to get him some water, asking Jon if he had had lunch.

"Yes. Papa gave me some money and I bought a sandwich and drink from a man on the street."

"Aren't you grown up to take care of yourself and to bring your poor father home! Lucie, go bring the pillows from our bed for your father to lean on."

Lucie did so and resumed standing to one side, watching. Philippe thanked her with a weak smile and stroked her cheek.

"Are you sick, Papa?"

"I'm hurt, not sick, Sweetheart. The dentist had to pull out two of my teeth that were making problems, leaving two little holes where the teeth were. I'll be alright when the holes close up and heal. Come and sit with me; that will make me feel better."

Lucie snuggled in beside him with a contented smile, then she looked up at him and said, "Papa, the dentist needs to take my tooth, too."

"What do you mean?"

Lucie showed him that one of her lower front teeth was loose. "Lucie! My little girl is growing up!" This would be the first baby tooth she lost.

"Will the dentist take it out?"

"I don't know. You may pull it yourself – before Jon wants to pull it."

Pellan arrived home from his day shift and kissed his wife, who said, "I'm glad you're home. Now you can see your patient here."

"What?"

Jess told Pellan about Philippe's misadventure at the dentist.

Pellan entered the salon, where Philippe was dozing upright on the chaise, now by himself. Pellan called his name to wake him, knowing it would soon be time for dinner, although he might not feel like eating. Philippe's dark blue eyes opened. "Philippe, Jess told me what happened. How do you feel?"

"Pretty bad, really." – a weak smile –

"Are you in pain?"

"No, it's tolerable – a bit of a headache. It was just – stressful to be aware of what he was doing."

"I can imagine. Ah, do you hate me for recommending dentist visits for everyone?"

"No, no. I can see the sense of taking care of this while we're here."

"Better here than me trying to work on you in the middle of the Atlantic or on a train!"

"I quite agree!" Philippe smiled wearily.

Pellan went to prepare him a tea for headache.

A week later, Philippe took a walk with Jon in the wooded neighborhood of Ivy Hill. Jon skipped ahead at times, getting up momentum to leap and swat at branches overhead. Philippe remarked, "You seem happy and full of energy today."

"Oh, I am! I'm glad you're feeling better now."

"I am, too. While I love your mother's oatmeal and soup, I'm glad to be able to get something else between my teeth now that my jaw isn't swollen almost shut."

"I guess I'll starve to death if that happens to me. Do you think it will?"

"I can't say, Jon. You don't have all your adult teeth yet and your mother has never had this problem. You may take after her. I hope you do!"

"I wrote the beginning of my journal, Papa. Would you like to read it?"

"I would indeed! Would you like to read mine?"

"Of course!"

Philippe asked Julie that night, "Do you think I have been neglecting Jon?"

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, he seems very happy to be with me these days – even happy about our journal project. And I'm happy to be with him, especially since I don't have to work at the bank or the farm right now. I just wonder if he thinks I have not spent as much time with him as I should have in all the years before now."

"He's been in school and taking music lessons, plus his own chores around the house and farm. He's been busy, too. This is a special, unusual time for both of you – for all of us. I think he's just enjoying it. You've been a good father to him all along."

Chapter 72: A New Venture

Philippe took a liking to Pierre Rameau. While Philippe liked Gaston, too, Philippe found it amusing that two brothers, raised in the same family, could be so different. They were both mannerly and had a sense of humor. Although raised with some degree of privilege, they didn't shy away from any household chores or complain about anything. Gaston was creative, effusive, and very distractable with his many artistic ideas and projects. Pierre was observant, reserved, thoughtful, and deliberate. Perhaps that reserve appealed to the banker in Philippe, while Gaston's personality appealed to his artistic side.

"What do you plan to do with your life?" Philippe asked Pierre one evening after dinner.

"I'll see where Gaston lands, then find work near him. We still have each other for family; we can support each other."

"You plan to teach?"

"That's what I trained for. I was teaching part-time in a boys' school my last year in Paris. Although other people don't like to work with pre-teen boys, I enjoyed it. They have a lot of energy and curiosity."

"Are you planning to marry someday?"

"If I meet someone who'll have me." He chuckled shortly, as if that was doubtful.

"You should get to know Jenny – court her. You could do a lot worse."

Pierre gaped at him. "Court her? I don't have a job or a house. I don't even know where I'll be living. I'm not in a position to court anyone!"

"Well, aren't we all in that same situation right now or soon will be while we travel? Just use this free time to get to know her. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She may push me overboard into the Atlantic when she learns how limited my prospects are for employment."

Philippe chuckled. "That university education of yours and your teaching experience are bound to be of value to some school in America – and you speak English well. Just get to know her. She's a good girl and has many fine qualities."

"Because your family raised her? Does she have any bad traits?"

"She's not much of a morning person," Philippe confided.

Jennifer Bolt scuffled into the Ivy Hill kitchen the next morning in her well-worn houseshoes, preparing to start breakfast. Jess was to join her on their cooking shift, but had not yet emerged from her bedroom with Pellan at the far end of the other hall. Jenny lit the fire, put the iron kettle under the kitchen pump and filled it, setting it on the stove, and then put a bucket under the sink pump to transfer water to a much larger pot over the fire to heat the morning bath water for the house. She yawned hugely as she began to lift the heavy bucket, suddenly startled to feel its weight lifted from her hands. "Oh!"

"Please allow me."

Jenny gazed blankly up into Pierre Rameau's gray eyes, which were lit with amusement. "You seem to have indulged in too much schnapps last night," he remarked kindly.

Jenny was momentarily speechless, then smiled wryly and remarked, "As if I drink schnapps!"

"I saw Marta drinking some last night. I assumed that you must have finished the bottle later."

"I would never do that. Alcohol goes straight to my head."

"Then please forgive me for being presumptuous. What can I do?"

"Do for what?"

"This is my first breakfast cooking shift. Give me some orders, Mademoiselle, so that I may be useful."

Jess joined them shortly, followed by Lucie, who begged to do something to help. They let her set the table, although she still had a hard time reaching the middle of the surface due to her height.

Pellan arrived home from working another night shift at the hospital. They all began eating breakfast when there was a crash in the kitchen and a scream from Lucie. Pellan and Philippe both leapt up from their chairs and moved with all haste to the kitchen area, followed by Jess and Julie. Lucie was holding her forearm, tears rolling down her cheeks. A tin of muffins was on the floor. Julie grabbed a towel to use as a potholder to scoop it up, throwing two muffins that hit the floor in the refuse bin.

Pellan spoke intently to Lucie: "Did you burn yourself on the stove?" Lucie nodded. "Will you let me help you?" She nodded again, her father's hands now resting on her small shoulders.

Pellan called for some ice, butter, and bandages; Jess moved swiftly to help, already anticipating what he needed to dress a burn. Pellan pushed a short stool to the sink for Lucie to stand on, asking her to hold her arm under the water while her father pumped. Jess gave Pellan a piece of ice partially wrapped in a clean rag so that his fingers would not melt it. Pellan put the ice on the burn mark and asked Lucie to hold it there. He watched to see that she would comply, then turned to request butter which Jess was holding out to him. "You read my mind, Love," Pellan smiled and kissed her neck. After a while, the ice having melted, Pellan gently dabbed butter on the burn and wrapped it loosely in bandages, praising Lucie for being "a brave girl."

An hour or so later, Jon approached Pellan: "Oncle-Docteur, you called Lucie 'brave.'"

"Yes. You don't agree?"

"She cried."

"Five-year-olds usually cry when they get hurt. I'll bet you used to cry when you were little and hurt yourself."

"Yes," Jon reluctantly admitted.

"We all did. I think I might cry now if I burned myself badly enough – it hurts! I thought Lucie was brave because she let me help her and she even helped herself some, holding the ice on the burn. A ten-year-old like yourself has probably learned all that already so you can help yourself and others."

Jon grinned and moved off, reminded of having already learned some things in life, and being glad for a family who had taught him … and was teaching him still. Indeed, it was during the time at Ivy Hill that Jon began to have a close relationship with his uncles which lasted the rest of their lives.

Pellan checked Lucie's wound the next day and complimented her on her healing, putting on a clean bandage. She skipped off, happy – the pain of the previous day forgotten.

Pellan remarked to Jeremy, "She's the cutest little thing! I'd like a whole houseful of them!"

