Growing Pains

by NomdePlumette

Story is a sequel to Jeremy and the Girls. Follows TV and other characters from first book as Seattle grows very rapidly from a settlement to Seattle of the 1930s. Historical content is as accurate as author can make it.

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Growing Pains

(Sequel to Jeremy and the Girls)

by Nom de Plumette

Forenotes

Seattle grew phenomenally fast. That is the primary theme of this Here Come the Brides fan fiction novel, a sequel to my first novel, Jeremy and the Girls. Seattle grew much faster than the HCTB TV series implies. People born around 1850, when TV-Joshua might have turned three, would have seen stupendous growth and change in Seattle if they had lived to old age. This novel sets our beloved HCTB characters and several of my own creation amid Seattle's actual history and depicts some of the effects of such rapid growth and change in their fictional lives.

All natural and civic events in this story, including smoke issuing from Mt. Ranier, are historically-documented facts. Days of the week and such movable holidays as Easter are taken from the calendar of the years referenced.

It is impossible to pin down the setting of HCTB in the timeline of the historical Seattle. The tiny settlement depicted in the TV show resembles Seattle's earliest beginnings in the mid-1850s, but Lottie's statement in S1E1 that "there's been a [Civil] war" and the deflated volume of the women's skirts from the Gone with the Wind era place it after 1865, perhaps around or before 1870. In S2E5, character Kieran Flynn mentions "your recent civil war," although the real-life Fenian Brotherhood was not in British Columbia, Washington, or Oregon until the mid-1880s. In S2E14, character Obie Brown said that he fled slavery before the end of the Civil War; if he was in his mid-twenties at that time, the time would have been circa 1872. Furthermore, if Jeremy is about 18 in the first season circa 1870 and the Bolt brothers are the comparable ages derived from the inscriptions that Candy reads off the fireplace in the old Bolt family cabin in S1E12, then Jason would have been born around 1841 – eleven years before the first White settlers arrived at Alki Point (now West Seattle). Those original settlers relocated the next year to a new location on Elliott Bay with less harsh winter winds, which became Seattle's downtown. S2E26 character Emma Peak's father owning a grand mansion in Seattle, where Jason's father, Jonathan Bolt, socialized prior to his marriage (circa 1839?), just couldn't have happened in the historical Seattle timeline! There weren't any refined young Caucasian ladies of his age with whom to socialize in pre-Seattle, which actually makes his return to Scotland to marry seem more logical. I doubt that Jonathan Bolt could even have purchased property at that time, prior to Washington Territory being established in 1853. He would have been a lone Caucasian squatter on Native lands for many years, beginning in the late 1830s.

There was a doctor among the original settlers in Seattle in 1851 and there were already a few banks in operation in Seattle before 1870, so there would have been no need for Jason to recruit a first doctor in S1E2 or for Joshua to ride hell-for-leather to break down a large bill at a bank in Tacoma or Olympia (S1E18). The Puget Sound Dispatch newspaper lists all of Seattle's seventy-some businesses in their December 18, 1871, issue. That many businesses would certainly have afforded much more shopping variety for the Brides from New Bedford! So 'canon' from the TV show and our fan fiction efforts are fantasy any way you look at them.

HCTB script writers took other liberties with Seattle area history, depicting the women winning the right to vote in Seattle's first election when the town was incorporated, resulting in a Town Council government without a mayor (S1E17). In real life, Seattle was incorporated on January 14, 1865 with a municipal government of five trustees. The first mayor of Seattle was appointed by the Territorial Legislature in 1870 and there were many other mayors elected thereafter for two-year terms. Women were first granted the right to vote in local Seattle elections in November 1883. The reform-minded women promptly outlawed long-beloved vices in Seattle, thereby draining the city coffers of related vice fines which had funded municipal operations in an era before property taxes. This likely angered Seattle city fathers who had a listening ear in the Territorial Legislature, resulting in Seattle women's subsequent disenfranchisement in 1887!

Port Angeles, depicted in S1E21 "The Crimpers", developed much later than 1870. It was still a village of 300 in 1886 with one hotel and wharf. It could not have been the bawdy town depicted in the TV episode. Indeed, Seattle was far larger by then … and far bawdier.

Vancouver, Canada, was not incorporated until 1886. It looks like a large, elegant city in S2E22 "How Dry We Are." In reality, photographs of Vancouver in the 1870s do not look much larger or more refined than Seattle itself.

In his introduction to S2E1 on the HCTB DVD set, Jonathan Etter states that the Jason Bolt character was modeled on real-life Asa Mercer. Mr. Mercer was an early settler in Seattle as a very young man in the late 1850s and early 1860s. He, being the only Seattle resident with a college education, was appointed to be the first president and only instructor (without salary) of the brand-new-in-1861 Territorial University, founded by Seattle so that Seattle could actually obtain the grant money to build a university – which was never mentioned in the TV series at all. Mr. Mercer did journey to the Boston area of Massachusetts twice to recruit (marriageable) teachers for the local schools and the university. He recruited eleven on his first trip in 1864, nine of whom actually made it to Seattle. He hoped to recruit five hundred Civil War widows on his second trip the following year and secured a $300 investment from (male) citizens for each prospective bride. But he got some bad publicity in a New York newspaper accusing him of "White slavery," and only managed to recruit 46 eligible ladies – one of whom he married himself. (He was never in New Bedford.) Curiously, Mr. Mercer was broke when he returned to Seattle after having been entrusted with $150,000 to recruit five hundred brides! The ten-thousand single men of King County might have ridden him out of Seattle on a rail over the loss of their investment, but Sheriff Wyckoff intervened to protect him. Asa Mercer left Seattle for Oregon with his bride in 1866 and eventually moved to Montana and became a cattle rancher, never returning to Seattle. So, he would never have been the age of the Jason Bolt character in the TV series in his time in Seattle and certainly did nothing to help his recruited teachers settle in, as Jason does with the brides in the TV show. Given actual history, I have played with facts myself in this novel. I give Asa Mercer a mention and bring the Territorial University (now the University of Washington) into the story with my own created characters, since it has been vitally important to Seattle's livelihood, growth, and character.

The Aaron Stempel character in HCTB sounds much like Seattle's real-life Henry Yesler: the owner of the first sawmill at the edge of "Pioneer Square" in the earliest years of Seattle, strongly motivated by making money, a little shady in his business dealings, and occasionally glorifying violence. In this novel, I have appropriated many episodes from Mr. Yesler's life to Aaron's character. They are bizarre and entertaining, but not nearly as scandalous as the actual Henry Yesler. (I have kept my story G-rated, like HCTB.) Look up Henry Yesler on Wikipedia if you want to know more.

An observation: 'Bolt' isn't a Scottish name. It's English … or possibly French! Reconciling that oddity could be someone else's fan fiction novel.

Again, this novel is the sequel to my first book, Jeremy and the Girls. I have substantially revised it since it was first posted. Unless you read it first, you won't understand my many new characters which help to tie this story together.

Chapter 1: Setting the Scene

Author Mark Twain termed the years 1870-1900 "the gilded age" because American culture of that time displayed flashy materialism on the surface, but underneath was full of corruption. This may have been more the case in the established cities in the east. People in Seattle in the 1870s struggled to keep clean floors in their homes and businesses from their dirt streets; "flashy materialism" was quite beyond them. They were, however, making good progress with corruption.

The year 1876 was a turning point for Seattle in many ways, bringing turmoil and change to the whole region which would continue for more than thirty years.

Before Jeremy Bolt and his three sisters returned to Seattle from Europe with their families in October of 1876, ten wealthy men of Seattle – including Aaron Stempel – had banded together to fight the Northern Pacific Railroad. Its owner, C. B. Wright, refused to lay track to Seattle from Tacoma in the simmering rivalry between those two towns. The Seattle businessmen had lobbied the Territorial Legislature in 1875 to be allowed to create "The First Grand Lottery of Washington Territory" to fund construction of a railroad between Walla Walla and Seattle – trying to obtain a rail connection by that western route, if they couldn't get standard-gauge track laid north from Tacoma.

At that point, Aaron Stempel was deeply in debt. His plan had been to liquidate much of his outdated mill and its property to pay off his debts by holding a lottery. But lotteries were illegal in Washington Territory, so he had had to await a law's creation. He proposed to the Legislature that ten percent of lottery proceeds be given to the struggling Territorial University and to the public schools of King County, but the Legislature decided instead to dedicate ten-percent of the ticket sales to construct a wagon road over Snoqualmie Pass in the Cascades. That suited Stempel and his wealthy cohorts just as well. They began to sell lottery tickets to King County citizens for five dollars apiece under the new law. The top prize of the lottery was to be Aaron Stempel's own mill – valued at $100,000 – and his long wharf out into Elliott Bay! That raised some eyebrows among the citizenry, who wondered what Aaron was really up to.

After several months of vigorous ticket sales, no money had been turned in to build the wagon road or a railroad and a scandal erupted. The parties conducting that and some smaller lotteries issuing from the same new law were dragged into court and the lotteries were all ruled illegal. No one could find any records to determine how many thousands of dollars had been invested in the lotteries. A few men were fined from $25 to $150 each and one received 53 days in jail. Aaron Stempel was fined $25 and court costs, but did not forfeit his mill. It was the oldest and most stable business in town and was too vital to Seattle's economy. Citizens noticed and murmured about it … but nothing changed.

Also in 1876, William Grose opened "Our House" restaurant and saloon on Stempel's Mill Street. He was an African American, nicknamed "Big Bill the Cook" because he stood six feet-four-inches tall and weighed more than four hundred pounds. [Author's note: William Grose deserves his own TV series. He led an amazing and varied life of virtue and achievement, spending his later years in Seattle.] Stempel's mill workers were then required to eat at his establishment, where meals were served promptly on time – and therefore the mill workers had no excuse to be late for their shifts. Soon Bill Grose built a barbershop nearby.

In May of 1876, entrepreneur James M. Colman began laying a short, narrow-gauge railroad track to transport coal from mines in Renton and, later, Newcastle in Washington Territory to ships waiting in the Seattle harbor, which then transported the coal to San Francisco to sell at great profit. This fed an enormous boom into the Seattle area after the previous multi-step, labor-intensive process to haul out coal over hills and across a few lakes from the mines east of Seattle to the harbor on Elliott Bay for export.

So things had changed in Seattle in just a few months of 1876. Citizens began to feel a need to look to their interests in town and not be as trusting of others. Seattle was growing beyond an intimate village and citizens needed to be aware, savvy, and grow up … as did Seattle itself.

Chapter 2: Reunion Picnic

On a Saturday morning in mid-October of 1876, the six reunited Bolt siblings and their families made a picnic outing to the old Bolt cabin. It was some distance out from Seattle on the east side of Bridal Veil Mountain, where their father, Jonathan, had built it before Seattle was even a crossroads. The five younger Bolts had been born there. Jason, the eldest, was born in Scotland of a different mother who died after childbirth. Their father had soon remarried to Jerusha Clayton of London and then they returned to Seattle with Baby Jason to live out their lives.

Fellow immigrants Pierre and Gaston Rameau and Siobhán O'Sullivan had been included on this outing and were honestly curious to learn about the origins of their friends. Jessica and Pellan O'Sullivan had already seen the old cabin on their previous visit to Seattle, as had Jeremy's new wife, Marta Jäger-Bolt. Gaston Rameau was a photographer and had proposed making a Bolt family portrait at the old cabin to commemorate their reunion. Everyone made a point to go along for that photograph, but also for the fun. It required two large wagons to transport everyone and their food, which felt good – a sign of the growth and vigor of the Bolt offspring after their early years of struggle for survival and resulting separation of many years.

The autumn air was warm and crisp. Freshly fallen evergreen needles released a pleasant aroma in the sun's heat. The road around the mountain was dry and the wagons made good time. Passing Bridal Veil Falls, for which their family property was named, the old cabin emerged into view. Run down from lack of occupancy, it was still solid enough to provide emergency shelter.

Like so many childhood memories, their old homeplace looked smaller than Julie remembered, but the girls' names were still written on the right side of the fireplace, opposite the boys' names on the left. Jenny's name had been added last and by Jason, not their newly-deceased father, when Jenny was barely old enough to stand with support. Shortly afterward, the girls and Jeremy left for England with their great-aunts on the Clayton side. Jenny privately felt herself to be the odd one out today, since she remembered nothing of her first year of life in Seattle nor their eight-month voyage to England. She had heard stories about Seattle all her life, but was only now able to begin making her own memories of her birthplace.

The Bolt siblings spent a somber moment at their parents' graves across the trail from the cabin. Philippe Du Saule slipped his arm around Julie's waist, resting his free hand on the shoulder of their nine-year-old son. Jon solemnly read out the gravestone inscription of his grandfather and namesake, Jonathan Bolt, and his second wife, Jerusha Clayton Bolt. Five-year-old Lucie Du Saule clung to her mother's hand – sensing the emotional intensity, but unsure of what they were seeing or doing.

"I see you buried Duncan here, too," observed Jeremy, noting the new grave beside their father's.

"Well, we had to bury him somewhere when he died last year," Jason stated. "His heart may have been in Scotland at Kilmaron, but that wasn't an option. So, we decided he should rest beside his twin. They started life together, so they now lie together." Jeremy nodded his agreement.

Philippe Du Saule felt both sadness and admiration for Julie and her family. He could see the isolation and poverty of their birthplace, even had it not been run-down. He knew something of their struggles from Julie's tales over the years. He wished that Jonathan and Jerusha could know that all their children had survived and done well. And perhaps they did know, somehow, in the next life and had covered them with protection from harm over the years after their tragic, early deaths.

Philippe was also relieved that Jason and Joshua had warmly welcomed their sisters back to Seattle after all the years apart. Julie had feared that Jason was still angry with her in particular, as the oldest girl, for going to England with their great-aunts after the Battle of Seattle more than twenty years before. Other early White settlers had also fled Seattle after that violent upheaval with Native Americans. David Blaine, the first pastor of Seattle's Little White Church (Methodist Episcopal), had left with his wife, Catherine, and new baby for Portland after the Battle and never returned. But time – and maturity – can heal all kinds of wounds.

"I think the light will be best for the photograph a little later. Let's go ahead and eat," suggested Gaston Rameau. He also hoped that the meal would erase the sadness on their faces after the visit to their parents' graves. They unloaded the wagons and spread blankets on the evergreen needles under the tall trees near the cabin. They then set out the food and began to feast, chattering with lighter hearts. Jason and Julie recounted tales some from their early family life since they remembered it best.

It took some doing after lunch with so many lively people: six Bolt siblings, three spouses, and two children. Gaston, assisted by his fiancée and brother, arranged them by height and family groupings and took one group photograph with the old cabin on the side, another tight shot of just the six siblings arm in arm in front of the cabin, one of just the brothers together, another of just the sisters, one of the DuSaule family, and a final photo of just the old cabin itself. Then they all packed up and returned to Seattle, singing.

Chapter 3: Getting Acquainted

Jeremy Bolt began his morning shave on the back porch of his cabin, where the three resident men took turns with the basin and pitcher.

"Good morning, Uncle," Jonathan Du Saule said cheerfully, returning from the outhouse.

"Good morning, Jon," replied Jeremy. "You sound cheerful today."

"I am. I like it here. School is fun."

"Better than in Calais?"

"Well, that was a boys' school. There are girls here to tease. They don't punch you in the nose like the boys do in Calais."

"You may not want to take too many chances with that. Marta could easily have punched me in the nose when I first met her in school in England when I was younger than you are – and now I'm married to her!"

Jonathan laughed at that absurd thought and entered the cabin's back door. His father stood at the stove, stirring the steaming contents of a frying pan.

"Papa! Are you the cook?"

"At least until your mother finishes with Lucie's hair. I don't think my cooking will upset us too badly and Lucie is far better off with your mother doing her hair than she would be with me. Would you set the table, please? There are just five for breakfast today."

Their extended family of three couples and two children were all sharing Jeremy and Marta's large cabin as they settled in. The couples occupied the three bedrooms on the ground floor and the two Du Saule children were sleeping on pallets in the loft. It was crowded, but they and four more adults had all lived and traveled together by ship and train for several months to move to Seattle, so they were used to it by now and cooperated well. They were falling into a new routine in Seattle while they waited for warmer, drier weather next spring and planned the new houses that the Du Saules and O'Sullivans would build on the same Bolt property beyond Forester's Creek.

"Of course, Papa," replied Jon. "Where are the others?"

"Pellan and Jess had an early appointment at the clinic with Dr. Wright and Marta went with them to mix up the needed medication."

"They didn't eat?"

"They took some leftover muffins from last night with them. I feel bad about that. I should have gotten up earlier and made more for them."

"I guess they can eat later at Lottie's."

"Yes, I hope so."

Jonathan put eating utensils, tin cups, and napkins at five places. Their 'chairs' at present were log stumps and their large 'table' was made of milled boards laid across saw-horses. This was a make-do phase of their new life, constructing small outbuildings (outhouse, springhouse, horse shed, chicken coop, ash-hopper…) and staking out the site for a large common barn when the changeable autumn weather allowed. Once winter arrived and they were forced indoors, they would concentrate on making furnishings. Jonathan found the whole experience fascinating and was learning something new almost every day about building, hunting, cooking, survival skills, as well as his formal schooling.

Julie emerged from her bedroom with Lucie. "And try to keep yourself cleaner. Your apron was quite filthy yesterday."

"Yes, Maman."

"Philippe, do you want me to take over?"

"No, my love," he replied. "The eggs are almost done. Just sit and relax." Julie and Lucie did so.

"I don't think I fully appreciated how smoothly things went in the morning in the past with Jess, Jenny, and Siobhán around." Julie sighed. "I guess you'll have to get used to me doing your hair now and it won't be very fancy." Julie stroked Lucie's dark, wavy hair with a smile.

"I don't mind, Maman. I don't have to sit still as long as I did with Aunt Jenny." Lucie smiled up at her.

Philippe served their tin plates and Jon transferred them to the table just as Jeremy came back inside and joined them. Philippe placed the pot of coffee and a pitcher of milk on the table and took his seat. Jeremy said a blessing over the food and they began to eat, sharing plans for their day. Philippe would take the children in town to school and then meet up with Jason for a tour of the area outside town.

"Thank you for showing me around today, Jason," Philippe said to his brother-in-law. "If I tried to find my way by myself, I would be lost before nightfall and never seen again."

They were headed out of Seattle in Philippe's 'new' (i.e., refurbished) buggy and team of two horses in the direction Jason indicated, with an axe and a loaded shotgun on the floor of the buggy, as Jeremy had advised to always carry outside of town. Jason had just presented Philippe with a map to help him envision their travels today.

"Not at all!" Jason replied. "I'm sure it's quite different from, uh –what did you say was the name of where you lived in France?"

"Calais," Philippe replied. "It's a small city on the coast in the far north of France, very near to England and also Belgium. So Seattle feels familiar to me – the smell of the ocean, sea birds flying around, the sunset over water. It rains a lot in Calais, too. The mountains here are quite different, though: Mount Rainier, the Cascades, and the Olympics. The land around Calais is almost flat. And this autumn air is quite fresh and invigorating. In Calais, winter is cold, windy, moist, and rather miserable – but excellent for raising sheep and selling wool!" He laughed impishly.

It was November 1876. The three Bolt sisters – Julie, Jessica, and Jennifer – and their brother Jeremy had been back in Seattle for a month with the rest of their family members and the Rameaus. Jeremy and Jess noticed that Seattle had, indeed, grown in their two-year absence this time. There were several new businesses in the new side streets of downtown, but all the streets were still dirt with much horse-traffic. Townspeople struggled to keep dirt (and worse) from being tracked inside.

On their second day in Seattle, the Du Saules had enrolled their children in the tiny school. Lucie was in her very first year and Jon, his fourth. Pierre Rameau, photographer Gaston Rameau's older brother, had tutored them on the months-long journey to Seattle so that Lucie would not be behind and the children would grow accustomed to being taught in English, though they were both bi-lingual. Pierre had a master's degree in English Language and Literature from the University in Paris and, being from Amiens in France, he was bi-lingual as well.

The schoolteacher, affectionately called "Miss Essie" (once Miss Halliday; now Mrs. Gustafson), was the original teacher in Seattle – first in the Little White Church for almost a year and then in this first two-room schoolhouse, where she lived in an apartment upstairs (now with her husband Olaf "Big Sweed," who worked for the Bolt brothers in their logging camp). She had searched unsuccessfully for some time for another teacher willing to move to Seattle and share the load in her now-bursting school. When she met Pierre Rameau with the Du Saules that day, she hired him on the spot. So, unexpectedly, Pierre was now Jon's official teacher in Seattle, while Miss Essie continued to teach the younger students by her preference.

Pierre was supposed to be teaching geography, English grammar and spelling, writing, mathematics, and rhetoric to the older students – but there was such a diversity of language and ethnicity in the school that the stated curriculum was more of an overly-optimistic goal than actual reality on any given day. Pierre had never imagined teaching such a collection of students: Swedes, Russians, Chinese, Greeks, a few Native Americans, and Caucasian immigrants to the west coast of mixed ancestry from the eastern States and Europe. He remarked it one Saturday evening after a family meal at Jeremy's cabin.

Jeremy laughed and agreed. "That's the way it is here and it just gets more complicated all the time."

Jason added, "I suppose it's better than I hear life was in Europe. However challenging it may be, we try to understand each other, be fair, get along, and help each other as best we can. In Europe, weren't people more inclined to just fight each other?"

"I've thought about that," Philippe remarked. "Europeans also shun people who are different. My mother did not like gypsies." He chuckled, remembering.

"I have to agree," said Pellan. "Fighting always seemed an enjoyable option to my people, especially if the others were English! And Europeans in the past would not have been able to even imagine a blended family such as our own has become." That was certainly true. Pellan and his sister were Irish. Marta was Prussian. Philippe and the Rameaus were French. And the Bolts were Scottish and English.

Seattle had added a third room onto Miss Essie's schoolhouse in the spring of 1876, almost as if they could sense the approach of a second teacher. The third room was used for coats and storage, but the two teaching rooms were already full. They needed a third teacher – if not a fourth – and more rooms in which for them to teach.

Gaston Rameau had trained at the Sorbonne in Paris as a graphic artist and had picked up the new art of photography after graduation. Miss Essie also hired him to teach art lessons, supervise outdoor playtime, and fill in at the school part-time as needed, although his English was not as good as Pierre's. Gaston also set up a portrait stand in a corner of Lottie's Saloon and was astonished at how quickly his photography business took off. Everyone in town wanted an inexpensive photograph for their walls or to mail to relatives elsewhere.

The Rameau brothers had been anxious about finding employment in a tiny frontier town, but they found that they need not have worried. Seattle had little one- and two-story houses scattered over First Hill above and north of the original downtown on Elliott Bay, which was now being called "Pioneer Square." The infant Territorial University sat near the top of First Hill in a two-story building with four Ionic-style columns on the front.

Pierre Rameau looked up the hill at the University and thought to himself, 'If I can get established teaching in this school and meet some people in the University, perhaps I can transfer to teach there someday in the future.' He wanted to prove himself as a teacher on the American frontier, as he had during his last year in Paris, and start saving money for the future. He had personal reasons as well as professional desires.

After an argument with their parents in Amiens, Gaston Rameau became engaged to Siobhán O'Sullivan and followed her (and her older brother Pellan) to the States. Gaston was not known for practical skills that didn't involve art, so Pierre had accompanied him to the States, thinking it would be temporary … and had fallen in love with Jennifer Bolt during their few months in London and the long journey to Seattle. The Rameau brothers rented a room together at Lottie's Saloon and Rooming House on Pioneer Square and were delighted when Siobhán O'Sullivan and Jennifer Bolt moved in temporarily to the old "Brides' Dormitory" right across the Square with a few other single women.

Pellan O'Sullivan was a newly-minted "general practitioner" (i.e., a physician and surgeon). Both he and his sister, Siobhán, had been born in Tralee, Ireland. Pellan had married Jessica Bolt, the middle Bolt sister, the previous year. Jess had trained as a nurse in London in order to assist her husband in his work. They had visited Seattle with Marta Jäger two years before and now quickly settled into work with Seattle doctor Allyn Wright, accepting her prior invitation to join her in permanent practice. They hoped to open a small hospital together before long. The O'Sullivans were expecting their first child in the coming April.

Jeremy's wife of four months, Marta Jäger-Bolt, just completed her five-year apprenticeship as a pharmacist in London before they departed for the States. She was likewise hired by Dr. Wright to set up a pharmacy for the two Seattle doctors and the general public. Perhaps because Seattle had already become accustomed to a female physician with Dr. Wright, having a female pharmacist didn't seem too objectionable and Marta enjoyed more acceptance and less stress than she had in during her five-year apprenticeship. Marta had grown up around horses and put herself through school as a farrier, so that was yet another source of income as the extended Bolt clan settled into their new life in Washington Territory. Marta had already helped Philippe to select and purchase some horses for their use and she was working with Philippe and Jeremy to design the common barn beyond their temporary paddock. All told, the new Seattle immigrants had an easier time settling in than some people did, thanks to family connections, their diverse talents, and good luck.

Philippe Du Saule had promptly explored the town of Seattle itself on foot, introducing himself to all the local merchants and business owners and telling them of his plans to found a bank. Today's ride with Jason to nearby areas became a slower tour than Jason had anticipated. Philippe spoke to everyone they encountered and made notes for himself about their names, occupations, and situations. Jason realized that today's visits were part of Philippe's initial steps toward starting a bank in Seattle. It was, Jason thought, a good way to begin – a personal way – befitting the small, friendly town that he knew Seattle to be.

This was the first time that Jason and spent with Philippe apart from family. Truthfully, Jason was a little wary of his French brother-in-law. The few Frenchmen he had met in his life had been corrupt Canadian businessmen, itinerant thespian-thieves, and the dreaded French-Canadian trappers who came to Seattle a few times a year to trade their furs and engage in drunken mayhem. Jason didn't expect Philippe Du Saule to be like any of them; he was a bit afraid that Philippe would be just the opposite … and perhaps think that Jason was backward and uncouth! What little Jason knew about France, he believed it to be a sophisticated and fashionable country: just the opposite of Seattle's personality … and his own.

During the course of their day, Jason grew surprised at meeting so many people that he had not known were living in King County. The 1870 census had counted 1107 souls, which Jason had found difficult to believe; today it appeared to Jason that there were likely far more people than that. Jason had lived in the area almost his entire life of 36 years and had trouble imagining Seattle as other than the muddy crossroads it had been for almost twenty-five years. But Seattle was just beginning to grow exponentially in a way Jason would never have thought possible. Jason was forced to take notice.

In 1865, Seattle's population had been approximately 350. Another church was founded on the edge of town that year ("The Little Brown Church" – specifically First Methodist Protestant Church.) Their own "Little White Church" (a Methodist Episcopal Church) had remained tiny for two decades. Jason and Joshua found the addition of a second church in town hilarious, expecting it to soon fail – but it didn't. And just a few years ago, their own Little White Church suddenly took off, adding new members almost every Sunday now. They had expanded their worship space and built on a new wing of small meeting rooms, but, like Miss Essie's schoolhouse, even that was quickly becoming inadequate.

In 1860, Rev. Daniel Bagley moved to Seattle from Illinois, where he had worked as a pastor in Illinois. He helped manage some coal mines in the area and later founded and pastored the Little Brown Church for some forty years. He was an advocate for progress and was instrumental in founding the Territorial University of Washington in Seattle in 1861. Rev. Bagley hired Asa Mercer, the only college graduate in town, to be the first president and sole teacher – without salary. Sixteen children enrolled that first year above the eight years of grade school. After struggling for a few years, the newly-married Mr. Mercer left Seattle for Oregon with his bride in 1865 and never returned. The University also struggled for many years, closed some of the time due to low enrollment or lack of funds. But this year – 1876 – they had managed to graduate their first student in the spring: Clara Antoinette McCarty, earning a Bachelor of Science degree. Their worst years were now behind them. The Territorial University would eventually become the University of Washington.

As they rode along outside of town between smaller settlements, Jason ventured, "Julie said that your father owned a bank?"

"Yes," Philippe replied. "It was founded by my grandfather, Richard Du Saule. I told you that our family were sheep farmers near Calais for generations. Farmers like us had difficulty with the large banks in the center of town, who charged high interest rates for loans which we felt were unfair. Ours wasn't a large bank. My grandfather built an unintimidating building to encourage less formal relationships with our customers. We felt that fostered trust and better business, especially with farmers."

"So you're not expecting to have a large bank here?"

"Oh, certainly not – at least not at first. I like the small, friendly atmosphere, too. But Jeremy told me about the potential for a deep-water port here in Seattle and, as the town grows, who can say what will happen? Seattle could become quite prosperous and large – even rather quickly. Calais has a very old and busy port, being so close to England, Belgium, and the Netherlands. I talked to everyone I could in Calais before I left France, gathering advice about starting a new bank, investing in new businesses, and building a port. I had hoped to talk with some bankers in San Francisco on the way here about the West Coast economic situation, but when we arrived in San Francisco I learned that their banks have big problems with corruption right now, so I changed my mind. I have some ideas of how to begin, but I'm open to any thoughts that you have about how to do things. You've lived here almost all your life."

"I don't know anything about banking – only logging, bartering, and common business practices used around here."

"And that's what I need to learn! I'm well aware that this is not France. I don't want to just assume how things are done or try to work here as I did in Calais." He chuckled. "Julie keeps telling me to smile more so that people here will believe I like them. French people don't smile so much – certainly not with acquaintances around town. There's a certain formality to public interaction in France which people understand as being polite and respectful: a cultural difference I keep forgetting to change. Please give me any advice you think will help. I won't even be offended if you remind me to smile."

That pleased Jason, giving him greater ease about Philippe's prospects for success in Seattle. "Certainly, I'll be glad to share any thoughts that occur to me along the way. But I'll leave it to Julie to tell you if you're smiling enough to suit her."

"I would be most grateful."

"I'm glad to hear that you are open to ideas from the people who live here."

"Of course I am, Jason! If you had moved to Calais when we lived there, I would have been happy to help you with what I know of that region: who to trust or not to trust, where to live, where to invest your money." Philippe gave Jason a wink with a mischievous smile. "But here, you are the expert and I am a student … and I always will be. I know that."

"You remember that I offered to teach Jonathan how to fish in the big river near our logging camp? Do you want to come along, too?"

"That would be excellent! I also need to learn. In Calais, we bought our fish at the market from those who went out in the deep waters. Those fish we might find in the canals weren't fit to eat and our little creek at the farm was too small for more than frogs."

"How about Saturday, if the weather is dry? You two can come for lunch at the camp at noon and we'll fish afterward."

"A fine plan! I'll tell Jon tonight."

There was a slight pause.

"How did you meet Julie?"

"Oh! Well, I was eighteen and had just finished school in Calais.…"

"How'd it go?" Josh asked when Jason returned to the logging camp that evening from his all-day ride with Philippe.

"It went fine, but we didn't cover as much territory as I'd planned. I can't believe how many people we met that I've never seen before."

"Well, the last census said Seattle's population had more than tripled in five years and I'll bet there are more than that now."

"I can believe it after today. And I enjoyed getting to know Philippe better. He's less reserved than I thought. He's even rather witty. Seems to be level-headed and practical, too. And modest. I like him. I think he'll do well here."

"You had doubts?"

"Well, I don't like to go just on first impressions, even if Julie did find him worth marrying. You know that our encounters with French people in this area haven't been positive."

"Maybe it's good that he came here directly from France, then, and hasn't been in Canada."

They laughed together. Maybe that was true.

Philippe met with Aaron Stempel, Ben Perkins, and other Seattle business owners and hosted a business meeting at Lottie's with the Bolt brothers and others in the coming weeks, discussing prospects for the bank, which would begin as a Mutual Society – making loans to each other and to other persons who were good risks and to help funds begin to accrue.

"You're asking us to trust each other?" Aaron smirked.

"I'm sure you all know who here is trustworthy to repay loans. I'm a newcomer and need your help with that," stated Philippe. "We need to start somewhere and we need to start small, working together on small projects."

Of course, friends with the resources in Seattle had always helped each other as they were able, but now the business leaders pooled their resources with a new intention as the King County Mutual Society began to form. Philippe rode out with his new map to the immigrant villages, other logging camps and sawmills, and the local coal mines, constantly talking up his Mutual Society.

Philippe had ordered a safe for his future bank while he was in San Francisco. He hired workers to build his first bank building in Seattle with a stone foundation to support the heavy safe in advance of its arrival. Philippe wasn't particularly pleased about using wood for the building, but his brothers-in-law donated it to him, easing his initial expense. He suspected, however, that his bank would not be located in this small structure for long. He hoped that his next building could be made of brick or stone: more sturdy and permanent-looking, with less risk of fire.

Philippe's new building was located on one of the new side streets leading off from Pioneer Square. It housed his bank – in the middle for security – with Gaston Rameau's art studio on one side and a women's tailoring and accessory shop on the other. The women's shop was run by Jennifer Bolt with Siobhán O'Sullivan, who both had a strong interest in fashion and experience with sewing and fancy work developed during their teenage years in Calais. Philippe built an apartment above the bank with an entrance to the bank's interior. He hired Siobhán O'Sullivan to be his initial teller and bookkeeper, since she had worked for him in that capacity in France. He offered her the apartment upstairs once she and Gaston were married. Because neither Siobhán nor Jenny were part of the old Brides' contract, they moved out of the Dormitory and into the apartment above Philippe's bank as roommates for the time being. That didn't make the Rameau brothers particularly happy, but a block wasn't too far to walk to go for courting.

Chapter 4: The Stench

It was a cold, windy Saturday night in early December 1876. A few snowflakes twirled in Pioneer Square, sticking to earlier, brown snow to help create more mud when it wasn't frozen solid on warmer days. A strange type of music wafted out of Lottie's Saloon on the night breeze, ending with a burst of laughter and applause.

It was very warm inside Lottie's that night due to the crowd. Philippe had quickly been drafted into Seattle's comical "Jug Band" because Jeremy and Pellan knew his talent. Philippe had brought his cello that evening at Pellan's request, but it remained propped in a corner in its case while he played "washtub bass" with the band. Pellan gave the saloon's piano a work-out and Jeremy and Joshua Bolt played guitars to add some harmony. Other men played harmonica, Jew's harp, spoons, "the bones," and, of course, empty cider jugs. Jokes were told between numbers and their audience enjoyed it – or at least tolerated it kindly. Jonathan watched the performance eagerly, begging Jeremy to let him join the band the next time with his violin. Jeremy said that he could, if he would agree to call it a fiddle while playing with them.

Jason whispered to Julie, "It's interesting that Jeremy never stutters when he sings."

"Yes, I've noticed. He never has," she replied. "I think his coming back here from England helped him, too. He's much improved from when he left England nine years ago."

"How so?"

"He seems more confident now and he seldom stutters any more unless he's really upset. I noticed that last year when he came to France from Seattle with Jess and the others."

The band called for a break. Philippe took a deep draft of beer. Pellan clapped him on the back, saying in a low voice, "I never thought I'd see you take to drinking beer instead of wine. You've almost become an American – and so quickly!"

"It's cold, at least," gasped Philippe with a wince. "If I drink it fast, I don't notice the taste as much."

During the break, some of the men went out back of Lottie's to the over-used outhouse while others walked further to the outhouses at the edge of Elliott Bay – or to the bushes beyond – to get rid of their beer. The stench was overpowering in the wintry air.

"Someday soon we need to figure out how to manage sewage from all our residents," Philippe remarked to Aaron Stempel on the way back to Lottie's.

"We don't want to get ahead of ourselves, Philippe," Aaron replied. "We can't do things here like they do in France."

"Oh, France – and Europe in general – delayed that for a long time and it fostered disease and horrible reputations for the cities," Philippe countered. "You don't want that here if you can avoid it. You're not as built-up as the old European cities or as locked-in to earlier mistakes. It would be easier to deal with this problem at this early stage … and better to deal with it early than to wait. You know that sewage caused the diphtheria epidemic here this past June."

Aaron said nothing in reply, but he knew that this newcomer was right. Aaron's own sister, Julie, had made caustic remarks about the stench during her last visit to Seattle eight months ago. Whole families had died of diphtheria this past summer and, of course, there were even more people living in Seattle now than there were in the summer – such as all these new Bolts and their families.

Seattle had long had public outhouses on the edge of Elliott Bay, using the high tides to wash out the contents twice daily. Fishermen complained about having to sail far out from land to fish in fresh water, away from the polluted shoreline. And no one went near the outhouses during high tide if he could avoid it, since the tidewater sometimes back-flowed forcefully into the outhouses.

The first indoor bathtub had been installed at Lottie's in 1870, draining out into the back yard, but no one had indoor toilets yet. Some of the local businesses had wooden sidewalks and awnings in front to invite shoppers inside out of the mud and rain … and human and animal excrement in the dirt streets.

The patrons reassembled at Lottie's while Philippe quietly tuned his cello in a corner. Pellan announced to the crowd, "And now, a break from torture for some real music – so you won't think the evening's been a total waste: Philippe Du Saule with his cello!"

Philippe began to play, as he so loved to do – and Jason wasn't the only person who was astounded. Julie smiled sideways at Jason, who was obviously learning something new and marvelous about her husband.

A few weeks later, Philippe went to the Seattle town council meeting with Mayor Gideon Weed. He introduced himself, mentioned his progress in starting a bank in town, and brought up the need for plumbing as a foundation for business and growth.