Jess was passing by him and asked, "A whole houseful of what?"

"Kids like Lucie and Jon: so cute and mannerly! Don't you agree?"

"I don't know that I want a whole houseful of anything."

"Now, Jess, you said—"

"Who's to say that we wouldn't have a whole houseful of wild, red-haired, half-Irish boys, beating the snot out of each other and me running interference?"

"Well, we don't know that that would happen," Pellan drawled.

Jess looked steadily at him, saying nothing. "I mean, they might not have red hair," he clarified.

Jess swatted him with the dish towel while he cringed away from her in mock terror. Jeremy laughed.

Chapter 73: The New Teacher

Pierre Rameau was introduced to the children as their teacher for the trip. They already knew Gaston as their art teacher. Since the men were both Rameaus, the children were told to address them as "Monsieur Pierre" and "Monsieur Gaston."

Pierre spent time getting to know both of the children and learned about the joint journal project between Philippe and Jon. Pierre also started reviewing with Lucie what she already knew. He found her an eager pupil, very excited about learning to read like her older brother, so he commenced her reading lessons in England.

One morning, Julie stood a short distance away in the kitchen, working on lunch preparations with Jenny, while Pierre worked with Lucie on reading at the kitchen table. Julie noticed Lucie starting to squirm in her seat and eventually interrupted them. "Monsieur Pierre, would you mind if we all take a little break – maybe have a snack?"

"Of course, Madam Julie," he replied. "I may have lost track of time."

Jenny held out a hand to Lucie, "Come with me to the water closet. I was just heading there myself." Lucie took her hand and skipped with her down the hall, chattering about her reading lesson.

Julie continued to Pierre, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I noticed Lucie beginning to move around in her seat. I know that she's younger than students you've been teaching. When the little ones start to squirm, they either need to go to the water closet, eat something, or just move around – and after such a break, you may get them to pay full attention again."

"Of course! I had forgotten about little ones. I hope I didn't cause her to…." He glanced down at the seat cushion where Lucie had been sitting, blushing a little.

"No, she has more control than that. But even adults enjoy a break."

Lucie soon came clattering back down the hall and Julie gave her a scone "to give to Monsieur Pierre and then come back to get one for yourself." Pierre had to agree with Julie that a break in studies was refreshing for everyone – including the teacher.

After finishing their reading lesson, Pierre took both children out into the yard with a nature book he had found in the front parlor, intent on identifying common trees and flowers they found there.

After the three had gone outside, Julie remarked to her youngest sister, "Pierre has a pleasing manner, don't you think?"

Jenny regarded her silently for a second and responded, "I suppose. Meaning?"

"That he has a pleasing manner with adults and children. Nothing more." Julie smiled at Jenny, a bit impishly.

"You weren't making some sort of 'point'?"

"When a young lady is twenty-two and might hope to marry someday, men with a pleasing manner would seem to be good prospects – if I may offer an opinion. That's my only 'point.'"

"I see. Nothing about 'poor scholars,' and all that, given his education and work experience?"

"Not all scholars are poor. If he gets involved in some large school or in founding a school, he may do quite well in life, given all his education. But money and success at work are not nearly as important as being with someone who has an amiable, considerate, affectionate character."

"Which he does: I have noticed. He is very quiet, though."

"He's left his family, school, country, and everything he ever knew in life, is surrounded by strangers except for his brother (who is obsessed with Siobhan) and he just lost his oldest brother to an accident recently. He's soon heading out into another new country and a back-woods location he knows nothing about, plus the financial anxiety he must surely feel about finding a job somewhere. If that were me, I would be a shaking nervous wreck. But he's handling himself better than I would be."

"I guess you're right. Are we noisy and intimidating to him, do you think?"

"There are just a lot of us to get to know all at once, I'm sure. And we're probably quite noisy compared to a scholar's life in a university. He may be in shock."

"I'll keep all that in mind and try not to be a brat around him."

"You've never been a brat, Jenny dear. And you have a way of bringing out the best in people, like you did with Philippe's father. Maybe you can bring out the best in Pierre Rameau, too."

Chapter 74: Unplanned

Jess lay curled on her side, watching Pellan slowly wake up on the morning of his day off from work. His emerald eyes finally opened and locked on hers, followed by his warm smile and usual lingering morning kiss of greeting. "What are you thinking, lying there and staring at me?"

"I'm trying to imagine what kind of father you'll be."

Pellan looked at her blankly, then with a growing awareness. "What … are you saying?"

"Guess what we forgot last night."

He was now fully alert and rolled on his back, his forearm over his forehead, staring at the ceiling. "Where are you in your cycle?"

"Somewhere in the middle."

Pellan groaned, eyes now closed.

"I thought you wanted a whole houseful of children – and sooner rather than later?" Jess commented.

"After we get settled in Seattle and have a roof over our heads – then maybe we could work on that," said Pellan.

"It may be too late for that plan now. Besides, if I am pregnant, we'll be in Seattle before the baby arrives."

"I don't think morning sickness on a ship or a train will be pleasant."

"I doubt it's pleasant anywhere. We'll just see what happens. At least we can be sure about the due date."

"March 16." Pellan had already done the calculation in his head. "I'm so sorry about forgetting."

"I'm not. I think 'forgetting' and indulging in each other's love is the best possible way to conceive a child. I don't want to hear you apologize again, hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am." He sighed.

Philippe and Julie had impressed upon their children the need to speak English when around anyone who didn't speak French. But Philippe often found himself speaking in French to the Rameaus in the spare moment. He found, as he had learned on his first trip to England, that it helped to relax his brain to speak in his native language. Even after all the years around the Bolts, he still struggled for words at times and always with English spelling.

Jeremy remarked to Julie one evening while on kitchen clean-up duty, "Have you noticed that when Philippe and the Rameaus talk together, they look like they're plotting an insurrection?"

"Oh, no. They're just being French," Julie smiled indulgently at them in the salon.

"Which means?"

"French people are formal and serious in the way they interact. They smile slightly, but don't really laugh unless they find something totally hilarious or they are over-the-moon happy. I had to get used to that. Took me a while."

"Then the next time Philippe laughs at one of my jokes, I'll find it an extreme compliment."

"As you should!"

One day, after they had been at Ivy Hill for a month, Pierre remarked to his brother, "I don't think I've ever seen a family who gets along as well as this one."

"Oh, that's quite true!" Gaston agreed. "I've found them so therapeutic after our family! Ha! It is like being on holiday to be around them! And the Du Saules and Bolt sisters have been so kind and good to Siobhan after the tragedy she and her brother suffered. I'm even more grateful to them for that!"

Somehow with Gaston, the conversation always turned to Siobhan.

Chapter 75: Bon Voyage!

The day finally arrived to leave England. Mr. Baxter had found a buyer for Ivy Hill and they left the sale of house and furnishings in his care. Pellan and Siobhan thanked him warmly for his care for them over the years as they grew to adulthood.

Mr. Baxter found himself more moved by their departure than he might have predicted. Pellan had not been an easy charge and had tried his patience at times, but Mr. Baxter was pleased with how Pellan had turned out in life. And he had married an attractive, sensible, competent woman to companion him through life. It seemed that Siobhan would be alright under Pellan's oversight until she turned 21 in a few months, engaged to the young French artist. Mr. Baxter wished them well and meant it.

They set sail for America in early summer, settling into a new routine on board the sailing ship. The journey would take up to three months, if the winds were poor or they encountered bad weather. Philippe and Jonathan continued writing in their journals as they were inspired. Everyone had been well advised to plan quiet pastimes for the long voyage.

Pellan had announced the resumption of the Gentlemen's Knitting Club for the trip with plenty of yarn purchased for the participants. All the men "joined" the club with rather low levels of enthusiasm, including Jon, but they soon began to enjoy the self-disparaging style of Pellan's instruction as well as the banter, jokes, and comments ... and even the handwork itself. The French members laughed at Pellan's jokes fairly often. Philippe found Pellan's idioms and stories outrageous or puzzling, often having to ask for explanation.

Pellan strongly encouraged everyone to take fresh air on the deck at least twice a day for their health. He still held a fear of "miasmas" on ships. The time passed slowly, but the weather and winds were in their favor.

One morning Philippe joined Pellan, Jeremy, and the Rameaus on deck, looking a bit disgruntled. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said. "When you all have children, you will learn that you'll never be on time again in your life."