"Hold on there, young fellow!" Mayor Weed protested. "Just because you're a Bolt, you can't just come in here and tell us what to do."

"Please, Your Honor, I am a Du Saule, not a Bolt. Don't blame the Bolts for my behavior, including my wife. I take responsibility for myself."

"Maybe we just want to remain a small town and not grow fast."

"Given the diphtheria epidemic last summer, we have already grown to a point where sewage is a problem. Dumping sewage into Elliott Bay, when the tides cause some neighborhoods to flood with sewage twice a day, is not a healthy solution."

Some on the Council nodded agreement. They all knew it was true, even if they said nothing.

"So what's your point?" Mayor Weed asked testily, ready to move on to other business on the Council's agenda.

"I came here with some skills that I have to help Seattle to grow, like many other people here," Philippe continued. "Do you want Seattle to grow in a way that will create positive publicity, enhance your reputation, and cultivate healthy growth and investment? Or do you want people who visit here going home to tell others about the stench and sanitation issues – and spread more bad publicity in newspapers about epidemics, ruining your civic reputation? There is much prosperity to be shared in a healthy town with healthy citizens. The other way, there is illness, crime, and all which grows from that."

Indeed, Mayor Weed and the Town Council knew that crime and social problems had already taken root in the area south of Pioneer Square. Some seedy settlers lived there, operating below the law. The Council had discussed those problems in the past more than once. But they made no decisions today.

Philippe left the meeting, knowing that he had said his piece and feeling frustrated by the mayor's attitude. But, being a farmer at heart, Philippe knew that sometimes one plants seeds which take a long time to grow. He also knew that the sewage issue would force itself on the Council eventually, when public outcry became loud enough. After all, the Council would have future elections to win.

Chapter 5: The Family Commune

Marta Jäger-Bolt, her husband Jeremy, and Philippe Du Saule worked on the design of their common barn that first winter. It would be two-stories tall: the largest structure on their property beyond Forester's Creek – sheltering their animals, conveyances, tools, and feed storage. They managed to build a chicken coop and a fenced run that winter during breaks in the weather and planned to populate it come the spring. Philippe began inquiring about which vegetables people grew successfully in Seattle so that he could lay out a garden in the spring. He first needed to design a fence to keep wild animals from poaching in it (as was the intention with their fenced chicken run.)

This communal-living plan eased the amount of construction they had to do separately. Marta and Philippe, being the most knowledgeable about domesticated animals and farming, began the process of acquiring horses, buggies, and a small buckboard wagon for their transportation into town for supplies or to the logging camp. Marta also suggested that the new Bolt family settlers share some meals together even after the Du Saules and O'Sullivans built their own cabins. They all agreed, since sharing the cooking eased individual work and decreased the amount of cookware and dishes that they had to purchase initially. They would, eventually, share child care as the next generation came on the scene.

The Bolt clan didn't always know who would be present at their communal table. Sometimes Jason and Joshua Bolt were there, of course. They felled trees and hauled in lumber, helping with construction of outbuildings and cabins as they had time. The Rameau brothers and Siobhán O'Sullivan were often present, as was Jennifer Bolt. Occasionally there were friends, like Captain Clancey, or Jonathan and Lucie's new school chums. Julie enjoyed being a housewife, so she became their coordinator of meals – not unlike what her life had been in Calais. Once the Du Saules built their cabin, they built a large gathering room with an extra-large family table, with "leaves" which could be inserted for more diners. It was pleasant for everyone to gather after a busy day in town or at the logging camp and it soothed everyone's nerves. Seattle was growing so fast that every day seemed to bring some challenge, whether at the bank, the school, the medical clinic, the shops, the logging camp, the Little White Church, or in the streets of the town itself.

Christmas 1876 was obviously a much larger gathering than the Bolt brothers had held in their bachelor past. The clan was headquartered in Jeremy and Marta's large cabin. The Rameaus and Siobhán O'Sullivan came to join in the celebration and Gaston smiled broadly as he distributed flat packages to all the Bolt siblings. They opened them and exclaimed: Gaston had framed his six photographs from the picnic and then had made six imaginary paintings of the cabin in the four seasons of the year, plus fog and early spring. "Pierre and I are so grateful for your generous welcome and help in coming here. I pretended to be slow in getting the photographs developed, but now you see what I have done. I didn't want to give you identical gifts."

"We will need to open up a gallery to display all these!" exclaimed Joshua with a grin.

After eating a huge feast on that Christmas, the Rameaus, Jenny, & Siobhán returned to town. Philippe and his brothers-in-law lounged by the fire while the women washed up nearby.

Philippe asked Jason and Joshua, "Where will you live in the future?" This caught them off-guard.

"What do you mean?" Jason asked. "We have our cabin and the camp."

"I mean in the future," pressed Philippe. "Your cabin is so close to the Bay."

"That's what we like about it. It's near the wharf and Lottie's. And the church," Jason added, as something of an afterthought.

"Jason, in cities beside water that is deep enough for ships, the land near the water is used for docks and commerce," Philippe detailed. "Ships – and probably trains in our time – arrive at all hours, load and unload and create noise and chaos. Some businesses like to be located nearby so that they can easily bring in supplies or load them onto ships and trains. Most residents prefer to build their homes in a more peaceful area some distance away. I promise you: Seattle will eventually claim all the property near the Bay for business or harbor use or and, eventually, for hotels for visitors coming in from ships and trains. There may be dozens of wharves built in the future. The same goes for all the small businesses in Pioneer Square, the church, and the Brides' old dormitory: they are all built so close to Elliott Bay that their land will sell at a handsome price for warehouses. I'm actually surprised that hasn't happened already."

"I had thought about that, Jason," supplied Josh. "I think Philippe is correct."

"Perhaps you could move your cabin onto your own property somewhere out from town," Philippe suggested. "Then it would be protected from encroachment as the city grows and you wouldn't have to move again."

"What about Stempel's house? And Lottie's?" Jason mused.

"Mr. Stempel can take care of his own interests, as I'm sure he will," replied Philippe with a tight smile. "You might want to bring up the subject with Lottie at a good moment. Forgive me, but she is not so young now. I doubt she will want to start her business over in another location. But I would hate for her to be swindled out of the value of her business and property if land sales become aggressive. That could happen."

Jason and Joshua took heed of Philippe's prediction and moved their cabin onto the same large tract with Jeremy and the others beyond Forester's Creek early in the next year of 1877. They used that opportunity to tighten it up and added on a bedroom and two small rooms for bathing and storage. It seemed the easiest and most sensible thing to do and they could now support and protect their extended family. The Bolt family "commune" was then complete.

Chapter 6: Endings

In March 1877, Ben Perkins received a new telegram, wrote it out, and handed it to Jason with a stricken look in his eyes. "Do you want to tell her?"

Jason read over it and sighed. "I'll tell her, though I don't want to." Ben sealed the missive in a yellow envelope and Jason left Ben's general store, heading next door to Lottie's Saloon and Rooming House. Fortunately, it was too early for the lunch crowd to have arrived.

Jason entered and found Lottie setting out sandwich fixings along the bar. She looked up and immediately read in Jason's eyes that something was wrong. He handed her the telegram, which she opened and read. Tears welled in her eyes. "The old fool." She half-choked on her words.

While docked in San Francisco on his regular run, Captain Clancey had passed out from drinking in his ship's cabin. A doctor was summoned, but was not able to revive him. His crew was enroute north to Seattle, bringing his body back for burial and returning the Seamus O'Flynn to its home port for settlement of her captain's estate.

"I'm sorry, Lottie," Jason said, simply and sincerely.

Lottie shook her head sadly. "Well, he died doing what he liked best." She laughed shortly, sarcastically.

"No, Lottie," Jason countered. "I think he liked being with you the best, even if he wasn't drinking at the moment – which says a lot about his love for you."

Lottie half-smiled gratefully. She was well-accustomed to keeping her personal feelings to herself. Jason thought to himself, 'I need to talk to her about Philippe's predictions for Pioneer Square. But not today.' Instead, he said, "I'll check back with you. If there's anything you need in the meantime…."

"Thank you, Jason."

Philippe's bank smelled of freshly-milled lumber. It was not unpleasant, but Philippe thought the scent gave the impression that his bank was likewise very new and not fully established – which was, of course, the actual case. Well, that was no secret, unless a person had just arrived in Seattle. And the entire town of Seattle – businesses and homes – smelled the same way with the current explosion in construction. Philippe reflected on such things as he left his horse at the livery on Pioneer Square for the day and walked the block to his bank in the mornings. This particular morning in April 1877, he had come to town early and had already met with Aaron Stempel on some bank-mill business in Stempel's office on his wharf, so Philippe walked a shorter path from Mill Street up to his bank.

"Sacre bleu!" Philippe snapped, finding his brand-new sign lying broken in front of the bank's door, a fragment still dangling from its hook. He picked up the sign from the covered sidewalk and rapped the "code" knock on the door. Siobhán O'Sullivan unlocked it from the inside – their usual security procedure in the mornings – and Philippe burst out, "What happened?"

"I'm so glad you're here!" Siobhán breathed, anxiously. "The trappers are back in town for Rendezvous, tearing up things. I didn't dare unlock the door until you arrived, since it was just us here." Jennifer Bolt stood in the room just behind her, looking pale and nodding agreement with Siobhán's words.

"Put a note on the door that we will open at 10:00 today and lock the door behind me until I return," he replied. He then left with the broken sign under his arm, heading down the block toward Pioneer Square. He now felt justified for having put no windows in his bank building, though he had wanted to for aesthetic purposes. The lack of a police force in Seattle at present caused Philippe to realize that he himself was responsible to make his building as secure as possible. Windows would surely have made an attractive target for the trapper-vandals this morning and glass was expensive to import and replace.

For once, Philippe took no notice of the damp, the mud, and the smell of pending rain (and sewage). He had heard more tales about the semi-annual rendezvous of the French-Canadian trappers than he wanted to believe. Now came the opportunity for him to experience it for himself. It was not as extreme as it had been in the past when Pioneer Square had been the only place to cut a ruckus in King County, but it was bad enough. He could hear rising voices as he approached the Square and saw some newly-scattered debris. Ben Perkins stood in his store's doorway, blocking entry and holding a rifle defensively. Philippe patted his pocket to feel his tiny pistol, a gift from his old bank in Calais. He had hoped he would never need it, but today might prove his hopes to be in vain for a second time.

Philippe was surprised to find Gaston Rameau and Lottie Hatfield in the Square in front of her saloon in heated conversation with six rough-looking, fur-clad men. Philippe didn't know it, but the argument taking place today was different because it was in Québéçois, French, and English. Philippe could understand every word, which was more than Lottie and the anxious-looking bystanders could understand today or in the past, when the trappers would converse among themselves in Québéçois and make their unsavory plans.

Lottie instructed Gaston in English: "Tell them that things have changed here. They can't tear things up and expect to get anyone to serve them or buy their furs, including me." Gaston complied as best he could in his classical French.

Lottie added, "Tell them that if they break anything, they'll have to pay damages." Gaston again translated, but his English was limited and, when Philippe arrived and offered to take over, Gaston accepted with relief.

"You may begin by paying me for my sign," said Philippe, holding up the fragment he carried. He spotted Pierre Rameau out of the corner of his eye, approaching at a jog from the side street leading to the schoolhouse, slowing to a walk once he entered the Square to assess the situation. Some other citizens were quietly approaching from the dock area: strong-looking men armed with clubs, guns, and harpoons.

Lottie directed Philippe: "Tell him that there are laws here about creating a disturbance and destruction of property – and that we have a brand-new, larger jail to lock them up!" Philippe translated.

The apparent leader of the trappers privately remarked to his mates in Québéçois, "Has Seattle lost its reputation for hospitality? And commerce?"

Philippe replied in French, "Commerce and hospitality flourish when people are not afraid of violence and property damage. You must accept that now when you visit Seattle."

Pierre walked up to join Philippe and Lottie, adding in French, "You may find that you fare better in trading your furs when you behave in a civil manner."

The leader of the trappers remarked, "Where have all these educated Frenchmen come from? Seattle must have turned into Paris!"

Philippe stated dryly, "I hope not. I thought I was headed away from Paris in moving here."

The head trapper guffawed. "Perhaps you brought it with you. My name is Jacques Allard – from the Cascades." He held out his hand to shake. Philippe shook it, rather cautiously. "Philippe Du Saule," he responded.

Pierre stated rather drolly, "There is a park in Paris with that name – Allard. Are your people from Paris?"

"No! Merde!" Jacques spat in the mud and barked a laugh, then glanced over to notice the several dozen citizens who had assembled … and their weapons. Suddenly, busting up the town did not seem as appealing as it had earlier. Or as feasible, without fines and injuries.

Jacques dug into his pocket and offered some coins to Philippe. "My apologies for the damage to your sign. I think I may have tripped when I passed your – bank? Seattle has a bank now?"

Philippe accepted the coins without comment.

Perhaps the trappers never returned after that day, for back country trappers did not enjoy urban refinements, such as police and vice fines. Seattle suddenly seemed more like a city to these trappers than the old, rough crossroads with a saloon. Perhaps they did return, but so blended in with the crowds that the nascent city thwarted their enthusiasm for mayhem. But this last Rendezvous, they did do excellent business in trading their furs, which, along with Lottie's liquor, put them in a good humor. They enjoyed brief conversations with the new Frenchmen, even if their accent was not Québéçois. Jacques Allard even opened an account at Philippe's bank with some of his fur profits, thinking it might be safer there than in his knapsack and invested for interest during his absence in the high country.

Jason heard about the Rendezvous confrontation and went into town that evening to check on Lottie. He hadn't seen her since Clancey's graveside service at the Masonic cemetery on Capitol Hill a week before. He knew that Lottie's heart was broken and he had given her some time to grieve. Lottie had no family in Washington Territory and, without Clancey, she seemed to have few good options for her old age. Today seemed to illustrate the dangers she might face, living alone in a changing part of town.

Jason poured two whiskeys. "To absent friends." Jason raised his glass. Lottie touched it with hers and they drank. They both knew who was meant and were silent a moment.

"Aaron came here this afternoon," Lottie remarked. "Clancey had left his will in Aaron's safe and Aaron filed it with the county. The magistrate made him the executor, since Clancey had no kin in town. Clancey wanted his ship sold and willed the proceeds to me."

"I'm not at all surprised," Jason said. "You were special to him."

"Aaron asked if I was in agreement with the plan to sell the boat. I said yes. At least he asked."

"And you know that Aaron will get the best possible price."

"True!"

They laughed together.

"What are you going to do, Lottie?" Jason asked, sensing a good moment. "The ship may bring a fair price, even if it is old and battered. Any kind of ship seems to be in demand around here on the Sound right now."

"I don't know," she sighed wearily.

"Things are changing around here."

"Yes. Quickly and not necessarily for the better, judging from some of my clientele these days. But I don't want to move away somewhere else. The people I know here are my family now, like you Bolts."

"We don't want you to go anywhere else. You are like family to us, too. But I'm concerned about you living alone in this area while it changes. Philippe thinks that this area close to the Bay will be used for warehouses as the port grows."

"I expect so. Suppose 'Bill the Cook' would like to expand over into to my building?"

"He might at that. Philippe also thinks that properties on the Square could become targets of aggressive take-overs as things change because of the value of the land for commerce. He is concerned for you and doesn't want you to lose your property that way, which might be at a loss. It might be good to make changes sooner rather than later and not under pressure."

"Thank you, Jason. I'll consider that."

Chapter 7: New Encounters and Civic Strife

Philippe peered out the window of Jeremy's cabin in the spring of 1877. "There are two Native people coming here," he stated.

Jeremy moved to look out the window while the women looked up from cooking at Philippe's announcement.

"It's Crying Bird and her son," Jeremy stated.

"Oh, is it?!" Julie exclaimed happily and rushed to the door, tossing back over her shoulder. "Bring them some bags of food." Then she rushed on outside, half-running to greet the visitors. Philippe stood stunned, not knowing whether to do what Julie directed or follow her outside, in case she might need protection. Jon and Lucie also seemed undecided, looking at their father.

"Come on. She's right," Jeremy said to Philippe, heading to the kitchen area. "We should give them something: it's good hospitality in the Native way of thinking. We've got plenty and you'll soon learn that they don't. You kids come help us."

"Is Julie alright with them?" Philippe asked, looking out again at Julie in the distance, now grasping Crying Bird's hands in fond greeting.

"Crying Bird and her people kept us fed as kids after our parents died," Jeremy explained. "And she hung a charm on our door at the old cabin, which was a sign of protection recognized by the hostile Natives just before the Battle of Seattle began – which probably saved our lives. So she's practically family to us. I guess they've just returned to their summer fishing grounds on the Bay from their winter camp inland."

Jess and Marta hastily gathered some rolls, candy, and other foodstuffs in a bag and small crate and Jeremy added a bottle of whisky. "Not the best thing for them, but they like it," he commented. Then they carried their gifts out to greet their guests, accompanied by the children. Julie introduced them.

"I don't know what I expected," Philippe remarked after their guests had gone. "They were dressed much like us."

"Well, they trade at the same stores we do," said Jeremy.

"What language were you speaking with them?" asked Jon.

"It's a simple trading language used in these parts, which developed as White settlers and trappers interacted with the Natives. Some of the Natives can speak English pretty well by now, too. You've seen that in school, I think."

"Do I need to learn that language to use in my bank?" asked Philippe.

"Probably wouldn't hurt," Jeremy responded, "though I doubt they'll have much money to invest."

There were other women in Seattle and had been for many years: business women in the 'entertainment' industry. The first such Caucasian woman was Mary Ann Boyer, who arrived in Seattle in 1853, soon after the very first settlers. She had been abandoned by Captain David "Bull" Conklin of a whaling vessel, who may have been her husband. She founded Felker House in Seattle in partnership with Captain Leonard Felker: a hotel with a brothel on the second floor. Ms. Boyer/Conklin was soon nicknamed "Mother Damnable," because she could swear quite fluently in Chinese, English, French, German, Portuguese, and Spanish. [Author's Note: "Mother Damnable" was the first model HCTB scriptwriters considered for the character which became Lottie Hatfield.]

Some White settlers employed Native women in "squaw brothels" throughout the region, including Seattle – exploiting (and profiting from) a cultural difference between the Native Americans and Caucasians.

Prostitutes were often termed "seamstresses" on Seattle's tax rolls of the time. They worked in gaming parlors and saloons, but their most lucrative work was done in small rooms upstairs, where clients' activities were timed by burning small candles. This "hospitality industry" became more profitable than even Aaron Stempel's mill and saved Seattle's economy in 1873, when Tacoma was awarded the Union Pacific railroad terminal over Seattle's bid. Seattle's population halved that year from a thousand to five hundred as people moved to Tacoma for railroad jobs in the Panic of 1873. When prostitutes ran afoul of the law, they were often named (using first-name only) in the newspapers along with their clients; their deaths and other life events were not recorded. Legal charges seemed to be the only record of their lives.

Seattle planned a new road from First Avenue, which bordered the shore of Elliott Bay, up the hill to Pike Street. Citizens admired the planned improvement and property owners hoped to sell residential real estate to merchants close to the central business district. Some of the area was filled in, causing Aaron Stempel to believe that he would now be able to sell his land as real estate for skyscrapers. Then he discovered that his personal assessment for the road project was $5000: about one-third of the total cost!

Stemple contacted his attorney, J. R. Lewis, to find out if there was some way he could avoid paying his road assessment. At a court hearing, Lewis pointed out that the city had acted illegally in assessing individuals instead of the property itself – that some had been billed more or less, depending on how much of their property needed grading, from $5 to $5000 – and that all the assessments should have been equal. He pointed out that the Organic Act of 1853, which had created Washington Territory, was not authorized to pass a law permitting the incorporation of a city, therefore Seattle did not technically exist … and it could not, therefore, have a city council, taxes, license, policemen, firemen, etc. On this basis, the lower court threw out Stempel's tax assessment. Banks, including Philippe's, suddenly made 65% discounts on their non-city's warrants and checks … and Seattle was on the brink of bankruptcy!

Seattle's city fathers appealed the decision all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. In the year that it took for that hearing to occur, the city fathers established a system of licenses and fines for dispensing liquor, gambling, and prostitution in order for Seattle to remain solvent. Policemen enforced the practice and collected the fines and license fees, which was termed "Wide Open Town." Business and property owners liked the policy, too, since they didn't have to pay property taxes. It proved difficult to rescind in the future for that reason.

Seattle city fathers traveled to Washington, D.C. and had some conversations with representatives about the incorporation issue. Congress then passed a special law, retroactive to 1869, giving the Washington Territorial Legislature the authority to grant Seattle its incorporation … but when Stempel's case was heard by the U.S. Supreme Court, he won his case based on the fact that Seattle did not technically exist when his road assessment was levied. Therefore, Stempel didn't have to pay his $5000 road assessment, but the other property owners had to pay theirs, because they had not likewise appealed. Some of the city fathers never spoke to Stempel again. From Stempel's perspective, there were few conversations worth $5000.

Chapter 8: Expansions

A tear slid sideways from Julie's eye as she lay in bed beside her husband.

"Oh, now – what's wrong?" Philippe asked compassionately, embracing her and guessing before she replied what she would say.

"I'm sorry to carry on like this," Julie sobbed. "I just thought I would get pregnant before now. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Philippe said nothing, stroking her belly sympathetically, wishing that he could will a pregnancy to occur since Julie wanted it so fervently.

"I feel like I'm disappointing you, since you agreed to try," Julie said. "I don't think you want another child as much as I do."

"How can I be in any way disappointed with your voracious appetite for pregnancy, if not for me?" Philippe teased, kissing her shoulder. Still, he knew that Julie had become even more anxious about their efforts after Jessica had delivered a healthy girl (named Brigid) in April of this year. It was now June 1877.

"I told you when we began to try that if it happens, it happens; and if it doesn't –" Philippe shrugged, "—if we can't conceive again, perhaps that is God's will for some reason and I accept it. Either is perfectly fine with me. We have two wonderful, healthy children as it is; you aren't disappointing me in any way. Just because we can't conceive a child in fifteen minutes, like we could in our twenties, doesn't mean it won't happen eventually. We'll keep trying."

Julie sighed, dejected. Philippe decided that this was a good moment for his surprise. "Anyway, I have something for you – well, for both of us." He twisted around to reach the bedside table and then handed Julie a small envelope.

"What's this?" She opened the envelope. "Tickets? To Vancouver?"

"I've heard that Vancouver in Canada is a beautiful city and it's not that far away. I would like to see it and thought we could explore it together for a holiday. Even the voyage there and back should be a pleasure for the scenery. We can also think a little about the next school for Jon. It would be closer than San Francisco or Portland."

They had a few years yet to find a secondary school before Jon graduated from grade school. Perhaps the new Territorial University in Seattle would be appropriate by then, but Philippe thought that they should consider alternatives in case it had further financial problems and closures. Philippe was primarily interested right now in giving Julie a break from household duties and baby care with Jess and Brigid to help her to relax … and perhaps conceive. "We've both been working very hard since we arrived in Seattle. I think we're overdue for a holiday. When was the last time that we went anywhere by ourselves? I can't even remember."

It took some persuading to get Julie to agree. She enjoyed helping Jess with Baby Brigid and felt like she would be abandoning the duties of her own household and children if she went on holiday to Canada. Philippe even recruited Pellan's help (along with Jess) to encourage Julie to take the time away. She finally relented and Philippe was relieved. He worried that Julie was martyring herself to create a comfortable home in Seattle as quickly as possible to make up for all they had sacrificed in Calais to immigrate to Seattle and reunite her whole extended family.

They left in early July on the Alida paddle-steamer. Julie dithered aloud for most of the morning about whether Jon and Lucie would be alright during their absence as their summer break from school began. Philippe listened and said little except to exclaim over some of the scenery around them and try to get Julie's mind off of Seattle. Julie gradually began to relax and the trip north eventually became like a second honeymoon. Philippe could not play the tour guide in Vancouver, though, as he had once done in Bruges, and they both had to explore their surroundings together – which was fun.

Vancouver was larger than Seattle, but not much more elegant. Still, it was a change of scene and routine and that was refreshing. They inquired about secondary schools for boys and found that the tuition would be much higher for Jon, being a foreign student. The rest of their time was spent in as many pleasurable pursuits as Philippe could imagine, some of them even outside their hotel room.

On a drizzly afternoon in September, Julie half-skipped along the sidewalk to Philippe's bank. She popped through the door and nodded at Siobhán at the teller's window. "Is he in – or busy?"

"He's in." Siobhán tilted her head sideways in the direction of Philippe's closed office door while she waited on a customer. "No one's with him." Julie knocked on his office door.

"Enter," came her husband's voice.

Julie cracked open the office door to look in and their eyes met. Her broad smile told him her news before her words did. "I'm pregnant! I just found out!" He quickly rounded his desk to sweep her into a bear hug with a kiss. 'At last! Thank you, Seigneur!' he prayed silently. "I'm so happy!" Philippe exclaimed to her. He really was – on several levels.

"So you got my sister pregnant," Jason remarked to Philippe a few weeks later after he had learned the news.

Philippe winced at Jason's blunt words in a matter that would have been considered taboo in Calais. Then he recovered and said, "Yes – a third time," and grinned sideways at his brother-in-law. "But I assure you that we were married – twice! – before it was ever even possible the first time.

"'Twice?!'"

"Yes, we learned that there were some legal matters when people from two different countries marry and we had to have some attorneys advise us. Julie was still a minor and an orphaned citizen of the States; her British great-aunts and guardians had to sign for her. I was twenty, but we had my French father sign for me anyway, in case anyone had issues with my age being less than twenty-one. We were married in the morning at Julie's little church in London on October 24, 1862, had a nice luncheon to celebrate, and then got straight onto a paddle-steamer with my parents to head down the Thames toward France. We had some trouble when the boat hit a pier in another stop and we all had to get off before it sank and stay the night in Canterbury – all four of us in the only small hotel room we could find! I slept on the floor and Julie on a sofa while my parents were in the bed! Not much of a wedding night! Then we went on by carriage to Dover the next day and crossed the Channel the morning after. And, because marriage in France is viewed as a civil matter, we got married again at the city hall in Calais once we arrived, then sailed to Belgium for our honeymoon as night was falling. Whatever I imagined for our first few days of marriage, it certainly was not all that!"

"That does sound pretty bad. Where is Belgium?"

"Calais is in the extreme north of France and Belgium is just a little way up the coast. I got called up with the militia in Calais the next spring and was gone to the east of France for almost two years. So we were married almost five years before Jon was born. I have always treated your sister with the utmost respect, Jason. I hope that is sufficient for you."

"It is, it certainly is. I'm just kidding you, I hope you realize. I wish you both well with the coming child."

"Thank you, Jason. I wish Julie well, too, and I actually hope it is our last child. I have felt horribly anxious when Julie is pregnant, hoping that nothing will go wrong for either her or the baby. I think it comes from being a farmer and having some idea of many things that can go wrong, at least with sheep. Julie has been wanting another baby for a few years and I put her off until we got moved here and settled. But now I had to honor her wish. Not without pleasure, of course!"

"Is that why you two went to Vancouver?"

"Yes. We needed some time away to relax and help things happen."

Richard Jason Du Saule was born on April 25, 1878, in his family's new log cabin – the best construction which Julie would allow Philippe to use for their home. Julie had no complications in childbirth and Philippe was, for the third time, massively relieved and grateful. Uncle Jason felt honored to have a namesake and even endured an uncomfortable hour of Catholic mass to attend Richard's baptism a month later.

Lucie took great delight in her new baby brother. He was called Richard after his great-grandfather, but using the English pronunciation instead of the French. Jonathan, however, seemed subdued after the new addition to their family had arrived.

"I'm sorry, Jon, but you're always going to seem more like an uncle to Richard than a brother," sympathized Philippe. "Eleven years is a big difference in your ages. You will look like a grown man to him even now, once he notices anyone else in the world beyond his mother."

Jonathan smiled – rather sadly, Philippe thought.

"He'll admire you," Philippe persevered. "He'll think you're tall, strong, capable, and know so much about everything that he has yet to learn. He'll need you to help him along as he grows – and maybe all his life."

Jonathan nodded, accepting the situation. Philippe noticed once again that Jon was changing from the effusive, good-natured boy he had been to someone more self-contained – which was a good sign of developing maturity as he approached his teen years.

"Anyway, guess what will happen this summer?" Philippe added, to lighten the mood.

"What, Papa?"

"A company is coming to Seattle to demonstrate the new telephone machine. Do you want to be able to see it used if I can arrange it?"

"Wow! Do I ever!"

The Seattle doctors – with four new recruits from various medical schools – opened their small hospital a little later in 1878 on First Hill. Marta Jäger-Bolt ran the pharmacy there with an assistant. She also kept corresponding with her brother Rolf, who was seven years younger and lived in London. He also intended to immigrate to the States and had taken Marta's advice to train as a pharmacist. He was now in his five-year apprenticeship and saving money for his passage to Seattle. Marta hoped that Rolf might one day run a satellite office of her pharmacy in town.

Chapter 9: Transitions

Pierre Rameau changed jobs in the summer of 1878. He had taught for two years in Miss Essie's grade school and was now moving to join the faculty of the Territorial University in their lone building toward the crest of First Hill, above Pioneer Square. Miss Essie thanked him warmly for his, but she had always known that his master's degree could command a university position. Seattle was beginning to appear less dismal when Miss Essie advertised for help and she located a young teacher to help her out in the fall term without too much trouble.

Pierre had been an excellent teacher for Jon in the past two years, but Philippe thought it would benefit Jon to experience other teachers. While he knew that the Territorial University might someday become quite grand, Philippe thought it seemed rather pathetic at the present time: an opinion he certainly kept to himself! Philippe was certain that Pierre moving to their faculty would help improve the university … and it would likely be a good professional move for Pierre, as well.

In the fall of 1878, Philippe Du Saule, the Rameau brothers, Siobhán O'Sullivan and her brother Pellan, and Marta Jäger-Bolt all stood before the circuit judge in Seattle and took their oaths to become citizens of the United States while their family members stood nearby. It was a bittersweet moment for all of them: another break from their past in Europe, but also a milestone in transition to their new life in the United States.

The cross avenue near Stempel's mill became choked with mud in January 1879 [approximate date; unable to verify, bringing traffic to a standstill. A bid for wooden planking to cover the muddy road came to $2150. Seattle's City Council called an emergency meeting, but there was no money budgeted for road repairs. Several local 'seamstresses' pointed out that they made a major contribution to the city coffers with their ten-dollar monthly vice fines. One of the Councilmen asked if they would be willing to make an additional effort "in keeping with the Seattle spirit." They enthusiastically agreed, so their fines were immediately increased 50% to fund the planking project over the muddy morass. The Council made the announcement on the front pages of the newspaper, stating the problem, the goal, and the chosen method of achieving it. Progress was updated each day in the papers. Citizens cheered on the 'seamstresses' and loggers from all over Puget Sound came to Seattle to do their part. The money was raised in just three days and then vice fines for prostitution dropped back to the usual $10 a month.

Philippe followed this project in the papers with scandalized horror. He remarked it to his brothers-in-law one evening after dinner in their cabin. Joshua laughed at him: "What's the matter, Philippe? Aren't there any dedicated 'working women' in France?"

"Well, yes," Philippe admitted, "but the City Council of Calais doesn't use them for municipal fund-raising!"

Josh laughed again and clapped him on the back. "I'll bet Calais has property taxes, don't they? Well, Seattle doesn't! Welcome to the Wild West, Philippe!"

Pellan O'Sullivan had long had reservations about his sister Siobhán marrying an artist, therefore he requested that Gaston Rameau prove financial stability before they married. For whatever reason, Gaston succeeded in Seattle far beyond everyone's expectations, including his own. He produced innumerable photographic portraits for those of humble means. He painted occasional portraits and the local scenery in oil paint and water-colors for those with money to burn. This situation continued all his life. No one was more surprised at his success than Gaston, who would often laugh happily, shake his head, and remark "this crazy country." He was delighted to be able to make an excellent living doing what he loved and to, at last, be able to marry the woman he adored.

Pellan was likewise pleased and satisfied, so Gaston Rameau and Siobhán O'Sullivan married in the spring of 1879. Gaston had by then even built a modest house in town with an attached art studio and they had moved there, rather than into the small apartment above Philippe's bank. Siobhán Rameau continued on as chief teller and bookkeeper for Philippe after her marriage. And Jennifer Bolt continued living in the bank's apartment for the time being, but was now officially engaged to Pierre Rameau and planning for their wedding in the coming year after he settled into his new work at the University.

The Bolt family was expanding again. Jeremy and Marta welcomed their first child – a boy – in March 1879.

"Do you want to give him a J-name, in keeping with your Bolt tradition?" asked Marta before he was born.

"No, I think we have quite enough of that already," Jeremy replied.

Instead, they gave a nod to the baby's fragment of Scottish heritage and past Bolt tradition by naming him Ian ('John' in Scottish). They also gave him as a middle name 'Friedrich' after Marta's maternal grandfather – "to keep Ian from having the shortest name in King County," laughed his father.

In the late summer that same year, Pellan and Jess knew that they were expecting again. The extended Bolt clan was in the chaotic and joyful Season of Babies.

After much business turnover in Pioneer Square and increasing problems with crime, Lottie sold her business to "Bill the Cook" Grose. He renamed it "Clancey's Saloon" and kept it open for six months in Pioneer Square, then in the next year he moved the business a short distance away into a row of businesses, including a theatre, which had closer proximity to visitors debarking from ships – and greater prospects for making a tidy profit.

Philippe offered Lottie a job as a teller with his growing bank and she moved into the apartment above the bank with Jenny in the summer of 1879. Ben Perkins moved his general store a few blocks to the north a few months later. Sure enough, as Philippe had predicted, the old saloon, store, and the now-vacant Brides' dormitory were all demolished in the coming year to make room for new warehouses beside Elliott Bay.

Lottie enjoyed her new work as a bank teller with negotiable hours. She was very pleasant and savvy with the customers – and helpful to Philippe about some she knew who were less trustworthy. Lottie found this a less stressful job than running her own business and both she and Philippe were pleased with the arrangement. Jenny was glad of Lottie's company in the upstairs apartment while being very busy running the dress shop and preparing for her wedding. Sometimes Lottie picked up fitting work for Jenny at the dress shop, too.

Philippe was privately amused when both Jason Bolt and Aaron Stempel – seemingly unaware of the other's doing and certainly without Lottie's awareness – came to Philippe and stated that if Lottie needed help in the future with financial or medical issues to let them know and they would help support her. Philippe never told Lottie because that need, fortunately, didn't arise.

It was the end of an era with the old Seattle business district gone, but Seattle was no longer anything like the old, intimate village. There were saloons everywhere, especially on Skid Road near Aaron's mill. There were some nine docks now built out into Elliott Bay, busy all the time with merchandise coming in and lumber and coal going out – mostly to San Francisco. There were also many, very wealthy families living in Seattle and a new such gentleman – Henry Villard – just arrived, whose job was making money.

Villard was born Ferdinand Henrich Gustav Hilgard in Bavaria. He immigrated to the United States as a teenager around 1850 without his parents' knowledge and changed his name in the process to avoid being discovered and sent back home. He developed a career in journalism during the Civil War, then got involved in investments for American railroads. He eventually wound up in the Pacific Northwest, where he began developing transportation investments for himself and the German investors he had come to represent.

Chapter 10: Church Divisions

Philippe Du Saule boarded the train to Tacoma, heading back to Seattle from the southern part of King County. He had been scouting again for secondary schools for Jon. This time he had traveled on beyond the town of Vancouver in Washington Territory to nearby Portland, Oregon. Philippe had long ago decided that enrolling Jon as a foreign student in a school in that other Vancouver in Canada would be too expensive, even though it was closer as the crow flies. But at least there were some trains available now in this southern direction which made for faster travel.

Philippe spotted a black-robed figure coming down the aisle of the train: a priest, by his clerical collar and black cassock. Philippe stood and offered, "Would you like to share this cabin, Father?" The priest accepted, introducing himself as Aegidius Junger – a Jesuit – adding that he had just been created bishop of the newly created Diocese of Nesqually in his order. Bishop Junger said that he was headed north from their Jesuit headquarters in Vancouver, Washington Territory, to begin new mission parishes in the Territory.

They enjoyed a good conversation on the passage to Seattle – the last leg by paddle-steamer from Tacoma, where the railroad tracks still ended. The bishop learned that Philippe and his wife were devout Roman Catholics from France, come to live in Seattle where Philippe's wife had been born and had extended family living. They had worshiped at Seattle's Little White Church (Methodist Episcopal) for a few months after arriving with family connections there, but the Du Saules (and the Rameaus, the O'Sullivans, and Jeremy and Jennifer Bolt – all of them raised Catholic) had gradually begun to attend the little Roman Catholic Church in Seattle. They had felt an instant bond with the missionary priest from the Roman Catholic diocese who served there: Father Francis Xavier Prefontaine. He was a French-Canadian from Quebec by birth … and not a Jesuit.

Father Prefontaine arrived in Vancouver, Washington Territory, in 1864 at the age of 27. He met then-Bishop Blanchet, who also spoke French, and learned English and a pidgin trade language before being appointed to serve in the northern part of that Catholic diocese. Fr. Prefontaine traveled around the entire wilderness territory in canoes with the Natives, sleeping in forests and on stream-banks. He ministered to Natives and non-Native settlers alike, Catholics and non-Catholics, and almost everyone knew him by now. Fr. Prefontaine arrived in Pioneer Square when the population was just 600 souls. He found ten Catholics living there and decided to found a parish with the three people who attended his first mass on November 24, 1867. He rented a small two-room house at Third Avenue and Yesler Way and converted one room into a tiny chapel.

Father Prefontaine was four years older than Jason Bolt. He met 26-year-old Jason and 19-year-old Joshua in his travels around the area as they were struggling to begin a logging business. (Jeremy had not yet returned to Seattle from growing up in England.) The two Bolt brothers liked Fr. Prefontaine … but not enough to become Catholic. Indeed, they had not been raised to attend any church and found the notion that Seattle could support more than the Little White Church ludicrous. But the year after Fr. Prefontaine arrived, the Little Brown Church (Methodist Protestant) was founded – so Seattle's church offerings had tripled in less than two years.

Jason had a moment of compunction soon afterward. He couldn't remember his father, Jonathan, saying anything about attending church during his youth in Scotland. Jason read that there were Presbyterians in Scotland, so he assumed that his father might have been one and, being of the family of a Scottish laird, Jonathan had probably attended church as a good example to their tenants. Lacking a Presbyterian church in Seattle, it seemed good to the two Bolt brothers to become some sort of Protestants. Jason and Joshua were baptized by the pastor of the Little White Church in a local river and joined that Methodist congregation in 1868, just before Jeremy returned to Seattle from London. Jeremy had been raised Roman Catholic by his devout great-aunts, but it seemed best to him to attend church with his brothers.

Bishop Blanchet of the Washington Diocese thought Seattle, with its rough reputation, was a lost cause for the Roman Catholic Church, but Father Prefontaine proposed to raise funds to build a church building by himself. Such effort would cost the diocese nothing, so Bishop Blanchet approved the young priest's plan. Fr. Prefontaine began holding fairs in the towns around Puget Sound to raise funds. He purchased land near his tiny house at Third Avenue and Washington Street and cleared the heavily-wooded land of what he termed "monster trees," designing the building and doing much of the construction himself in the winter of 1868-69. He may have hired Aaron Stemple to help him clear the land, because Stempel later claimed that he had supplied lumber for the first Catholic church in Seattle. It was dedicated "Our Lady of Good Help" in the autumn of 1870 and, after that, attendance began to grow.

Philippe, for his part, was a little apprehensive of Bishop Junger during their trip to Seattle. He knew that all Jesuits had been cast out of France and some other European countries more than a hundred years earlier and that the Society was suppressed (rather reluctantly) by the Pope for more than forty years due to political intrigue. Once reinstated by a different Pope, the Society of Jesus cultivated ministry in the States and in the Canadian provinces. They relied on their French-speaking missionaries where Canadian settlers spoke French or Quebeçois and eventually made their way over to the Pacific coast. The Jesuits were gaining a reputation for education as well as missionary work and Bishop Junger made some recommendations to Philippe for Jon's future schooling. Philippe thanked him gratefully.

As they approached Seattle, Philippe couldn't believe his eyes: the mountain – Rainier – was smoking! He closed his eyes in sudden dread, confessing his terror of the local volcanoes to Bishop Junger. They prayed together for safety and no eruption ensued. Then they parted in Seattle as new friends and Philippe invited the bishop to dine with his family later that week.

Philippe opened the door of his cabin to find Pellan O'Sullivan carrying in all that he possibly could of pots and dishes in one trip from his own cabin. "I'm the pack mule today; Jess will be over in a bit after I return to help her with more stuff and to carry Brigid." Philippe relieved him of a wrought-iron pot and a knotted towel of freshly-baked rolls and led Pellan into the kitchen area, looking around at the kitchen table and counters in astonishment as Julie, Marta, and Jenny finished preparations for the meal with Jon and Lucie's help.

"Julie, what are you doing?" Philippe exclaimed, setting down the pot by the hearth and handing her the warm towel and helped Pellan unload his remaining items. "Three meats, four desserts, and all these vegetables and bread? What will Bishop Junger think of us?"

"When have I ever entertained a bishop?" Julie countered. "And I don't know what he likes. What if I just served fish and he hates it?"

"Well, he won't go away hungry, that's certain."

"And we will have leftovers for a few days as well, so this will save some work."

"Alright. I took the last of the cobbler. Who do I have to kiss?" Pellan asked with exaggerated resignation toward the end of their huge feast, ribbing Jeremy with a wink because of that long-ago Thanksgiving feast in Pioneer Square.

"Aunt Jenny," giggled Lucie.

"Ah, good! At least it's not a married woman this time," Pellan rolled his eyes and sighed gratefully, giving Jenny a peck on her cheek.

"That's not to say she's not spoken for," added Pierre Rameau, regarding Pellan with eyes narrowed in jest. They laughed and explained their inside joke to Bishop Junger: one more in the series of stories they had told him of life in Seattle in the past and changes they had seen.

"Are you a papist?" Jon asked brightly during a brief lull in the conversation.

"What?!" gasped Julie and Philippe with one voice. "Where did you hear that word?"

"Uncle Jason said it yesterday," replied Jon, looking confused and taken aback.

Julie and Philippe exchanged a glance.

"My Protestant brother," Julie apologized to the bishop. "I'm so sorry."

Jon so seldom misbehaved that everyone was shocked, including him. Philippe saw Jon's alarm and explained: "Jon, 'papist' is a bad name that some Protestants use for Roman Catholics. It's an insult. You are a Roman Catholic, baptized in our church in Calais when you were two weeks old. Someone could call you a papist if they intended to insult you."

"Oh," Jon said in a small voice, looking abashed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"No offense taken, my son," replied Bishop Junger with a smile. "I've been called much worse in my time. And I do follow the Pope in special service to him; I make no secret of it and am proud of it. But I'm afraid I must go while I can still walk after all this food to get back to my hotel while there is still daylight."

"Never mind that," replied Philippe. "I will drive you there in our buggy."

That night, Philippe and Julie reflected on the day as they lay in bed.

"I'll bet you are exhausted after all that cooking, but everything was fantastic," Philippe said.

"It wasn't so difficult. I had a lot of help, including from the children. I just wish Jon hadn't said what he did there at the end of the meal. Everything had gone so well up to that point."

"He said it in ignorance and I don't think the bishop took offense. I will talk to Jon a little more to be sure he understands and doesn't say something like that again."

"And I will talk to Jason."

"Good. Of the two, I think I would rather talk to Jon."

"He did?" Jason said, looking greatly amused.

"Yes, he did," Julie said emphatically, with a little heat. "I don't like your using such terms around him. He didn't know it's an insult and he was embarrassed, not to mention embarrassing our family in front of the bishop. You know Jon is being raised Catholic."

"I think Da might have been Presbyterian back in Scotland before moving here, where there was no church for years."

And Mama was raised Catholic, as were her mother and her two aunts, who raised the rest of us and had us all baptized in the Roman Catholic Church in England. Have you and Josh even been baptized?"

"Eventually – in 1868, I think – in the Duwamish River by the pastor of the Little White Church. I guess that makes us Methodist."

"Well, we're all Christians. I do think we should speak respectfully of each other's church and not use terms like 'papist'. We're not fighting the Reformation here."

"Agreed. I just intend to keep going to the Little White Church because they were here first. But I like Father Prefontaine. He's a good egg – for a papist."

Jason gave Julie a wink and grinned wickedly at her exasperation, hands on her hips and mouth open. Even though Julie's hair was dark brown, not blonde, sometimes she reminded him of their mother.

Chapter 11: Concerning Gifts

"Papa, it's so loud!" eight-year-old Lucie Du Saule complained on a fall afternoon in 1879. She clamped her hands over her ears as she sat in her father's office after school. "I can't think to do my homework."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart," Philippe sympathized with her. "I have the same problem with my own work here sometimes with all the noise from that construction next door." He moved to sit beside her at the table. "Why don't you take a break and finish up at home tonight?"

"Okay." Lucie shut her book with a thump.

Philippe continued, "You remember our home in Calais: the farm and the house?"

"Yes. It was nice there."

"I agree. It was nice for me too when I was a boy growing up there. But since we came here, I realized something. I knew from what I saw around Calais that whenever any building is made, there is a time when men are hammering, sawing, and shouting to each other and there is a lot of mud from wagons bringing in and unloading building materials. Coming here reminded me of that. When our house was built outside Calais – before I was born or my parents lived there – it would have been the same way: noisy, muddy, and ugly. Since we moved here, I have come to realize that we were all very fortunate not to have lived through that in Calais. We just made a few improvements and added to the garden and the farm with more sheep. For us it was always a beautiful, peaceful, pleasant place to live. We were a bit spoiled, I think."

"I miss it. It's ugly here and it rains all the time."

"I miss Calais too at times, but you know, I read somewhere that it rains there almost as much as it does here. I'm glad that we had so many happy years there. Many people aren't so fortunate in life."

Lucie nodded, looking glum.

Her father continued: "I've been thinking of the Rousseaus – the couple who built our house in Calais and lived there first. I'm newly grateful for all the loving work they did: healing the land after building the house, planting trees and grass and the beginnings of the garden, setting stones to guide the little creek. Our family benefitted from their hard work and love for the property. I think we now live in Seattle at the same kind of stage for this city. Your uncles can tell you that Seattle was not like this even as recently as the time you were born eight years ago. It's changed a lot and very quickly. People are building a very big city here and, for the present time, things just have to be noisy and messy while we build. Remember how things were for a while when we built our cabin here? And I still don't have the grass and plants and garden like I want them to grow. It takes time to do all that."

"What will happen here, Papa?"

"In Seattle? I think it will become a large city – like San Francisco or maybe even New York. Much larger than Calais will ever be."

"That's scary."

"Well, it happens. The kind of rapid growth going on in Seattle right now many places, like Calais, never see. There may be wonderful things and beautiful places built here in time and, when you are an old woman, you'll be able to tell your grandchildren about all the changes that you saw happen here just in your lifetime."

"Tell them about the mud and the noise?" Lucie looked up at her father so reproachfully that he almost laughed.

"Well, it won't hurt them to hear about that. Our home in Calais was a gift to us from the Rousseaus. Someday there will be parks and museums and paved streets in Seattle, but we are the generation of people who are creating that gift of love for those who come after us."

"Do you think those people will appreciate it?"

"Well, I hope so. But remember what I've told you before: any time you give a gift, you give it in love and then let go of it with your hand and your mind – even if it isn't appreciated or used as you hoped. Come on, now. Let's go see if Jon's baseball practice is finished and then we'll go to our peaceful, happy home here and find out what your mother and Richard have been doing today. And we'll hope that your Puff hasn't left us another 'gift' on the porch from the barn, eh?"

Lucie wrinkled her nose, nodding agreement.

Chapter 12: Seasonal Challenges

The Bolt family celebrated Jon for shooting his first deer on the weekend after Thanksgiving in 1879. Philippe and his uncles made him clean and butcher it to finish the process, but he was still quite pleased with himself and had forgotten all about toy stores by now. In fact, he made toys for 19-month-old Richard now, both for the experience of making them and to see the joy on his little brother's face.

Jessica felt horrible in her ninth month of pregnancy as Christmas approached, but she put on a brave face for Pellan and their daughter in particular. Brigid was now two-and-a-half years old and showing interest in the holiday season, so they told her the Christmas story several times and sang Christmas carols while they all snuggled together by the fire and Pellan held Brigid on his lap. (Jess didn't have a lap in her present condition.)

They now lived in their own new-smelling cabin, which was a little smaller than Jeremy's. Pellan confided to Jess that he wasn't sure that they could live in this area out from town permanently, since Seattle was growing so fast. Getting to and from work at the hospital involved riding skittish horses through construction chaos and traffic where there were, as yet, no traffic laws and the streets were muddy and crowded. It was a bit dangerous and certainly slow-going and miserable at times, especially in cold and rain. If they should decide to live out here permanently, they planned their cabin so that they could add onto it as their family grew. They kept their options open at present and said nothing to the others in their extended family. They actually enjoyed having their extended family nearby, sharing food and fun, chores, and child care. Jess helped Julie with Richard and Julie kept Brigid when Jess worked at the hospital part-time … or Jess had worked, until she entered her third trimester and became so unwieldy that she stayed home more and more. Indeed, she had had unrelenting morning sickness for most of this pregnancy, unlike her first, and would be very happy when it would be over soon in the new year.

Christmas for the Bolt clan was headquartered at the Du Saules' cabin this year; they had begun taking turns hosting, once they all had cabins of their own. Every year their Christmas celebration got larger and certainly more chaotic with infants and toddlers around. The Rameaus and Jenny came out from town to join in the fun and the children's wonder and surprise rendered new joy for their elders, seeing the holidays through their fresh, young eyes.

On Friday, January 9, 1880, everyone in King County was in for a record-breaking surprise. A few days before, it had snowed two feet, creating festive excitement as the new year and new decade commenced. This day a new storm began, adding another three feet of snow over the next eleven days! When it ended, five feet of snow covered many places in King County, including most of Bridal Veil Mountain. Everything around Seattle ground to a halt.

Philippe had never seen so much snow in his life. The Bolt clan on their four-cabin property were particularly grateful for their proximity during the storm. They strung guide ropes between the cabins and the barn to keep anyone from getting lost in the snow or at night, but also for another reason: Jess went into labor.

Jonathan and the men dug paths between the cabins and to their large, common barn. The paths came to resemble alleys as the snow piled up, but they had to care for their animals. The paths needed to be re-dug every day while the storm lasted and they soon decided to just make Jeremy's larger and more centrally-located cabin their headquarters to reduce the number of paths they had to maintain and make cooking meals easier. They moved Jess there as her labor intensified.

Pellan laughed. "I'm actually happy about all this. I was afraid Jess would go into labor while I was at the hospital – even snowed-in there! This way I can be here and of some use, too. If the hospital wants me, they can just come dig me out!" They all knew that was unlikely in this depth of snow.

As often happens, a second child is a faster delivery, but that's not to say that it was easy. Julie tried to shield the children from Jessica's distress, keeping them occupied with chores, amusements, and even a snowball fight supervised by the men during the day, but that had to stop with the winter's early nightfall. Fortunately, the children had been worn out from their busy day. Julie sent Lucie, Brigid, and Richard to bed in the loft soon after supper and they all fell asleep quickly, warm and content. Baby Ian slept snug in his crib near the fire or in someone's arms if he roused to become fussy. Jeremy and Philippe were experienced "baby wranglers," as they termed it, and could attend to all of Ian's needs except breast-feeding. Marta was available to leave Jess' bedside when that was needed.

Pellan and the women came and went from the larger spare bedroom where Jess lay a-bed. The other men and Jonathan (who was now almost thirteen and trying to act grown-up) sat around the fire, awaiting the baby's arrival and courteously ignoring any cries from Jess, which she tried to stifle. Jon found the situation alarming at first, but his father reassured him that this was typical for childbirth and had been the case the night that he had been born.

Philippe chuckled wryly and said to the other men, "It's not all that peaceful tonight, but I'm so grateful for this quiet place, given what's going on in town."

Jason grimaced. "I would never have believed that things would get like this. I thought Seattle would grow more slowly and become – I don't know – like Portland, maybe. But I guess I also hoped that it would be later – after my time. I miss how things used to be: friendly, where you knew and trusted everyone. I'm glad you all got to see a little of that just as you arrived here. Only three years ago and it's gotten this crazy!"

"Oh, it's astonishing," Philippe agreed. "A man scarcely needs to try to prosper even modestly."

"Is Calais like this?" Joshua asked, curious.

"Not at all," replied Philippe. "Calais grew very slowly over centuries, building on trade with England, Belgium, and the Netherlands, and, of course, there were wars, occupations, and other set-backs at times. Once Calais was even part of Britain – can you imagine? People in Calais would not believe what's happening in Seattle or know how to respond to it. My bank's assets here are more than double what they were in Calais in less than three years, even above the cost of building and getting established. And, of course, your donating the lumber helped a great deal with that." Philippe hoped that last didn't sound like an afterthought to his lumberjack brothers-in-law.

"What are you going to do? Build a bigger bank?" asked Jeremy, half-joking.

"I'm going to have to before long – and not for the size of the building. I don't want people waiting in long lines, complaining about it to others, and hurting business, so I'll soon have to make room for more tellers," Philippe stated. "I've decided that I don't want to do aggressive investment banking here. I get more satisfaction from helping average people meet their goals while other ambitious bankers can work on aggressive real estate and business ventures. The sheer volume of small accounts is prosperous for me without the extra stress and the temptation of corruption that goes with large-scale wheeling-and-dealing."

"That all sounds rather like gambling," Joshua teased.

"Oh, banking – any kind of investing – is gambling: wagering that all will go well and that people will be able to repay their loans with interest," detailed Philippe. "Of course, sometimes things don't go well, but if you want Seattle to grow, this is the way that it's done. It's the pace of growth developing here that just astounds me."

Jonathan drifted off to sleep during all the boring talk of investments, resting his head in his arms on the new eating table. He was startled awake in the wee hours of the morning by a baby's cry from the spare bedroom. The men sitting near him by the fire all broke out in grins.

After a while Pellan emerged from the guest bedroom, carrying the new baby, cleaned-up and wrapped in a blanket. It was another girl, whom they were naming Erin after Pellan's homeland. She had reddish fuzz on her little head. (Older sister Brigid was a brunette, like her mother.) Pellan was over the moon with them both, as was Jessica in her quieter way.

The whole of King County had quite a challenge, digging out from five feet of snow, but they acquired a dramatic memory to pass on to future generations. Gaston Rameau and other Seattle photographers trudged out in the snow and took images to spark amazement in future citizens. But some of the time, Gaston and Siobhán were happily sequestered in their home in town … and conceived their first child, as did many other couples. Nine months later Pellan and other Seattle doctors and midwives laughed about being run ragged, delivering Snow-Storm Babies.

Chapter 13: Mending Breaks

The rest of that winter of 1879-80 was not as rigorous and spring came, damp and on-schedule. Rivers ran very high from the huge amount of snowmelt. The Bolt Brothers' camp got back into action with the spring weather. Jason attempted to set his usual, vigorous example for his men, but that didn't go well this time. In early April, his climbing spikes slipped on wet bark and Jason fell some fifteen feet to the ground, breaking his left leg, cracking a vertebra and several ribs, dislocating his left shoulder, and sustaining a concussion. It was fortunate that his climbing belt had kept him from a complete free-fall.

Pellan set his leg and shoulder and strapped his ribs at the hospital, warning Jason that he had a very long recovery ahead of him. Pellan advised that Jason not put any weight on his leg for several months and do absolutely no tree-climbing for more than a year until his leg was fully mended and strong. (Pellan didn't say that that might never occur, but Jason could guess that.)

Recovery time proved to be a great trial for Jason and for those around him, knocking him out of all logging work and the active, outdoor lifestyle he had always enjoyed. Once out of the hospital, Jason stayed at the Du Saules' cabin for a few weeks while he still had spells of nausea and dizziness from his concussion. Philippe worked reduced hours at his bank in order to help Julie with Jason's care.

When he was a little stronger, Jason insisted on returning to the logging camp and Philippe returned to his bank. Josh and Jeremy brought Jason to the camp by wagon, where he reclined at the office-tent with his leg elevated to lessen swelling and his arm in a sling. Jason could do nothing of what he usually did and felt useless, angry, and depressed, alone in the office-tent for hours while all the others were off working among the trees. His bottom and back got sore from so much sitting and he wound up lying down on his cot for much of the day, in too much pain to sleep. He actually felt the cold and damp of spring in his bones more than he ever had due to forced inactivity and lying on a canvas cot in the unheated tent, even under an extra quilt. He grew testy about food, the weather, and boredom. He was in a lot of pain, but didn't complain about that to his men, although they guessed as much. And Jason realized that his presence at the camp in his current condition was not helping matters.

Joshua and Jeremy had taken over Jason's duties already from the time of his fall, leading the camp's two teams. Now they patiently carried out Jason's directions, so that that was one less thing Jason could complain about. After three days of increasing agony, Jason gave up and greatly limited his time at the camp. That eased matters for his brothers and the other loggers. Josh or Jeremy reported progress to Jason every evening and discussed next steps in logging, but much of his healing was done in warmth and comfort at Julie's cabin during the days. That also held some challenges for both of them.

Julie supported Jason with one arm around his waist and his around her shoulders as they slowly stumped along together, returning from the outhouse.

"Do you want to wash your hands out here?" Julie asked, as they approached the shaving station on her back porch.

"No," Jason snapped, the effort of this short walk wearing on him. Julie could see that his mouth was white with the strain.

"Alright," she replied calmly. "I'll get you a soapy rag once we get you back inside and settled."

Jason could hobble just a bit now using a homemade crutch. The cracked vertebra gave Jason a pinched nerve, causing intermittent pain or weakness in addition to the constant pain from his healing femur. Away from furniture that he could use to steady himself, Jason needed to lean on someone for trips to the outhouse. This wounded his dignity.

Things may have been better for everyone else with Jason continuing his recuperation at home, but not for Julie as his sole daytime caretaker. Even though she had been back in Seattle for more than three years now, this was the most time that she had spent alone with Jason since her return. She had forgotten how stubborn he could be. Yet Julie had experience working with peevish toddlers, and she found that those skills now transferred to managing her older brother.

Julie helped Jason inside to the comfy chair by the fireplace and got him settled with his injured leg propped up on a stool, then brought him the promised rag to clean his hands. She observed his breathing ease back to normal from the effort of the walk, but said nothing.

This cool and overcast day in mid-May was Jason's fortieth birthday. They could both smell his birthday cake cooling from the oven, while Julie worked in the kitchen area. Jess sometimes stayed with Julie, too – like today. She had nursed two-month-old Erin and then both had fallen asleep in the spare bedroom. Jon and Lucie were in school. Brigid, Richard, and Ian – now just turned three, two, and one – had noisily 'helped' make Jason's cake and then had all gone down for naps, piled together on a quilt near the fire, resembling large puppies.

Julie brought Jason a treat on a small plate. "Do you want a fork?"

"No, I can use my fingers. They're clean, you know." He grinned weakly, still in some pain.

"Very well. I've got some willow bark tea steeping, too."

She returned to the kitchen area and Jason ate in silence, the fire crackling.

"Mm!" He grunted appreciatively, devouring the last piece and licking his fingers just as Julie brought his pain-medication tea. "That was good. What do you call it?"

"My attempt at a scone," said Julie, handing him another soapy rag. "A 'Seattle Scone,' I guess, since I can't seem to make very good clotted cream here."

"Tastes fine. Is it French food?"

"No, English."

"I guess you've had to learn to cook all kinds of ways."

Julie took his plate to the kitchen area and returned to sit near Jason, pulling out her knitting. She continued: "English food isn't so different from American. French cooking is more refined. The French have made cooking and eating into a fine art. My mother-in-law was a good teacher, though. And so was Philippe."

"He cooks?"

"Yes, more than he'll admit. He says he learned to cook while hanging around in his mother's kitchen as a boy, waiting on meals."

"They had a farm, he said."

"Yes – a sheep farm, plus the usual chickens and cows and such – and a huge, very neatly kept garden like you wouldn't believe. And you know Philippe was trying to cultivate some wine grapes. He didn't think the climate was right for that in Calais, though: too cold and damp."

"Yes, I remember his gifts that Christmas. I can't much tell one wine from another, but his tasted good. Did you learn any French?"

"Yes…" Julie drawled, as if that was a very strange question to ask someone who had lived in France for more than a third of her 36 years.

"I didn't know if Philippe did all the talking for you."

Julie stared at Jason incredulously for a moment, feeling angry at his chauvinism, then said, "Bien sûr, j'ai appris à parler français, mon frère. Sinon, comment pourrais-je aller au marché comme une bonne épouse?"

Jason laughed in amazed confusion. "I didn't understand one word of that."

"I just said 'Of course I learned to speak French, Brother. How else could I go to the market like a good wife?'"

"I didn't know if he did all the buying."

"Jason! No! He had his work and I had mine. And besides, I had to learn to talk to my in-laws. We all lived together in the same house and his mother spoke almost no English."

"Oh, I guess so. Was it a large house?"

"Well, a parlor, dining room, and small office for my father-in-law downstairs, a pantry and kitchen on the end towards the large barn, four bedrooms upstairs, plus some storage space there and in the attic. We ate together and interacted all the time we were at home. His mother taught me how to garden and make home remedies."

"I see."

"And Philippe and I weren't married six months before he got called up with the Calais militia and deployed to assist the French Army across the country near Germany. He was gone for most of the next two years and it was just me and his parents in the house, plus a few people who worked for them on the farm. None of them spoke more than a few words of English and I hadn't learned much French at that point."

"Ah. That must have been difficult."

"They were very kind and patient with me, but I had to really work at it every day. I didn't have Philippe to translate for me, but it was a good way to show his parents that I was committed to living there. French people respect those who make a serious effort to learn their language, though I'm sure my French never sounded quite right to their ears."

"Philippe speaks English well."

"Yes, he's put in tremendous effort to learn and keep learning all these years. English is terribly difficult and inconsistent, as even we native-English-speakers know."

"It's a wonder that he would bother."

"Oh, his father wanted him to learn and sent him to London for a year for that purpose when he finished school. Calais is just across the English Channel from England. Chrétien thought it would benefit Philippe in their bank and in wool trade with England to speak fluent English. And that's when we met. I think Philippe's main motive in coming to London was gaining more experience playing cello while learning a little English, but falling in love was a great incentive for him to learn English really well." She smiled and blushed a little, arranging a someone's small sock on her darning egg.

"I can believe that. Probably nothing better."

They fell silent while Julie began mending a hole in the sock.

"Do you miss France? And England?" Jason asked eventually.

"Oh, just a few things. This is home for me and it's good to have everyone together again. I've worried since we left France that Philippe wouldn't like it here. He sacrificed a great deal in selling his family's farm and his grandfather's bank business, plus leaving people he'd known all his life."

"Yes, I can see how that would be hard. Has he said anything about missing France?"

"No, and I will be most surprised if he ever does. Philippe said several times that he was sure that it was the right thing for us to move here with the others. Philippe doesn't make important decisions without careful consideration beforehand. He would never say anything to let me know how much he suffered to make this move, but I know him well enough to guess what's in his heart."

"You've been happy with him, then?"

"Oh, yes. He's been a wonderful husband and father. And his parents were kind, generous people, too: the best in-laws one could hope to have. They took in Jess and Jenny when our aunts died suddenly without a word of complaint, though I know it was a great increase in expense for them. When I would fret about that, Philippe kept pointing out to me that his parents had always wanted more children and adding two teenage girls was still a smaller family than they had once hoped to have in buying a house with all those bedrooms. But his mother seemed to take great joy in teaching and mothering all three of us – and Siobhán O'Sullivan, too, when she came to stay with us after she finished school in Ireland. Mama Lucie once said that God sent her children by a different method than birthing all but one of them. She was grateful and loved us all."

"That was generous."

They fell silent again, the fire warm and cozy. Julie went to test the cake's progress and pulled it from the oven to cool, then rejoined Jason.

"I suppose, now that I'm forty, I ought to give up climbing trees," Jason mused to no one in particular.

"That sounds remarkably like sense to me," Julie agreed. "I still find it shocking to think that you three have been climbing and cutting down those monstrous trees. Whatever possessed you to take up logging?"

"Well, Julie, we had to make a living here somehow. While Josh was still in school, I worked for a man for a few years who would sometimes cut timber and I learned from him. But we owned our own timber on the mountain and it seemed a better way to make money than working for someone else. So after Josh got out of school, we started out slow, with smaller trees, while we were learning."

"You're all lucky that you haven't broken your necks."

"Yes, you're right about that. I know we've been lucky."

Earlier in his recovery, Julie had encouraged Jason to count his blessings. It was true. Things could have been much worse: he could indeed have broken his neck or back and been left paralyzed from his fall … or dead.

"I just don't want to sit around, doing nothing," Jason remarked, a little sadly.

"Why would you have to? You can come here any time you want and amuse the children – keep them out of mischief. That will keep you plenty busy and help me out."

"I may get into mischief with them. You know me."

"You can read to them or tell them some of your tall tales."

"And put us all to sleep?"

"That would be rather nice, compared to how noisy it can get here. What are you going to do as you get older? You know that sleeping in a tent at the camp in damp weather will only get worse once you get arthritis, as seems to happen to everyone as they get older."

"You're right. I've been pondering over some things…."

Even using his homemade crutch, Jason tired more easily than he wanted to admit. Having arm and leg injuries on the same side of his body caused him to feel off-balance, especially during trips to the outhouse where there was nothing nearby to grab onto to stop a fall. He had already been helping Julie and Jess by amusing the toddlers while Lucie was in school and he had enjoyed it. Despite his limitations, the children were in awe of his height, melodious voice, and commanding manner, which helped them behave. They grew to adore him, piling all over him affectionately, while he had to use his good arm to shift them off of his injured leg.

Jason stated, out of the blue, "I want to apologize to you."

"Apologize?" asked Julie. "For what?"

"For all that when we were children – when you left for England. And for not writing to you later. I should have. I kept the letter you sent."

"You did? I wasn't sure that you even got it."

"Yes. I still have it in a box with Da's journal and some other old letters. I was glad to hear that you had a safe journey to England. I guess some part of me thought I would write back eventually, but it took me a while to calm down and I was under a lot of pressure just to get by and to provide for Josh, so I never seemed to have extra time for anything and not much money. And then it felt awkward to write because it had been so long and I actually felt ashamed of how I behaved before you all left. Then when Jeremy returned and I learned that you had married and moved to France, I honestly thought I would never see you girls again and I dropped the whole notion of writing. I was angry that I let our family fall apart, even though I was trying my best hold onto our property here 'officially' after the Point Elliott Treaty the year before, so that we were no longer just squatters in Indian territory. Even though I was barely sixteen, I felt I should have been able to do more. I can see now how ridiculous that was. It's a wonder we did as well as we did."

"I used to worry about you and Josh starving to death."

"You know, I used to worry about that, too!" They laughed together. "But somehow we didn't."

"It's a wonder we weren't all killed in the Indian War."

"Yes, thanks to Chief Seattle and Crying Bird hanging that protective charm on our door. And then six years later, there was a smallpox epidemic here and I knew then that you made the right decision to get the youngest children out to safety. It was after you left, when I had to fend for myself and Josh, I came to appreciate all that you'd been doing around the house and taking care of the little ones. You really did marvels, Julie, especially being just a kid yourself. You preserved our family in taking the little ones to England, like I preserved our property. And preserved Josh too, I guess."

"Plus all our great-aunts did! We owe them a great debt."

"Yes, of course. I keep forgetting about them. I wish I'd known them better and not been so angry all the time they were here."

"I wish you'd known them better, too; they were so good to us! But you and Josh have done well for yourselves here. I'm proud of you both. I know it couldn't have been easy."

"No, Josh wasn't easy some of the time. But he might say the same about me. He probably would!" Jason chuckled.

"Well, I feel like I had it easier in London, even though we were a strain on our aunts. I did everything I could to help in caring for the young ones. I actually love taking care of small children. It's so much fun to watch them grow up. They change in some little way every day."

"You do marvels now, too, Julie. And Philippe: I'm proud to have him as a brother-in-law. He's a good man."

"Yes, he is." Julie smiled and nodded.

"I also appreciate your letting me lie around here all this time."

"You're helping more than you know. And you are getting better; I can see your improvement even if you can't."

"I'm learning more than I'm helping. It's been a long since I was around little children. They do take a lot of time and energy." He nodded toward the three sleepers on the quilt.

"And when they get just a little older and venture outdoors, they'll need constant watching lest they wander off into the woods or fall in the creek."

"I'll be glad to help some with that while I'm recovering."

Jason went to the hospital one morning in late May for a follow-up on his injuries with Pellan. A nurse informed him, "I'm sorry, Mr. Bolt, but Dr. O'Sullivan is doing an emergency surgery. Would you consent to be seen by Dr. Wright today?"

"Yes, that will be fine."

"Then please have a seat. We'll work you in before too long."

It wasn't that Jason hadn't seen Dr. Allyn Wright in the past ten years. He had run into her occasionally around town, in church, and when loggers and others needed medical attention, but they were both fully consumed by their different work. Once Pellan had come to Seattle and run a weekly clinic at the camp, the loggers and their employers saw Dr. Wright less frequently, preferring to be seen by a male physician. And then the tiny hospital had been built … and more staff added and an addition to the building. That drew Pellan … and Dr. Wright … into the burgeoning chaos of Seattle, anchored at the hospital or their offices. Neither were making calls to the logging camp and Stempel's mill any more since they were so busy.

'Ten years,' Jason pondered to himself. 'Has it really been ten years since our trip to New Bedford?' He had turned thirty years old on that trip. And Dr. Wright was just out of medical school the next year, so she must be five or six years younger. Now he was forty and feeling like a crippled, useless, old man.

"Come in, Jason! It's been a long time since I've seen you!" Dr. Wright smiled brightly, breaking him out of his reverie. Allyn was one of those women who don't age quickly, he noted. She still appeared in the bloom of health. "I'm so sorry you had this accident. Pellan told me about it when it happened."

"Yes, I realize I was actually very lucky."

She probed about on his shoulder, side, and leg in the examination room, inquiring about pain and mobility. He still had pain, he admitted, but less now. The ribs were healed and his shoulder was making good progress in healing. Walking with the crutch was easier than it had been at first, but still painful. He had managed to ride a horse a little, such as the trip in today for this appointment, but it wasn't comfortable to do so for long. He mentioned the intermittent pain and weakness in his leg, which concerned him.

"I think you have a pinched nerve from the cracked vertebra in your back, which runs down into your leg. It seems like you're healing well in general. It will take many months, I'm afraid, for complete healing of your back and your thigh bone and nerves heal even more slowly than bones. I'm sure that Pellan explained to you that you must not attempt to do too much too fast or you could break your leg again and shatter that bone, which would be hard to fix – or maybe impossible – and you could wind up in a wheelchair for life. As it is, you keep using that crutch or a cane to take weight off your leg and take it very easy. Rest."

"Yes, Pellan said all that. I'm trying to behave myself and let my brothers run things at the camp. They know the business by now."

"I'll let Pellan know that you're coming along well."

"I guess I thought I'd be doing better by now," Jason half-complained.

"Jason," she paused with just a hint of amusement, "it's not been two months since your accident and you are forty years old. Your body won't heal like a twenty-year-old. Don't expect that of yourself."

"Ah, yes. I thought that. I guess I also wonder if it will fully heal."

"I can't say. I hope so. But sometimes bones don't heal fully after a bad break and beyond a certain age. Setting bones always involves a certain amount of guess-work for doctors. Sometimes they heal badly or the leg turns out shorter than the other one and creates a limp, so you might need a special shoe made to balance out the length. The pain and sudden weakness from the pinched nerve may go away in time or it may not. Time will tell. We'll just have to wait and see how it goes. It takes many months for these sorts of injuries to heal and sort themselves out and the less you over-do during that time, the better things will heal in the long-term. You need to come to terms with that."

"Would you … be interested in lunch today? If you have time…" Jason asked impulsively, then immediately felt foolish.

Allyn too seemed taken a-back. "Well, that would be … nice. But it's unusual to ask your doctor out for lunch."

"You're not my regular doctor, are you?"

"No, I guess not."

She laughed. And so did Jason … and he felt less old and feeble.

Over lunch, Allyn told Jason that she had heard that the Seattle census office was looking for people who knew the rural areas to help in the count for 1880. Jason went directly there after lunch, applied, and got the job. Now he had something new to think about and plan to do that summer, once he could ride in a horse-and-buggy. He recruited Jonathan Du Saule to assist him, once school went into summer recess.

When Jason came into town that spring and summer to report in with the census office, regular lunches with Allyn became something they both enjoyed. A very private romance blossomed. It may have been long overdue, but perhaps that was how it was meant to be.

Pellan knocked briefly and opened Dr. Wright's office door in mid-summer without waiting for a response. "You've got to hear about this one. You won't believe—" He stopped short, dumbfounded to see Allyn intensely involved in kissing a man! "Oh, I'm sorry.…" He started backing out of the door, then recognized the man. "Jason?" He pulled a face at Jason as he continued backing out and closed her door.

Allyn blushed in Jason's arms. "It seems our secret is out."

"Hm. I rather doubt Pellan can keep a secret."

"Oh, I think you're selling him short."

A few minutes later, someone knocked on Pellan's office door. "Yes?" Pellan replied.

The door cracked open and Jason looked in. "About what you saw a few minutes ago…."

"What did I see?" Pellan asked with blank, 'innocent' eyes.

Jason was momentarily speechless.

"I'll just say that I hope it works out," Pellan grinned. "You both have been working far too hard for too many years and deserve happiness. Beyond that, it's none of my business and I didn't see anything. I'm just sorry I didn't knock before I came busting in."

Pellan didn't even tell Jess.

Chapter 14: Lovers' Quarrel

Late one rainy morning in that same summer of 1880, Pierre Rameau knocked on Philippe's office door at the bank.

"Enter," came Philippe's response. Pierre leaned in the door and looked inside, greeting Philippe.

"Pierre! Come in! This is a nice surprise!"

"Do you have time to talk on your lunch hour today?"

"Anything for my future brother-in-law!"

Philippe stood and reached for his raincoat. They then left the bank together, heading toward a new café which Philippe suggested.

"I need your help or I may not ever be your brother-in-law," Pierre elaborated, switching to French, as they did when alone.

"What?!"

"Jenny is angry with me. I don't even know what I've done."

"I'm surprised at that. You're always so tactful."

"Like I said, I'm confused."