"Where's your doppelganger this morning?" asked Pellan.

"If you mean Jon, he's below, getting measured again for stockings and arguing with his mother."

"'Arguing with his mother'? Our little mannerly Jon? That sounds more like something that I would do, not him. What's his issue?"

"It's always the same argument with his mother these days: he wants to wear long pants."

The other men all groaned in sympathy.

"He'll be up here in a minute, looking like a little thundercloud," added Philippe. "The best way to handle him is to distract him onto something else as soon as possible."

Pellan said, "Well, we're in luck! We have something new today: land!"

"Where?"

Pellan pointed out land, barely visible on the horizon. Philippe squinted in that direction. "I can scarcely see it. I think I'm starting to need spectacles."

"Might be, at your age." Philippe gave him a teasing look.

Pierre submitted, "Here comes Jon. I can give him some English sentences to diagram this morning which will distract him from his woes about short pants, if you like."

Philippe took the initiative instead, calling to Jon, "Oh, there you are! Come and see: there is land on the horizon today!"

Jon immediately stopped frowning and came to the rail with great curiosity, where Pierre pointed it out. Philippe gave the other men a wink behind Jon's back at this quick change in Jon's mood.

"Will we get closer? I want to look for houses," stated Jon.

Jeremy answered, "We'll stay a distance out. Close to shore, there are rocks hidden in shallow water. The sailors don't want to risk running into them with the ship and cause it to sink or getting the ship stuck in shallow water."

Enroute to the States, Pellan and Jeremy frequently advised the members of the Gentlemen's Knitting Club of what to expect in their journey. They talked about chaos in busy New York City and also described life in Seattle in detail, feeling that it would help the others to be prepared for what they would encounter … and perhaps be less shocked or disappointed.

For all of his confidence while living in France, Philippe felt increasingly nervous as they approached the States. Pellan had warned them about pickpockets, chaotic crowds, unfamiliar-looking people, and many languages that would be spoken all around them in the city of New York. Philippe realized that their party was unusually fortunate: four of their party had made this journey before them and, between them, they spoke at least a few phrases of Spanish, French, English, German, Russian, Chinese, and Gaelic! He was surprised that so many sailors spoke the latter, but he was sure that was just one of many surprises in store. He tried to imagine what Jeremy described of groups of Greeks, Swedes, Russians, Chinese, and English living in or near Seattle, plus the dreaded annual "rendezvous" of Canadian French-speaking fur traders tearing up the town. He was a bit embarrassed that French-speaking men behaved like barbarians and hoped that he and the Rameaus would redeem the reputation of the French. All this swirled around in his head, trying to imagine the weeks ahead of them in this transition. Plus, he tried to envision the house he wanted to build for his family and the new bank.

The Rameaus had their own anxieties about the future, but Jeremy advised Pierre to talk to the local schoolteacher in Seattle – "Miss Essie" – about schools needing teachers. Jeremy said that Miss Essie kept up to date on news in her field, but Pierre had his doubts about getting news in a tiny town. Still, he was with Gaston, who was with Siobhan, who was with Pellan. He would have to wait and see how things evolved.

They sailed alongside the coast of Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and New England for many days, approaching New York. The captain spread the word that they would be arriving at Castle Garden, Manhattan, the next day. Philippe went over their paperwork yet again, and fretted to Julie in their cabin about how to divide money. He said, "I think you should carry money in case I am delayed in the immigrant line and you and the children need food. What if they won't let me in?"

"Why wouldn't they let you in?" Julie replied. "It's me I'm worried about: I don't have a birth certificate, remember? And neither does Jenny." Philippe handed her a large amount of cash. "I don't want to carry all that."

Jon offered, "I can help. I can carry some of it."

Philippe appraised him. "This is not spending money for toys. This is money that we need to buy food on our journey."

"I understand. I won't lose it or spend it."

"You have to keep it hidden and not let a thief put his hand into your pockets, as your Uncle-Docteur has warned us. You have to keep aware of who is around you all the time, especially in a crowd."

"I understand. You can trust me. I can do that."

Philippe gave Jon a smaller amount of the money he was giving to Julie, insisting that she also carry cash, "Just in case we get separated."

At Castle Garden the next morning, they split into two groups. The Bolt siblings and Du Saule children went in the line for citizens re-entering the United States; they believed that the children would be considered dual citizens of France and the USA in the years of their minority. Jess and Jeremy were confident to lead them through. Everyone else went into the long line for processing immigrants.

Pellan directed, "Let me go first in line with Siobhan. I've seen this before and know what to expect. Then Marta. They may not believe that she has a university diploma, but I can vouch for her. Then Philippe and the Rameaus."

Pellan had asked the citizen-group to assemble across from the immigrant processing station where they would be interviewed. Since so many of the immigrant-group were married to Bolt siblings, it would be easy to point them out and involve them, if needed, for verification. Pellan thought that the mere sight of all the American-citizen spouses would facilitate immigration for them. That turned out to be the case. While it took a long while to wait in line with so many other people, some of whom had limited English, their party, dressed in the sober, respectable manner which Pellan had advised and speaking English well, had no trouble being admitted as immigrants with instructions to follow up in in the capital of Washington Territory, once settled.

Chapter 76: New York, New York

Philippe had been to Paris and London, but he had never seen anything as bewildering to him as New York City: such a strange conglomeration of all manner of people crowded together in a loud hurry – shouting, cursing, and sometimes laughing loudly! Some wore clothing of some unknown culture. He heard many languages spoken around him and had no idea what some of them were. He unconsciously grasped for Jonathan's hand in the chaos as their party walked out onto the street from their hotel that evening in search of dinner. After a few minutes, Jon looked up at his father and said, "Papa, you don't have to hold my hand. I can keep up."

Philippe stared down at him with the sudden realization that Jon felt he was being treated like a small child. "I'm so sorry, Jon," he said, dropping his hand. "I know you can keep up. I was just so frightened with all these people around that I just grabbed someone's hand, which happened to be yours."

"Are you really frightened, Papa?"

"At least a little. Aren't you?" Jon shrugged.

Jess suggested, "Let's go back to that wonderful Italian place, okay?" Pellan, Jeremy, and Marta chorused agreement. But Philippe began to have an issue and protested, "What? Italian food? Why do we come to America and eat Italian food? Shouldn't we eat American food?"

"Because there's no Italian food in Seattle and there is in New York. We should enjoy it while we can. The seafood is also wonderful here," Jess enthused.

Julie added, "You'll be sick of my plain American food in Seattle soon enough."

Philippe was unconvinced. Jeremy explained: "It really is sort of 'American food' anyway. There are all these different people in New York City. Many of them soon discovered when they immigrated that people would pay to eat the food that they already knew how to cook – like Italian – so they started restaurants as a business to make a living, even though they've become American citizens by now. This is an opportunity probably like nowhere else in the world, with all these immigrants settled here. How far would you have to travel from Calais to find Italian food?"

There came a sudden rush and a boy, about the same age as Jon, ran through their midst, knocking Lucie down. Pellan and Julie immediately knelt to see if Lucie was hurt and Pellan yelled after the boy, "Watch where you're going, you foozler!" A moment later there was another commotion and Jeremy boxed the ear of a boy of similar age, yelling "Hey!" The boy staggered back, clutching his ear and glaring at Jeremy, then ran on and disappeared into the crowd.

Marta exclaimed, "Jeremy, did you strike that little boy?!"

Jeremy replied, "That 'little boy' was probably working with the first one who ran through and planning to pick some of our pockets while we're distracted, checking on Lucie. That's a common technique street urchins use to rob people."

They found that Lucie had only mildly scuffed palms and proceeded on to the restaurant, walking close together and keeping alert to any more threats.

Philippe couldn't recall that he had ever had Italian food, unless it had been some forgotten occasion with the militia. He enjoyed it immensely: another surprise today and a very pleasant one. And Jon, predictably, had eaten two plates of spaghetti.

Philippe suggested to Julie, "Perhaps we might start a French restaurant in Seattle?" His wife turned to look at him with alarm.

Jess complained to Pellan in their hotel room that night, "I do wish that you'd stop watching me."

"I enjoy looking at my wife. Is there something wrong with that?"

"You know what I mean."

"I do?"

"You watch me all the time. You monitor what I eat and drink – every hiccup. You hover."

"You know why I'm paying attention. And I feel protective of you."

"Being your own personal maternity patient is a bit intense."

Jess had not had another menstrual cycle, but they had said nothing to anyone else yet. They both knew that some pregnancies end too early. It had only been six weeks.

Chapter 77: All Aboard!

The party of travelers reserved two first-class train cars upon Pellan's recommendation for the cross-country leg of their journey. While they hadn't planned it, their party divided quite neatly: six females and six males. One car with six berths they assigned to Jon and the men, the other to Lucie and the women. Jon was quite proud to be staying with the grown men, while Julie told Philippe that she hoped that Jon would not learn too many 'new words' or hear grown-up subject matter discussed while doing so.

The women's car was largely kept private for them and also used for excess luggage, while the men's car became their general gathering and eating place for the whole group during their days onboard. The Gentlemen's Knitting Club continued into the train trip and the novice travelers were advised on how to acquire food cooperatively and efficiently in the brief stops for lunch and dinner, while servicing the train's engine and loading/unloading passengers and freight. Philippe and the Rameaus strove manfully to switch to drinking coffee from tea with breakfast, though it was a struggle. And Pellan warned both cars of passengers of the danger from robbers: "Hide your valuables in some unpredictable, safe place and most of your cash. Train robberies do happen and not much can be done about it if that occurs."

"Oncle-Docteur," said Jon, holding up water bottles for Pellan to take inside the train car. "These are the last six."

"Oh, thank you, Jon," said Pellan, taking the bottles in two handfuls to put on the eating tables, then disappearing inside.

"What sort of name is that?" remarked a girl's voice, derisively.

Jon turned to see a girl near his age, standing near the steps of the adjacent car. He replied, confused, "It is French. It means 'Uncle-Doctor.' My uncle, there, is a doctor. It is a name of respect."

"It sounds like a donkey: 'AWN-cluh dok-TURR'."

Jon was momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond.

Julie arrived up at that moment. She overheard the conversation – and was not impressed with the girl's behavior. "Come, Jon," she intervened. "Let's get back into our coach and be ready to pull out again. Our food is getting cold."

Inside their coach, Jon said to his mother, "That girl said I sound like a donkey."

"I heard what she said. I don't think she knows what French sounds like."

"A donkey?"

"Maybe it sounds like that to her. Perhaps you could switch to calling Pellan 'Uncle-Doctor' now and no one will question you. She didn't seem like a nice little girl to me: making fun of how someone talks."

"Yes, Maman. Or should I call you Mother now?"

"Whatever you like, dear," she said with a fond smile.

Jenny continued her private musings while knitting. Being the youngest in the Bolt family, she was used to being brought along on whatever venture took place. When the Du Saules decided to return to Seattle, it never occurred to her to stay behind in France or to strike out on her own. Her family was too important to her to even think of not going with them.

Siobhan had become her closest friend since they were thirteen and twelve, Siobhan being the younger. They had similar interests in handwork and fashion and neither had had a serious relationship with a young man until Gaston Rameau had come to town. Gaston was almost five years older than Siobhan and, while immediately thunderstruck by Siobhan's beauty even in her teens, he had kept his feelings to himself for a while – but no longer! Since then, Jenny had begun to feel left out as, one by one, her siblings in Europe had married and it now looked like Siobhan and Gaston would eventually do the same. And then Pierre Rameau had appeared.

She had privately observed him since the day he took the bucket out of her hands and jokingly accused her of being hungover. He was a quiet person, used to a quiet life. While he had gamely joined in the Gentlemen's Knitting Club, he was also often found reading a thick book of American history – trying to learn about his newly-adopted country, he said.

This particular morning, he sat down near her with his history book after greeting her courteously. The other men sat nearby, laughing at Pellan's endless supply of tales. Jenny bound off the scarf she had been knitting and handed it to Pierre, saying, "Here."

Pierre looked up and took it from her, admiring it. "Very nice work! I like the leaves." He handed it back to her.

"You don't want it?"

"You're … giving it to me?"

"If you want it. You don't have to take it if you don't want it."

Pierre admired it further and arranged it around his neck. "I've never had a scarf made like this – never had a handmade scarf, I don't think." He was smiling.

"Your mother didn't make you scarves?"

"My mother doesn't make anything. She prefers to buy things in stores … and let people know that she can afford to do so."

"Oh." Jenny looked puzzled.

"Does that surprise you?"

"I … just thought that all mothers enjoy making clothing for their children. That's all."

"The best mothers probably do. Thank you, Jenny. I will treasure this."

He smiled at her. Although he possessed the scarf now, it was Jenny who felt warmth. She returned his smile.

Out of boredom, the men decided to have a beard-growing contest while on the train. Jessica protested that it would make cuddling scratchy. Pellan countered, "What difference does it make? You aren't sleeping with me until we reach California."

One afternoon a few days later, Jenny came into the men's car shortly after lunch and burst out laughing.

Philippe looked up at her from his journal. "Jenny?" he inquired.

She responded, "Do you all realize that you look like a bunch of monkeys, sitting and scratching at your faces?"

Pierre grinned at her, explaining, "We're in the itchy phase in growing beards. It won't last forever. I've grown a beard before; I know. Then we can resume acting like human beings and not embarrass you ladies further with our ape-like male behavior."

When the ladies joined the men in their car as the general sitting room in mornings, there was a general rush of energy and kisses exchanged among all the couples as they greeted. One day, Jenny came in behind the other women who were occupied with kisses for their husbands (or in Siobhan's case, her beau Gaston). Jenny winced a bit as she took the empty seat across from Pierre, who was engrossed in his book. He looked up at her in time to see the grimace. "What?"

"Awkward." She tilted her head toward the others in the car.

"Oh, yes. Fancy a kiss and cuddle so we can fit in?"

"I beg your pardon?" Jenny said, her eyes widening.

"An awkward attempt at flirtation," Pierre said with a grin.

"I see." She gave him 'a look.' Then she stated to no one in particular, "I can't imagine a more awkward place for a 'kiss and cuddle' than a rail coach full of my relatives."

"I quite agree," he said, his eyes fixed back on his book. "As it is, I try to discreetly observe them to learn how it's done. It might be good to know someday." He smiled to himself.

The train trundled through Nebraska. The weather was hot and dry in early fall. Jessica suddenly jumped up with a little squeak of alarm, hand over her mouth, then dashed out the door to the back side of the men's car. Jeremy looked over at Pellan, who hesitated for just a moment too long, then sighed, picked up a bottle of water, and moved to follow his wife, his face rather grim. Jeremy wondered….

Julie came out the back door of the rail coach to find Jessica sitting on Pellan's lap, his arms around her. She said, "I don't know why Jeremy asked me to come out here, Jess, knowing there's a doctor with you already."

Pellan replied languidly, "Jeremy knows that you're the only one of our party who's been pregnant. Until now."

"Oh, Jess! Is that true?"

"We think so. I seem to have had my first bout of morning sickness just now," Jess grimaced. – to Pellan – "Think we ought to tell all of them? There's no privacy here and I'm going to start showing before we get to Seattle."

"Might as well."

Julie re-entered the men's car and resumed her seat beside Philippe, followed by Jess and Pellan. Pellan spoke out, "May I have your attention? We want to let you all know that we have another, very small family member stowing away on our journey, it seems."

The air erupted with cheers and congratulations from the others in the car, but Jon was confused. He turned to his father: "What does Uncle-Doctor mean?"

"He means that you are going to have a new little baby cousin next year."

The ladies began to spend more time in their coach, making small adjustments on Jess' clothing and planning for the baby. Jenny had begun knitting some booties when she joined Pierre in the men's car.

"What are you knitting today?"

"Booties for the new baby."

"Where is your pattern?"

"In my head."

"Are you … making two at the same time?!" Pierre was intrigued.

"Yes," she grinned at him. "It's less confusing."

A few days later, Jenny noticed that Pierre was lying in his berth after lunch rather than sitting up in the coach. She went to him and sat down on the edge of his berth. His eyes flashed open when she sat down. "Are you well, Pierre?"

"My lunch has made me sick today, I think."

Jenny thought he looked ill. "You aren't the only one. Did you take something?"

"Medication? Pellan gave me something, but he said I'll just have to wait until it gets in my system and helps. 'The adventure of travel,'" he laughed weakly. "'Different sights, different foods'… Ugh."