"What happened?"

"Well, she's got a new job at the university. She said she's going to learn how to operate the new typewriting machine they've ordered. President Anderson offered her that job and she accepted."

"Oh! I didn't know anything about that."

"Neither did I, but she hinted a few days ago that she might share a surprise with me soon. I thought it must be some new detail about the wedding plans. Then, at the restaurant last night t, she told me about her interview and seemed very excited. I told her that she didn't need to do that – that I will have a raise in salary in the fall and she can stay home. Things went downhill from there. We've never had an argument before, but we've had one now! I've never even seen her angry. I didn't know what to say. Nothing like having a whispered argument in a public restaurant and an otherwise very silent meal."

"Hm. I suppose she'll be earning more money than she does at the dress shop?"

"I guess – or at least after she takes training on the machine. And I never regarded her dress shop as a real job – more of ladies-helping-other- ladies-with-their-clothing and such. At any rate, it's a woman's world in that shop, you know. I think Jenny will continue that work, too. This typewriting is meant to be part-time."

"You don't want her working at the university?"

"I … guess I thought that, once we are married, she wouldn't work outside the home other than the dress shop – not in a public job. I thought that she wouldn't want to - like my mother didn't work outside the home."

They reached the café and were seated, placing their orders.

While they awaited their meals, Philippe remarked, "Jenny likes to learn new things and to feel that she's capable and being helpful. Do you think that she sees this new job with the typewriting machine as something exciting to learn and which will bring in a little more money and she's angry that you don't view it the same way?"

"I do think I can support her with my new raise. She won't need to work. I never wanted her to feel obligated to work after we were married. That's why I've waited all this time: I wanted to get established here and be able to provide for her."

"I wonder if she just wants to work."

"Doesn't it take a woman all day to take care of the house? And children, when they come along?"

"I really don't know, especially if you live in a flat in town and not on a farm or an estate. I wonder if Jenny would feel confined or bored?"

"I hadn't thought of that." Pierre chuckled and shook his head. "I'm afraid that I might go mad, staying in a flat by myself all day. Not even I could stand that much reading to pass the time!"

"Well, remember: Jenny has lived all her life with several other people around her all her waking hours. For her to suddenly be alone in a flat while you are gone to work all day would be a huge change for her."

"I just don't know that it's … respectable … for a married woman to be out working in the public. I'm afraid I said that to Jenny, too." Pierre confessed, looking ashamed.

"Uh-oh! How did she respond?"

"That's, uh, when she got really angry. She said that Mr. Anderson said that he preferred the position be for a married woman – that he felt it was more respectable for the university."

"He may have a point. How would it look for a man to have a single woman around his office. And it is a compliment to Jenny – and maybe to you, too – that he asked her to interview for the position and to learn the machine. Well, how many letters do you think she would be producing every day? I have no idea how long it takes to use a typewriting machine or how many letters the University needs w in written in day or a week. It might be only a few hours' work or less."

"Yes, that sounds like our institution!" Pierre laughed wryly. "I don't know that I write one letter in a month!"

"I observe that things are different here in the States than they were in France, Pierre. People don't seem to have fixed notions about what is proper for a woman and what is not – within reason, you understand!" He inclined his head 'significantly,' referring to the local 'seamstresses.' Philippe continued, "Especially here in the West since the earliest pioneer days, women seem quite willing and able to do whatever needs doing when their men aren't around: patch the roof, plow the garden, shoot a bear, learn typewriting machines…. Perhaps they believe they're helping out, especially if they think they're protecting the house or that they'll earn more money for the household while they don't have children or other family responsibilities."

"Yes, that may be it. I don't think Jenny meant to insult me, yet I probably took it that way. This misunderstanding may have been my fault."

"Well, I can't read her mind; I'm just speculating through what I know of her personality and history. That's for you two to work out. Every couple needs to have some discussion of how they will manage their new household before they get married. It will prevent arguments in the future over large and small matters."

Philippe dropped by Jenny's dress shop in the late afternoon. She was alone, balancing the day's receipts spread out on the counter – as Philippe had hoped. "Hi, Jenny. Here's a parcel for you from today's post: from Alençon, France! I had to sign for it! It must be something very valuable, but so very lightweight!"

Jenny took the package from him without comment or much eye contact, looking sad. "Yes. Thank you for bringing it in."

"How was your day?" he inquired pleasantly.

Jenny shrugged, saying nothing and frowning at the receipts.

'As if I couldn't guess there's something wrong, even if I didn't know it already,' Philippe thought to himself with amusement. He pressed on: "Guess who I had lunch with today?"

Jenny looked up and met her brother-in-law's eyes, still saying nothing. They both knew the conversation was now about Pierre Rameau.

"He was upset enough about your disagreement that he came to ask me for advice," Philippe detailed. "That's not easy for a man to do."

"I wonder what he told you of it."

"Well, we can compare notes, if you wish. But I think it would be better if you talked to him and not to me; it's not really any of my business."

"I don't want to be 'owned' by a man and told what I can and can't do."

"I don't recall him stating that he wants to control you. What concerned me is that he didn't seem to know what he had said that offended you."

Jenny glared at Philippe, saying nothing.

"Truly, Jenny," Philippe continued. "I don't care if you're angry because he gave you daisies when you wanted roses. But he deserves to know exactly why you are angry with him in this and in any future arguments you two have, otherwise you're just toying with his emotions and not helping your relationship to become a healthy one."

"I don't think I'm so silly as to get angry about flowers."

"Well, I hope not – but even if you are, he needs to know that's how you think. He believes that you don't think he could provide for you and therefore you want more work beyond this shop with the typewriting machine at the university."

"I thought he would appreciate my bringing in more income, especially before we have children. I have enough helpers around my shop now that I can spare the time for it. I know that two people can't live as cheaply as one. Any extra money we can save. I don't intend the typewriting job to be forever."

"I was never at the Rameaus' home, but I've heard Pierre and Gaston mention servants and such. I think it must be a sizeable country home outside of Amiens. No doubt his mother is busy running the household – rather like Julie used to help me with the farm in Calais while I was at the bank, but on a larger scale. That's how Pierre grew up and probably what he envisions when he thinks about married life for a woman."

"No one lives like that – certainly not around here. Can't he see that?"

"What people see with their eyes and what they imagine in their fantasies about marriage – yes, even men – are not always the same thing. Of everyone associated with our extended family, the Rameaus have had the largest adjustment in moving here – Pierre more than Gaston, who had lived a few years on his own in that little apartment near the bank. It isn't just how Seattle is, but in how Pierre was raised. You may have to help him adjust so that he doesn't feel ashamed of himself, like he's letting you down. No man wants his wife to think poorly of him."

"I felt like he was letting me down, saying that I had to stay at home. I don't think I can stand that, Philippe! I'd be so bored and lonely! I'm even afraid I might go a little mad!"

Jenny's eyes really did look desperate while saying that, Philippe reflected.

"Pierre said that you two have never had an argument in all these years that you've been dating," Philippe said. "You both must be very good at reading each other and respecting the other's feelings. But even compatible couples need to learn how to settle the differences of opinion that we all have without hurting each other or making assumptions about what the other meant … which may not even be the case."

"I don't want to cave. I want to learn the typewriting machine."

"Well, I'll leave that for the two of you to sort out. I'll just say that working out differences so that a relationship can survive isn't 'caving.' It's like negotiating what both can live with in order to keep peace, not fighting a war so that one wins and the other loses. It may mean both of you 'bending' in flexible ways so that your relationship survives and comes out stronger than it was before. Well, I'm off to home. See you tomorrow."

"Maybe I'll go see Pierre."

"I think he'd like that. The longer that you let disagreements go on, the harder it is to resolve them."

"I know."

"Another thing that crossed my mind," he added. "I think you should list your employees as 'modistes' rather than 'seamstresses.' I understand that Seattle's city records understand 'seamstress' as another, unsavory occupation. Did you know?"

"Doesn't 'modiste' mean the same thing in Paris?"

"Not necessarily, but almost no one in Seattle has that association of the French term, do they? I thought it would sound rather elegant for your couturier shop."

Jenny now frowned slightly at him, considering his suggestion.

"Oh, and Jenny," he added, "if you and Pierre break off your engagement, will you be able to sell that Alençon lace to someone else? That stuff is horrendously expensive and this damp air seems to spoil materials so quickly."

Jenny gaped at Philippe. How did he know?

Philippe grinned impishly as he bid her good-bye, put on his broad-brimmed rain-hat, and shut the door behind him, chuckling to himself. Alençon lace would settle this lovers' quarrel faster than anything else he could imagine.

Once home, Philippe told Julie about Jenny's spat with Pierre.

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Julie offered.

"Well, it's probably best that we stay out of it as much as we can," Philippe said. "I may have said something at the last to offend Jenny."

"Such as?"

"I brought Jenny a lightweight parcel from Alençon, France, in today's post which I guess must be lace for her wedding outfit. I suggested that she might sell it to someone else if she breaks up with Pierre."

"Oh, no, you didn't!"

"Well, I don't want to see them break up. I thought that might motivate Jenny sufficiently to make up with him."

Chapter 15: The Summer's Activities

Jason Bolt and his nephew, Jonathan Du Saule, rode out together in the summer of 1880 to begin counting Jason's assigned area outside of Seattle for the census. Jason needed assistance at times from a nimble young person and Jonathan, now thirteen, was fascinated by all of Jason's tales of life in Seattle in the past and about his grandparents on the Bolt side, whom Jonathan had never known. Both of them enjoyed getting out (Jon from school, Jason from his lengthy recuperation), the companionship, and the adventure of the task. Some of the people they encountered were not welcoming and preferred not to be counted by the government at all. Jon observed how Jason managed those difficult people and learned a lot from him that summer. A total of 3533 souls were found living in King County: a tripling of the population in ten years.

"Jason hasn't gotten to give any of his sisters away at our weddings until now," observed Jenny, while planning for her wedding to Pierre Rameau.

"Philippe and his family had more to do with raising you than I did," Jason pointed out.

"Then why not both of you?" exclaimed Jenny.

So both men escorted Jenny down the aisle of Our Lady of Good Help, one on either side (Jason still with his crutch), when she married Pierre Rameau in the late summer of 1880. She wore a veil of Alençon lace as a memento of their past lives in France. They had a joyful celebration with their large extended family, and then rode off with Julie and Philippe to the harbor to take ship to San Francisco for their honeymoon … and a symposium which Pierre felt would be beneficial to him in his new employment with the Territorial University administration.

Philippe and Julie waved to the newlyweds as their ship slowly left the dock.

"I think they'll do well together," said Julie with a fond smile at the newlyweds.

"Well, I had thought so," said Philippe, "but who goes to a symposium on their honeymoon?"

"They've got all the time there and back and in the evenings."

"Onboard a ship? Not much privacy!"

"That doesn't look like such a bad ship. Maybe their room will be nice."

"True. At least it's not Clancey's mule boat."

Julie laughed. "You thought it wasn't seaworthy, as I recall."

"Well, I came to realize it would never sink. The cracks were plugged tight with decades of unimaginable filth."

"You were a good sport about that."

"Once I got over the horror. But I'm a better sport now that I don't have to ride on it any more. You know, I still see it occasionally out on the Sound with the Mosquito Fleet, going who knows where."

"I'm glad that Clancey's ship found a new life beyond his."

"I am, too."

They were silent a moment as the ship slid slowly out into the bay. They waved a final time and turned to leave.

Philippe mused, "Do you think my father would think we did well?"

"In what?"

"Years ago, when your sisters first came to France to live with us, my father made me promise that I would find good husbands for them."

"He did? Chrétien was such a dear, kind man. I believe he would think that we've done very well. My sisters turned out to be sensible young women and have married responsible, kind gentlemen with good prospects in life. What more could he want? There was only one of you, after all, and I got that prize!" She hugged his arm tighter to her side.

He nuzzled her affectionately as they got into their buggy and headed for home.

Chapter 16: The Fates of the Long-Term Holdouts

The day before the Bolt-Rameau wedding, Callie Marsh returned to Seattle. Jason just happened to run into her in town and invited her to the wedding. There she encountered Joshua Bolt, which Jason had not mentioned to Josh in order to surprise him.

Callie lived with her aunt and uncle outside King County for a while after the tragic circumstances of her father's death when she was barely sixteen. She had exchanged letters with Joshua very sporadically for some years. He was not a good correspondent and Callie decided that she would respond in kind, but not more, and that she would not expect more from Josh than he was willing to give. She took training to become a schoolteacher and had now answered an advertisement for a teaching position in one of the newer Seattle elementary schools. She was almost 26 and felt that she needed to know if there would ever be more of a relationship with Josh or not. For that she needed to be closer to where he lived.

Josh was now almost 33 and was stunned and pleased to encounter Callie again at the wedding. She seemed much happier and more relaxed from the last time he had seen her in person. Rather cautiously at first, she and Josh resumed an in-person romance. It increased to a whirlwind, and they married in November 1880, two months from the day that Gaston and Siobhán Rameau welcomed their Snow-Storm Baby, Elise.

One Friday in November, Philippe arrived home for the family dinner (this time at the Du Saules' home) and found Jason sitting by the fire. "How are you today, Jason?" he inquired.

"My leg's paining me more in this cold snap, but otherwise well."

"This is for you," Philippe announced, presenting Jason with a long, gift-wrapped box.

"What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. Pellan asked me to find a nice one for you."

Jason unwrapped the box to find a thick, handsomely-carved, wooden cane.

"Yes," Jason sighed. "Pellan said that I might continue to need one of these. He also announced that my tree-climbing days are over."

"Well, you can supervise the tree-climbers from the ground while using that and look classy, but not too much of a dandy. And if they are unruly with you, you can also use it on them as a club."

"Thank you, brother," Jason smiled, admiring the rustic design which befitted a logger more than a townie. "I appreciate this. It's perfect for me."

Other events in 1880 were mixed:

Mount Baker erupted with ash and steam – not all that close to Seattle, but it could still be seen from certain vantage points. (Philippe, as usual, was unnerved. 'All these mountains in Washington Territory and in Oregon must be volcanoes!' he thought to himself with alarm.)

A new Catholic school – the Academy of Holy Names – was founded in Seattle. Philippe was grateful, looking ahead for two-year-old Richard. The school should be settled into good form by the time Richard would be old enough to attend.

A gala of 2000 citizens was held in Squire's new Opera House on October 11th to shake hands with President Rutherford B. Hayes: the first U.S. President to visit the West Coast. The Bolt clan made sure to attend.

There were two small earthquakes in the area on December 7 and 12. (Philippe found earthquakes as unnerving as volcanoes and suspected that they were related.)

A meteorite was sighted, crashing in the Chuckanut Mountains north of Seattle, also on December 12.

Sitting around Jeremy's fire after a family meal on December 14th, Josh held Callie on his lap and remarked, "It seems like there've been a lot of bad omens this month, if not all year, starting with the Great Snow Storm."

"Hush now!" admonished Callie. "We got married this year. So did Pierre and Jenny. And Erin and Elise were born. Those are all good things."

"Well, yes. Just saying." They smiled warmly at each other, as newlyweds do.

"Marta and I have some good news," submitted Jeremy, squeezing Marta's hand. "We're expecting another baby." Everyone exclaimed joyfully and congratulated them.

"And I have some news, too," added Jason. "I've decided to run for the Territorial Legislature. No reason Seattle can't get some good representation there. And it might keep me from falling out of trees. I guess that's good news, especially for my brothers, since it will keep me out of their hair at the camp."

This announcement received another round of wishes for success. "But the best news," Jason added with a grin, "is that I asked Allyn Wright if she could stand being married to a politician – and she said yes, if the politician was me." The room exploded into astonished whoops and back-pounding.

"I didn't even know you two were dating!" exclaimed Jess.

"We were discreet."

"I'll say! I've never even seen you two together."

"Well, I, for one, am glad that you finally decided to say something," declared Pellan. "I've been about to bust for – what? Six months?"

"You knew? And you didn't tell me?" his wife protested.

"I don't go blabbing everything I see at the hospital, do you?" he said, looking at her with a 'scandalized' expression.

Jason Bolt (40) and Allyn Wright (36) were married in April of 1881 in a sizeable wedding at the (not so Little anymore) White Church. They had a large number of friends and well-wishers in the area, plus Jason's large family.

The new addition to Jeremy and Marta's household was a girl – Clara – born in June 1881 just after Jonathan Du Saule completed the eighth and final year of his grade-school education. Jonathan worked again that summer with his uncle Jason, this time helping him campaign for the Territorial Legislature. Of course, Allyn and the others in the extended Bolt clan also helped out in Jason's campaign around their jobs and childcare duties.

September 1881 began a new chapter for the Du Saules as Philippe and Julie took Jonathan to Portland, Oregon, to begin secondary school at St. Mary's Academy. It was barely over the line from Vancouver, Washington Territory, and both towns were served by railroads as far as Tacoma. Philippe worked with Jon on the way down, showing him how to check in and buy tickets at the train stations and manage his luggage so that he could ride by himself in the future. Julie shed a few tears on the train once she and Philippe were heading north toward home. Philippe hugged her close. "He'll be fine. Perhaps he'll meet a beautiful girl and won't even have to learn English to talk to her. Or, if she happens to speak French, he can speak that, too."

Julie winced at her husband. "He's only fourteen!"

Philippe laughed. "I know. But our first-born is growing up, Julie. We need to prepare for the day when he does meet the right girl and thinks about getting married."

Chapter 17: A Series of Shocks

Seattle was developing problems that would occupy the energy of many in the populace throughout the 1880s.

The Temperance Movement flourished in the whole United States. Seattle area churches – including the Little White Church – became involved in fighting alcoholism, prostitution, and crime. Lottie Hatfield was glad to have sold her saloon before the Temperance Movement began. Everyone found it challenging – and expensive – to locate contraband whiskey for 'medicinal purposes.'

On Saturday morning, July 2, 1881, a disgruntled former staffer shot the new U.S. President, James Garfield, at a railroad station in Washington, D.C. Garfield was forty-nine years old and had only been in office since March 4th. He lingered for 79 days while the shocked country held its collective breath, and then died on September 19th in New Jersey.

On October 12, 1881, a Seattle policeman, David Sires, was shot and killed in the seedy area south of Pioneer Square. A suspect, Benjamin Payne, was arrested and jailed, awaiting trial.

Seattle citizens were unnerved by all these events and put on edge.

Pellan and Jessica O'Sullivan were quickly expecting again after Erin's birth in January during the Great Snow Storm, but Jess didn't fare at all well this time. She was sick much of her first seven months and then began spotting, so Pellan put her on bed-rest. Jess ordinarily would have hated the forced inactivity, except that she felt so bad much of the time. She stayed with Julie during the days while Pellan was working and did what she could to help out. Julie helped Jess care for her two little girls, of course, and they had some good times together during her confinement. But early in her ninth month in October 1881, Jess began to hemorrhage.

It had been raining heavily for more than a week and the logging camp sat idle, awaiting drier weather. Jeremy had been at home that morning with Marta, who had been working part-time since Clara's delivery in June. They left their children with Julie, too, and rushed Jess to the hospital in mid-afternoon. As fate would have it, all the hospital surgeons were out on house calls when Jess arrived. Pellan was the only one present to handle emergencies that afternoon.

A grim look came over Pellan's face. He asked Marta, "Can you assist me?"

"What are you going to do? Operate?"

"Yes. Assist me. I can't do it alone and everyone else is out right now."

Marta followed him into an operating room, while Pellan asked a nurse in the hall to go find a nursing student with a strong stomach to help him. Marta paled as she listened to Pellan speak with his wife. "Jess, I need to take the baby. We can't wait."

"Then take him."

"There are … risks, you know."

"I know the risks. And if it's a choice between me or the baby, you choose for the baby. I've had a good life and I thank you for it."

"I … hope I won't have to make that choice. I've got to put you out now."

"Of course. Do it."

"I love you." Pellan's voice broke. He kissed her forehead.

"I love you, too."

Pellan saturated a cloth with chloroform and pressed it over her nose and mouth, holding his breath so the fumes wouldn't enter his own lungs. Jess lost consciousness, breathing normally. Pellan quickly stored the damp cloth in a glass jar and screwed on the lid, handing it to Marta. "If she begins to move around or looks agitated, give her some more – and hold your breath while you do it so it doesn't affect you as well. Now move that curtain over her chest.

"To screen her face?"

"Yes. I will ask you about the patient from time to time. Watch her very closely and let me know the instant you see any changes in her skin color or her breathing."

A young nurse-trainee arrived to assist Pellan with the surgery itself. She looked a bit alarmed by her sudden recruitment to assist, but, to her credit, she didn't pass out. Pellan had obtained basic training for rather rare caesarean sections and hysterectomies, but that is not surgery one wants to perform on one's family members – or one's wife. In the 19th century it carried high risk of infection for both the mother and baby.

"Here," Pellan said as he tied a cloth mask over his face and passed the container of clean masks to Marta and the young nurse. "Put these on while I operate. I've just started using them."

"Why is that?" Marta inquired as she and the student nurse tied on masks.

"Well, after Brigid's last cold got passed around to everyone in the house, I finally accepted what Jess has been saying – that there must be ways to pass disease through the air," Pellan explained. "We can feel someone's breath on our skin or moisture droplets when they sneeze or cough on us. Some surgeons are starting to use these when they operate so that any bad air in our lungs doesn't pass disease into an open incision or the patient's lungs. There are so many risks of infection after surgery. I'm trying to reduce as much risk as I can for anyone I deal with."

"That makes sense," Marta agreed.

Pellan shifted to become clinically detached and strictly professional, referring to Jess only as "the patient." He quickly removed the baby, cut the umbilical cord, and handed the baby to the nurse-trainee to take to another nurse for cleaning, scarcely looking at it except to note that there did not seem to be obvious problems. He announced to no one in particular, as if dictating a medical log, "The placenta has detached. I'm proceeding with a hysterectomy to stop the bleeding." He did so, completed the operation and closure stitches, then directed the young nurse-trainee, who had soon returned, to clean the incision and apply a bandage. He left the operating room without saying more, walking like he was in a trance. Marta followed him, alarmed.

Pellan walked out the back doors of the hospital into heavily misting rain, then dropped to the ground and vomited in the mud. Marta knelt beside him, hands on his shoulders to comfort him. "O God! Pellan! I'm so sorry," she declared. "I've never seen anyone do anything so brave."

He shook his head back and forth, choking on sobs and swaying side to side, spitting out the foulness from his mouth onto the rain-soaked ground. Marta stayed with him until he regained composure and stood. Then they walked back into the hospital with arms around each other, both soaked and muddy.

James Tanner – a young general practitioner on the hospital staff – had just returned from making house calls. He came jogging up the hall to meet them. "I just got back and heard. How awful…." He showed shock when he noticed their appearance.

"How is the…? How is … my wife?" Pellan asked, shakily.

"She's stable."

"And the baby? It's a boy? I scarcely looked before I handed him off to the nurse."

"Yes, a boy. He's small, of course. Color's a little blue."

"I'll go wash up and check on him now. And then go see Jess. She's still in the OR?"

"She's just been moved to a room. I'm heading there now."

Marta interrupted. "Pellan, you must be exhausted. Do you want to sleep? Or go home for a bit? I can sit with Jess if you need a break."

"No, I'm alright. I'll stay here for the time being. Give the girls a kiss for us. Tell them they have a little brother we're naming Patrick." He headed on down the hall alone, shoulders slumped and head hanging down – so unlike his typical, confident bearing.

Marta sought out Jeremy in a waiting room. He stood up quickly when she entered, alarmed to see that she was soaked, muddy, and disheveled.

"Marta! What – ?"

"It's alright – or as good as it can be right now."

"What's happened?"

"The baby is a boy and is okay for now – just small and weak for being premature. Pellan took the baby by Caesarian and then did a hysterectomy on Jess to prevent her from bleeding out. I don't know how he could do that to his own wife! Then he walked out behind the hospital in the rain and was sick. I went outside with him, which is why I look like this. I didn't think he should be alone and I certainly don't blame him for being sick. I don't think I could have done what he did."

"So everyone's okay?"

"Well, for now. Jess will have a long recovery – if she doesn't die from infection. And the baby will struggle, too, since his lungs weren't fully developed. Might as well say it: there are big risks for both of them. I doubt Jess will be able to nurse. I'll try to help her, but and I'm not sure I can produce enough milk now since I've started weaning Clara. Can you find us another cow? I need to go home and get some fresh clothes to bring back for both of them. I know Pellan won't leave here until things resolve, hopefully for the better."

So the anxious waiting began. Julie kept the O'Sullivan girls (with help from Lucie and other family members as they were available) while Pellan lived at the hospital and slept what he could in a chair at his wife's bedside. He took a leave from his hospital work, drifting between Jess and Patrick in the nursery and wearing a mask around them for fear of passing them a cold or other contagion from the hospital environment.

"Come on, Patrick. Try some of this good goat's milk today. Maybe it won't give you a bellyache like that cow's milk did last time." Pellan cradled his tiny, wailing son in one arm, wielding the bottle with his free hand.

"I wish I could nurse him," Jess whispered weakly from her bed. "He's so tiny."

"It's okay. This world is a tough place, but he comes from tough stock. He may be small, but his color is better now and his breathing has improved. Patrick can pull through with bottle-feeding."

But Pellan was worried. Often babies didn't survive when their mothers couldn't nurse them. Jess and Pellan both knew that. And they both knew that Patrick might have other, lasting ill effects from his premature birth which could emerge later.

There was a soft knock on the door and Marta entered with a jar. "Here I come, maybe with a literal solution to our problem, since I can't nurse Patrick where he can get enough. Here's a milk-substitute formula that we just started stocking in the pharmacy. It's been available since 1865, created by a chemist named Liebig: a powder made of cow's milk, wheat and malt flour, and potassium bicarbonate. Doesn't sound very appetizing, but it's been working for other infants. Want to try it with Patrick?"

"Sure. Anything." Patrick's parents readily agreed.

"I'll go get a clean bottle and mix some up. If it works, we'll order some just for him to take home." She left the room.

There was another knock on the door in her absence. "Come in," invited Pellan.

Philippe entered with Father Prefontaine. They exchanged verbal greetings since Pellan's hands were occupied with Patrick, still wailing with hunger since Pellan had set the goat's milk aside.

"I'm here to pray with you for your wife and son," said the priest over Patrick's thin cries. "If you wish, I can also baptize him here, either today or whenever you request."

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" exclaimed Pellan. "There's no telling when it will be safe to take him out to church with cold weather coming on." Patrick had to be kept particularly warm due to his low weight lack of body fat.

Marta returned with the prepared formula and Patrick drank it all down eagerly to his parents' great relief. By the time Patrick had been burped, had a diaper change, and dozed off, Philippe and Marta agreed to serve as his godparents and Allyn Wright Bolt stepped away from her work for a few minutes to witness Patrick's baptism.

"What name is given to this child?" Father Prefontaine asked, beginning the baptismal rite at Jess' bedside.

"Patrick Ronan," Pellan replied and Jess nodded agreement.

"For the saints? Ah, those are good Irish names."

"Yes – and also for my father, Ronan O'Sullivan. I wish he and my mam could see him. And his sisters."

Pellan bit his lower lip and seemed on the verge of tears. He really did look exhausted, Philippe noted with compassion.

"Perhaps they do see you – all of you," Fr. Prefontaine offered in comfort and continued with the words of the ancient Christian rite.

So Patrick Ronan O'Sullivan was baptized and continued his earliest days in hospital care, able now to get adequate nutrition from the formula. His mother fought infection and very slowly gained strength, too. With the extra attention, they both began to turn a corner. Pellan was overjoyed when he was able to take them both home after three weeks. Again, they bunked in with the Du Saules for everyone's convenience and support. The Du Saule house was filling up with the next-generation Bolt clan – which was a good thing, if a bit chaotic and noisy.

Philippe knocked on the door to the apartment over his bank in late October. "Lottie? May I come in? I have some wonderful news!"

There was no reply. He opened the door, which was rarely locked. Lottie sat in the upholstered chair in the small parlor, staring straight ahead. Dead.

"Lottie! O Seigneur! May she rest in peace!" Philippe exclaimed. "I wish she could have known that Jason was elected to the Territorial Legislature. Well, perhaps she knows more than we do now." He smiled, his eyes tearing. Philippe closed Lottie's eyes on this world and went to notify the police of her passing. They buried her body beside Clancey's in the Masonic cemetery on Capitol Hill.

Jess convalesced at the Du Saules' home, helping Julie with child care, cooking, and mending as she regained strength. Little Patrick gained weight, too, drinking formula with occasional nursing from his aunt Marta. Everyone was extra-careful of Patrick's health and he and Jess stayed on in the Du Saules' spare bedroom to avoid carrying the new baby out in the cold and damp. And in late November another baby arrived, as Pierre and Jenny Rameau welcomed Samuel, their first. Everyone except Jason and Allyn gathered at the Du Saules' cabin over Christmas to celebrate the season together.

Five days after Christmas, a messenger knocked on the Du Saules' door in the evening, giving Philippe an envelope. Philippe tipped him, closed the door, and slit the envelope open with his pocket knife. With a broad smile, he read out the message to everyone present:

December 30, 1881

Jasper Allyn Bolt

5 lbs 10 oz

Happy New Year

Jason & Allyn

Soon after New Year's Day 1882, Jason left Seattle for Olympia to be sworn in and attend the Territorial Legislature for the first time. Allyn and Baby Jasper came to stay with the Du Saules for a while, continuing Allyn's recovery. Pellan left Seattle a few days later for San Francisco for some scheduled medical training. He was reluctant to go, although Jess, Julie, and Allyn assured him that they would all be fine, packed in happily together with all their young children and the help of extended family. Once Pellan and Jason were gone, however, disturbing things began to happen in Seattle.

At the time, Seattle still had a small-town look with small, mostly one-story houses scattered along the bay with a lot of bare ground between them. A new luxury dock for ships was under construction: the Colman Dock. It would have a large pavilion, preparing optimistically for prosperous times ahead. But there were seedy areas along the waterfront not so far away.

After Aaron Stempel became involved in the illegal raffle for a public works project in 1876, he began to lose friends who came to have misgivings about his money-making ventures, plus his road tax evasion the next year. Stempel didn't associate it, but the news of his raffle recruited some unsavory characters to Seattle in ensuing years, increasing the crime rate in the "Skid Road" dock area south of Stempel's sawmill and Pioneer Square.

On Tuesday, January 17, 1882, a young grocery clerk named George Reynolds was shot dead and robbed in the evening on his way home from work. Citizens of Seattle were summoned by three peals of the firehouse bell. A vigilante committee of about two hundred men formed to search for suspects. After four hours, they found two men hiding under some hay in the dock area and turned them over to the police. One of the suspects had a gun that had been recently discharged; someone thought that the remaining bullets in the gun matched the bullet which had killed Mr. Reynolds. Sheriff Wyckoff jailed the men – James Sullivan and William Howard – and scheduled their arraignment for the next morning. The vigilante mob stormed the jail, but Sheriff Wyckoff, who had served Seattle for twenty-two years, faced them down and they dispersed for home. It was dark and very late.

All these years, Aaron Stempel had lived in a converted store on James Street near his sawmill on Pioneer Square. Early the next morning, scantling planks from his mill were wedged between two maple trees beside Stempel's house. The vigilante mob reassembled and proceeded up to the arraignment in front of Justice Coombs at 9:30. The Justice felt that the men should be held without bail for trial. An outcry of protest arose and the mob of two thousand rushed forward, overpowering the court's officers and seizing the prisoners.

Joshua and Callie Bolt had moved into the Bolt Brothers' "vacation cabin" after their marriage. It was situated well out from town on the edge of Bridal Veil Mountain and not on the property beyond Forester's Creek where the others lived communally. Being newlyweds, Josh and Callie enjoyed their private little love nest and the convenience to Josh's work at the camp, but they were also cut off from much news of what went on in town. This day, Joshua had come into Seattle early before going to the camp to pick up supplies for the camp and for Callie, who was pregnant. He knew nothing of the previous night's events, but soon learned about it from Ben Perkins at his new general store. Then they both heard a great disturbance as the mob hustled the two prisoners down the hill to Stempel's property. Joshua and Ben left the store and followed along behind the mob, concerned.

Judge Roger S. Greene attempted to slash the previously-prepared ropes intended for use in hanging, but the crowd assaulted him. The ropes were put around the necks of the two suspects and they were dangling from the planks just one minute later, people taking turns pulling the ropes up and down, shouting "Heave ho! Heave ho!" and bashing the men's heads against the planks. Josh spotted Aaron sitting and whittling with a clear view of the proceedings and a wide grin on his face. Josh shouted, "Aaron! Stop them! They haven't had a trial!"

"'Stop them?'" Stempel retorted. "I support them!" He kept on whittling, a wide grin on his face. The two men were quickly dead, whether from hanging or head injuries was hard to say. Josh felt sick to his stomach and Ben Perkins was pasty-faced and speechless.

Someone then shouted a suggestion to also hang Benjamin Payne, who was still jailed on suspicion of killing Policeman Sires the past October. Five hundred men proceeded directly to the new jail, broke down its tall fence and several wooden and metal doors, and Mr. Payne was frog-marched to the gallows where the corpses of Sullivan and Howard now hung.

The mob asked Payne to confess to the killing of Policeman Sires. He refused and cried out, "You hang me and you will hang an innocent man!" The mob promptly hanged him anyway between the two corpses. Two days later, Sheriff Wyckoff died of a heart attack – the first King County peace officer to die in the line of duty.

Four men were now dead in less than forty-eight hours. The cause of death written on the hanged men's death certificates read "Irate Citizens." Judge Greene didn't doubt the guilt of the lynched men, but he later wrote that "the lynchers were co-criminal with the lynched."

Joshua Bolt returned to the logging camp with the wagon-load of supplies. He entered the office-tent, looking dazed and pale, and dropped down in the chair, still feeling ill with shock. Jeremy noticed his return from a distance and jogged down to the office-tent with a question, but one look at his brother told him that something was very wrong.

"What's wrong, Josh?" Jeremy asked.

"Oh, God, Jeremy! I don't know where to start." But he found a way and reported what he had heard and witnessed. Tales of the lynchings spread like wildfire all over Seattle and beyond. The incidents were divisive and deeply disturbing among the townsfolk of Seattle and became a blot on Seattle's civic reputation. Word quickly reached Jason in Olympia.

No one was ever arrested for the lynchings. Citizens of Olympia and Port Townsend sent letters of congratulations to Seattle, which were published in the newspaper.

"What's that in your hair, Lucie?" Julie asked as Lucie returned home from school.

"Oh, Roy Miller tied that rope there this morning. All the kids are wearing pieces of rope on their clothing or in their hair to celebrate that the bad men are dead."

"Lucie! We don't celebrate that people were killed without a trial, whether they were bad or not!"

Julie untied the pieces of rope from Lucie's pigtails, adding, "Don't you come home like this again – or just wear it just at school, either! I'm disappointed with you! I'll be telling your father when he gets home."

Reporters from the magazine Harper's Weekly came to Seattle to learn about the lynchings. They identified Aaron Stempel from a sketch made of the hangings: Stempel was depicted sitting by, whittling. Stempel was interviewed and quoted in their subsequent article: "That was the first fruit them trees ever bore, but it was the finest." Stempel left the gallows-planks in his maple trees for more than six years until they were taken down secretly one night by students from the university.

Pellan opened the door to the Du Saule cabin on January 29, 1882, just returned from San Francisco. He greeted everyone happily and hugged his wife in particular, glad to see Jess looking more like her old, healthy self. He whispered in her ear that he was looking forward to some "horizontal refreshment" now that he was home. She stiffened in his arms and he drew back, realizing that something was wrong.

"Oh, do we have news for you," Jess declared ominously, and proceeded to tell him about the violence in Seattle during his absence.

The ragged year wore on, particularly rainy that spring of 1882. There was an earthquake on Puget Sound on April 30th which produced some broken chimneys in Olympia, but no damage in Seattle other than to Philippe's nerves.

Chapter 18: A Little Good News Before Worse

Wealthy and powerful businessmen in Seattle incorporated the Seattle, Walla Walla, and Baker City Railroad Company as a tactic to force another wealthy entrepreneur in the Pacific Northwest, Henry Villard, to make a counter-offer and lay a standard-width rail from Tacoma to Seattle. Mr. Villard bought a controlling interest in the Northern Pacific Railroad and the deed was accomplished. Seattle was connected to the rest of the railed USA at long last!

Jacob Furth was born in Austria and finished school there at age thirteen. He immigrated to San Francisco at sixteen, gradually becoming very successful in business in that area. In 1882 he moved to Seattle for health reasons and founded the Puget Sound National Bank with his previous earnings. It became the largest bank in Seattle within ten years. Jacob Furth was Jewish.

Having a common trade, Philippe soon met Jacob Furth and welcomed him to Seattle. Philippe (by then age 39) was two years younger, but had some things in common with Jacob: both were European immigrants and both were able to found banks with funds from prior employment sources. Jacob was a principled man with a humanitarian heart, like Philippe. Philippe made some introductions for him in Seattle as Furth and his family settled in. The two men became friends, sharing investment ideas and strategies. Philippe recalled the antisemitism of some of his relatives and acquaintances in France, but like many things he had encountered since coming to the States, he put it behind him. 'That was then; this is now,' he thought to himself.