"I'm sorry. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. You can go back to knitting the booties."

"Oh, I finished them!"

She scooped them out of her pocket and showed him – only lacking a ribbon fastener. Pierre admired them at length and gave them back, complimenting her skill. Jenny rose to go.

Pierre added, "Jenny – thank you for caring."

She squeezed his shoulder and smiled. "Feel better."

He did feel better, but it was too soon to be a result of the medication.

Chapter 78: Rude Interruption

Because Jeremy and Pellan had warned the other men of their serious concerns about train robberies or other attacks, they cooperated to pay discretely pay attention to what was going on around them and on the horizon without alarming the women or children.

One day after breakfast, as their train entered Utah Territory, Pierre announced that there were several riders who had just crested a ridge and were riding down toward the train at a hard gallop. The other men all quickly moved took a look on that side. Jeremy said, "I'll go get the women. Hide most of your cash – not all of it, so it doesn't look suspicious – and hide any valuables in unlikely places. I'll bring the women and children in here with us." He left the men's coach. The other men made rapid the adjustments.

Jeremy returned very soon with Lucie, Jon, and the women, who looked alarmed. They heard some gunshots from the area of the locomotive and the train began to slow down and then stopped. The couples sat together and tried to act calm for the sake of the two children, who could nonetheless tell that something was very wrong and sat close beside their parents.

After a time of silence, two ruffians came tromping through the cars, demanding money and valuables from passengers. One of the ruffians went on to jump to the ground at their end of the train, while other remained and took notice of Jenny's blonde hair. He demanded the little pearl necklace she was wearing, which Chrétien had given her many years before. She begged to keep it because her 'grandpa' had given it to her. "How about I just take the whole package then?" the man said, grabbing Jenny by the arm and yanking her to her feet. Jenny gave a small cry of alarm.

Pierre rose protectively to his feet, saying, "She is with me."

"Well, that's no problem," sneered the man, who had a gun in his free hand, as well as the bag he was using to stash valuables.

"Let her go," said Philippe, who stood and moved away from his wife and children, aiming his tiny, gift pistol at the robber and displaying the 'avenging angel' look that he could summon.

From outside the car, the other man called, "Come on, Jake! The marshal's coming. We got the payroll. Let's just go!" Jake scowled at them all and let Jenny go with a shove, jumping down from the coach. Pierre caught Jenny, and helped her regain her balance.

The travelers looked around in sudden relief and praised Pierre and Philippe for their courage.

"All the more so – because my pistol isn't loaded!" Philippe confided in a low voice with a laugh. "What?!" Julie gasped.

"Well, he didn't know that," explained her husband.

Jenny whispered her thanks to Pierre, who said modestly that he felt he should speak up quickly, to throw the man off-guard. He didn't seem inclined to make more of his statement, 'She is with me.'

Chapter 79: Thoughts about the Future

Jon put down his journal and pencil for a moment and asked his father, "Papa, will there be a toy store in Seattle?"

"I don't think so, Jon," his father replied. "There may be some toys in a store with other things, but not one store with nothing but toys." Jon frowned and looked downcast. His father studied him for a moment, then said kindly, "I know that you like toys. We can order by mail if there is something you badly want. But remember that Seattle is a tiny, new town and people have to spend their time and money on what they most need – food, clothing, and shelter – before toys or luxuries."

Jon nodded silently, resigned. Philippe continued: "And I did not think that would be so bad, given your age. You will be eleven next year. We all will have to find or build new homes and go hunting for some of our food. I thought you are old enough now to help me and your uncles, to learn how to build a house, and to learn to shoot a gun and hunt with us. You need to know all those things as you grow to be a man in Seattle."

"I can do that?"

"If you are mature enough. A gun is a tool, not a toy."

"Yes, I know. I am old enough!"

"Oh, alright. I thought you were growing beyond toys at your age. And you know, if your mother has to keep repairing your stockings from our hunting trips, you may be wearing long pants before too long."

"I'm going to tell Maman!"

Jon, now all smiles, left the men's car to find his mother, toy stores forgotten.

"You dodged a bullet there, Philippe," Pierre chuckled.

"You two still ought to hunt with me or my brothers the first several times," advised Jeremy. "There are some dangerous animals and situations in the wilderness. It's not Calais."

"What sort of dangerous animals?" queried Philippe.

"Cougars, bears, wild boar, elk, and others. You need to learn what to watch for and to be aware of your surroundings as you learn the area," warned Jeremy.

Later Philippe ventured, "Julie, do you think we should build our house in town? Jeremy says there are dangerous animals outside town in the woods in Seattle."

"Philippe, I doubt there is much 'town' to build in. And if Seattle is growing as fast as Jeremy describes, it would be prudent to build out a-ways and not have other buildings going up nearby and then have to move again."

"Well, I will build a fine house for you wherever you want it."

"I don't want a fine house; I just want a weather-tight cabin."

"A cabin? But you are used to living in a larger house than that! And we can plant a garden, maybe have a few sheep…."

"Philippe, those 'dangerous animals' would be after sheep before they would attack people. And other animals like deer and rabbits will be after anything we plant, including grapes. We need to think about fences before any of that."

"Oh."

Philippe realized, again, that he would have a lot to learn in a frontier town, but he was grateful to have so many in his family who could teach him.

Chapter 80: California

Philippe climbed down from the second class short-rail coach from Sacramento, having arrived in San Francisco. He looked around with relief and satisfaction and remarked the cold to Jeremy.

"Oh, this is feels like Seattle weather today!" Jeremy smiled and seemed to find the cool air invigorating.

Pierre had been declared the winner of their beard-growing contest with Jeremy the runner-up. Pierre decided to keep his beard in the San Francisco chill, while the other men shaved theirs off for various reasons (mostly due to their women's objections.) Jonathan had found the whole contest fascinating.

They located a colorful Irish seaman, Captain Roland Francis Clancy, and booked passage to Seattle in a few days on his ship, the Seamus O'Flynn. Jeremy, Pellan, Marta, and Jessica knew this man already, since he made a regular run between Seattle and San Francisco and considered Seattle his home. Philippe looked at his rickety, battered ship and wondered privately if it was sea-worthy, but the others did not seem to find it worrisome.

Philippe found the accommodations … lacking. The entire party was to be bedded down on straw between stalls which had once separated mules, Philippe learned. He protested a bit to Jeremy – not for his own sake, but because he considered the stall-rooms too primitive and uncomfortable for the ladies and, of course, privacy was very limited. Jeremy slapped him on the shoulder and told him with a laugh, "It's a foretaste of Seattle! Get used to it, Philippe!"

Two days later, Lucie sat sniffling on his father's lap dock-side while they waited to get on board and cast off. Pierre Rameau strolled up.

"Run along, Lucie. There comes your mother now," said Philippe. Lucie left them, wiping tears away with her hand.

"Is my star pupil having a bad day?" inquired Pierre.

"She doesn't want to get on another ship. I don't blame her – and this one is also a big step down in comfort from the first one."

"Well, it's the last part of the journey. We can put up with it for a week."

Jon, sitting nearby and whittling on a stick, said to Pierre, "I thought I was your star pupil?"

Pierre responded, "You are my star elementary pupil. Lucie is my star primary pupil." Jon barked a laugh.

Philippe continued to express concern to Jeremy as they and their luggage were distributed among the other cargo Captain Clancy was hauling north. Jeremy countered, "It's just for a week. And it really is a good rehearsal for how things will be in Seattle."

"What exactly do you mean?"

"I don't know what Jason and Josh will have done about housing between the four little cabins we all own, plus they don't even know about the Rameaus being with us. We'll have to see where we'll all wind up sleeping in the short-term, before we build cabins or whatever. And winter will be here before long. We just have to cope until we can decide what to do next."

Chapter 81: The Great Reunion

The closer they got to Seattle, the more excited Philippe became. Then one morning – a Sunday – at the end of breakfast, they all felt the ship starting to tack in toward land.

"What's happening?" Philippe jumped up his seat at the table. "Are we there?"

Jeremy remarked to Pellan, "He's more excited than a kid at Christmas."

"This is better than Christmas for me!" said Philippe with a wide smile. "This is seeing my whole new life opening up!"

"Philippe, we're still a half-day out."

"I don't want to miss a minute!"

Of course, there were no lessons for the children that day. The ship entered Puget Sound and began to weave its way slowly among the many small islands toward Seattle. The children and the men stayed on deck all morning and Jeremy told them the names of the terrain and wildlife that they saw in the water along the way.

When they were about a half-hour away, Jeremy warned them to prepare to land and Pellan went below to advise the women. Philippe, already packed up, stayed on deck with Jeremy.

"Those mountains are so pointed. They look like a picture of a volcano I once saw," commented Philippe.

"I think they are dormant volcanoes."

"Dormant? Dormir? 'Sleeping'? No wonder the land was cheap!" Philippe rolled his eyes at Jeremy in exasperated concern.

"Maybe our luck will hold."

The small dock at Seattle finally came into view and Philippe laid eyes on Seattle's few buildings and muddy square for the first time.

"There it is in all its glory!" proclaimed Jeremy. "In a moment Pellan will start to make mud jokes."

"This is Seattle? I see.…"

Oh, did he see. Philippe had known it would be small; now Calais seemed like Paris in comparison. And Julie had been correct: there was not much 'town' to build a house in. This would be even more challenging than he had thought….

Julie arrived at his side at the rail. "Well, it is bigger now."

"Bigger?"

"Yes. I just remember two or three buildings. There was no church…."

A smiling older woman rang a bell from the top floor of a two-story building with a sign saying "Lottie's" and several people began to collect in the square. Some called out greetings to Captain Clancy, Pellan, Jeremy, and the girls and waved in recognition and welcome.

Jeremy nudged Julie. "There's Jason and Josh." Two men were approaching from the right at a half-run. Jeremy waved and grinned at them and they returned the greeting.

Jeremy smiled broadly, supremely happy. This was the best day he had known since his wedding: their long-divided family was reunited at last! He bounded down the gangplank as soon as it was placed and hugged his brothers with much back-slapping. "Told you I'd be back! And here's Julie—"

Julie, Jason, and Josh shyly joined together in a three-way hug, heads together for a long moment, reuniting.

"Who are they, Papa?" asked Lucie.

"Those men are your uncles, Jason and Joshua – your mother's brothers, the same as Jeremy is your uncle. They and your mother have not seen each other since your Uncle Jeremy was about your age, Lucie. We will give them a moment, ah?"

"Oh, I've worried about you so!" said Julie to her brothers. "And you!" – to Josh – "You nearly gave me a heart attack when you jumped off that ship!" Josh laughed sheepishly and said, "No harm done!"

To Jason, Julie asked, wistfully, "Are you still angry with me?"

Jason replied, "No, Julie. I think I was angry with myself that I couldn't keep us all together and healthy. You were right to take the youngest children and go with our aunts; I had a challenge taking care of myself and Josh, too. But when I heard you had married – a Frenchman? – I didn't know if I would ever see you again. Or any of the others."

"Well, thanks to Philippe's sacrifice, we're all back here." She half-turned, "Philippe?"

"Right here, Love."

"These are my brothers, Jason and Joshua Bolt. My husband, Philippe Du Saule."

They shook hands in an amiable manner. Jason inquired, "Are you the man who can start us a bank here in Seattle?"

"I can and I will!"

"That's music to my ears!"

"And I also play cello, so there will be even more music be for your ears."

Julie drew Lucie forward by the hand. "Lucie, these are your uncles, Jason and Joshua Bolt – my brothers." Lucie gave them a small smile and a curtsy. Julie introduced Lucie to her brothers: "This is our daughter, Lucie Jerusha Du Saule, named for her grandmothers."

Lucie looked up at her mother. "How many more brothers do you have, Maman?"

"These are the last ones, Dearest. There are six of us – and now we're all back together." Lucie put her arm on Jon's shoulders and drew him forward. "Jon, these are my brothers, Jason and Joshua Bolt – your uncles. Our son, Jonathan Chrétien Du Saule, named for his grandfathers."

Jon gave them a quick half-bow and addressed Jason, "Mother says that you look like her father, for whom I am named."

Jason replied, "I think I probably do. We have a portrait of him in our cabin. Would you like to see it?" Jonathan nodded, smiling enthusiastically.

Someone cleared their throat behind Julie; she turned. "And Jenny! This is Jason and Joshua."

They gave Jenny hugs of greeting and Joshua exclaimed, "I'm so particularly glad you're back here now! People have been accusing me of looking like some traveling salesman with blond hair!" They both laughed, for they were the only siblings who had inherited the blonde hair of their mother, Jerusha Clayton Bolt.

Chapter 82: Seattle Settlers

The enlarged Bolt clan commenced the process of parceling out of the newcomers to Seattle into their temporary quarters.

Because Jeremy's cabin was so large, the Du Saules and the O'Sullivans moved in temporarily with Jeremy and Marta. Each couple had a bedroom and the Du Saule children had pallets in the loft. Making furniture and accumulating housewares became a priority and a hobby as they settled in and the weather became cold, rainier, and snowy as winter approached.

The Du Saules and O'Sullivans liked the area where Jeremy had built and, with everyone in agreement, both couples decided to also build in that same area, which was Bolt land.

Philippe asked Jason whom he should see about buying land to build a house for his family. Jason said that he felt that Julie and the other girls could build wherever they saw fit on Bolt land as part of their inheritance. Their father had not left the mountain to the girls (since women could not legally inherit or own even family property at this time), but the Bolt Brothers felt that the Bolt Sisters were nonetheless part of the family.

Philippe turned to Julie and reproached her in jest, "I thought you said that you did not have a dowry? You've been holding out on me all these many years!"

The Rameaus rented a room together at Lottie's for the time being. Siobhan and Jenny moved into the Brides' Dormitory – initially because there were lots of spare beds and, upon making new friends, they found that they actually liked it. The Rameau brothers liked that they lived just across the street from them.

The next afternoon after their arrival, Jeremy picked up the Rameaus at Lottie's and drove them with all the Du Saule family to the Seattle schoolhouse at the end of the school day. He introduced the Du Saules to Miss Essie so that the children could be enrolled. Philippe introduced Pierre and Gaston to Miss Essie, and gave them a glowing recommendation for teaching his children and the older girls while under his care in France.

Miss Essie was impressed with the Rameaus and with the results of the short tests that she gave the Du Saule children, so that they would start school on grade level with their age peers, if not higher. Miss Essie's school was getting larger and larger and she could barely manage all the students by now, even though an extra room had been built on. She offered both men teaching jobs – part-time for Gaston as an art teacher – if they were willing. The Rameaus left the schoolhouse feeling a bit stunned at having such easy success in obtaining jobs in this unlikely-looking, tiny town. Gaston wanted to set up a photography studio as soon as possible, so he was happy with part-time teaching.

Pierre ran into Jenny in town a little later. She greeted him, asking how he was.

"I'm … stunned, I think."

"'Stunned'?"

"I got a job – just like that! – teaching at the little school here!"

"How wonderful! And you thought you were unemployable!"

"Miss Essie – the teacher – has all she can do and more by herself in her little schoolhouse. It was just one room and they have made a small addition to it, but she has to go back and forth between students of all ages and levels, supervising their different lessons. She said she really needs help with the older students, which was the age that I was teaching in France. I start tomorrow."

"I'm so happy for you!"

"So – I'm celebrating! Want to eat dinner at Lottie's with me tonight?"

"That would be lovely!"

After dinner, they strolled down the path to the edge of the sound called Lovers' Lagoon (known as a location of opportunity for "sparking" couples, though they did not know that yet.) Pierre had offered Jenny his arm and she took hold of it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He felt the same.

Jenny inquired, "Are you content to be a schoolteacher here?"

"For the present – to see how it goes. I have to admit that I was doubtful of what Jeremy had told me about Miss Essie, given the size of this town, but she really is quite bright and well-read, knowing about the whole area and current events. She talked about how this little town is growing rapidly and all kinds of immigrants. It sounds like the school will have to expand rapidly. I've had some view of how larger schools function and that may come in handy here. Who knows?"

"Yes. 'Who knows?' for any of us."

"What do you want to do with your life, Jenny?"

"Do I sound ignorant if I say I don't know? I guess I'm just looking around at what everyone else is doing or going to do and trying to figure out where I fit in. The Brides are fun, though."

"Living there means that you have to marry a Seattle man, does it not?"