Aaron Stempel had created the original water system in Seattle, brought from a spring on Third Street through wooden pipes to some of the downtown buildings in Pioneer Square. Stempel and a short-term business partner named it the Seattle Water Company in 1865. He later sold it for $4,500 to the Spring Hill Water Company. When Spring Hill went bankrupt, they then sold it to Jacob Furth and two other veteran investors (one being Philippe), who acquired it for almost nothing. The new owners kept the old name, connected the system to Lake Washington, and then began to rake in a killing. Seattle then had the best water system in the Territory and Mr. Furth and his associates were making $91,000 net profit per year. Mr. Furth never had to ask his stockholders at Puget Sound National Bank for any more funds.

Marta and Jeremy were expecting a third child by the spring of 1882. They had not yet announced it because Josh and Callie lost a stillborn child in early March and it seemed insensitive to share they own joy so soon after a family tragedy.

A hospital staffer, Michael Grogan, learned of Marta's skill with animals. In May he requested her advice about a sick cow on his small farm on the edge of town. Marta went with him on her lunch hour, thinking it would be a refreshing little break from the hospital pharmacy's routine.

Pale and wild-eyed, Pellan rode hell-for-leather to the Bolt Brothers' logging camp in the late afternoon. Jeremy and Josh looked up in surprise at his arrival, his horse lathered and foaming at the mouth from galloping hard. "Jeremy, I need to talk to you," he gasped.

"Sure. Come in the tent," Jeremy replied, feeling a grip of fear. He exchanged glances with Josh – who also looked alarmed, but remained outside and led Pellan's horse to the watering trough once he dismounted. Pellan grimaced for a moment at an old memory of Marta working with the horses at the logging camp during their first visit to Seattle almost eight years ago. He entered the office-tent with Jeremy.

Jeremy noted the dried tear-streaks on Pellan's face. "Do you want to sit?" Jeremy asked, gesturing to the chair at the desk-table. Pellan dropped heavily onto the chair and rested one elbow on the table, head in his hand for a moment. Jeremy noticed that his hand was shaking. "You look like you need a drink," Jeremy observed, picking up a bottle near the desk and pushing it and a tin cup across the table toward Pellan. Jeremy then sat down on a cot opposite his friend and waited.

"I may fall off my horse later, but thanks," replied Pellan, pouring some whiskey in the bottom of the cup and tossing it back. He sighed shakily and half-whispered, "There's been an accident," staring at the peaked ceiling of the tent.

Jeremy still waited silently, his eyes locked on his long-time friend. Pellan took another shot of whiskey, drew a deep breath, and met Jeremy's eyes.

"One of the emergency staff at the hospital, Michael Grogan, asked Marta to look at a sick cow on his farm today," Pellan said. "She went with him on their lunch hour. She was gored in the abdomen. Mike tried to stop the bleeding, but couldn't. She bled out in about ten minutes."

"What does that mean?"

"She bled to death. She's gone, Jeremy. There was nothing anyone could do. Mike is well-trained in how to stop bleeding, but even he couldn't. That happens sometimes if a wound is just too severe. Mike said that this cow had never been aggressive before or he wouldn't have asked Marta to look at her. He's distraught about the whole thing."

"Marta bled to death," Jeremy repeated, as if having to clarify what he had just heard.

"Yes. She lost too much blood and lost consciousness. And died."

Jeremy said nothing, staring without focus through the canvas wall of the tent, feeling a tight grip of horror clamped on his chest.

Pellan continued: "I had to examine her body when they brought her back to certify the cause of death. I noticed that she was pregnant."

Jeremy closed his eyes and nodded, tears trickling out. "We hadn't told anyone yet because of Callie's stillbirth."

"That may have made the bleeding worse. Jeremy, I can't say how sorry I am. I'm just devastated. It's a horrible loss for the whole hospital, too. And Mike: I had to give him a sedative before I came up here."

Jeremy swallowed hard and said nothing, tears welling in his eyes.

"I stopped briefly and told Jess on the way up here," Pellan continued. "Your kids will be with her or Julie."

Jeremy nodded and drew a shaky breath, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. "What… what do I need to do?"

"You need to come back with me to the hospital and formally identify her body, then sign some papers and make arrangements for an undertaker or burial within two days. Is Jason in Olympia?"

"I think so."

"Do you want me to wire him?"

"I… I don't know… I guess. Would you tell Josh for me? I can't think straight right now."

"Sure. You want to wait here while I do? Collect yourself? You might need some whisky, too." Pellan pushed the bottle back toward Jeremy.

"I… Yeah… Thanks."

Jeremy felt like he was sleepwalking through an endless nightmare for the next several days. The Bolt clan created a new family cemetery in the far corner of their property beyond Forester's Creek and buried Marta's body there. Father Prefontaine presided in a short graveside service for relatives while Julie kept the children at her cabin on the other end of the property. Jeremy didn't want Ian and Clara to see their mother's dead body or her coffin put in the ground, as he had seen when he was five years old – which had prompted his long-term stuttering. He had been older than his children were right now, but he would not take the chance of traumatizing them.

Clara would turn one year old in the next month and Ian was barely three. They both realized that something was amiss and were tearful and anxious, but there was no way they could understand what had happened and no one tried to do so; their father and other relatives all just took turns holding them close and whispering words of love and reassurance. Ian asked a few times for "Mama" and Jeremy told his son that "Mama got hurt badly and had to go away to get well."

Mount Rainier was smoking again on the day of Marta's burial. Philippe remarked it to Jeremy, who replied, "I couldn't care less." Indeed, that almost became Jeremy's motto in the coming months. Marta's death had crushed his generally cheerful spirit. He paid dutiful attention to his children when not working and tried to comfort them among changes they could not understand.

To shield them from living in their now-motherless home, his children lived with the Du Saules by mutual agreement for the foreseeable future. Jeremy went to work every day, where Josh was concerned about his level of concentration, but no unsafe incidents occurred. Jeremy took his morning and evening meals in the Du Saules' cabin with his children, but returned to his cold, empty cabin at night to grieve alone in his own private hell. Sometimes Pellan or Jess would drop by to sit with him a while; they were both also grieving heavily for their childhood friend. Jason came and went between Olympia and Seattle, between his own family in town and those of his brothers and sisters. Philippe felt that there was nowhere he could go on their family property without memories of Marta. She had helped to design the barn, the garden, and other elements of their life together – like their family meals. Everyone resumed the pattern of their days with wounded hearts for a very long time.

Some six weeks after Marta's death, Jess knocked on Jeremy's cabin door one evening after dinner, when he had already returned home alone. He invited her in, but she declined, saying, "I'm just stopping by for a moment. Julie and I wonder if you'd like some help in cleaning out some of Marta's things."

"You mean getting rid of them?" he asked, with a tinge of sarcasm.

Jess bit her tongue and inhaled slowly so she wouldn't respond in kind. "Only if you want that," she stated calmly. "We did it when Philippe's parents died and we know that it's difficult and takes time and thought. It's that much harder when you're working, living alone, and have small children."

"I… Oh, I don't know. I suppose I do. I just can't stand to do it myself: get rid of her clothes. And I can't stand to look at them, either. And I want to keep some of her things for Clara when she is older: you know, jewelry and such, for keepsakes."

"Of course. Then let us help you. We won't be careless about it. Clothes can be remade, you know, but they won't keep in good condition just hanging in a closet in our damp climate. If they're going to be of use to anyone, that should be done sooner rather than later. We could make some little dresses for Clara from Marta's skirts, if you like, and maybe some shirts for Ian, if the material is suitable for a boy."

"Thank you. I guess I do need help. That sounds like a good idea."

So they began to make adjustments. It was painful, but Jeremy discovered that taking action to move forward was actually less painful than feeling paralyzed with grief.

Chapter 19: Healing

"I'm so glad that you consented to go on this date for my early fortieth birthday present," said Philippe, adjusting his cravat in mid-October 1882. "I just hope this play is better than that last one."

"I'm excited to go out on the town with such a handsome gentleman any time," said Julie – and she meant it.

"An old man now, with graying hair."

"Nonsense! You're scarcely an old man with that little bit of gray in your sideburns. I'm just happy you haven't grown those ridiculous-looking 'mutton-chop' sideburns! I don't care how fashionable they are right now."

"Like Pellan's, you mean?"

"Well, Pellan and Jenny both have to follow the current fashions or die, I think."

Philippe laughed. "Well, I want to keep my lady happy. And I don't want to have my bank customers snickering at me behind my back. Besides, any mutton-chop sideburns that I might grow now would probably be gray and make me look that much older."

The Rameau brothers were busy in their jobs with their wives assisting. Siobhán worked part-time for Philippe in his bank after she had birthed baby Elise two years before; she also continued to keep all of Gaston's business records. Jenny was now training five new apprentices to take over typewriting for the growing University so she could drop back to concentrate on her ladies' shop, raising young Samuel, and a new pregnancy which began late in the year.

Jenny, Siobhán, and Allyn Bolt all lived within the growing town limits. They felt that Julie had enough on her hands with the five small children that she was minding almost every day, even though Lucie helped her mother after school and on weekends. So Jenny, Siobhán, & Allyn found a kindly woman to keep their children as needed, once they were weaned.

Though the two Rameau families and Jason and Allyn did not intend to create separation in the greater family, their busy lives and work in town caused them to attend Bolt family dinners less frequently. Indeed, Pellan and Jess had considered moving in town to be closer to the hospital, but they didn't want to move away from Jeremy in his crisis right now, plus they liked that their children could play with some of their cousins as they grew up. So they added on a few rooms to their cabin in the late summer of 1882 to accommodate their growing family. The old Bolt Brothers' cabin sat vacant after Jason had married the previous year.

Some days the sun shone in Seattle, but when people grieve, they may not notice. The Bolt clan trudged through their days of work and childcare, week after week. Brigid O'Sullivan started school in the fall, which gave her family a lift.

The hospital pharmacy was down a worker since Marta's sudden death, of course. Pellan advertised the opening and reviewed a few letters from applicants, expressing tepid interest in moving to the frontier. Then one day a nurse stuck her head inside his office and announced that a young man had walked in, looking for pharmacy work. It was Marta's youngest brother, Rolf Jäger! He was 23 years old now and had just disembarked that day in Seattle with his newly-completed pharmacist license. He'd need re-licensing in the States, Pellan knew, but at least he had a license in England. That would facilitate the process.

Rolf shook hands with Pellan and stated immediately that he hoped that he could join Marta in the hospital pharmacy; or, if not, perhaps Dr. O'Sullivan could recommend another pharmacy in town who needed help.

"Oh, Rolf! It's great to see you!" Pellan said, rising to shake his hand. "We do have a position open in our pharmacy. But first I must give you some terrible news."

Rolf was, of course, stunned by the news of his sister's passing. Pellan found him a room to rent with the widowed mother of one of the hospital nurses.

"Mrs. Jungren will probably drive you mad, taking care of you, Rolf," Pellan confided. "Probably want to feed you all your meals and fatten you up. But just stay there while you look around and find a place more to your liking. At least, coming from Sweden, she won't have trouble pronouncing your last name!"

Pellan took particular pains in the coming weeks to include Rolf in the Bolt family's communal meals and plans for the upcoming Thanksgiving and Christmas. Jeremy (who was still in the numb phase of grief) welcomed Rolf as a maternal uncle of his children. He pointed out the old Bolt cabin as a housing option, if Rolf was interested. Rolf politely declined, saying that he preferred to live close to his work at the hospital in his rented room with Mrs. Jungren and be spared the expense of a horse at present.

Once Rolf had time to get settled, Pellan asked if he intended to stay in the States.

"I don't want to go back to England, if that's what you mean," Rolf replied. "There's nothing for me there since the … incident … in my family years ago. My parents returned to Prussia some time back. I was never close to my older brothers, being far younger. They and my sister Frieda have their own families now. I'll stay on here since I can speak English. Seattle is as good a place as any – maybe better, because things aren't locked down in the Old European tradition. And I can see my little niece and nephew: that's some connection to Marta. I'm happy enough. I'll settle in eventually, I think."

Pellan admired Rolf's grace and courage in adjusting to shock and huge displacement, but resolved to do all he could to help him feel welcome.

Josh and Callie welcomed a daughter (Linda) in late December 1882. After their earlier miscarriage, this healthy baby was a particular blessing for their whole extended family. Linda's birth was a gift of joy and healing after what had been a horrible, traumatic year for the whole family.

It rained a lot during the winter and spring as 1883 arrived and, with the damp weather, a gray medley of life in Seattle.

Aaron Stempel had become the wealthiest man in town by far, but he had no friends by this point. Bill Gross, the proprietor of Our House saloon and restaurant in Pioneer Square, shrewdly benefitted from his association with Stempel. He had taken over Lottie's old saloon and built a three-story hotel and boarding house (also named "Our House") for single working men, most of whom were employed at Stempel's mill. "Bill the Cook" never said much, but he noticed everything. He took advantage of changes in the dock area and beyond – buying renting, and selling property in and outside of Seattle. He could not read or write, but his wealth grew to be a quarter of a million dollars by 1891. When he died seven years later, he was widely respected all over town for his integrity and generosity.

The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 prohibited immigration of any new Chinese men of working age and caused labor shortages in many places, including Seattle. Japanese immigrants took advantage of the situation and founded the Nihonmachi community, extending south and east from Pioneer Square, running hotels and businesses. Bill the Cook took notice.

Philippe built a new two-story bank building – out of brick this time – a few blocks northwest of Pioneer Square. It was located on the edge of the current downtown, toward the new residential neighborhoods up the hill. He hoped its new location would entice people to bank there as a convenience on their way in to the downtown shopping district – not that he needed the business, for he was doing quite well by this point. Philippe created a bit of hard feelings with the Bolt Brothers, who again offered to supply lumber for his new building, but Philippe declined as courteously as he could. He felt that masonry conveyed an impression of strength and stability for his bank, and it was also not a fire hazard or easily breached by robbers. He added four more lines for tellers and installed a larger safe. Siobhán Rameau was his chief auditor, now with her own office. Philippe sold his old bank complex to Jennifer Rameau, who expanded her dress shop into all the space that used to be Philippe's bank and Gaston's art shop and the apartment upstairs. Jenny was doing well for herself, too.

Philippe had witnessed the poverty of the Natives in Seattle, living on canoes tied in the harbor or shacks nearby. He offered Crying Bird and other Native women a place to market their baskets and other handcrafts on the sidewalk in front of his bank, sheltered from the elements by a generous awning.

Mrs. Finch, a bank customer, complained to Philippe about "those people" sitting on the sidewalk outside. Philippe told her that those very Natives had saved the lives of his wife and her siblings when they were children and that allowing them a place to sell their wares was the least he could do for them in gratitude. He enthusiastically recommended the quality of the Native baskets to her (and laughed at her later behind his closed office door. 'You don't like it? Je m'en bats les couilles,' he thought.)

Philippe was quite excited by the founding of the Sunset Telephone Company on March 7th, 1883. For fifteen years, he had been reading about the new telephones in use in the eastern States since their invention in 1876, the year when his family was enroute to Seattle on the transcontinental railroad. Boston had created a whole telephone network in their business district and now one was being created in Seattle! Philippe eagerly signed up his bank as one of their first ninety subscribers. He looked forward to the day when he might be able to have a telephone in his home as well, if such a day ever came in his lifetime. He would have to wait until lines were strung far outside of the town limits, though. He read that a home in the US was wired for electric lights the previous year. "Someday I guess electricity will come to Seattle, too," he thought. "Such marvels! I wonder what my parents would think of these things."

In his heart of hearts, Philippe missed farming and always had that as a hobby and as goal for his retirement. He was happiest when puttering around his home and the large barn, teaching five-year-old Richard to care for their animals and plant vegetables in their high-fenced garden, now named "The Palisade."

Julie had only wanted a simple cabin, whereas Philippe wanted to build her a house comparable to the one they had left behind in Calais. As a 'compromise', Philippe continually made "small improvements" to their original cabin so that it was, by now, one of the finest log cabins in King County. Julie saw what Philippe was doing, but she didn't protest. She knew that he was happy in trying to make her and the children happy and comfortable. And they were.

Jon was doing well in secondary school in Vancouver, Washington, coming home by himself via train for Christmas and in the summers and begging until Jason or another of his uncles would organize a family hike or camping trip into the wilderness areas. Richard would start school in the coming fall and observed everything that his big brother did with great interest and admiration, even if he couldn't always tag along. Philippe and Julie were glad that it didn't seem to irritate Jon that Richard idolized him.

For the sake of his bank, Philippe had to cultivate relationships beyond his family with other businessmen in town. He went to business luncheons, joined a men's civic club, attended some plays and concerts (and played cello in quite a few small ensembles, too). He took up golf briefly once a course was created in Seattle, but he found it frustrating and quit the sport after six months, giving his clubs to Pierre. He invested some of his bank's assets and his own in the growing port area, the water company, and, once created in 1884, the horse-drawn street-car system and other town utilities. By volume, most of his business was in loans for building houses and small businesses. Everyone was building, everywhere in and near Seattle. "And all those buildings and people need water, transportation, and infrastructure," Philippe reasoned. "That seems a good investment. And maybe someday, we'll even have indoor plumbing."

Fifteen women formed The Ladies Relief Society to help the needy and suffering in the city and women in Seattle eventually founded the Seattle Children's Home. The Bolt women took part in these good works.

More churches were being founded in Seattle and enlarging their buildings, too. Had Jason still been interested, there was now an actual Presbyterian church in town, but he and Josh and their families continued to attend The Little White (Methodist Episcopal) Church. It had moved away from Pioneer Square and built a larger building. Being a larger congregation now, it did not – and could not – have the same intimate atmosphere of the past.

Jason was of the opinion that the whole Bolt clan should attend church together, but he couldn't solve the conundrum that more than half of his extended family were raised Roman Catholic and still attended Our Lady of Good Help. It had enlarged in 1882 to now have seating for 700. Father Prefontaine lived in the church basement for the next twenty years.

In August 1883, Pierre knocked on Philippe's office door. Philippe looked up and smiled in recognition. "Come in, come in! Sit down, my friend!"

"And brother-in-law?" Pierre asked with a wry smile, taking a seat.

"It's even better to be friends with one's relatives, if possible. How's 'bachelor' life treating you?"

"Oh, it might be good for reading, if I could ever find time and energy after doing my own cooking and cleaning to sit down with a book and stay awake. How's my family today?"

"Oh, the twins are both charmers and Samuel is glad of the extra attention, which may help him adjust to having two baby sisters now. I can't tell Polly and Dolly apart, though Jenny and Julie don't seem to have a problem."

"Well, they're with them all day. Jenny will need to help me tell them apart when I can bring them all home. I do hope that having two new babies crying is not making your lives miserable."

"Oh, not at all! We have plenty of people in and out to help. This is the best way to manage until Jenny is on her feet again. Have you thought about how you will manage once she and the children come home? Three small children will be a lot to handle, though if anyone can do it, Jenny can."

"Well, that's why I dropped by. I was thinking of adding on another room…."

"And I can help you with that."

Women in Seattle began organizing to seek the right to vote. The Rameau wives were intensely interested in that project and their husbands were, fortunately, supportive. Jess was also interested and helped out as she had time and energy beyond her three young children and her work, now training student nurses at the hospital. Richard Du Saule started school at the Academy of Holy Names in the fall of 1883, which gave Julie time in the mornings to help support the suffrage effort before he and Lucie got home in the afternoon. And Seattle women did win the right to vote in town elections on November 8th. They celebrated in their homes and in their budding civic clubs with the new friends they had made in the process all over town.

Lou Graham was a 'professional woman.' She was born in Germany as Dorothea Georgine Emile Ohben. Standing five-feet-two inches, she had jet black hair and blue eyes and arrived in Seattle in 1883 at around the age of twenty-eight. She was a fancy dresser, wearing plenty of very costly jewelry and ostentatious hats. Unlike other such women, she ran her own business, employing other women. There was not a man on the west coast who had not heard of her and all the men in Seattle called her 'Lou'. She became the most famous Seattle citizen in her industry and one of the wealthiest women in the whole Pacific Northwest.

Chapter 20: A Journey for Change

On a Saturday morning in December 1883, Pierre Rameau sought out Jeremy Bolt. He found Jeremy splitting wood beside his cabin.

"Pierre! You come for the day?" Jeremy inquired with a smile. He was glad of a chance to take a break and lodged his axe in the large stump he used as a base.

"We did – for a happy change! I know you've not seen much of us lately. We hate that, but things are just so busy for everyone and it takes a lot of effort to ride out here now with three small children."

"I understand. It's busy everywhere, I know."

Jeremy was glad he didn't have much cause to go in town these days, especially where he might glimpse the hospital, since it would always remind him of Marta; but he didn't say any of that.

"How are things with you?" Pierre inquired, kindly.

"Nothing exciting. Eat, sleep, work, see the kids at Julie's. That's about it."

"Is that helpful to you since…?"

"Quiet and routine have helped me. It helps my kids, too."

"I'm sure. I know it's been hard for all of you. I wish I could have done more for you if we lived closer."

"We're getting by, but thanks."

"I do need some help, which might also give you a break of sorts, if you're willing. I don't know who else would know how to go about it."

"What's that?"

"The University – and some other schools in Seattle – are in desperate need of teachers and I'm sure that our great surplus of bachelors in the county would be glad of more marriageable women in town. We're wondering if you might consent go to New England again and recruit some young teachers, like you and your brothers did with the Brides. Of course, Jason is with the Council now and perhaps Josh could run the camp by himself for a while. I was wondering if you would go. I would go with you, but they've got me teaching two extra classes this semester – same as our other few professors. We really do need more teachers to share the workload."

In late March of 1884, Jeremy Bolt found himself seated in a second-class coach on the transcontinental railroad, heading east from Sacramento. He was wearing a new travel jacket, tailored for him by Seattle's noted tailleuse Jennifer Bolt Rameau herself, with several interior pockets to hide and secure the rather frightening amount of cash he carried on him for the task ahead. He wondered again how he had allowed himself to be talked into this venture. Indeed, he had come to believe that Pierre had not acted alone in recruiting him. It had all been arranged just too quickly and easily: the care of his children and coverage for his absence at the logging camp. He suspected that his entire family had worked together – and not solely for the benefit of the University and Seattle schools. Jeremy grudgingly admitted that they could all see what he hadn't been able or willing to see: he needed a break from constant pressure, a change of scenery, and new subject matter for his numbed mind. So here he sat, headed east across the country again. At least there were trains now, making travel faster and easier, if not cleaner. Black soot drifted into the cars' windows with the breeze from the coal-fueled engine. Passengers opened and closed the windows in a constant compromise between needing ventilation and trying to shut out the soot and stench.

Jeremy had no idea how to accomplish his task in New England and had not yet booked a final destination. Pierre had suggested that he go to a city with a reputable training school for teachers and try to recruit some soon-to-be graduates – perhaps Boston, Massachusetts. And Jeremy found himself thinking about New Bedford, Massachusetts, mostly because he couldn't keep from it … and not because he thought there was a school for teachers there.

While the miles trundled past his window, he ruminated on his visit to New Bedford almost thirteen years ago. He thought about the woman he knew who now lived there again and what affection they had shared before she severed their engagement. Maybe it had not been the effortless relationship he had enjoyed with Marta since childhood, but there had been genuine love there. Once. He was sure of that. Perhaps she could suggest where he might look to recruit teachers…. Or maybe she would slam the door in his face. Was it pointless to seek her out, since she had left Seattle after their break-up? Somehow, he felt that he had to know – to see with his own eyes – how she would react to him again, one way or the other, before he could move forward in his life. Even before he could address the search for teachers.

When the exhausting week of train-travel was almost over, Jeremy still had not come up with a better plan. He bought a one-way ticket for New Bedford almost as if he was in a trance, almost as if that had been his only intention all along. Then he immediately began dithering over whether that was stupid as trains delivered him to his chosen destination. Well, there was only one way to find out just how stupid this was.

He vaguely remembered New Bedford's downtown. There were more people around now than he remembered from his first visit – and they were no longer primarily female. He took a room at the same hotel where he and his brothers had stayed. 'Why have I become such a boring creature of habit?' he complained to himself. He asked directions to the Pruitt home at the post office in the afternoon after his arrival and, since it was a dry day in early April, he decided to walk the mile out from town. It felt good to stretch his legs and ease his back from all the second-class train benches he had endured during the past week.

The thin spring sunshine was pleasant and he was enjoying the walk, trying to envision a young Candy Pruitt scampering up and down this road as a child. "Jeremy!" a male voice called from behind him. Jeremy whirled around to see a young man with auburn hair in the distance, half-jogging to catch up. Jeremy stopped and waited.

"Christoper? Is that you?" Jeremy asked as the young man caught up. What other male would recognize him in New Bedford? The hair color, at least, was right.

"Yeah!" Christopher Pruitt said with a smile, coming to a halt and breathing a bit heavily from running. Jeremy observed that Christopher still had some of his childhood freckles, but that was the only way in which he hadn't changed.

"I'm glad you called my name. I wouldn't have recognized you."

"Ten years makes a difference."

"True. You're taller than I am!"

Christopher nodded and grinned. "Candy tells me to stop eating, but I don't think I can."

"You need to keep eating while you're still growing."

"I thought I would have stopped growing by now."

"Well, you'll reach your adult height – and maybe you have – and then you'll fill out going on into your twenties. What, are you now – eighteen?"

"Yeah, and Molly's nineteen since January. I always lag behind her until November."

"I remember. Well, being born in the same year, you always seemed a bit like twins to me. Being younger didn't hamper you from getting into trouble with Molly, as I recall."

Christoper laughed and nodded agreement, then asked, "What are you doing here? Jack Green at the post office told me that a man had come there, asking where Candy Pruitt lived, and I thought I ought to come find out who it was."

"Ah! The postal clerk! He didn't waste any time letting you know, did he? And you're being protective of your sisters. Good for you! Well, I'm here on another mission for Seattle to recruit settlers – teachers, this time – but I have no idea where to start. I thought I'd come calling to ask advice from the only people I know in New England."

"I see."

But they both knew that there was more to his visit than that.

They walked on together and Christopher eventually pointed out the Pruitt home in the distance. Jeremy spotted blonde hair shining in the sun on a female at the clothes-line. "Is that Molly?" he asked.

"Yes. I guess Candy's inside."

"Suppose Candy will slam the door in my face?"

"I, ah, don't know."

"I guess we'll soon find out."

Molly disappeared inside the back of the two-story house as they finished walking up the lane, through the gate of a picket fence, and up to the front door. Chris opened it, calling out "Candy!"

Candy Pruitt rounded the corner to the dark entry hall with Molly close behind her. Christopher could tell in one glance that Candy already knew that they had a visitor and who he was, so Chris merely stepped aside and gestured toward Jeremy standing on the stoop. "We have a visitor!" he announced.

Jeremy's eyes met those of his ex-fiancée for the first time in almost ten years. He could see her shock and surprise. "Look what the cat dragged up," he remarked with his crooked grin.

Candy, for her part, had forgotten how intensely blue his eyes were and how that crooked grin had always softed her heart. "No! Jeremy! I'm so surprised!"

"In a good way, I hope."

"Well, yes!"

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. And Chris came running to be sure I wasn't an axe murderer, coming to call."

"Really! Well, come in! How do you come to be 'in the neighborhood'?"

'She didn't slam the door in my face, so that's good,' Jeremy thought to himself. He entered the hallway and was ushered to the nearby parlor. Jeremy greeted Molly as well, who then served an impromptu tea and asked Christopher to help her in the back of the house on some pretense, giving Candy and Jeremy privacy.

"Molly's become quite a beauty! And Chris: I wouldn't have known him," Jeremy stated.

"Yes! They've both grown up and changed a lot," Candy acknowledged with some pride.

"That's at least partly to your credit, I'm sure," Jeremy said sincerely. He told Candy of his official mission in New England, but that was not the main reason for his visit – and they both knew it.

Candy gingerly inquired after his family. Jeremy replied, "I have two children: a boy named Ian – he's five now – and a girl named Clara, who will turn three in June."

"And … Marta?"

He closed his eyes briefly, because it still hurt him to state what had happened. "She … died … in an accident … almost two years ago. She was … gored by a sick cow she was trying to treat and bled to death rather quickly, as I was told."

"Oh, how horrible! I'm so sorry."

"Thank you. It's been … difficult, especially with little kids who couldn't understand why their mother suddenly disappeared."

"Yes, and difficult for you, too."

"Yes. Her death was an awful blow – and yet I have to say that I think I almost expected it on some level. She was fearless around large animals – almost reckless at times – which used to frighten me. Remember that horse she named Fancy?"

"Yes, I do." Candy nodded, empathetically.

Changing the subject, Jeremy said, "Seattle is more than three times bigger than it once was, if you can believe it. Things there have changed so much. If I can recruit some teachers somewhere around here, at least there's the transcontinental train now. Travel won't be nearly as long and unpleasant for any teachers who want to move there as it once was." They laughed together, remembering their six-month journey around Cape Horn on Clancey's mule boat. And they both remembered that trip pleasantly, because it was then that they had fallen in love all those years ago.

"Are Jason and Joshua here, too?"

"No, they're both busy back home. Jason is on the Territorial Legislature now, sort of transitioning into politics after he was injured in a fall. Josh is running the camp, of course, and, well, they – my whole extended family, I think – must have thought it would do me good to get away for a while. Clear my head, maybe. I've come a long way, haven't I, when they send me on an errand that involves public speaking?"

Candy smiled, remembering Jeremy's paralyzing shyness and stuttering in their early days, when the three Bolt brothers had come to New Bedford to recruit brides for Seattle. "Well, I know you can do it," she said sincerely, remembering the progress he had made in their time together. "And you seem to be even more confident of yourself now," she observed. "Would you … like to stay for dinner? It won't be anything fancy, but we can talk more."

"I'd like that, if it's not too much trouble."

Jeremy enjoyed dinner with the Pruitts, all four of them gradually relaxing from the initial tension. Jeremy found it fascinating to renew acquaintance with Molly and Christopher now that they were adults and not the small children he remembered. He learned that Christopher was working in a general store, but was considering studying for the law.

After dinner, Candy and Jeremy strolled out to the front gate as he took his leave. He drew a deep breath and plunged in to ask his main question: "I'm curious to know if you still hate Catholics."

Candy winced, closing her eyes. "Oh, Jeremy! You don't know how much I've suffered over that," she half-whispered, then opened her pained eyes to meet his. "I'm so very sorry for hurting you."

"Apology accepted," he smiled, "but you didn't answer my question."

"I've thought a lot about the attitudes I heard from my parents and others around here … and in church when I was a child. It was easy to hate whole categories of people I didn't know, but difficult to hate a specific person whom I had come to love and trust. I know that I could be charitable toward that Jewish couple in Seattle – remember the Sullivans? – but I still had notions about Catholics which I just couldn't reconcile with knowing you. And then things became awkward when Marta came to town and got even more awkward after you all left for England. I still hadn't been able to sell this place and I just … moved back with Molly and Christopher. I didn't know what else to do and this seemed like the better option."

"Are you happy here? Is this where you want to stay?"

"Oh, Jeremy!" Her eyes instantly filled with tears.

He pulled her tenderly into his arms and kissed the side of her forehead, thinking to himself with a hidden smile, 'Perhaps she'll get to use those wedding plans she made after all. I wonder if she still has those curtains?'

Molly and Christopher watched this interaction through the sheer curtains of an upstairs window.

"Christopher!" exclaimed Molly, "Do you think Jeremy came here to find out if Candy still loves him?"

"I can't imagine any other reason he would have come here, can you?" he replied, grinning. "Do you think she does? I mean, she's hugging him."

"I think she does. I think she's been kicking herself all these years for breaking up with him in Seattle."

"Well, he's got kids now by somebody else."

"—who has passed on and he's free to marry again. And they're little kids who need a mother."

"Fancy having a little brother and sister, younger than me?"

"Well, you're grown now and don't need raising. I guess I could stand it. Besides, they'd be our nephew and niece, not our brother and sister."

"Will that make them less noisy and better behaved?"

"I doubt it."

They laughed in agreement.

Candy suggested a picnic the next day. Jeremy arrived punctually at 11:30, bringing a bottle of wine. Molly had gone into town with Christopher earlier for the meeting of her sewing circle while he went on to work at the store.

Jeremy lifted the picnic basket in one hand and offered his free hand to Candy; she took it and they smiled at each other almost shyly. Then they walked up a small hill toward a location she suggested on her family's property. Jeremy remarked, "It feels something like old times." Candy nodded, looking down at the dirt road and smiling to herself.

"You're quieter than you used to be," Jeremy observed.

"I still can't believe you're actually here. Doesn't it feel strange to you?"

"I had a long week on hard train benches to convince me that this is real. And it doesn't look like Seattle hereabouts. Too settled. Not enough green. Or rain or mud."

"Oh, it can get plenty stormy here when we have a Nor'easter come through!'

"Hm. Maybe that would help me feel at home."

They sauntered on up the rise as pale sunlight warmed toward mid-day. The crest offered a view of New Bedford and they spread a blanket under a gnarled, old tree: the perfect picnic spot.

"Nice view of town," Jeremy remarked. He uncorked the wine and propped it against a tree root to 'breathe' for a while.

"Yes," said Candy. "I liked to come up here when I was a little girl. It was my peaceful place."

"Mm," Jeremy grunted approvingly. "It still is. Ah, I can use some peace!" he declared and flopped on his back, squinting up into the old tree's branches at the budding leaves and sunlight to soak in what peace the site afforded.

"I'm sure that's true. You've been through a lot." Candy sat nearby on the blanket, hugging her knees and resting her chin on top of them.

Jeremy sighed heavily and nodded, cradling the back of his head in his interlaced fingers. "I can't tell you how awful it was to get up that morning and go to work with everything fine and by evening I was planning a funeral. I don't think I mentioned yesterday that Marta was carrying our third child."

"No, you didn't. How sad."

"Yeah."

"What do you do with your children while you're working?"

"I hate it, but they've been living all this time with Julie and Philippe. It seemed cruel to take them to a cold, dirty house at night or even on the weekends. So they've just stayed there in one of the spare rooms and I've seen them at breakfast and dinner until they went to sleep and then I went back to my cabin. And, of course, I give Julie money toward our food and such."

They unpacked the picnic basket and began to eat. Jeremy detailed more changes to Seattle and Washington Territory in the past ten years. He also told her more about Jason's accident and change of work and his marriage to Allyn, Josh's marriage to Callie, their children, the O'Sullivan children, his two sisters whom she had never met and their families. "Right now, it feels like we're wading in little kids whenever we all get together. I think there are nine who haven't started school yet. We're all getting really good at settling toddler squabbles and bandaging skinned knees – whoever happens to be standing nearby when one goes down. Even Julie's older kids help out," Jeremy finished.

"Goodness! I don't think I could repeat all that if I had to. How can you keep them all straight?"

"I've been knowing them for several years as all the babies came on the scene or I probably couldn't. Jason and Josh have done well to adjust to all the newcomers in the family. I think there are twenty-four of us now, counting just Bolt family. And we have others who are sort of extended family, like Pellan's sister and her husband who have another toddler! I just know I'd go crazy if I didn't still work on our mountain and live out beyond Forester's Creek where we do. Living in town is fine for the younger ones who grew up in cities and weren't as fond of how Seattle was in the past. Things have changed so phenomenally fast and are still changing, it really bothers me at times. Being at the camp, I can ignore it much of the time. I may not know Seattle myself when I return! There's a huge building under construction which will cover a whole block on First Avenue – being named for Stempel and someone else. Seattle's going to become like San Francisco, I think."

"San Francisco!"

"Yeah, or maybe even bigger. Philippe's trying to help us think about whether we should sell all or part of our mountain before taxes run us out of business. It's really helpful to have his perspective on urban life and economics and how Seattle will likely develop."

"I should think so. Tell me more about your children."

Jeremy pulled a tintype from his wallet and showed Candy a photo of two solemn-looking children: a toddler-aged girl seated in a rattan chair and wearing a large, ruffled bonnet, and an older boy standing beside her.

"Pierre's brother, Gaston, made that photograph last year. They weren't very enthusiastic about having a photograph done, obviously." Jeremy chuckled. "Ian will start school this fall. Hair's a lighter brown than mine. I think he has his mother's mind. He likes to take things apart to see out how they work. And sometimes they break or we can't put them back together. Then he gets mad."

"Where does he get his temper?" Candy teased.

"Hard to say. Marta was almost as stubborn and opinionated as I am. Maybe he got a double-dose from both of us? The girl, Clara: it's strange, but she's been almost bald all this time. It was starting to look odd, but then her hair finally started to just explode out of her head in the past few months, growing fast in all directions: thick and blonde, like her mother's – well, and like my mother's, too. It looks right funny at present, though Julie tries to tame it down and puts bows in it. Clara has been slow to talk, too – maybe because of Marta's death and all the changes. I can tell that she understands, though. It's hard to say much about her personality yet. She's almost three, with all that involves – good and bad. I'm glad that they always have cousins to play with and we all get along and help each other. I think it's healthier that we live outside of town, especially for the kids."

They fell silent for a while, both feeling well-fed and mellow from the wine, reflecting to themselves that they seemed to have fallen back into their old familiar relationship in spite of the passage of ten years and new subject matter to discuss.

Jeremy, lying back on the blanket again after he finished eating, turned his head toward Candy and asked, "How about you?"

"Me?"

"Are you happy here? Is this where you belong?"

"I…." Candy paused and her expression turned sad, while she toyed with a wild violet in the grass. "I don't know that I belong anywhere."

"Why do you say that?"

"I thought it would be easier moving back here, but things have changed here, too. I guess things change everywhere as time passes. I had an aunt and uncle on my mother's side still living here when I moved back, but they've both died now and had no surviving children. I don't have any family left in New Bedford other than Molly and Christopher. I don't really have any close friends here either, since girls my age are either married and busy with their families or moved to Seattle. Things have turned out to be rather lonely here, after all."

"Your grandfather?"

"Oh, I got a telegram that he had passed a few weeks after you left for England. I think he was sick in some way when he was in Seattle; he'd changed a lot even then from how I remembered him as a child."

"Mm. I'm sorry, Candy. I know you were fond of him. So you last saw him that day he left Seattle?"

"Yes. I suppose he was the eccentric member of the family. He left New Bedford long before I did, following get-rich-quick schemes, and we didn't know where he was unless he sent a postcard. I guess every family has someone like that."

"Not us Bolts! We're all perfectly sane and respectable."

Candy laughed. "Given what you've been through, that's almost surprising."

Jeremy grinned. "You know I'm kidding. I've been so beaten up by life in the past two years, it's a wonder I've not gone mad myself. And, I mean, I've changed some – I hope for the better."

"How have you changed?"

"Hmm…. I remember I used to worry a lot about what it is to be a man. I think that came from growing up with three sisters and two great-aunts."

"I remember you used to talk about that at times."

"Well, you know, I hadn't been back in Seattle from England for very long – a little over a year, I think – when my brothers and I came to New Bedford. I actually think I did pretty well in getting to Seattle from London by myself, given everything, and I felt good about that. But then Josh started pounding on me every chance he got and calling me "Boy" and that grated on my nerves. I'm sure that's why he did it: he could tell it made me angry and, well, we both know I have a temper. What's a younger brother for anyway except to torment?"

"I'm sorry. I sensed some tension between you two at times."

"Oh, you didn't see the half of it. But I also know that he defended me from anyone else who picked on me. Guess he wanted to keep that privilege for himself."

"You make me glad I didn't have any older siblings."

"Well, that's all past. If I haven't figured out what being a man is about by now, I'm hopeless."

"What made the difference?"

Jeremy thought a few seconds, then said, "I remember saying something about 'being a man' to Marta soon after we were married and she just looked at me strangely for a moment, which felt awkward. She said something about appreciating me being a man and hoping it was mutual for me with her being a woman, but then asked, 'Beyond that, why don't we just work on being good people?' I got to thinking about that and realized that every stupid or dangerous or hurtful situation I'd ever gotten myself into happened because I was trying to prove something about being a man – more to myself than anyone else, I think. I'm sorry for any of that which hurt you."

Candy smiled her forgiveness. He could see it and smiled in return.

"How have you changed in ten years?" Jeremy asked.

"Oh, I think I'm quieter, like you observed on the walk up here. I think now before I just spout off. I don't take things for granted now. I don't take people for granted. I don't think I would do some of the things that I did in the past, like volunteering you for things without asking you first."

"Oh, that's a relief!" Jeremy grinned. Then he took a chance: "Would you consider returning to Seattle? No contract this time."

Candy stared at her former fiancé, speechless again. Her heart began thudding – hard. "I'm not a teacher," she stated slowly and cautiously.

"Oh, I know; I'm not trying to recruit you. It's easy for anyone to get a job now in Seattle and blend right in. The town's so big that you could easily avoid me."

"Is that what you want – for me to avoid you?"

"Not really."

"Why did you come here?"

"Truthfully, I need to find out if you still care anything for me. And beyond that, as I said, to ask where I might recruit teachers for Seattle."

"I don't think I ever stopped caring for you. Did you stop caring for me?"

"No."

"Marta?"

"Her life's over now." Jeremy half-shrugged and sighed, a shadow crossing his countenance.

"But she's in your heart."

"Yes. She's been in my heart from the time we were both seven-year-old schoolmates, even though I never mentioned her to anyone in Seattle, including you or my brothers. When you and I met, I honestly thought I'd never see her again."

"I wondered if she was seducing you away from me when she came to Seattle."

"Beg pardon?" Jeremy said, and Candy could see a flash of anger in his eyes. "She wasn't like that, and neither am I. You and I had been broken-up for some months before she arrived in Seattle, so I understood that I was free to date her."

"That's true. You were." Candy gazed sadly off into the distance.

"Candy, I loved Marta, but I know she's gone now and she isn't coming back." He shrugged slightly. "And I know it's possible to love two women because I have. I loved you, too. It's just good not to be involved with two women at the same time!" He chuckled. "My father loved two women."

Candy smiled reflectively. "My parents did, too. They were both married before. My stepfather adopted me."

"You weren't born a Pruitt?" Jeremy tilted his head in surprise.

"Andrew Pruitt was my stepfather. I was born a Burke: Candace Eleanor Burke. My birth-father was Avery Burke. He died of the ague when he was twenty-three and had only been married to my mother about four months. I was born almost eight months after he died, so I never knew him. I don't think he even knew that my mother was pregnant when he died. My mother moved back home to her parents before I was born. Then my grandparents died when I was a very little girl, so I don't remember them well. Andrew Pruitt moved to New Bedford from Plymouth. His first wife had died in childbirth; their baby didn't live but a few hours and they didn't have other children, so he'd been left alone, too. I think he moved here to get away from those memories. Then he met my mother."

"You never told me any of that."

"You never told me that you have three sisters and grew up in England."

"Ouch! Well, that was to keep peace around Jason. He was just furious when we left Seattle for England and thought we'd never return. As the oldest, he felt guilty that he couldn't keep our family together, even though he was just fifteen when we left. When I returned at seventeen, I learned pretty quick that it was better not to mention anything about our sisters or England around him, so I didn't. I tried to put all that in the past and move on, like he and Josh had. It wasn't easy. Of course, I thought about them; I just kept my thoughts to myself."

"I see," said Candy. "I had just turned four when my mother married Andrew Pruitt. His father, Benjamin Pruitt – whom you met – soon moved to New Bedford from Plymouth, too; that's when he started calling me "Poppet." My parents thought it would make us a closer new family to all have the same last name, so my stepfather adopted me. I didn't mind, since I'd never even seen my father. That's why there's such a big gap between my age and Molly and Christopher. My mother had several miscarriages before they were born."

"I'd wondered about that," Jeremy said. "They're really your half-sister and -brother."

"Yes, but we never thought of each other that way."

"Like we never thought of Jason as a half-brother, although he had a different mother who died right after he was born in Scotland. Did you have freckles when you were a kid, like Molly and Christopher?"

"Some, though I think they got a double-dose."

They smiled, feeling "together" again.

"Could you love my children as if they were your own?" Jeremy asked, taking the final risk.

"What are you saying?" Candy half-whispered, her blue eyes wide.

"Candy, I'm only here for a short while and we live on opposite sides of the country, so I don't have time or opportunity to start all over with courting you. I know that we loved each other in the past and I thought we had a strong relationship. I still love you and want to marry you, as I once did, if you feel the same and if you can accept and love my children by Marta. Clara doesn't remember her mother and I doubt Ian remembers much, so they would probably come to think of you as their mother in time. I will tell them about Marta, though, when they're old enough to understand what happened. I owe them that and I owe Marta that. Can you accept that situation?"

"I can. I remember that you were once willing to accept me with a little sister and brother to raise – who are still with me, in fact. I guess this makes us even."

"Well, Molly and Christopher were past the age of four even then, so you may be getting the worse deal."

"I can handle that."

"Oh, you can?" Jeremy looked mildly amused.

"Yes, I can. Molly and Christopher were both toddlers at the same time before I left New Bedford. I've learned how to manage toddler fits."

Jeremy smiled warmly. "I really don't see a point in pretending that we've just met, do you?"

Candy shook her head slowly and Jeremy pulled her toward him. They embraced and it felt both like a blessed new beginning, but also like the best part of their past. They exchanged several lingering kisses and Jeremy's hand slid down Candy's side, grasping her hip as he had never done before. Candy drew back. "Jeremy!" His eyes opened, dilated with desire. "What?" he whispered, confused. She stared mutely at him, unable to think how to phrase what she was thinking.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, suddenly realizing what she meant. He snatched his hand from her hip and blushed a deep red. "I'm s-s-orry. I'm not used t-to…."

"Stopping?" she supplied with a raised eyebrow and an amused half-smile.

"Yeah, I g-guess. I apologize. I meant no disrespect."

"Apology accepted."

They laughed, tinged with mutual embarrassment.

"Changing the subject," Jeremy said, clearing his throat, "do you think Molly and Chris will want to return to Seattle?"

"I don't think they've really forgiven me for returning here," Candy admitted – for the first time.

They told Molly and Chris about their re-engagement that night. Molly was overjoyed, pronouncing it a fairy-tale ending. Christopher was quiet, Jeremy observed.

After dinner, Christopher asked Jeremy to help him locate a leak in the roof of the washroom annex to the house. After they found the leak and Chris made a list of the things that Jeremy said they needed to mend it, Jeremy sat down on a bench against the outside wall of the annex and asked him, "Are you okay with me being engaged to Candy again?"

Chris looked down a moment and then asked, "Why did you break up with her all those years ago?" He sank down to sit on the far end of the same bench to listen.

"Not to quibble over details, but Candy broke up with me."

"Why?"

"She had problems with my being Catholic. She hadn't known until that day when there was that scene in the church, if you remember it."

"I remember, though I didn't understand what it was all about. Why didn't she know?"

"Well, there was only the one church in Seattle at the time and that was where everyone attended who went to church at all. I never thought that my history made any difference – or her history. We'd been sitting beside each other in church for more than a year by then."

"And then you married Marta."

"Yes."

"Who was she?"

"I met Marta in school in England when we were both seven years old. I guess you could say she was my childhood sweetheart, but she was also a good friend. We knew each other almost nine years as kids. I fancied that I would marry her someday."

"Why did you break up with her?"

"We didn't exactly break up. Her father hoped to marry her off to a man with money and social connections – which certainly wasn't me. I could sense that he didn't like me. He had me deported from England on false pretenses and shipped off to the States. I was almost sixteen and knew I couldn't return to England, so I decided to head for Seattle and make a new life with my brothers."

"I thought you had sisters in England."

"They were all in France by then. My oldest sister, Julie, had married and lived in France with her husband and my younger two sisters had gone to live with them after our great-aunts died."

"Why didn't you go to France, too?"

"I was within two months of finishing secondary school in England when our great-aunts died and my younger sisters moved to France. Julie, my oldest sister, was just about to give birth to her first baby and her husband Philippe was in a great hurry to get her home to France before that happened. Our plan was for me to finish school and then go live with them. I didn't have any opportunity to contact them when I was being deported or I'm sure they would have come to get me or wired money to book passage to France; I was just put on a cargo ship with nothing but the clothes on my back, which then headed for Jamaica. It was a bad experience. By the time I got to New Orleans, I thought I was lucky to be alive. I had no money and no way to get to France, so I just decided to make for Seattle and ran for it."

"Will you tell me more about it?"

"If you want, but I don't want to go into all that right now. It still bothers me."

"Okay. Some other time."

"Alright. So, you're good with me being engaged to Candy again?"

"Yes. I always liked you. Thanks for telling me more about what happened."

"Sure thing. And are you good with moving back to Seattle? If you want to study law, we can find out how to make that happen."

"Alright. I liked it in Seattle. Life here is pretty dull."

"Well, Seattle's changed a lot, but I live in that same cabin that I built for us years ago, thinking we four would all be living together. Do you remember it?" Christopher nodded. "It's just that my two little kids will be there now. I'll warn you: they can be a handful at times. And some of my relatives live on the same property in two other cabins. We share a large barn and a garden and help each other out, so it's not so private, but we actually like it that way. I hope you can like it, too."

"I will," Chris stated confidently and smiled at him and Jeremy felt that they had crossed a hurdle.

"Good!" Jeremy clapped him on the shoulder. "Think we can repair this leak in the next few days before it rains again?"

"Yeah, I'll get the things you said we need at the store tomorrow."

Chapter 21: Crossing Thresholds

Jeremy invited Candy into town for lunch the next day. Afterward, he suggested, "Let's get you an engagement ring and make it official."

"Do you still have— ?"

"No. I sold it to a man who was leaving Seattle, planning to get engaged to a girl back home. I was hurting a lot at the time. I didn't like looking at it and being reminded."

Candy suddenly realized that her old engagement ring would also have reminded her of their break-up spat, which she had initiated. Perhaps a different ring would be better. "I understand," she said.

They walked to a local jeweler and Candy selected a ring which didn't resemble her first one at all. Jeremy bought her wedding band as well, since they would be needing it soon.

A few days later, Jeremy entered the kitchen's screen door of the Pruitt home without knocking, laden down with packages from the grocer.

"Hey," he greeted Candy. "Here're the things you wanted. I thought the new lettuce looked nice, so I got some of that, too." He eased the parcels on the table and began opening them, adding "I got our tickets to Boston and received a wire from a contact at the Boston Teachers College, agreeing to announce our meeting to their students."

"Good," Candy replied, turned pieces of chicken in a frying pan on the stove and then moving to help him. Her new engagement ring sparkled on her left hand, catching his eye.

"Your hands are shaking," Jeremy observed. "Something wrong?"

"I've just been thinking about the trip to Boston, the move, trying to sell the house, and getting married. There's so much to do! What if your family doesn't like me?"

"I doubt that'll be the case. Half of them know you already and liked you before."

"Everything is different now. Lottie's gone. Biddie won't be my maid of honor…."

"I think Biddie lives in Tacoma. We could send her a wire, if you want."

Candy gazed at him and didn't reply, near-panic shining in her eyes. Jeremy noticed and pondered a moment. He recalled the time when Candy nearly had a panic attack over merely attending someone else's wedding and the time when she got emotionally worked-up over meeting his Uncle Duncan, which had turned into a fiasco. He also remembered wondering ten years ago if Candy's nerves had prompted her to break up with him in a case of pre-wedding jitters, rather than any real substance. He didn't want to risk that happening again.

"Lookit," he ventured. "I believe too much thinking is tearing up your nerves. Why don't we just do something simple instead?"

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just have a very small, simple wedding here. Molly and Christopher can stand with us, even though we'll need some older people to sign as legal witnesses. Maybe Chris could still be my best man and Molly could attend you. We could go to the magistrate or something."

"You don't want your family present?"

"Candy, my family is 3800 miles away and they alone would fill up the Little White Church as you remember it. We can have a party or something with them when we're back in Seattle."

"I… I still have the dress I made."

"Then wear it. I have a very nice suit from when I was Pellan's best man; I'll wear that. It'll be fine. And it'll be easy and low-pressure, so there's no reason to get worked-up."

"That doesn't bother you: to get married here?"

"No, it's perfectly fine with me. Does it bother you?"

"I… No."

"Do you want a larger wedding?"

"No. I mean, I don't have the family and friends I once had. It will have to be a very small wedding on my side, at least."

"So, a small wedding here is okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay, next question: Where do you want to get married around here?"

"I'd really like my pastor to preside at my home church, but I don't know if you— "

"That's fine."

"He's Presbyterian."

"Fine."

"You don't mind?"

"As long as neither of you cares that I'm Roman Catholic or insists that I convert."

"No."

"Well, let's go to see him and, if he agrees, then we'll get married when we return from Boston. Do they have to publish the banns?"

"I think they just make one announcement a week or two before."

"Alright. That should work."

Candy seemed to accept the new idea and was silent for a moment. Then she said, "May I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything."

"If we had been married when Marta came to Seattle, what would you have done?"

Jeremy drew a breath and sat down at the kitchen table to carefully state his reply. "In the first place, I don't think that would ever have happened. Pellan sent a telegram to find out if I was married before they booked passage from London."

"Oh."

"In the second place, I understand what marriage vows mean; I understood then, too. If we'd been married then, I wouldn't have dumped you for Marta or anyone else. And in the third place, if Marta was still alive, I would never have come here to visit even if we're just grand old pals. I wouldn't do anything which would even appear to be unfaithful to my wife, even if I was on the other side of the country and she didn't know what I was doing. You could have guessed what my situation is now when you saw me walking up the lane a week ago."

"I see."

"Candy, please don't be jealous of Marta. I wish you two could have known each other. Maybe you would never have been friends because of me, but you are both fine, smart, strong women who have brought out the best in me. I like to believe that you two could have liked each other."

"You do?"

"I don't know what either of you saw in me, but I know I'm a better person for having been with both of you at different times in my life."

Candy nodded slightly, feeling reassured.

Jeremy continued: "Candy, I don't know why things happen in life – why my parents died so young and then my family split to grow up on two different continents. I don't know why I loved Marta and lost her and then loved you and lost you, and then got back with Marta, but lost her again – and now I'm back with you! But I have seen good things come out of pain: my great-aunts' generosity and sacrifice to help my sisters and me and much, much more. If some of the bad things hadn't happened, we would never have met other people who helped us and who came to mean so much. Or children be born. Have you noticed that, too?"

Candy nodded.

Jeremy said, "Julie once told me that she fell in love with Philippe on the day they met. She told him the story of our three parents and he said that he found that a better story than some fairy tale for children, where everything is perfect. Philippe told Julie that he thought that when people, like our mom, proved to be stronger and more generous than they may have thought they could be in mending broken, unideal situations – like marrying my widowed father when Jason was a baby – it shows a special, mature kind of love and the best that people can become in this life. Julie said that Philippe's words revealed that he also had that same kind of mature, generous heart, even though he was only eighteen at the time – and she loved him for it."

Candy nodded again, saying, "I hope I can be that kind of good and generous person."

"Well, and I hope I can, too. I know our situation isn't perfect, but I think we can manage it, working together. And the way things happen not as we might wish or predict, well, sometimes all you can do is laugh and say, 'I guess this is the way things were meant to be.' And they might even be better. For whatever I've suffered since we were together in the past, I also know I'm more mature and even-tempered than I was when I was engaged to you before – and that's better for you and Molly and Chris."

"I think I could say the same for myself."

"Then let's look on the bright side of our situation and count our blessings."

"Yes. I agree."

The next afternoon, Jeremy said, "You know, this is all coming together remarkably well." He was peeling and cutting up carrots in the old Pruitt kitchen. "I do think we shocked Reverend Morton this morning, though."

"Well, I had mentioned you to him in the past, so I guess he knows now that I didn't make you up out of my head."

"I'm looking forward to our trip! I've never been to Boston."

"You should see the historical sites and Plymouth, too. It's near Boston."

"I want to, if we have time."

Jeremy added the carrots to the stock for the stew and began peeling potatoes.

"You did most of the cooking for your brothers in the past, didn't you?" Candy asked.

"Yeah. They didn't like to cook, so I took it over." He chuckled. "I guess that's not really 'what a man is expected to do' in their minds, but what helped me with that was Philippe."

"'Philippe'?"

"Julie's husband. Before they married, he used to come over and hang out in my great-aunts' kitchen to be with Julie. He would always help out: cooking and washing up. He was a role model for me at that age. If he knew how to cook and would cheerfully help clean up, I saw it as something a boy could do and not feel ashamed that it was 'women's work.' I later learned that there are famous chefs in France who are mostly men. I found I rather enjoy cooking. Of course, I had to put up with Josh's insults to my cooking, which I knew was not that bad. And it's different cooking with kids. When they complain that they don't like something, they may truly not like it or maybe they're acting spoiled. Then you're in a pickle to either decide what else to make them in a hurry or how to deal with a tantrum. Or both at the same time."

"That sounds familiar."

"I know it does. I remember when Molly and Christopher first came to Seattle. You had your bad days with them." Jeremy paused a minute, then said, with a rush of warmth, "You know, every day that passes, I remember you."

"What?"

"It's like … learning to do something, like swimming. And then you don't do it for a long time and you forget it. Then maybe you fall off a boat or something and think, "Oh, no!" when you land in water, but then your body sort of 'remembers' – more than your mind – and you are like 'I remember how to do this. I remember this.' That's what I'm feeling about you. Every day it feels more familiar to be back with you. It's more emotional than mental – if that makes sense. It feels good."

"I understand that, too," Candy smiled. "It feels more comfortable now."

Jeremy and Candy took a train to Boston and posted notice at the Boston Teachers College of the recruitment meeting. Then they spent three days sightseeing in the area (including Plymouth) before the meeting took place.

Jeremy presented Seattle's situation eloquently and sincerely to the student teachers who attended the meeting. Candy thought that Jeremy made a better presentation than Jason had so long ago, since Jeremy didn't come across as glib and untrustworthy. Candy also spoke to the teachers a few minutes about her experience as a 'Bride' recruited to go to Seattle. Sixty-two soon-to-be graduates signed up!

"Pierre will be delighted, if they all follow through," Jeremy remarked to Candy after the meeting ended. "He hoped we'd get fifty and I think he doubted that we would."

"I was impressed with you. You did so well!"

"…'and didn't stutter once'?"

"No, you didn't."

"I've improved in some ways, I guess."

"Yes, you have."

They held another meeting with their recruits the next evening to forge the details for the cross-country trip in three weeks. Jeremy bought all the necessary tickets for their 66 passengers and telegraphed his success to Pierre with an approximate arrival date. Then he and Candy took the train back to New Bedford to pack up … and get married.

Candy had put her family's homestead on the market just before they left for Boston. When they returned, she was surprised to learn that she already had a few inquiries. One was a young family moving to New Bedford from Pennsylvania for the father's new job. They were quite pleased to find that Candy was willing to sell the house with most of its furnishings, so they would not have to pay to ship furniture or have the additional expense to furnish the house. Plans were made to hold the closing a few days before the wedding.

Candy unpacked the wedding dress she had made more than ten years before and aired it out for a few days prior to the wedding. She reverently touched the yards of lace again, saying to Molly, "I'm glad I can still wear this. I hope it doesn't look too out-of-fashion."

"Oh, I think it's beautiful and you'll be beautiful in it!" Molly enthused.

"You don't think I'm too old to wear a lacy, white wedding dress?"

"No – and who cares what anyone thinks? It's your first wedding. You're not a widow, which would be different. I did think that I'd be the flower girl at your wedding, though – not your maid of honor!"

"So did I!"

They laughed together at the difference ten years had made.

"And I never imagined I would be marrying a widower," Candy added, somewhat ruefully.

"Maybe Jeremy never thought that he'd be a widower when he married you, either. I still think it's just so romantic that he came here to find you," Molly declared dreamily. "He took a big risk in doing so. I'm glad you two got back together."

"I am, too. I'm … grateful … for a second chance with him. He's a good man – maybe even better now than when we were together in Seattle."

"I think so, too. He seems … stronger. More steady, maybe. And a little sad, but I think you can cheer him up."

Molly and Candy helped each other dress in the morning of Candy's wedding day: Thursday, May 1st.

"You have all your things packed for your trip to Boston?" Candy inquired again, nervously.

"Yes, except for that one crate that you said you'd ship with the household things. You don't need to worry about me."

"Right. I just hope I haven't forgotten anything. Even having a tiny wedding like this, I'm still afraid I'm forgetting something terribly important."

"Jeremy would say you're fretting again. Anyway, I'm the one leaving town after the wedding and not coming back, while Christopher stays at his workplace for a week and then helps you pack up. You just have to think about getting to the church today."

"That's true."

Candy looked at her reflection in her dressing table's mirror as Molly pinned the veil in her hair and draped it over her face. "I guess this is as good as it gets," Candy sighed.

"Why do you talk like that?" Molly chided. "You look very good indeed! Now let me just pin on my hat and we'll go."

"Here's the ring," Jeremy directed Christopher Pruitt. "Put it somewhere you won't lose it and can reach for it easily."

After a second's thought, Christopher put the ring in the small right pocket of his waistcoat.

Jeremy smiled, thinking to himself, 'Chris looks sick with nerves, perhaps like Candy may look at this very moment.' Jeremy squeezed his shoulder and assured him (as he had Candy), "It'll be fine." Christopher nodded blankly, without smiling. Jeremy found it amusing that the Groom was reassuring the Best Man, who seemed to be in far more fragile condition.

They were joined on the church steps by Rev. Morton and made small talk while they waited in the pleasant spring sunshine. Jeremy couldn't resist glancing up the street frequently until he spied the Pruitt buggy approaching. "That's them." He unboxed the flowers he'd obtained from a florist.

The buggy rolled up to the church steps and Christopher tethered the horse to the rail at the watering trough. Jeremy helped Molly down from the buggy and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, giving her a corsage. "You'd better have someone else pin that on rather than me," he advised. Molly pinned it on the shoulder of her blue dress herself. Jeremy then turned his attention to his bride, helping her down from the buggy. He peered at her teasingly, "Is that really you behind the veil, Miss Pruitt? I want to be sure who I'm marrying today." Candy affirmed so and they laughed. Jeremy then gave her the Bride's bouquet. "You are so beautiful," he stated lovingly and took her free hand. It had been a long road to this moment for them.

Rev. Morton led the wedding party up the church steps, into the sanctuary of the church, and down the silent aisle to the chancel. His wife and a few others recruited from the congregation to be witnesses rose from a front pew to welcome them. The witnesses were a little suspicious of Candy Pruitt's sudden wedding to this mysterious young man from the west, but even they could see the love and trust that shone almost visibly between them. Candy was surprised to be pleasantly focused and not the least bit nervous as she exchanged wedding vows with her long-time Beloved – and Jeremy felt the same. At the end of the brief ceremony, Jeremy lifted the veil from Candy's face and kissed her tenderly as their new life together began.

Afterward, the (now) two Bolts and (only) two Pruitts ate a fine dinner together at a local restaurant, then split up to go their separate ways. Christopher seemed infinitely more relaxed now that the wedding was over. He returned to his workplace to sleep on a cot in the storage space for a week, but was good-humored about it. The newlyweds drove Molly to the train station and saw her off to visit her old school chum Mary in Boston. Then Jeremy turned the buggy toward the Pruitt house at a slow pace while they wound down from the morning's events.

Easter had occurred a few weeks earlier on April 13th, a week after Jeremy had arrived in New Bedford. Jeremy observed, "Pellan would say that a wedding in the Easter season and on Beltane is an especially lucky day."

Candy said distractedly, "I hope Molly enjoys visiting Mary before she leaves with us and the teachers."

"You know she will," replied her new husband. "And you can have a grand time on the train, telling those teachers what they're missing in not sailing around Cape Horn to Seattle for six months on a mule boat."

"I suppose I can."

"Also, your homeplace has sold to a decent young family who wanted all the furniture we'll leave, which should be some comfort to you and spares us a horrible job of packing up and getting stuff hauled off. And, in the meantime, we get to have our honeymoon in peace before we return to Boston. No more lonely years for us!" Jeremy hugged her close, kissing her on the cheek.

"Are you going to wire your family and tell them that we're married?"

"Let's just surprise them. The second they know, they'll explode with all the usual chaos. Let's just enjoy the peace for now."

The buggy trundled on up the lane and they fell silent.

"A penny for your thoughts," Jeremy said, eventually.

"Oh, I still feel like I'm dreaming. If a little bird had told me six weeks ago that you'd show up here and we'd be married today, I wouldn't have believed it."

"Well, we didn't get married in a huge hurry, which might have been a little crazy. This feels right to me, given that we spent some years getting to know each other in the past. I don't feel like we are being reckless and impetuous."

"Yes, I agree. Maybe someday I'll come out of shock and be deliriously happy."

"I hope so – and soon. Maybe by tomorrow."

They again fell silent as the horse clopped along the dirt road, headed for home on this warm afternoon.

"Are you … nervous?" Candy ventured.

"No. Are you?"

"A little."

"About intimacy, I'm guessing?"

"Well, yes."

"I was nervous when I married Marta. It's normal."

"But you're not nervous now?"

"No. More like curious and a little excited."

"Oh."

More silence, Candy staring at the floor of the buggy.

"What's really bothering you?" Jeremy asked with a kind smile.

Candy sighed deeply, bit her lip, and then blurted: "I'm … afraid I won't please you because I'll be new at … intimacy. I may even be a coward and cry or something."

"'Coward' is the very last word I'd ever use to describe you, Candy Pruitt – Candy Bolt, I mean. I promise I'm not going to sprout horns and turn into a demon. It's just me. I'm not 'expecting' anything in particular. Surely I've earned your trust in all the years we've known each other."

"Yes," she agreed, looking sad.

"And…?"

"And I wonder if you'll be comparing me to Marta," Candy confessed.

"You've got to remember that I'm two years out of practice, so don't you expect much from me," Jeremy joked, then turned reflective. "I'm kidding you – and maybe I shouldn't. I was trying to lighten the tension, but I know it's different for a woman who is a virgin. I wish things were different and didn't involve some pain for women, but that's just the way God made women. I do really think that you're better off with me at this point, having had experience. You won't have deal so much with my nerves and ignorance."

"Ah."

He continued: "I actually think that if both of us were starting our third marriage today, we'd still feel awkward and have to get to know each other and that takes time. I've only been with Marta and we were both virgins when we got married. I haven't had affairs or been with prostitutes; you'll be just the second woman I've been with. I'm not going to attack you, force you, or be violent with you. Ever. I swear."

Candy nodded, still appearing to be on the verge of tears and staring at the buggy floor. Jeremy thought to himself, 'I've got to take it very slow and be patient with her. And forget the past, if I can.' He asked, "Are you jealous of Marta?"

"Do you still think about her?"

"Well, yes – I'll just be honest. She's part of me, Candy – part of my history, but also part of my soul. And I do also know that she's dead and has been for almost two years, so I've had time to adjust to that fact. I still suffer over the shock of her death. I may still have nightmares about it: I'll warn you! I'm sad at times and maybe I always will be but my grief isn't as raw and painful as it was at first. I think it's good for you and me that it's been two years since Marta died. I know I haven't married you on impulse or as a quick way out of grief. But I can't promise that I'll never think about her or dream about her. I want to remember her to tell the kids about their mother and for her own sake: she was a good woman and I want to honor her memory. But I do know that I'm with you now. You're a part of my soul and my history, too, and that's not a new thing or I wouldn't have come here. I'll try very hard to live in the present and future with you. That's the best that I can promise. Is that enough?"

Candy looked at him and nodded, looking slightly reassured.

"Another thing?" Jeremy ventured, wondering if it was smart to bring it up.

"Yes?"

"I don't know if you can imagine what it feels like to lose a wife. It's a horrible, jagged wound – especially if it happens suddenly, like it did with Marta. I told you that in the morning everything was fine. Then in the evening I had to go to the hospital to 'identify' her body and sign the paperwork. That's a sickening image that sticks in your mind forever, let me tell you: her lying there in the morgue, so waxy-pale and still. I didn't even get to say good-bye or thank her."

Jeremy's voice choked up, face twisted with pain. He swallowed hard, then continued: "People don't know what to say when you lose a wife. They never mention her around me – like she never existed, like they're afraid they'll upset me – when I really want and need to talk about her. It helps me to get my grief out. It would help me if you could be okay with that – if I could talk freely about Marta to you occasionally when I think of something she said or did that was funny or something that might be helpful to us – and you not think I'm comparing the two of you, living in the past, or trying to make you jealous. I'm not. I'm really not. I'm just trying to make sense of what happened and heal and move on. Does that sound sensible?"

"Yes, it does."

"Well, then, I'll do that. And if I get on your nerves, just say so and I'll stop. I don't want to wound you with my past, even if that's not my intention."

"Alright, that's fine. Jeremy, another thing: Do you want me to work when we get to Seattle?"

"Do you want to work?"

"I think I want to just be a housewife for a while, if that's alright with you. I think it would help me to settle in to being married and to being back in Seattle. It would give me time to get Molly and Christopher settled and to get to know your children and the rest of your family."

"Let's call them 'our children' now. And I'd like that. I think it would be great for all of us. Things were actually a little chaotic at times in the past, with Marta and me both working and juggling the kids and the house. And when Marta died, the kids were so little and I was just devastated. I think our nerves have been shot all this time. I haven't kept up the house like I should have; I'm ashamed of that. I haven't been functioning at my best for the past two years."

"Then that's what we'll do: make a peaceful life together."

They smiled at each other, in harmony. Jeremy kissed her hand, fingers laced with hers as the Pruitt home came into view and the horse made the turn toward the barn on its own.

"It'll be alright," Jeremy promised. "If you decide that you want to work later, there's a whole town to choose from. Not to mention that my sister Jenny may try to recruit you to work in her dress shop."

"And if we have children?"

"If you want children, we should probably get on with that sooner rather than later. I'm getting old, you know."

"I'm thirty-three. You're younger than I am!"

"Only by five months, but all the more reason to get on with it if you want children. Pellan says that things go easier with women in childbirth if they're younger than thirty-five."

"Do you want more children?"

"Obviously I did, since Marta was pregnant when she died. I wouldn't mind having more. But since the woman has all the discomfort, bother, and pain of bearing children and most of the problems of raising them while they are young, I figure it should be more your decision than mine."

"I didn't know if you just want to be married for a while – just be a couple."

"We're not 'just a couple,' Candy. We were never going to be 'just a couple' – remember? We were going to have Molly and Christopher with us. And now it's Molly and Christopher and Ian and Clara. I accepted that situation long ago."

"Does that bother you?"

"Not now. It did at first, when Molly and Christopher arrived and then we got notice of your mother's death almost immediately. I realized things had changed for us forever and I had to wrap my mind around that, but I accepted it pretty quick. I come from a large family and I'm used to having other people around all the time. Most folks have to adjust to tragedy, as my great-aunts did to take care of four of us. I figure this is my time to pass that along to others and it really makes me happy to be able to do so."

They got out of the buggy and tethered the horse at the trough. Jeremy changed out of his suit in the washroom and into his work clothes, brought to the Pruit house in his suitcase this afternoon, now that he'd checked out of the hotel. Then he headed out to unhitch, curry, and feed the horse and do other evening chores in the barn.

Candy changed out of her wedding attire and into an everyday dress in her bedroom. She went to wash her face and stopped to admire Jeremy's suit tossed over a chair in the washroom, its French label showing. She hung it up carefully in the bedroom closet so it wouldn't wrinkle. Then she pulled the flowers out of her wedding bouquet and put them in a vase with water on the kitchen table. She pulled the petals from one small rose and scattered them between the pages of her Bible to press them. She then started some chowder for their supper.

Jeremy came inside and headed to the washroom. When he came out, he asked, "What's with the pot on the floor in there?"

"Oh, when it rained last night, I put it there to see if you and Chris fixed the leak. Then I forgot to take it up this morning. The roof didn't leak."

"Oh, good! I thought we must not have got it. Thought I was going to have to spend our honeymoon up on the roof again. That's a relief! Where's my suit?"

"I hung it in the bedroom closet. It has very handsome tailoring."

"Philippe bought suits for Pellan and me before Pellan's wedding to Jess in France. They were tailored for us in a shop in Calais. I'm sure I'll never have another one like it – or another such experience of going for fittings with three French tailors fussing over me. When do I wear such suits anyway? Weddings, I guess?"

At bedtime, Jeremy donned a nightshirt and robe and perched on the edge of the double bed. He waited for Candy to arrive from the washroom, willing himself to be calm and patient. He stood when she entered, wearing a white robe and gown, edged in lace. "You are so beautiful," he stated for the second time that day.

Candy blushed and looked down, seeming shy or nervous again. "I made this for our wedding night years ago, like my dress this morning. I'm glad that I could still fit in them."

"You look much the same as you did then."

Candy again blushed and looked down.

"I didn't know which side you sleep on," Jeremy stated.

"It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter to me, either."

Silence.

"Aren't we agreeable?" he observed lightly, as one of his whimsical moods suddenly struck. "Alright. We'll both sleep in the middle and sort it out by morning."

He swept Candy off her feet, whirled her around in a full circle, and placed her in the middle of the bed. She squealed a little in surprise, but not fright. Jeremy took off his robe and tossed it over a chair, quickly lying down beside her, curled up on his side under the quilt and facing her from about a foot away.

Candy lay on her back where Jeremy had placed her, staring at the ceiling. "What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Relax and be happy," her new husband responded.

"I don't know what to do." Still staring at the ceiling, tense.

"I don't think there are any rules or schedules, if you're talking about intimacy," Jeremy stated. "We don't have to 'do' anything tonight if you don't want to. Getting married is an emotional and physical strain and you may just need to rest. It won't insult me if you do. Feel free to say what you want."

A tear trickled silently down Candy's cheek. Jeremy touched it gently with his fingertip to stop its progress. "Hey. Again: I'm not going to attack you. You don't need to be afraid of me. Whatever we do, we'll do together – and when you're ready, not before. It doesn't have to be tonight. If anyone knocks on our door tomorrow, asking what we did or didn't do tonight, I'll be the first to tell them it's none of their damn business." He chuckled, trying to lighten her mood.

She nodded and drew a ragged breath, but said nothing – still staring at the ceiling.

"Are you afraid?"

"No… Well, a little. I don't know."

Silence.

"Can I ask you something," Jeremy ventured, "to help me understand you better?"

"Alright." Candy bit her lower lip.

"Has anything ever happened to you to make you afraid of me? Or of men in general?"

Candy closed her eyes for a moment, sighed, and frowned slightly. Then she began softly: "Well, years ago, when I was almost fifteen, there was a boy named Harvey. He was about five years older than me. I think he was a distant cousin of my stepfather, who brought him here from Plymouth to do odd jobs around the farm. He made me uncomfortable, the way he looked at me. One day, when he'd been in New Bedford almost a year, he grabbed me out in the orchard. He kissed me hard and pulled my skirt up, feeling around on my backside with his free hand. He then tried to push me down, but I managed to twist away from him and ran back to the house before he did more than that. So nothing more than that happened, but it frightened me so! And then there was that business with Richard Holliday, which reminded me of Harvey in a way.