"Well, Siobhan and I aren't Officially part of The Brides and haven't signed their contract – and we didn't come here from New Bedford, either. We're just staying there at present while everyone else settles down. I don't think Jason thinks it's proper for us single ladies to be living out in one of the spare cabins."

"Safety is probably his main consideration. I hear that this town can get rough at times."

"I know that Siobhan will probably work for Philippe when he gets his bank going. I really don't know where I'll end up. Jess will probably need some help when the baby arrives; perhaps I'll sleep in a chair there." She laughed shortly.

"Hopefully they can do better by you than that – at least a pallet in the loft with the children."

"Mm. Maybe. It's the trial of being the youngest in such a growing crowd."

"And the only one still single. Are you going to be the Maiden Aunt who moves in and takes care of anyone who needs help all your life?"

"Oh, I hope not!" She pulled a face of mock-horror.

Pierre hesitated a moment. "Do you think you could tolerate being married to a schoolteacher?"

Jenny gave him an appraising look and said slowly, "It would depend on the schoolteacher."

"How about this one?"

Jenny was silent, considering. "I suppose I would have to kiss him to know more."

Pierre rolled his eyes heavenward and remarked, "Such pressure!" He then looked at her with love and humor in his gray eyes, moving closer to nuzzle around her face, eventually finding her mouth with his own.

After the kiss, Jenny rested her head on his shoulder as Pierre held her close. Pierre finally asked, "Well?"

"'Well' what?" she murmured contentedly.

"Do I pass?"

"Oh!" she laughed. "Yes, you pass! Though I'm not sure about the beard."

"What a relief! I don't know if I can bear up under any more important interviews today, but the beard I can do something about tomorrow."

Jenny caressed his face fondly, including his curly hair. "You don't know how long I've wanted to touch your curls."

"It was rather a torturous journey in some ways, wasn't it?"

They laughed together. Pierre added, "We've gotten to know each other these months of travel. And I want to settle in and start working and saving money again. I've spent almost all I had in getting here, plus Philippe's loan."

Jenny was still silent, regarding him – which made Pierre nervous. He continued, "Of course, I will understand if you are wanting someone different or sooner…."

Jenny's brilliant smile lit up her face. "No, I think you're just perfect as you are. It is sensible to get settled in first and save money."

Pierre gasped in surprise as Jenny flung her arms around her neck and they embraced.

"You didn't think I would accept?" she asked.

"Well, I didn't know."

"And now you do. I just hate that we've had our romance almost in a public setting with my family these months."

"Well, not anymore. I think everyone else is distracted with their own concerns." And he kissed her tenderly again.

A week later, Jenny passed Gaston on the stairs at Lottie's. He greeted her and asked, "Is Siobhan here?"

"Yes, she's getting us a table. Where's Pierre?"

"He's in the room."

Gaston clattered on down the stairs to join his love. Jenny walked the length of the upper hall, knocked briefly at the Rameaus' door, and opened it … to find Pierre curled up in the bed, just awakening to her knock. "You're … not up!" Jenny exclaimed in confusion.

"Wha-at? Up for what?" He rubbed his face, which was now clean-shaven.

"For breakfast."

Pierre looked at her blankly. "Breakfast?"

"Didn't Gaston tell you?"

"He told me that he was having breakfast with Siobhan today. And he talked on about how Lottie is going to let him use a corner of her dining hall to set up a photography stand until he can get his own studio."

"He didn't tell you that Siobhan and I were coming to meet the both of you for breakfast today?"

"No."

Jenny growled and spun around in frustration with Gaston and they both laughed together, Pierre propped on an elbow in the bed. He said, "You understand now why I had to come to America with him? And no one will dance at his wedding with more joy than I will, since Siobhan will be taking over to supervise him." They laughed again.

"Well, I'm sorry I woke you up."

"No, if you don't care that I don't take time to wash or shave, I can join you in ten minutes and do all that later, after breakfast."

"Well, if you wish."

"It will be my pleasure."

Jenny went downstairs to join Gaston and Siobhan, knowing that Siobhan, at least, would have remembered to get a table for four.

Chapter 83: January Doldrums

Jon looked around for his father in the dense January fog, then ran toward him. Philippe was walking, head down, among the stakes placed for their future house.

"Papa!"

Philippe ruffled Jon's hair affectionately and greeted him with a hug about the shoulders.

"Did you learn something in school today?"

"Of course! Monsieur Pierre is a good teacher. You look sad, though."

"Oh, I'm not sad – more frustrated. I think I have been spoiled in life."

"What do you mean, Papa?"

"I grew up in a nice house and never had to build one. And now that I want to build one and have the money to do it, I've had to put it off how many months due to bad weather and no end of it in sight?"

"Uncle Jeremy said that it would be that way, didn't he? He said that most building here takes place in the summer and fall due to wet weather."

"Yes, he did. I guess I just hoped things would be different. I feel like you, your sister, and your mother are frustrated, with everyone so crowded together for going on a year now."

"Oh, I like it! It reminds me of how we all lived in the days at Ivy Hill. I like that we are all together! And it's fun, getting ready for Jess and Pellan's baby and building furniture."

That much was true. What they could do in the winter weather was build furniture and make household furnishings and baby clothes. Even the knitting and crocheting which the men had reluctantly learned on their journey had come in handy after all: Jon was crocheting a baby blanket at present! It seemed like everyone was happily busy all the time, cooperating well together.

Marta had pointed out that they were perhaps better off for a while to contribute to common meals even after the other cabins were built: it would be less labor for everyone than cooking full meals in separate homes and they could spare the initial expense of buying a full set of cooking utensils for each house for the time being until they could gradually acquire them. They might even consider building a common barn for their horses and have a common garden – fenced, of course, against the wildlife. And they weren't much more crowded than at Ivy Hill, just less people in the smaller cabin.

"So you don't think I'm a bad provider with us having to wait so long?"

"No, Papa. I know what you plan to do. I'm learning from you how to be patient and do what you can, one step at a time."

'I hope so,' thought Philippe, giving Jon another hug about the shoulders and thinking once again, 'It won't be long before he's as tall as I am. He's grown a lot this year, even if he is still wearing short pants.'

Chapter 84: Generations

Jason felt … older? Was that what it was? And, of course, he was older – as everyone is every day of their lives. For so many years, it seemed like life had swirled around him and Josh in his care while growing up as well as the growing little town of Seattle, later adding Jeremy. Now there was an entire whirlwind of activity in the family, but around younger people. Pellan, Jess, and Marta had settled into work with Dr. Wright. Pellan was hoping to start a hospital someday soon and was already training any willing Brides as midwives and practical nurses along with Jess. Jeremy had resumed work at the logging camp and he and Marta now had their first child – a boy named Ian. Philippe had built and opened his bank – "First Bank of Seattle" – next to Gaston Rameau's photography and art studio in a new row of shops, plus a ladies' millinery and accessory shop on the other side of the bank, run by Jenny and Siobhan. Gaston had married Siobhan O'Sullivan and they lived in an apartment above the bank, where Siobhan was employed part-time as chief bookkeeper. All of that was to Philippe's liking for the security of the bank, sandwiched between buildings. Philippe knew that he would build a larger building in time as funds accrued, but this was the first step.

Jason acknowledged to himself that his initial reservations toward his French brother-in-law had proven unfounded. Philippe was two years younger and Jason had expected him to act more … foreign, he supposed. Philippe did have a French accent, but he did not 'put on airs,' like Jason had expected of a wealthy banker and, well, someone from France. Instead, Philippe had built a fine log cabin for his family near the ones of Jeremy and Marta and the O'Sullivans. Philippe had been practical and teachable about life on the frontier – eager to learn and with a humble manner – from the day he set foot in Seattle. Jason knew that the choice to live in a cabin rather than an ostentatious house had been a plus with local people as Philippe opened his bank: the Du Saules did not present as wealthy, although everyone knew that they had ample assets in order to found even a small bank.