"You said nothing happened with Rafe."

"And nothing did. But he got to drinking one night and tried to kiss me that same rough way, then threw me down on my sleeping pallet. I pretended I was knocked out, hoping he would go away. I didn't know what he would do next, but I was so frightened, trying to think what I could do to defend myself. I really was terrified. But he didn't do more than that, just walked away outside the cave by himself."

Jeremy sighed deeply. "I'm sorry both of those things happened to you. I wish I could have been there to fight both of them off for you."

Candy smiled grimly. "I told Mother what Harvey did, but she didn't believe me. I think because he was a relative, she didn't want to believe it."

"That's horrible: not to be believed by your own mother."

"I always stuck very close to Mother after that if Harvey was around. I took that job at the fire station to get away from him here at the farm. I knew I'd get filthy and hoped he'd think I'd become a repulsive tom-boy."

Jeremy chuckled at the memory. "I must say, you shocked me with that. I'd never met a girl who wanted to work on engines."

Candy continued: "Harvey lived in New Bedford for a few more years, and eventually got a job at the train station, which isn't all that far from the fire station, you know. He was the real reason that I decided to go to Seattle when you and your brothers came to New Bedford. My mother and I discussed my having better prospects for marriage in Seattle, but Harvey's hanging around, leering at me if I happened to run into him in town or on the farm, was my main motivation for leaving. You and your brothers seemed like decent-enough men; I decided to take a chance, knowing I'd at least have a group of other girls as self-defense. And while I hated to leave Mother alone to raise Molly and Christopher, she emphasized to me that they were her responsibility, not mine. At least they weren't very little anymore when I left for Seattle."

"I thought you found Jason's manner off-putting."

"Oh, I did! But there was something about you that appealed to me – standing over to the side, looking like you were as concerned as I was by Jason's fast talk and trying to pull him back down to earth. You've always had that same good, honest heart that I saw from the first."

Jeremy smiled. "Thank you; I try. I also want to point out that I'm not Harvey or Rafe."

Candy nodded, eyes closed again, and half-whispered, "I know."

"Can you look at me?"

She turned her head to the left and did so, questioningly.

"I'm neither of those men, am I?"

"No."

"Who am I?"

"Jeremy Bolt?"

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Have I ever attacked you? Or been rough with you?"

"No."

"And I'm now your…?"

"Husband?"

"You sound like you have some doubts. Shall I get out our marriage certificate so you can check?"

"No, I remember the ceremony." She smiled, amused.

"Oh, good. I'm glad we've got all that straight. Well, good-night then."

Jeremy flipped over on his left side, his back to his new wife, and nestled under the quilt. Candy stared at his back, frowning.

"Are you going to sleep?"

"Well, unless you want to keep talking. Or feel more adventurous."

"I didn't think marriage was supposed to be like this."

Candy sounded angry now and Jeremy stifled a laugh while she couldn't see his face. Then he half-turned on his back toward her, asking, with exaggerated, wide-eyed 'innocence,' "What's it supposed to be like?"

Candy gaped at him, speechless. Jeremy twisted fully onto his right side toward her, asking, "Do you find me attractive at all? Physically?"

"Well, of course I do!"

"In what way?"

"Well, your eyes and your hair and your shoulders— "

Jeremy pressed his fingertips gently to her lips to stop her words, his blue eyes blazing into hers. "Let's play a game: no words. Don't tell me what you like about me. Show me." He removed his fingers from her mouth.

"What am I supposed to— "

Jeremy placed his fingertips on her mouth again. "No words. Show me what you feel. And I'll do the same. If I do anything you don't like, tell me. If you want to stop, just say and we'll quit for the night."

An hour or more later, Jeremy pulled Candy close and kissed her forehead. "Welcome to married life," he murmured with a happy sigh.

"Thank you," she giggled. "Welcome back to married life!"

Jeremy chuckled. "Thank you for that. I'm not worthy of it, but I'm grateful."

"What do you mean?"

"I appreciate the gift of your virginity – I really do – even though I can't reciprocate in kind."

"So you feel unworthy?"

"Yes."

"Jeremy Bolt! You're a good-hearted, honorable man. I think you're worthy of my gift, if you need to hear that."

"You do?"

"I do. And like you said, your being experienced probably did make it easier for me, so that was a gift you gave to me in exchange."

"Well, I hoped I could make it less horrible," he said. "No offense, but I also hope this is the last time I ever have to do this."

"What?"

"Open a woman. I don't get any pleasure from causing anyone pain, especially one I love, even knowing how much pleasure there is on the other side."

"Well, if things have to be this way, I know I would rather it be done by someone who loves me."

"And I do." Jeremy nuzzled closer. "Mmm. I do think this is the second-best thing about being married."

"What is?"

"Skin-to-skin, snuggling with the one you love: the kind of intimacy you have with no one else. Whispering your thoughts and dreams and fears with the one you trust. Drifting off to sleep, naked in each other's arms."

"It is very warm and pleasant."

Jeremy could hear the contentment in her voice and it pleased him. He added, "And otherwise, marriage is just the usual, repugnant stuff."

"What 'repugnant stuff'?"

"Oh, you know: you seeing how rough I look in the morning before I shave. Me, belching and farting and being the disgusting, backwoods lumberjack that I am."

"Jeremy!" Candy protested, laughing.

"I assure you that that is all actual fact."

"Well, women can be substandard, too."

"Really? I never noticed. Learn something new every day!"

He smiled that crooked grin again which melted her heart and held her close as they drifted off to sleep. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she replied.

Their marriage was off to a fine beginning.

"Mm! Great breakfast!" Jeremy grunted appreciatively the next morning, sucking the last fig preserves off his fingers.

"Do you want more?"

"Oh, no! I can't. I'm stuffed. I'll have some more coffee, though."

Candy poured him a cup and moved the dirty dishes to the wash pan. She poured herself another cup of coffee and rejoined Jeremy at the table. He was staring off into the distance out the kitchen window.

"What was it like for you – your first time?" asked Candy. "Or is that too private to share?"

"With Marta?" he hedged. "No … I don't think it's not too personal. However, I won't tell anyone's secrets but my own."

"Fair enough."

"Well, to understand what happened, you'd have to know how we'd been living. First of all, there was all that journey to France from Seattle with Pellan and Jess. We four shared a first-class train coach from Sacramento with sleeping-berths and I thought I would pass out from constant proximity to Marta. I don't know how Pellan could stand it around Jess either, but I guess they'd gotten used to the situation on the way to Seattle. They'd thought up a way to manage dressing so that we could be decent with each other. Pellan and I dressed and undressed in the washroom, while the women did so in the coach. We were all sort of chaperoning each other, I guess. We did room separately on the ship: guys together and girls together, which was easier on my nerves. Jess and Pellan got married in Calais and left on their honeymoon to Ireland. Marta and I went on to London and then we all lived together for a year."

"You lived together?!"

"Yeah, well, Pellan owned this little boarding house on the outskirts of town. It was an old house with a wing added on. He rented rooms to students to help finance his education and the upkeep of the house. I had a room on the men's hall and Marta was over on the women's hall where Jess had also had a room in the past; the girls had their separate washroom over there, too. When Jess and Pellan returned from their honeymoon, she moved into his larger apartment just off the men's hall with their own washroom. But there was a common kitchen and living area, so we all shared meals and chores and saw each other a lot every day. I could see the window of Marta's room across the back garden from mine and I knew when she put out her light at night. That was so tantalizing! And once Marta was in a scrape for funds while she was working her apprenticeship, so I gave her some money. It felt like being married in some ways – just without sex or sharing a bedroom. So, on our wedding night, we were both pretty pent-up from all the waiting and non-physical intimacy of the past year. We sort of … exploded – 'devoured each other,' you might say – without really intending to. It was startling and a bit frightening – for me, at least."

"'Frightening'?"

"Yeah, like your own body surprises you with powerful feelings and emotions you don't anticipate and have never experienced before. It was passionate and wondrous, but sort of shocking, too. At least it was for me. It was also funny the next morning. I woke up first and was about to sneak out of bed to go to the privy without waking her. I saw that there was clothing strewn everywhere – hers and mine. Looked like there had been a tornado – which was just about the case. It struck me funny and I busted out laughing. That's what Marta woke up to: me, looking like I'd lost my mind."

Candy chuckled at the thought.

Jeremy continued: "We didn't have much of a honeymoon since we were on the verge of moving back to Seattle. It was just two days in this little place not far from where we got married and then we had to head home and I went back to work, while Marta and Jess supervised all the packing up. But it was an amazing and exhausting two days while it lasted. I felt 'drunk' most of the time without much alcohol involved. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Yes, I think so."

Candy and Jeremy spent a fair amount of time during their first few days of married life reminiscing about their common past and catching up on their separate lives since. Somehow that added to their bonding, plus their budding intimacy. Candy was surprised how little it now bothered her when Jeremy talked about his life with Marta – even the birth of their children. As Jeremy had said, their marriage at this stage was perhaps how it was intended to be and Candy knew that she had, in a sense, chosen to allow things to evolve this way. Like her new husband, she decided that she would never complain.

Two mornings after their wedding day, Jeremy entered the kitchen door from the barn. He handed Candy a wire basket. "Here are the eggs. I rinsed them off at the pump. I'm sorry: I couldn't get into the nest of that big red hen – the one you said is your best layer. I'm not very good at collecting eggs."

"Well, she's also the most protective of her eggs," replied Candy, cutting slices of bread to toast. "Did she peck you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Let me see." He showed her the back of his hand. "Oh, she did get you! Do you want me to bandage that?"

"No, it's nothing. I don't think she would have pecked so hard if it hadn't been my third try to get underneath her."

"Well, never mind. I'll get her egg later. Get washed up. Breakfast will be ready soon."

Jeremy returned from the washroom a few minutes later. Candy remarked with a wide smile, "You know what? This is fun!"

"What's fun?"

"Being together all the time. Being married."

Jeremy smiled and nodded in agreement, hugging Candy from behind around the breakfast plates that she was transferring to the kitchen table, kissing her neck and eliciting a giggle. "Yes, it is! And being married is more fun than getting married – or maybe that's a man's opinion."

Candy laughed. "I have to agree – and that's this woman's opinion!"

They settled in to breakfast, Jeremy taking his turn in saying grace.

"I wonder why that is?" Candy pondered. "Why are women so focused on getting married that they can't see beyond 'the big day'?"

"Probably because a lot of girls haven't learned any details of what it's like being with a man – in bed, in particular – so they can't imagine life beyond the wedding reception."

"It's not so bad. It's rather nice."

"Well, then maybe parents are afraid that girls will find that out and turn into crazed sex fiends – and boys, too, for that matter."

"What's a crazed sex fiend?"

"I don't know. Grabbing just anyone off the street, maybe?"

"You think that could happen?"

"I've never felt that way. Just speculating on what people might be afraid of. Fears aren't necessarily realistic." He shrugged and Candy looked amused.

"Jeremy, thank you for giving me a second chance with you after how I broke up with you in the past."

"Oh, well, you're welcome. And you're forgiven, if you need to hear that. I'm grateful for a second chance, too. Most girls probably don't dream of marrying a widower with two little kids."

Candy half-smiled thoughtfully to herself. "I guess the reality of your kids hasn't hit me yet."

He chuckled, "Enjoy this time while you can. It's a lot quieter here in the mornings than it will be when we get back to Seattle."

He toasted his bride with his coffee cup and a warning glance.

Chapter 22: Cross-Country to Home … Again

While all this was occurring in New Bedford, on Friday, June 13, 1884, the "Apple Orchard Convention" organized in an actual apple orchard outside of Seattle. Four hundred female citizens banded together, pledging to work for reform in the city. The Bolt sisters and Siobhán Rameau attended and signed on. The new organization put out mass-mailings and literature on the "Apple Orchard Ticket" of progressive, reform-minded candidates running for office in King County. The members rang doorbells, offered child care for voters, transported old folks to the polls so they could vote, handed out brochures at the polls, and held torchlight parades like never before. Their entire ticket of sober, honest, efficient, law-abiding, reform-minded candidates was elected, except for the mayor, John Leary. Liquor licenses were revoked. Prostitutes were run out of town. A nine o'clock curfew was instigated … and the local miners, loggers, and sailors all headed out to Tacoma on Fridays to spend their paychecks on the weekends. The bottom fell out of Seattle's municipal budget with no one left to fine for their sins. (There were still no municipal property taxes.) Things had never been so 'bad' in Seattle.

The next year the same ladies tried to elect even more reform-minded candidates … and failed utterly. They couldn't comprehend such a complete reversal in civic sentiment. They had met the opposition of The (male) Powers that Be in Seattle.

"Pierre, did you see this?" Gaston Rameau asked his brother in mid-July, 1884, handing him a New York newspaper. There was an article about a colossal statue of "Liberty" given by France to the United States on the Fourth of July just past.

"No, I hadn't! Let me read it and do you mind if I pass it on to Philippe? I plan to see him tomorrow and tell him that I got another telegram from Jeremy in San Francisco. Jeremy thinks he will be back with our sixty-two new teachers early in August!"

"No, that's fine. Pass it along to him. I wonder if Jeremy will have seen that statue. Isn't New York next to Boston?"

As the sun was setting over Seattle's new Colman Dock on Saturday, August 2, 1884, Pierre Rameau walked over to Jeremy and those standing with him, holding his clipboard. "I'm so sorry. I've miscounted the number of rooms needed for our new teachers, but we'll work it out. What are your names, Miss – ?"

"No, Pierre, you just needed sixty-two." Jeremy said, turning to the older woman and saying, "This is Pierre Rameau, my brother-in-law. He's married to my youngest sister, Jenny, and is a teacher and administrator at the University. He's the one who talked me into this project."

"Mister Rameau," Candy nodded politely to Pierre with a slight curtsy, who still looked confused.

"Pierre, this is Candy," Jeremy continued. "She came to Seattle with the Brides ten years ago – was sort of their leader, really – and then she later returned to New Bedford. Candy and I dated for a few years when she lived here and were engaged, then broke up. I went to see her on this trip. We got back together – and got married in New Bedford on May First. So she's Candy Bolt now. And this is her sister, Molly Pruitt, and her brother, Christopher. I'll take them all on to my place."

Pierre was gobsmacked. "Oh! Well! Congratulations to you all! May you know all happiness!"

"Pierre," Jeremy added. "I know that you'll want to tell Jenny, but could you – and Jenny, too – please hold off telling any of the rest of the family until I've had a chance to tell them myself in the next day or two?"

"Of course, Jeremy," he promised. "And thank you again for recruiting all these wonderful teachers. Well done, indeed! It was very nice meeting you, Candy, Molly, Christopher. We'll be seeing you again very soon, I'm sure."

Jeremy, Candy, and the Pruitts ate dinner at a café near the wharf, bought some extra food to take home for their breakfast on the morrow, and then hired a horse-drawn taxi for home with their luggage, feeling tired but happy. Candy couldn't see any details in the darkness, but wouldn't have known from what she had seen thus far that she was even in Seattle as she had known it.

That same evening, some of the Bolt clan had gathered for their weekly dinner at the Du Saules' cabin. It was a reduced crowd this time. Jason was in Olympia with the Territorial Legislature and Allyn was on-shift at the hospital. Jenny was tending her own three young children and babysitting 2-year-old Jasper until Allyn got off work late. Josh and Callie's little daughter Linda had a cold and Callie, who was starting her ninth month of pregnancy, hadn't felt well enough to come over for dinner either. So it was just the five Du Saules and five O'Sullivans this night, along with Jeremy's two children and their maternal uncle Rolf Jäger. They were all oblivious of the arrival of the new teachers in town this afternoon, but knew from Pierre and Jenny that it must occur sometime very soon. Pierre and Jenny had been hovering close in town for a week to welcome them on short notice and see them to their new lodgings. Julie, Jess, and 13-year-old Lucie had given Jeremy's cabin a good scrubbing just that morning to prepare for his arrival.

"I can't believe Jon will be starting his last year of secondary school in a month and Lucie her last year in grade school," Philippe remarked proudly while Julie and Jess finished up the meal preparations. "We'll have to have a special celebration next June with two graduates in the family. And your next summer holiday" – looking pointedly at Jon – "will be very different than this one: looking for a job!"

Philippe was savoring these summer days of having his whole family together. He realized, if Jon didn't, that Jon was enjoying the last care-free summer of his life. Jon had arrived home from school in June this year two inches taller than Philippe, which had been an adjustment for both of them. "Mon petit Papa," Jon had teased affectionately several times.

"You should thank your mother. You have something in you from her side of the family that has made you grow tall, like her brothers," Philippe responded.

"And I can read now!" six-year-old Richard piped up with a grin. He had completed his first year of school and done well.

"That you can! We're proud of you, too," beamed his father, giving him a hug about his narrow shoulders.

"Where does the time go?" Pellan mused, ruffling the reddish-brown fluff on three-year-old Patrick's head as it rested against his chest while Patrick played with the chain of his pocket watch. Patrick was small for his age, but had otherwise progressed well after his rough start in life. The other children could be heard giggling in the loft, playing under 13-year-old Lucie's supervision.

"Jess, thank you for bringing this peach cobbler," said Julie. "It will round out the meal very nicely."

"I found those peaches in town yesterday. I thought they looked nice and they cooked up fast enough for our dinner tonight," replied her sister.

"I heard the Seattle Reds won the baseball championship," Pellan stated.

"Yes!" Jon exclaimed. "It's the first time they've been the territorial champions! We were there last night and saw it."

"So was I," Rolf submitted. "It was a good game."

"Seattle's coming up in the world," Pellan remarked. "Next year I'll have to manage my schedule better to get to a few games." He looked down at Patrick, wondering if he would be old enough to enjoy a baseball game next year. "Think you would like to see a baseball game?" he asked his son. Patrick nodded with a smile, though he didn't know what a baseball game was. Pellan hugged him closer. "Then we'll do it!"

"Papa, can we go camping one more time before I go back to school?" Jon begged Philippe.

"We may be able to go out to Lake Washington," his father replied, "but we're not going into the wilderness areas without one of your uncles along. You know my rule on that."

"Maybe Uncle Josh would go—"

"Remember that Callie is going to have a baby soon, plus caring for little Linda. I doubt Josh will want to leave them now or even after the baby comes, so don't ask him."

"Maybe Jon and I can take a fishing trip to Lake Washington, if no one else can go," Rolf offered. "We found a good spot that last time."

"Yes, that would be great!" Jon enthused. He relished any kind of outdoor activity.

They all enjoyed a companionable dinner and Lucie put the O'Sullivan cousins to bed on pallets in their cousin Richard's room until their parents would be ready to go home. Jeremy's children fell fast asleep in their usual beds in the spare bedroom where they had slept for over two years now. Rolf and Jon made tentative plans for a two-day fishing trip and Rolf took his leave, returning to town.

Jon, Lucie, and the four adults lingered around the table, digesting their peach cobbler and chatting. Suddenly there came a knock on the door and Jeremy opened it himself, calling out, "Anybody home?" They all exclaimed at the sound of his voice and jumped up to greet him as he rounded the corner from the entry way.

Jeremy had a broad smile and vigorous hugs for everyone, but there were two women and a young man who had come in behind him and stood silently while he greeted his kin: a very pretty young woman with blonde hair and another one who was her elder with auburn hair, as had the young man. Pellan recognized the older woman and his face froze, guessing who they were.

"Everyone, this is Candy," Jeremy announced with a grin. "She came here with the first group of Brides – Pellan, Jess: you remember her from your first visit here – and she came back with me and the new teachers. We were engaged in the past and got together again when I got to Massachusetts this time. And now she's … my wife!" he finished with a flourish. "We got married on May First in New Bedford. And this is her sister, Molly, and brother, Christopher – now all grown up."

Everyone was stunned into total silence for a long, awkward moment by this shocking announcement. Philippe recovered first, stepping forward with extended hands. "Welcome, my new sister," he said warmly, giving Candy a kiss on each cheek in the French manner. Julie followed him forward graciously and gave her new sister-in-law a hug. "Welcome to the family, Candy. Molly, it's nice to meet you – and Christopher, too. Welcome."

Pellan stated curtly, "I need some air" and swiftly strode from the house on his long legs without greeting Candy or her siblings. Jessica gaped after him for a moment, then responded to Philippe's 'cue' of a commanding frown and quick sideways tilt of the head, stepping forward almost as if she was back in "Philippe's Finishing School" in Calais, welcoming the newcomers with a perfunctory smile and hugs which she did not really feel. Candy and the young Pruitts felt the awkwardness, though the Du Saules tried hard to compensate. Jeremy felt it as well.

"I thought you'd be more welcoming," he remarked, pointedly.

"Jeremy, that's not fair. We're just very surprised, that's all," Julie chided. "And happy for you both, of course." Julie hoped that didn't sound like an afterthought. "Have you eaten?"

"We got dinner in town, knowing you weren't expecting us."

Pellan didn't return. Jeremy looked in quietly on his sleeping children, inviting Candy to peep in as well. Then he, Candy, and the Pruitts left for their own cabin. Philippe escorted Jess and her children home with a torch, carrying the still-sleeping Patrick in his free arm.

"Did you find Pellan?" Julie inquired upon Philippe's return.

"No, and I didn't look for him," Philippe replied. "He's a grown man; he can find himself and go home to apologize to his wife. It's probably best that I didn't run into him just now. I'm not sure that I could be very courteous."

"I guess he'll come around. I'm still in shock, myself. I don't know when I've been just shocked silly by something. But it's a good thing, I think. Jeremy has seemed so lost and empty these past two years since Marta died. He looks much happier and relaxed now."

"Yes, I noticed. I hope it will turn out well with Pellan. Let's invite Jeremy and them over for dinner tomorrow and try to redeem ourselves."

"Yes, my thoughts exactly."

Jeremy apologized to Candy and the Pruitts as they walked over to their cabin by light of a torch supplied by Philippe. "You were right, Candy. I should have wired them about our marriage to prepare them and spared all of you that little scene. I had no idea Pellan would act that way."

Candy said nothing but made a sympathetic 'mm' noise. Molly and Christopher were also silent.

"Molly, I'll get you a bigger bed," Jeremy said, opening the door. "Can you make do in Ian's bed for a few nights, curling up a little?" He opened the door to Ian's bedroom and its bare mattress. "There are sheets in the drawer of the chest."

"Yes, it's not all that small. I can make up the bed."

"I'll get you a bigger bed on Monday when the stores open. And Chris: can you make do with a pallet in the loft? I'll get you a real bed on Monday as well, I promise."

Of course, Christopher agreed and they all began to settle in. Jeremy's children remained asleep at the Du Saules' cabin as they had every night for over two years, unaware that they now had three new family members.

Pellan came home before midnight, damp from misting rain and looking exhausted. Jess observed his distress and held her tongue from venting her anger and concern. "Where have you been all this time?" she asked, as lightly as she could manage.

"I don't really know," he said, dropping into a hard chair by the fire and rubbing his face. "Walking around on some back roads. Got a little lost for a while – the rain didn't help – but I found my way back."

"I'm glad that you weren't shot by someone who thought you were a prowler or a bear. That tonight was poor behavior for you."

"I know, I know," he said wearily, running his fingers through his wet hair. "I shouldn't have walked out, but I was afraid I would blurt out something that would have been worse if I'd stayed."

"Exactly what are you feeling?"

"A lot of stuff. Shock at Jeremy's idea of a 'delightful surprise.' That's the girl who dumped him, after all! Suppose there'll be another family brawl now over Catholics and Protestants? If I relished that, I'd have stayed in Ireland. It's bad enough that we go to different churches here; I can tell Jason doesn't like it. And what are they going to do – go their separate ways on Sundays? What about his kids? We're their godparents! They've been raised Catholic up to this point."

"Don't you think that Jeremy will have discussed things with Candy before they got married? I don't see him taking no thought for his children before remarrying. And if he and Candy loved each other in the past enough to be engaged – and her coming into the care for her little sister and brother at that time – might it not have been easier for them to get back together if they found they still love each other? It may not be such an impetuous thing for them, however it feels to us right now."

"I don't know. Maybe I'll feel less agitated tomorrow – think clearer."

"I think you need to apologize to Candy. And Molly and Christopher, too."

"I will, I will. Tomorrow. I promise."

Pellan sounded so drained that Jess dropped the subject. "Let me get you a towel and make some hot tea."

The next day was Sunday. Philippe took Jon and went to early mass at Our Lady of Good Help. Ordinarily he took anyone wishing to go to mass from the O'Sullivan and Bolt households with his own, but he didn't feel inclined today until all tensions were ironed out from the night before. And there was another event to occupy his thoughts today: Lucie had become ill with her first menstrual period. 'To think that my little girl is now old enough to have children!'

Julie stayed home with Lucie, Richard, and Jeremy's children, then left Lucie to feed the younger children breakfast while she stepped out to check on her family-neighbors. She went first to the O'Sullivan cabin and learned that Pellan had come home late and that all was well. Jess stated that she hoped Pellan didn't catch cold from walking around at night in the rain and she was letting him sleep in. Julie requested her help to prepare another family dinner that night to welcome the newlywed party. Then Julie walked on to Jeremy's cabin while Jess made ready to take her children to Julie's for the day, leaving a note for Pellan once he awoke.

After an early breakfast, Jeremy rode out alone to visit Josh and Callie and then Allyn. "I hate to leave you three here by yourselves," he said to Candy as he left, "but after last night, if anyone's got anything to say, they can say it to me."

Candy wandered around their cabin, making note of what she needed to do to start up housekeeping and composing a very long grocery list of what was needed for cooking. Molly and Chris helped her with unpacking and organizing the things they had brought from New Bedford. Then Chris announced that he wanted to explore the huge barn and left out the back door. Though the windows and curtains were freshly washed and the cabin had been aired out, swept, and smelled freshly-cleaned, it still had the feel of long-term neglect.

"Perhaps we can hang some lavender about to freshen the air," Candy remarked to Molly just as there was a knock on the front door. Candy opened it to find Julie, asking, "May I come in?"

"Of course!" Candy invited and stood aside. "Please do."

"Thank you," she said. "I brought you this. It isn't so much a wedding present as a welcome-home gift. Your wedding present will need to arrive a little later, since you two took us by surprise."

She gave Candy a parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, which Candy opened to find eight new placemats and matching napkins.

"I made those for Jeremy, knowing he'd needed some extras for how the children spill things at their age," Julie explained. "I've kept hoping they would eventually move back in with him and I guess that's now possible with your arrival. Good morning, Molly. How are you today?"

Molly nodded a greeting to Julie and said "Fine," joining them at the kitchen table.

"Chris went over to look at the barn," Molly supplied. "It's an unusual style and so large!"

"Yes, I guess you could call it Franco-Prussian architecture, if that's a thing. We all share it." Julie continued: "I want to apologize for last night. You must think we don't have very good manners."

"No, I don't think that at all," Candy declared. "I asked Jeremy after our wedding if he was going to wire you to share our news, but he thought it would be fun to surprise you. I felt it might come as more of a shock. but I used to argue rather freely with him in the past and I didn't want to start out our marriage arguing, so I didn't say anything more about it."

Julie laughed light-heartedly. "I'd forgotten the days of being newly-married and not arguing. Those days were long ago for Philippe and me."

"I'm sorry that we shocked you," Candy continued. "Will Pellan be okay, do you think?"

"Oh, I'm sure he will. He came home to Jess last night and apologized. Give him some time. Pellan doesn't do well with surprises … and Jeremy actually did a similar thing when he married Marta."

"He did?"

"Yes. He and Marta planned their wedding secretly. We – my part of the family – had come over from Calais to London to celebrate Pellan and Marta completing their medical training. Jeremy suggested that we take a picnic the next day to a lake. Marta was late – supposedly having something to do in town first and coming to the lake on her own – and then she arrived in a little buggy with a floral garland in her bridal attire! None of us knew what was happening until it just was! Pellan had just begun to suspect something because Jeremy was dressed a little too nicely for a picnic, even though he didn't wear a suit. But it was a total surprise for all of us that day: a nice surprise, but still!"

"Oh! He hadn't told me about that. He just said they got married beside a lake."

"Well, that's technically true. I'm really very happy that you two got back together. Jeremy has been so sad and lost these past two years. It will be good for his children to be back at home again, too, and have a mother again. And I myself will be glad to have a friend nearby. I miss my sisters since they both work in town. Jenny and Pierre have always lived in town since their marriage, now with their three children."

"We met Pierre last evening." Candy smiled, feeling welcomed and less awkward. "He was very kind and polite, but I know we shocked him, too."

Julie continued, "Oh, he'll adjust. Jenny will probably be peeved that she didn't get to plan some elaborate wedding for you, but she'll get over that, too. Molly, do you like sewing or embroidery?"

"Yes, I do!" Molly smiled.

"Well, my sister Jenny has a dress shop in Seattle and also sells hats and gloves and such. You might like to look into that place if you want to earn a little spending money for yourself and meet other people in town. Jenny is quite lively and is always looking for helpers. Her shop keeps growing."

"That sounds interesting."

"I'll probably go into town tomorrow, if you want to come along, and I'll take you by Jenny's shop. You, too, Candy. You'll be amazed at how Seattle has changed. I know you couldn't see much in the dark last night. We just barely arrived in Seattle ourselves in time to see it something as you must remember it from the past. Where is Jeremy, by the way?"

"He rode off early to visit Josh and Callie and then to see Allyn," Candy reported.

"Ah, I see. Telling them about your marriage, I guess, to avoid any more outbursts. He'll probably send a wire to Jason in Olympia, I assume."

"Yes, I think he means to," said Candy. "Jeremy pointed out some changes in Seattle on the way out here in the taxi last night, but it was hard to make out. I'm making a very long list of groceries and things that we need to get started in housekeeping here."

"Oh, of course! We'll take the wagon and get all that in town tomorrow. I hope that you don't mind having little ones along? I've been keeping Jess' children for her while she works at the hospital some days and, you know, schools are still on summer holiday. We'll have Lucie along to help keep the children in tow."

"No, we love children, don't we, Molly?"

Molly nodded agreement.

"Which reminds me," said Julie, "have you had breakfast? You may not have any food here since you just arrived…."

"Yes, we brought some extra food from the café where we ate dinner last night."

"Well, come on over to our place and we'll put together a light lunch when Philippe and Jon get home from mass. Then we'll all have a nice dinner with Jeremy and the O'Sullivans later. Well, I need to get back. Lucie was feeding the children and she and I will need to get them cleaned up and presentable."

"Thank you. Do you need help?"

"No, let me talk to Jeremy's children a bit, to prepare them to meet you. We'll see you in an hour or two."

Candy knew that it might be awkward to meet Jeremy's children. She'd been secretly dreading it and hoped that they could transition them back home easily.

Josh and Callie were glad to see Jeremy again and to hear his news. "Oh, I'm so happy for you! I love Candy! I'm so glad she's back in town!" exclaimed Callie. "I can't wait to see her!" Josh agreed.

"And I'm happy for you, too, adding another Bolt to the family very soon," Jeremy said as he rode off. "See you tomorrow at the camp, Josh. I'll be a little late. I'm going into town first to get some beds delivered for Molly and Chris. She's sleeping in Ian's little bed at the moment and he's on the floor in the loft."

Jeremy rode back into town and found Allyn Bolt at home with little Jasper, both just waking up since they had gotten home late. He told her his news, too, and she also cheerfully offered him congratulations, having known Candy well in the past. He stopped by the telegraph office and sent a wire to Jason in Olympia, then headed for home. Pellan was the next on his list of people to see this Sunday and he wasn't looking forward to it.

Pellan moved slowly at home after waking up, finding Jess' note that said that she and their children were gone to the Du Saules' cabin. He felt (and looked) like he was hungover, although he wasn't. He ate a bun and jam for breakfast and was preparing to shave and dress when a firm knock came on the front door. He guessed who it was. Jeremy greeted him abruptly when he opened the door with "We need to talk."

Pellan sighed deeply and moved aside, running his fingers through his tousled hair. "Come on in."

Jeremy did so and took a seat, leaning forward on the wooden chair by the fireplace across from where Pellan dropped down heavily into his usual easy-chair. For a minute, neither said anything, though Jeremy's gaze at Pellan was very direct. Pellan, for his part, looked haggard and stared into the fire.

Jeremy finally broke the silence, saying, "I'm sorry if I shocked you with our news last night, but I thought you were a little more suave than to just walk out."

Pellan sighed again and turned his eyes from the fire to his friend. "Ouch. I know. I'm sorry. I've already apologized to Jess; I'll apologize to Candy and the others in just a bit. Give me a break here: this is … personal. Jess and I have both grieved a lot, too, since Marta died. Then you waltz in with another one of your rotten surprises."

"'Rotten'!"

"Why the hell didn't you send a wire and give us a chance to adjust before you just … show up? How'd you expect us to react? I'm glad no one had a heart attack, including me! I had to get out before I blurted something I'd regret. I can't believe you remarried so soon and without really dating. And to her! Didn't she dump you in the past?"

"It's not like we just met, Pellan. I knew her for something like five years in the past. And we did love each other then – enough to 'have an understanding' for a long while and then be engaged. I felt somehow drawn to New Bedford this time – perhaps out of curiosity or Fate, I don't know. I think I had to find out if she still cared about me before I could move on to anyone else. At the very least, I hoped she wouldn't slam the door in my face and could suggest where I could begin looking for teachers. She didn't reject me outright and I couldn't have done as well as I did in recruiting teachers without her help."

"She likes Catholics now, does she?"

"She at least tolerates us – or maybe tolerates me. That's progress."

"Hmph," Pellan grunted skeptically.

"I think Candy more than tolerates me," Jeremy stated. "We do love each other – still – if you can accept that. I should have sent a wire; I can see that now. Candy suggested it and I should have listened to her. I thought you'd all be happy for us."

Pellan was silent a long moment, then said, "I loved Marta too, you know – not in the same way you did or as I do Jess, but still."

"I know you loved her."

"You do? For how long?"

"Oh, I've known ever since you used to pick on me on the playground at the English School to show off for her. Or maybe that was a crush then, not love. Marta told me how you helped her escape when she ran away from her father at great personal sacrifice and that you made sure that she was safe and in good places, even though you were both struggling along as students. All those years when I couldn't be in England, you helped her and provided for her. I'll always be indebted to you for that. If you did any of that 'for me,' I think you also did it for her because you cared about her – no matter how much you two used to alarm Jess and me by arguing all the time."

Pellan smiled at the memory of their old arguments. "She was really my best friend after you left England. Maybe it was because both of us knew that she had no romantic interest in me. It was actually helpful to me while being Clan Head; people in my clan – especially the girls and young women – treated me with such complicated 'agendas' that I felt I could never trust them. Hell, I was kin to them, which looks like it should have slowed them down! There was none of that with Marta. I could relax with her and she badgered me into being my better self."

"She was extraordinary in many ways."

"Yes, she was. Do you still miss her?"

"Of course, I do – all the time. She's part of my soul and that will never change. But it's been two years, Pellan, and I know she's not coming back. I have to think about our two little children who haven't had their mother. I haven't been able to look after them like they need – or even have them living in my cabin – and that's broken my heart. I know Julie loves them, but I hate her having such a load of child-care all the time – no offense intended."

"No, none taken. I know something of what you feel, since Julie takes care of ours when Jess works – even though she seems to enjoy them and wants to do it. If it wasn't for our kids not knowing their cousins and other relatives, I would have built us a house in town near the hospital. But I have to say I enjoy getting out of town and away from that place at the end of the day. My job eats me alive at times and all the construction and chaos just everywhere makes me feel crazy. It's been worth the ride in and out for me to find some peace and distance out here, where there isn't a new building popping up every day and to be able to give that bit of peace and stability to my children."

"I surely know the feeling," Jeremy stated grimly. "I avoid town if I can."

Pellan sighed and continued: "I guess I knew that you would probably remarry someday and that that would be the best thing for your kids – and for you. But I hoped you would dress up and get married in church and we would all be part of it. Maybe I could have returned the favor and been your best man this time."

"We did dress up and got married in Candy's home church in New Bedford. I wore that same suit I wore for your wedding in Calais and Candy wore the dress she made for the wedding we planned here years ago."

"No picnic-wedding this time?"

"Something wrong with getting married by a lake? Or a pond?"

Pellan winced, knowing that Jeremy was referring to Pellan's outdoor wedding at Ruisseau de Saule outside of Calais. "Well, that was my bride's home and her preference."

"And Candy's home church was her preference. I really think a quiet, simple wedding there was our best option. You don't know how bad her nerves get over such things. I still wonder if that was what prompted her to break off our engagement all those years ago. I told Candy that we could have a party back here with my family."

"You know, we could do that! You two can wear your wedding clothes, so we can pretend we were at your wedding reception."

"It will be the only wedding reception that we've had; the four of us just ate dinner together after our quiet wedding in the late morning in New Bedford and then went our separate ways, partly to pack up and sell her homeplace to move here. And I have to say, I thought it was a mercy for me to be 3800 miles away from here. How could I have chosen a Best Man between you and my brothers without two people being insulted?"

"Hmm. I see your point. Well, we'll give you a reception here with music – and it will be lots more fun than those punch-and-cookie affairs! Again, I apologize for my behavior last night. Jess was nicer to me than I deserved when I came home. I'll get cleaned up and go apologize to Candy in a bit. And to Molly and Chris. They've grown up! Wow! I remember taking his tonsils out when he was just a little guy. Makes me feel old. Julie and them have invited us all over for dinner again tonight – did you know? – hoping I'll behave better this time, I guess."