Although some young children had called him "Uncle Jason" in the past out of respect, now there were six children who actually were his nieces and nephews and called him that – if they could talk yet – and his oldest nephew was not all that young, after all – heading into his teens, wearing long pants, and taking some notice of girls now. Jason had taken pleasure in teaching Jonathan to fish and, indeed, Jason enjoyed visiting in all their homes and felt a part of something beyond himself. He and Josh had helped with building everyone's cabins, of course, and then Josh had become distracted when Callie Marsh returned to town, planning to be married in a few months. Nor did Jason desire to log Bridal Veil Mountain to bare ground or spend his time climbing trees past his prime – and that time was now, he admitted to himself. His uncle Duncan had passed on some years ago and Jason was now the oldest in the family – 'the head of the Bolt clan,' he supposed – if such things mattered. He had to face the facts: he was forty, not so young. Maybe he would run for the state senate….

"Isn't she lovely?" Pellan cooed, breaking Jason from his reverie. Pellan lifted Erin, his second daughter – aged three months – over his head and rubbed noses with her to make her smile.

"I never thought I would use the word 'besotted' to describe a man," remarked Jeremy, pointedly.

"If you have a daughter someday, you'll understand," counseled Pellan.

"You'll spoil her, the way you make over her – and Bonnie, too."

"Oh, I fully intend to spoil them while they have time for me. Someday, they'll notice some young men and be done with me forever."

"I guess Jenny and Pierre will be back this coming week from San Francisco," predicted Jeremy.

"Who goes to a symposium on their honeymoon?" remarked Pellan with an eyeroll.

"Who had a torque removed on his?" scoffed Jessica with a fond smile and a kiss on his forehead, retrieving Erin from Pellan for a clean-up and walking away towards their cabin.

"I guess people attend symposiums who are thinking about starting a university. Wouldn't that be something!" Jason interjected. "And with Philippe's efforts toward enhancing the port, things could be changing here rather quickly with a lot of commerce coming in. I don't think I'll recognize the place in ten years."

"Come, Richard. Let's go sit with your uncles." Philippe sat down with them in the front yard of his home, transferring his year-old son from his hip to his lap. "How do you like my new stone?"

Pellan mused, "'Loved Ones.' I thought you were going to put your parents' names on it?"

"That was my first thought, but then there seemed to be just so many people that we remember with love from the past – like Julie's great-aunts. So, I settled for this one in my little sitting area with my 'vine and fig tree.'" Philippe smiled with contentment and gave Richard a kiss on top of his fuzzy head.

"How's that going with the local wildlife?" teased Jeremy.

"Bah! Don't ask. But they live here, too," Philippe added with a sigh.

The little willow tree at the corner of the house was scrawny, but holding its own – doing better than Jeremy had thought it might, being out of its normal climate. They all knew why Philippe-of-the-Willow-Tree had planted it. Maybe they would live to see it able to give some shade.

Chapter 85: New Bedford, 1884

Eighteen-year-old Mollie Pruitt was hanging out clothes on the line behind the old family homeplace. She peered down the lane at the approaching figure in surprise, then ran inside, calling out "Candy! Jeremy is coming up the lane!" "What?" exclaimed her much-older sister, equally shocked. (Candy was now 33 years old, as was Jeremy.)

Candy met Jeremy at the door and cautiously invited him into her mother's old home. He greeted her and Mollie courteously, kidding Mollie that she had grown up nicely, but still kept her childhood freckles. They informed him that Christopher had obtained a job for a lawyer in town, liked it, and might eventually read for the law. Mollie served tea and then withdrew into a back room on some pretext to give them privacy.

Candy gingerly asked Jeremy about his family. He replied, "I have two children: a boy named Ian; he's five now. And a girl named Clara, who will be three next month."

"And … Marta?"

"She … died in an accident – crushed by a cow she was treating – a year and a half ago. We'd just learned that she was carrying our third child, which probably made the internal bleeding worse."

"I'm so sorry."

"Thank you. It's been … very difficult, especially with young children who can't understand and keep asking for her."

"And difficult for you, too."

"Well, we were very happy for several years. It's good to have had a happy marriage with good memories, even if it was a short one. Her death was an awful blow, however. And yet I have to say that I think I expected it on some level. She could be fearless around large animals at times – almost reckless. Remember that horse she named Fancy?"

"Yes, I do."

Jeremy half-laughed. "I'm sure you're shocked to see me here. I'm actually here on business to see if I can recruit another group of Brides for Seattle. We've got still more single men far outnumbering women. I … thought I would look you up and ask if that's possible in New Bedford or somewhere else around here – not that I'm asking to involve you in that again. I see you're resettled here. With the train now, travel won't be nearly as bad for any women who want to move there." They laughed together, remembering.

"Are Jason and Joshua here, too?"

"No, they assigned this mission to me by myself. They're busy with things back home – Jason is a state senator now! – and, well, they seemed to think it would do me good to get away for a while." He looked at Candy with humor in his eyes. "I've come a long way, haven't I, when they send me on an errand involving public speaking?"

Candy smiled, remembering Jeremy's extreme difficulty with stuttering in their early days, when the three Bolt brothers had come to New Bedford to recruit brides for Seattle. "You seem to be more confident of yourself now," she observed. "Would you … like to stay for dinner? It won't be anything fancy, but you could see Christopher again."

"I'd like that, if it's not too much trouble."

Jeremy did stay for supper and enjoyed seeing Christopher (now 19), who was also astounded at their visitor. They all had a good time catching up.

After dinner, Candy walked out to the gate with Jeremy as he took his leave. He remarked, "I guess I'm also curious to know if you still hate Catholics."

Candy winced, her eyes closed. "Oh, Jeremy! You don't know how much I've suffered over that. I don't know what got into me to act that way. I'm so sorry for hurting you."

"Apology accepted – but you didn't answer my question."

"I guess I don't think in terms of whole categories of people now – Catholics, whatever. I've thought a lot about the attitudes I heard from my parents and others … and some sermons I heard here in my childhood. It's easy to hate categories of people, but hard to hate a specific person whom you've come to love and trust. I know that I could be charitable toward that Jewish couple in Seattle – remember the Sullivans? I had some assumptions about Catholics which I couldn't reconcile with knowing you and adjust quickly. And then things became more awkward when Marta came to town and even more so when you all left for England. I still hadn't been able to sell this place and I just … moved back. I didn't know what else to do."

"Are you happy here? Is this where you want to stay?"

"Oh, Jeremy!" Her eyes filled with tears.

He drew her tenderly into his arms and kissed the side of her forehead, thinking to himself with a smile, 'Perhaps she'll get to use all those wedding plans she once made after all. I wonder if she still has those curtains?'

Chapter 86: The Photograph

"Grand-mère, who is that man?" the boy asked, nodding to an old photograph hanging in a frame on the bank wall.

"He used to work here. His grandfather started this bank."

"But where is he standing, with that very muddy street?"

"Somewhere in America. He left here with his family and moved to the west coast of the States. That is a new bank he started there."

"He is laughing."

The dark-haired man was leaning against a porch support post with his thumbs hooked in his beltloops, a wide-brimmed hat pushed back on his head. The wooden sign beside the door read 'First Bank of Seattle.' It was not a typical formal photograph.

"I think he sent that photograph as a joke, knowing his new little bank looked much different from this one."

"He looks happy."

"I hope so. He kissed me once when we were young."

"Really?"

"Yes. Perhaps I should have been nicer to him. He might have been your grandfather."

"Does Grand-père know?"

"No, Louis. I never told anyone about it."

Chapter 87: A Discovery

"I hate this," Ivy remarked to her daughter, Edith. They sat in the log cabin's storage loft, where the old willow tree's branches caressed the window in the autumn breeze. "I would far rather have Father back than be doing this sad clean-out. The clothes were hard enough, but now there are all these odd bits which must have meant something to him for him to have kept them all these years."

"What's in here?" said Edith, opening an old trunk. "Some old books." She picked up the one on top, opened its leather cover, and began to read:

My name is Jonathan Chrétien Du Saule.

"That's Grandpa!" cried Edith as Ivy looked up with a start at mention of her father's name. Edith continued reading:

My parents are Philippe and Julie Bolt Du Saule. We are leaving France, with my little sister Lucie, to move to America, where my mother was born. Papa gave me this journal to write about our journey. He is writing one at the same time and said we can compare what we write along the way. He says that someone, one day long in the future, may be interested to read our journals and learn about where we lived in France, what we saw on this journey, and what we think about things. I am ten years old as we leave France. Papa said to write like I'm writing a letter to a friend, so Hello! I hope you enjoy reading this.

"Oh, Edith!" cried Ivy, "Perhaps we haven't entirely lost them after all!"