"Good. Thank you. And again, I'm sorry about shocking everyone last night. I'm out of practice with being married. I need to start listening to my wife again. Things go a lot smoother that way."

They both laughed in agreement.

Later on, Pellan eased in the Du Saules' cabin and quietly took a seat near the fire while everyone else swirled around, busily arranging dinner. A plate of cheese appetizers appeared before him as he stared into the fire. He looked up to see Candy, offering it to him.

"Is it poisoned?" Pellan inquired.

"No," Candy smiled. "I wouldn't do that to you even if I knew how."

Pellan took a piece. "If it is poisoned, I deserve it." He lifted the cheese in a sort of toast to her and bit off a corner. "I am truly sorry for my behavior last night."

"You're forgiven," she stated kindly. "I was afraid that our arrival, unannounced, would shock people."

"It shocked me, I confess. Someone probably told you that I don't like surprises. I don't handle such things well."

"We've all done that at times, myself particularly. It's good to be forgiven and have a second chance."

They both knew that Candy was also talking about breaking up with Jeremy. Pellan smiled compassionately at Candy and nodded agreement.

"Jeremy has told me many tales about what a good friend you've been to him over the years since you were boys in school," Candy stated.

"That's very mutual. He had less reason to be friends with me, given how things started out."

"You mean the fight on the school playground?"

"Yes!" Pellan chuckled. "I was a miserable kid at that point, angry at the world."

"Jeremy said you had good reasons for being angry. But you changed and made up for it."

"I did – and keep trying to be better, though sometimes I don't do well. Everyone deserves a second chance, as you say. Thank you, Candy. Welcome back to Seattle! I wish you and Jeremy all the happiness in the world."

"Thank you, Pellan."

Candy gave him a brief hug about the shoulders and returned to the kitchen area. Pellan smiled to himself, finishing his cheese, and felt less drained.

Chapter 23: Gains and Losses

Jeremy and Julie introduced Candy, Molly, and Christopher to his children that Sunday afternoon. Ian frowned and Clara didn't seem to comprehend at all, staring at the new people. Ian and Clara spent that night with the Du Saules again.

The next day was Monday and everyone resumed their weekday routines. Jeremy went into town and bought two adult-sized beds for Molly and Chris at a furniture store in town (to be delivered by the store that afternoon) and then rode on up to the logging camp. Candy, Molly, and Chris went into Seattle with Julie a little later in the morning while Lucie watched the children, then they prepared a nice dinner back at home.

Jeremy returned from work at the end of the day, feeling exhausted from the change of pace and environment, but happy to be back to a new and improved version of normal life. By prior arrangement, he stopped by Julie's cabin to escort his kids to his own cabin for dinner, hoping that this first meal at home with their new family would go well.

"What do I call you?" Ian suddenly asked Candy during dinner.

Candy glanced at Jeremy across the table, then replied, "What did you call your mother?"

"I forgot," Ian replied, looking confused.

"You called her 'Mama'," his father supplied.

"Well, maybe you could call me something that's a little different," suggested Candy. "I don't even mind if you want to call me 'Candy'."

"Can I call you 'Mom'?"

"Yes, I'd like that." Candy smiled at him, and giving a happy glance at her husband.

Ian gave her an impulsive grin, reminding Candy a bit of his father. "I like it, too," he pronounced.

Clara looked from one to the other – listening, but saying nothing in this novel situation.

"Dad, are we going to sleep here now?" Ian inquired.

"Would you like that?" Jeremy asked in turn.

"Yes. Mom makes good stew!"

"She does! And Molly helped with it, I believe."

"And we have chocolate cake for dessert!" Candy announced.

"Oh, wow!" crowed Ian.

'The way to even a very young man's heart is through his stomach,' Jeremy observed to himself with amusement. "Well, that's settled," he said with no small sense of relief. "Ian, you can help us set up the new beds after dinner and we'll figure out who's going to sleep where."

After dessert, Jeremy and Christopher moved the parts of Chris' new bed up into the loft and assembled it, then moved Ian's smaller bed into the loft by the same process. The feather mattresses were awkward to move up to the loft, but that task was accomplished between Jeremy and Christopher with some laughs – mostly from Ian, who found this new adventure very entertaining and helped as he was able. Ian was thrilled to be allowed to sleep in the loft "like a big boy" since he was old enough to be safe while using the ladder, plus he was sharing the loft space with Christopher, who looked like an adult to him.

They assembled Molly's new bed in the bedroom which had been Ian's, but which had been originally intended for her. They brought over Clara's small bed from the Du Saule cabin and put it in the small bedroom beside Jeremy and Candy's larger room, where she had slept as a baby.

Jeremy, Christopher, and Ian then returned to the Du Saule cabin and moved the children's remaining clothing and toys. Julie and Philippe watched them go from their front porch, delighted for them. Returning the children to Jeremy's cabin had been as painless as possible. They would miss them, of course, but they would see them every day on their shared property.

Jeremy tucked Ian in bed in the loft while the others were still downstairs that night.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Ian?"

"When Mama comes back, where's she going to sleep?"

"Mama isn't coming back here, Ian."

"You said she went away so God could heal her."

"I did; I remember. I think I said that sometimes people get so sick or get hurt so badly that their bodies can't be healed to be able to go on living in this world. So God takes them out of this world and gives them a new, healthy body so they aren't suffering any more. But that also means that they can't come back to their old, damaged body in this world. That's what happened to your mother, Ian. She can't come back here, but I'm sure she watches over you from the next world. I believe we'll see her again someday when we get there, too."

"What's her new body like?"

"I don't know, Ian. I've only lived in this world – the same as you. But the Bible says we'll have new bodies in the next world. We'll all find out when we get there."

"We're all going there – to the next world?"

"Yes, in time - hopefully when we are very old and our bodies are just worn out from living long, happy lives."

Ian nodded, seeming satisfied with that explanation.

Jeremy continued: "I wouldn't have married Candy if your mama was able to come back here; I wouldn't have been free to marry someone else. When I first met Molly and Christopher a long time ago, they were a year younger than you are now and their mother had just gone on to the next world because she was too sick to go on living here. Candy has raised them all these years to grow up to be strong, good people. Now they're almost full-grown and may move out before too long to start their own families. Candy isn't your mother, but I know she can love you and help you grow up the same way she has Molly and Christopher or I wouldn't have married her. And I believe that would please your mama, since she can't be here with us anymore."

"Thanks for bringing Mom to me and Clara, Dad. I like her."

Ian couldn't have said anything that would have pleased Jeremy any more at the moment. "Goodnight, Ian. Pleasant dreams. Things will get better for all of us now – I'm sure."

"Me, too. Goodnight, Dad."

The next morning, Jeremy turned his horse out onto the road toward Bridal Veil Mountain, but had to pull sharply aside as Josh came driving their family's small buckboard wagon almost too fast. Jeremy's horse half-reared in alarm.

"Jeremy!" Josh cried, reigning up sharply and looking half-wild. "Can you go on to the camp without me today? Linda's worse. We're taking her to the hospital."

"Of course," Jeremy replied, "but first I'll go back and tell Candy."

"Okay," Josh said, and drove on off with Callie and Linda. Jeremy turned his horse around and headed back home. He told Candy the news and asked her to pass it on to Julie. What Candy also did after he left was to leave the children with Molly and Christopher, get directions from Julie, and head to the hospital in a spare buggy from the barn.

Philippe was walking back to his bank from an early business meeting in Jacob Furst's new office in the opulent Occidental Hotel at Second Avenue and Yesler Way. He was startled when a buckboard wagon passed him, driving too fast in the busy street, and then turned up the hill to the hospital. As it passed, he recognized Josh and Callie and thought that something must have gone wrong with Callie's pregnancy. He jogged on to his bank as fast as he could and informed Siobhán where he was heading next. Then he began the steep climb to the hospital, only to have a buggy pull alongside him and rein in. It was Candy. "Philippe! Are you going to the hospital? Do you want to ride?"

He accepted and climbed in beside her. "What has happened? I saw Josh and Callie earlier, driving very fast."

"It's Linda and that's all I know."

Indeed, 16-month-year-old Linda had caught the influenza, though no one knew how. She deteriorated rapidly that Tuesday at the hospital. Jeremy came straight to the hospital after work and was present when Linda died at dusk. Josh seemed numb when Linda breathed her last and walked silently from the room. Jeremy exchanged glances with Philippe and followed his brother, while Philippe stayed on with the women.

Callie cried deep, racking sobs until she vomited. Candy held her, large as Callie was in her pregnancy, rocking her back and forth and saying over and over, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Allyn Bolt had stayed on past her shift and whispered to Philippe, "I know that Callie needs to cry, but try to calm her or I'm afraid she might go into premature labor with the child she carries."

Philippe arrived home late after everyone had gone to bed, waking Julie in their bedroom and telling her about Linda's death.

"Candy was a great comfort to Callie tonight," Philippe added. "They knew each other in the past; I'd not fully realized that. I'm very glad that Candy returned here before this happened. Callie seemed so glad to have her present."

The whole Bolt clan were shocked and devastated. Jon and Rolf cancelled their fishing trip. Jonathon and Lucie Du Saule were horrified by Linda's death, never having known a child to die. A tiny new grave joined Marta's in the Bolt family cemetery as they began marking out rows for sections of the family to fill in time.

Jason returned to Seattle from Olympia minutes before the graveside service for Linda took place. Afterward, walking back toward Jeremy's cabin and out of earshot of the bereaved parents, he greeted Candy with a warm hug. "Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Jason."

"Underneath today's sorrow you still look happy."

"I am happy about my own new life and you know why."

"Allyn and I will have you six over for dinner very soon."

Jason then turned aside and walked toward the family barn by himself to retrieve his horse. He was joined by Philippe, who remarked, "I see that you got a chance to greet Candy."

"Yes, it's good to see her again."

"How does Jeremy do it? Two such beautiful, intelligent, capable women as wives."

"If I knew how he's done it, I suppose I wouldn't have waited so long to be married myself. I should have married Allyn years ago."

Crises remind people that life is fragile and can be brief. Everyone tried to be especially kind to Josh and Callie. Plans for a welcome reception for Jeremy and Candy were suggested, but postponed for a while.

One evening before a family dinner, Clara said "Winda?" to Julie.

"Oh, lovey," Julie said, startled, "Linda has gone to play with God and the angels."

What else can you tell a three-year-old? Clara never asked again.

As September drew near on a cool and foggy morning, Candy cuddled Clara on her lap by the fire. They heard a knock on the door of their cabin.

"Let's go see who's there," Candy invited. She shifted the three-year-old to the floor and stood, holding out her hand for Clara to grasp. They walked together to the door and opened it to find Julie, as Candy anticipated. They were becoming close friends.

"Look, it's your Aunt Julie!" Candy observed to Clara, who smiled brightly in recognition, her free index finger briefly released from her mouth. "Come in!" Erin and Patrick O'Sullivan, ages four and three, trooped in behind Julie as she directed them to wipe their feet on the porch doormat.

"I made a coffee cake after Jess and them left with the older children," Julie stated, "and brought some for us to enjoy while it's still warm."

"Oh, it smells wonderful! Let's all have some! Were Richard and Brigid excited to go school-shopping too, even though it's not their first year?"

"Oh, yes. They love any excuse to go into town with coins in their pocket and thoughts of buying something."

"Ian was about to bust, going off to buy his first school things. I told Molly and Christopher to be sure he doesn't spend it on toys or candy."

"Jess will watch out for that, too, I'm sure. She and Lucie will have an eye on Richard and Brigid for the same reason. It was nice of Chris to drive them so we can be sure no one falls off the wagon."

"Christopher may go to the camp with Jeremy tomorrow. I think he wants to earn his own spending money."

"Can't criticize him for that. The older we are, the more spending money we need."

Julie set the covered cake on the table and Candy lifted several small plates down from the hutch. Julie seated the O'Sullivan children on books for risers in their chairs and sliced them all a piece of cake, then looked closely at Clara, sitting again on Candy's lap. "She's been having one of her teary mornings, hasn't she?" She cut a larger slice for Candy, assuming that she would feed some of it to Clara, which Candy did.

"Well, yes. I'm afraid we haven't gotten much done this morning. We just sat by the warm fire and held each other close, which was nice and cozy. We were talking about making some cookies this afternoon, though, weren't we?" she asked Clara, who nodded solemn agreement.

"After I spoil your lunch with cake?" Julie teased. "I'm glad that she's content with you."

"Yes, that's nice for both of us."

"I think she's been confused a lot in her young life. Perhaps things will improve for her now, though this month was a rough one for everyone."

"I hope so."

"Life is all about adjustments … like I have to adjust to Jon's having gone back to school again."

As it turned out, Christopher found a job in Seattle that very day at Lowman & Hanford: a merchant selling stationery, musical instruments, and other wares. It was all part of settling in, even though Candy missed him. Candy found trips into Seattle disconcerting. Jeremy had taken her to Pioneer Square and pointed out where the buildings she remembered had once stood, but it all seemed alien to her now. Jeremy also took her to the Masonic cemetery on Capitol Hill to visit the graves of Lottie Hatfield and Captain Clancey. That was a sad moment, but also gave some closure to that part of her past in Seattle.

Julie showed Candy around the downtown. Candy was delighted to encounter Ben Perkins again, but in a different and larger building. She learned that he and Emily now had three healthy children. Having Dr. Wright in town had been a great blessing to them after two stillborn children early in their marriage.

With so many small children between three households, Candy and Julie settled into a pattern of taking turns doing errands in town while the other watched the little ones and Jess often worked at the hospital. Lucie helped after school, of course, and Molly did too when she was at home. Molly had begun to work in Jenny's dress shop, sometimes bringing small projects home to work on in the evenings.

After being in Seattle about six weeks, Candy stepped out of an apothecary shop and consulted her shopping list to see where she needed to go next, hoping she remembered the way.

"Candy! Oh, Caaandy!"

Candy's eyes flew open. She knew that voice anywhere! She spun around toward the sound. "Biddie!"

They rushed together and embraced with happy tears.

"You're back in Seattle! I'm so surprised and happy to see you again!"

"Jeremy came to New Bedford and we got back together – and we're now married!"

"Well, I do declare! That is just so romantic! I heard that his first wife died a few years back. That was tragic, poor thing, and leaving little children."

"Yes. We're all getting settled in here since arriving in August and I'm trying to learn my way around Seattle. It isn't anything like it was, as you see."

"Yes, it's quite shocking."

"Jeremy told me that you married Barnabus and live in Tacoma. Are you here visiting?"

"Well, we actually moved to Seattle last week, which was what we'd wanted to do all along. Barnabus just had to, you know, 'settle things' in Tacoma first and that's all done now, plus we've been saving money for the move and a house here. I've been so busy unpacking; this is the first day I've walked out to try to find my way around."

"And who is this with you?" Candy asked, looking at the little girl who had been standing quietly beside Biddie during this conversation.

"Barnabus and I have two girls now. The oldest is named Annabelle Nelson Webster; she's in school today in first grade. 'Nelson' was Barnabus' mother's name. And this is Penelope Suzanne Webster. She turned three last month. Penelope, this is my good friend, Candy Pruitt – or Candy Bolt now, I should say." Biddie finished up with her familiar nervous giggle.

Candy leaned down toward the little girl and said "It's nice to meet you, Penelope."

Penelope made a three-year-old's attempt at a curtsy. Candy and Biddie exchanged amused glances, lips pressed together to avoid laughing.

Candy continued speaking to Penelope, "We have a little girl named Clara who is almost the same age you are. Would you like to get together with her to play someday?"

Penelope nodded.

"Well, we'll have to do that," Candy looked at Biddie for agreement and she nodded.

"Did Victor move here, too?" Candy inquired.

"Gracious, no. Victor has scarcely spoken to Barnabus since that 'incident' in court. And that was part of why everything took so long for us to move here: Barnabus has to make his own way now, but I don't think he really minds. He seems happy."

"And you're happy?"

"Oh, my, yes. Very."

"Oh, how wonderful! It's just so good to see you again!"

"And you, too! Do you know where there's a grocer around here?"

"Yes, I was just heading there now."

And off the three of them went, chattering together like old times … and making plans for new times. Before long, Candy introduced Christopher to Barnabus Webster and Christopher began to study law with him part-time, while working at Lowman & Hanford.

In late September, the long-delayed wedding reception for Jeremy and Candy finally took place, hosted by all the other Bolt siblings with Pellan O'Sullivan acting as Master of Ceremonies. Gaston Rameau had made their wedding portrait earlier in September and framed their wedding license with it to display on the wall at home after the reception.

"Oh, good! I've found all four of you together," exclaimed Julie to Jason, Joshua, and Pellan, who were chatting with Philippe before the bridal couple arrived. Julie took out boutonnieres from a small box and began pinning them on Pellan and her brothers.

"What's this for?" asked Josh.

"When we were planning, Candy said that she wanted to give a corsage to Biddie Webster, since she would have wished for her as Matron of Honor," Julie explained. "And then Jeremy said that he wanted to give a boutonniere to all three of you in gratitude that he didn't have to chose only one of you for Best Man. He said that you are all his Best Men and he thanks you for your support over the years.

"And me?" asked Philippe with a laugh as Julie pinned a fourth flower on him.

"Jeremy said that you've already been his Best Man once, but he realizes that he owes you a boutonniere. He said you are one of his Best Men, too.

Pellan had recruited as many members of the old Jug Band as he could find to play a droll rendition of the wedding march as the newlyweds and the young Pruitts entered the hall, all wearing the same outfits they had worn for the wedding in New Bedford, preceded by Ian and Clara this time, carrying garlands. Then the jug band broke out into a wild polka and the party began. With all their many friends in the area, it was a larger gathering than Jeremy or Candy anticipated, and, as Pellan had promised, it was far more fun than formal receptions. The newcomers felt warmly welcomed and blessed and very tired afterwards.

On September 23,1884, a horse-drawn streetcar line began to operate in Seattle. The downtown merchants were afraid that the new streetcars would frighten normal horse traffic (and potential customers), so Frank Osgood installed the first streetcar line on Second Avenue for a nickel a ride. Three years later, the "hayburners" were all retired in favor of electric streetcars. The lines kept expanding out into the residential communities and to the nearby lakes, which the townspeople enjoyed for recreation. The new streetcar lines enabled residential construction farther from the downtown, yet allowed citizens to quickly commute into town to work, shop, or meet up with friends for tea.

Chapter 24: Family Ties, Rain and Shine

A son was born to Callie and Joshua Bolt in October 1884, whom they named Josiah. He was generally healthy, but was born with a club foot. Whether out of continued grief over Linda's death or disappointment in now having a handicapped son, Josh found this latest blow difficult to bear. Callie was under enormous stress from childbirth, Josh's anger, and Josiah's ordinary and special needs. There were appointments at the hospital with Pellan and other surgeons, making plans to straighten Josiah's foot with a series of surgeries on the tendons. The surgeons were optimistic, but they were also clear that it would be a difficult and painful process over some years as his foot grew and developed. Josh and Callie began to argue. A lot.

One Saturday afternoon in early December 1884, the Du Saules drove Candy, the young Pruitts, Jess, and all their children into town in the large wagon for Christmas shopping and a get-together with their cousins in town. Pellan was pulling a day-shift at the hospital.

Jeremy had worked that morning at the logging camp. He was surprised that Josh didn't show up for work, but assumed that Josiah had some pressing need. When Jeremy got home in the early afternoon, he decided to split more wood for their fireplace since no one else was around. He looked up after a while to see Josh riding slowly onto the Bolt property, his horse pulling a packed travois – which was very odd. Josh spotted Jeremy and rode over in his direction.

Jeremy lodged his axe in the stump and said, "Hi, Josh. What's all this?"

"I'm sorry I didn't get up to the camp this morning. Callie threw me out."

"She what?"

"It's probably for the best. We argue all the time. It upsets the baby. Is it alright if I move back in the old cabin?"

"Well, of course: it's yours. You just letting her cool off for a while?"

"I don't know. She says she's going to get an apartment in town. Says our cabin is too far outside of town with all the doctor appointments for the baby. She says she's going to start teaching again."

Jeremy helped Josh unload the travois at the old cabin and moved some wood there to start his fire, then invited him over to his own cabin for coffee and to listen, if Josh wanted to talk. And talk he did – venting his anger and disappointment at having a son who was a cripple and how Callie always sided with the baby's needs over his and complained about his bad attitude. Josh finally fell silent, looking sullen. Then he eventually looked over at Jeremy and said pointedly, "Well?"

"Josh, I got nothin' to say."

"You side with her, then?"

"Oh, grow up, Josh! Once you get married, it's not about just you anymore and that's even more the case when you have children – especially one with needs like Josiah. You think this is easy for Callie? You both have had such a rough time with the stillbirth and Linda's death and now Josiah's problem, plus all Callie went through earlier in her life. But I do think Callie's right to focus on Josiah's needs; he's a baby, after all, and can't take care of himself. And if she thinks you don't agree, I guess she's just decided to make her life and Josiah's as easy as she can."

"Moving out on her own with a crippled baby and getting a job is going to be easy?"

"Maybe it's easier for Callie than living in a cabin off in the woods by herself and needing to take a baby in town to doctor appointments while you work all day. Maybe it seems more pleasant to her than arguing about what can't be changed … and that arguing upsetting Josiah, as you said, so it makes him more difficult to care for."

Josh glowered into the fire and was silent.

Jeremy added, "You asked me once how a person knows they're in love. I think it's when they're willing to work together to face the hard stuff that life slings at us. And not give up on life or on each other."

Josh sighed and stood up. "Thanks for the coffee and the lecture. I guess I'll go finish moving in."

"You want to come over for dinner tomorrow?"

"Maybe. Thanks."

Jeremy was mucking out the horses' stalls in the barn a few days later when another horse arrived. "Rolf!" Jeremy exclaimed. "I haven't seen you since our wedding reception."

"Well, with all your family's been through lately, I thought I'd amuse myself for a while and not burden you. Anyway, I couldn't show my face around here without bringing your wedding gift. Shipment was delayed." He held up a square-ish gift-wrapped package as he dismounted as gently as he could.

"Well, thank you, Rolf! I won't touch it with my dirty hands, though. I'm about done here. Put your horse in there and walk with me to the cabin."

"I hope it's suitable. I had to ask the store clerk for advice and then order it."

"I'll let the Bride decide if it's suitable," laughed Jeremy. "I'm no judge of such things."

Rolf set the gift aside, removed the saddle, and led the rental horse into an empty stall.

Jeremy hung the rake back on the neat wall bracket of barn tools. "Is that the same filly you rented from the livery last time?"

"I think so. She behaved well before and I didn't want to deal with any surprises from an unfamiliar horse while carrying gifts I didn't want to get messed up."

"Ah, you Jägers were all born in the saddle. You can handle anything."

"I think you have me confused with Marta."

"I don't think I've ever done that."

They began walking toward Jeremy's cabin, Rolf carrying his present for the newlyweds and his bagged contribution toward dinner.

"And married life is good?" Rold inquired courteously.

"Yes. We're very happy," Jeremy affirmed.

"Uncle Rolf!" cried a high voice at a distance. They looked up to see Clara break free of Molly's hand and begin to run toward them.

"Schmusebärchi!" he called out fondly to Clara. Then he asked Jeremy in a low voice, "Who's the girl?"

"Oh, that's Candy's sister, Molly Pruitt. You didn't meet her at the reception?"

"No, I was just there for a minute to congratulate you before I had to get to work. She's very pretty!"

Jeremy regarded Rolf for a moment, lips pursed with amusement. "She is. And she's lively, smart, and well-raised. You could do a lot worse for yourself," he advised.

"Ah…." Poor Rolf appeared tongue-tied and dropped the subject, saved by Clara clattering up for a hug, as he laid down his packages on a tuft of grass. He hoisted Clara into the air to spin her around. "If you get much bigger, I won't be able to lift you," he complained while Clara giggled down at him.

Molly arrived sedately as Rolf put Clara back down on the ground and retrieved his packages.

"Molly Pruitt," Jeremy said, "this is Rolf Jäger: Marta's younger brother and a pharmacist at the hospital."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Jäger."

"And I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Pruitt."

"Oh, Rolf!" exclaimed Candy a little later, having unwrapped an elegant mantel clock. "It's exquisite!"

"It has a nice chime, too," Rolf added. I'll get it set up to run for you. It's like one my parents had back in England.

"That's very generous," Jeremy said.

"Well, it occurred to me that I still owed you a gift from when you married Marta. I think I was seventeen then and never thought about such things, nor did I have any money."

"You didn't have to do that," Jeremy stated.

"No, but I want to," Rolf countered.

"Jess, come look at this!" Julie called about a half-hour later.

Jess walked over to the window facing toward Jeremy's cabin to join her sister. She saw Jeremy's entire family headed their way for the family dinner. "What is it?"

"Look at their faces, Jess. They all look so happy – and Rolf, too."

It was true. Jeremy carried Clara on one arm. He, Candy, the Pruitts, Ian, and Rolf were all laughing at someone's comment as they carried their contributions to the larger family gathering at the Du Saule cabin.

"We've seen a real healing in that house, Jess. What a blessing! Go get the door for them."

"How'd it go?" Allyn Wright Bolt asked her husband a week later, as Jason sank heavily into his stuffed chair by the parlor fire.

"Oh," Jason half-groaned, dropping his head against the chair's high back. "Tell me I was never that stubborn."

Allyn smiled primly and focused on her embroidery, saying nothing.

"Alright, don't say it; I know it's not true. I don't think I budged Josh's thinking over dinner or afterward. I listened to his complaints and tried to point out some things to him – like how this situation is terrible for Callie, too, and that the longer he lets this go on, the more difficult it will be to ever make amends. At least he didn't storm out – or deck me, as he's done before when we've argued. That's about all I can say for a wasted evening."

"Maybe he just needs time. And maybe it's best for Callie and the baby if they're apart while he's so angry."

"Probably. But I never thought that I'd still be trying to raise Josh at age 37. Jeremy is far more mature than Josh is. Our two elderly, maiden great-aunts did better raising a boy than I did with Josh."

"Josh knows the difference between right and wrong, thanks to you and your parents when he was young. Then there comes a time when he makes his own choices. I think he'll come around. In the meantime, we need to support Callie and Josiah all we can to make up for Josh's choice to sulk."

"I agree. Where's my Little Bear?"

"He's asleep in bed and don't you dare wake him! I had a hard time getting him to sleep. He said he likes your stories better than mine. Are your stories even true?"

"Well, true enough to make good stories," he grinned.

"What are we going to do?" Julie fretted, soon after Josh and Callie's separation.

"I don't know what to do about Josh, but I know that I'm going to support Callie. She's the one who needs it – and the baby," Candy stated emphatically.

And so Candy evolved into leadership with her new sisters-in-law as she once had among the Brides in the past. The Bolt sisters and sisters-in-law quickly banded together to assist Callie … and stonily ignored Joshua. They took turns making daily visits to Callie before and after she moved out of the cabin to a tiny apartment in town. They helped her move and set up housekeeping, provided child care for Josiah and financial assistance, brought in food, washed diapers and clothes, ran errands, and offered her vast quantities of emotional support. They made no secret of their activities around Josh, either – 'sending a message.'

Early one Saturday in December 1884, Candy was hitching up a buggy to go into town. Josh walked into the barn and called out her name. "Are you going to see Callie today?"

"Yes."

"Give her this, will you?" He handed Candy a thick role of cash.

"I will." She took it from him and put it in her purse.

"How… How is she? And the baby?"

"They're fine. He had his first surgery last week and Pellan put his foot in little splints. And the baby's name is Josiah."

Josh nodded and swallowed, saying nothing more.

"Joshua, don't let them slip away from you. I made a terrible mistake with Jeremy and nearly lost him forever, as you know."

Josh nodded again, saying huskily, "I need more time."

"Just don't let it go on too long. That won't make it any easier."

On a dreary, gray weekday in early January of 1885, Rolf Jäger opened the door of Jenny's women's shop, ringing the bell hung over the door. Jenny pushed aside the curtain to the back room and came out. "Rolf! It's good to see you! Can I interest you in a bonnet?"

Rolf chuckled shyly – he did everything shyly – and replied, "Thank you, no, but they are quite lovely. I was wondering: I have torn the sleeve of my favorite sweater and wonder if it can be mended. I think it still has some wear left." He placed a well-worn wool sweater on the counter. "I like to wear it in my room in the evenings when I read."

"We all have our favorite, comfy things, don't we?" Jenny remarked, spreading out the sweater to assess the damage on the elbow. It could be mended, she saw, but it would look awkward.

"Molly? Can you come out here?" Jenny called.

Molly Pruitt emerged from the back. "Oh, hello, Rolf."

He nodded, "Miss Pruitt."

"Rolf had brought in his favorite sweater, which has a hole worn through in the elbow," Jenny explained, showing the hole to Molly. "We can mend it so the hole won't get any larger, but that can't be made to look very tidy, I'm afraid. However, we could then put matching leather patches on both the elbows and no one would know that one had a hole underneath – and that would protect the elbows from more wear. And we could even put on some new leather buttons, Rolf, if you like. They would match the patches and freshen up the style, making it look almost new. How do you like that idea?"

"Yes, that's sounds fine, Jenny. Whatever you think is best," he agreed.

"Molly is accomplished at mending. Do you mind if she does the work?" Jenny inquired.

"No, that's fine," he said. "How long will it take, Miss Pruitt?"

"I should be able to finish by the end of next week, unless you are in a hurry to have it sooner," said Molly.

"I'm in no hurry. Thank you. I'll call again next Friday. Good day to you both." Rolf nodded to both ladies and left the shop, ringing the bell again on his exit.

"Poor boy," Jenny shook her head, looking fondly after him. "He always seems like an awkward teenager to me. All he does is work and go home to put on this ratty sweater, seeming so awkward and shy. Why don't you set your cap for him, Molly, and put some excitement in his life?"

"Me? Aren't men supposed to pursue women?"

"Well, maybe. But when a man is as shy as Rolf Jäger, the woman may have to start the ball rolling. He's a good boy – a good man, I should say – and he has a good, steady job. You could do worse. Do you like him?"

"Well, he seems kind and considerate, but isn't he too old for me? I just turned twenty."

"I think he's still twenty-six until sometime next fall."

"Oh. I thought he was around thirty."

"No, he was almost seven years younger than Marta and Jeremy. He's just coming into the prime of his life and a young wife will help him act young for longer."

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do! I've seen it many times. You won't have to help put him through school or move elsewhere when he gets out of school and finds work. He's established here and ripe for the picking, in my opinion. We already know his family history in England: you won't have to worry about those obnoxious in-laws turning up on this continent with us so far away! Our family is the only kin he seems to claim now. He has good manners, but all the good manners in the world can't make up for being so shy he can't say 'boo.' Coax him out of his shell and find out if he's any fun to be around. If he can make you laugh – and vice versa – that goes a long way in life. Once a person grows up and gets out of school, age doesn't make much difference."

The separation between Josh and Callie spilled over into the whole extended Bolt family. The women carefully coordinated their schedules to help Callie with child care and doctor appointments around her teaching schedule. This couldn't help but affect their own households, too.

One evening in late January 1885, Philippe rode into the barn from work to find Julie bundled up and setting out for town in the buggy.

"I thought you would be home tonight."

"I thought I would, too, but Jenny's twins both have the croup and now Samuel is acting puny. Jenny's worn out, so I'm going to check on Callie and Josiah. I'm sorry. Your dinner is warming on the stove."

"I thought I would invite Josh over."

"Suit yourself, but I don't think there's enough food for two men."

"Is there anything extra I could cook for him?"

"I think there are still a few turnips in the garden."

"Turnips."

"Yes. I've got to go now or I'll be late."

"Where are our children?"

"Lucie has been helping Jenny with the twins and Josiah and Richard are at Jason's. I'll bring them all home with me, but it'll be late. I need to get going; feels like it might snow. Have a nice evening."

"I see."

Julie drove off into the early winter darkness.

"'Turnips'," Philippe repeated to himself.

This strained situation didn't continue much longer. Scarlet fever appeared in the school where Callie Bolt had begun teaching in January. First one child and then another fell ill and a few died of the disease. Some of the teachers fell ill, too. One of them was Callie.

Because scarlet fever is so contagious and can be fatal, Josiah was immediately whisked away from his mother to stay with Candy and Jeremy. Callie was hospitalized for a while and, when she was discharged, she was so weak that she couldn't live alone. Her relatives moved her in with the Du Saules – and then Richard and Lucie began to split their time between Jeremy and Candy's cabin and the O'Sullivans' so they didn't risk contracting scarlet fever. Callie's sisters-in-law, who had so recently helped her set up housekeeping in her apartment, now found themselves carrying her furnishings back out and closing out the apartment for her. Callie couldn't afford to pay rent without working and no one knew when/if she would be able to work again – or to care for Josiah by herself. While Jess and Candy helped the Du Saules with food for Callie's convalescence, they just left pots of food on the porch, knocked on the door, and backed away – not risking contact which could spread contagion to the other cabins where the children stayed.

Callie's scarlet fever turned into rheumatic fever, causing her joints to swell with arthritis and making it difficult for her to creep around the Du Saules' home or do much of anything. Molly helped Candy and Jessica to care for Josiah and all the younger children, as did Lucie after school hours. Ian attended school with Richard and Brigid now, but Erin (4) and Patrick and Clara (both still 3) were all finding their disrupted family routine too very exciting. They acted out more than they ever had in the past, adding to the chaos. Everyone was worn thin from the strain.

Jeremy tied up his horse at the logging camp one drizzly March morning, unsaddled her for the day, and carried the saddle and tack into the office-tent to keep it dry while he worked. He took off his rain hat and ran his fingers wearily through his damp hair while he began to unsnap his rainproof duster. Josh looked up from the camp's ledger book and greeted him with a smirk, "Morning. You look like the dregs." For Jeremy, it was the last straw.

"Oh, really?" Jeremy retorted. "You want to know why? Because I sat up all night in a rocking chair holding your son, who had surgery again yesterday and was in pain. I don't mind, being his godfather and uncle, but occasionally I do feel pretty damn mad that he doesn't have his father in his life for no good reason. If you'd been killed in a war or lost at sea, I'd be less angry. But this is just piss-poor parenting on your part, as I see it. Whether you and Callie work things out or not is one thing, but a boy would benefit from having his father in his life if he's at all able to be there, especially since his mother is ill, too."

"You're his godfather? He was baptized?"

"Yes. Callie wanted it done before he started having these surgeries, so Father Prefontaine did it."

"I would have wanted the pastor of the Little White Church to be the one to do it."

"We asked, but he was out of town to a conference and the first surgery was pending, so we asked Father Prefontaine to come do it at the house instead. Candy's his godmother, if you care to know."

"Oh." Josh fell silent and appeared sad. Jeremy said nothing more, feeling that he had already said more than enough.

Josh stared off into the distance beyond the tent wall and finally broke the silence in a half-whisper: "I don't know how to be a father to a cripple."

"I wouldn't, either, Josh," Jeremy responded. "But Josiah seems to me to be like most other healthy babies except for his foot. There's nothing wrong with his mind. I'm pretty sure that he'll be able to figure out eventually that you treat him like trash because you can't deal with his misshapen foot – or even call him by his name! Josiah has no choice in whether he copes with his condition or not. And, in case you haven't heard, Callie's got rheumatic fever now and can scarcely creep out of bed. If you can't bring yourself to be with Josiah, perhaps you could be there for her. I'm not sure she's going to survive. Pellan says it has permanently weakened her heart."

Josh looked up sharply at that news.

Whether it was timing or anything that Jeremy said, no one knew. But Josh hadn't heard about Callie's new complications. That night after work, Josh visited Josiah in Jeremy's cabin and began to learn how to care for him and relate to him as his father in the time he had free after work in the evenings. And once Callie was declared clear of contagion by Pellan a few weeks later, Josh went over to see her at the Du Saules' cabin….

"Hey," Josh said, standing at the door of Callie's room. He was shocked to see how frail she looked.

"Hey yourself," she smiled faintly.

"I'm really very sorry about … just everything … these past months."

"I know it's been hard on you."

"Nothing like what you've been through."

Callie nodded and grimaced, near tears. It was true and she felt it.

Josh continued: "I'm spending time after work with Josiah now every day."

"I heard. I'm real glad."

"I didn't want to risk passing any fever to him, or I'd have come to see you before now."

"Yes, Julie told me you said that to Candy and I agree. I'm glad you don't want to risk his health."

"May I … sit with you some?"

Callie nodded fell silent. Josh pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down, also silent. He brought out a small box of candy from his pocket that he had bought in town and slid it across the quilt to her. "I know you like chocolate."

"Oh, Josh, thank you," Callie half-laughed, then tears filled her blue eyes and her laugh turned into a sob. "I'm not sure when I'll be able to take care of Josiah again. Or keep house."

"Don't worry about any of that. I'll take Josiah to his doctor appointments and we'll all take care of him. He's lucky to have a large family. We're all lucky to have each other. And I'm pulling my weight from now on. I swear it."

Callie nodded again, wiping tears off her face. "I never thought about me getting sick like this."

"Don't you worry about that. Don't worry about anything. You just work on getting stronger. We'll manage."

And they did, with the help of their extended family. For several months that spring and after, Callie regained some strength very slowly and the swelling in her joints subsided. Her relationship with Josh also mended, and Josh continued to build a relationship with their son. Josiah didn't seem as alien or repugnant to Josh once he got used to seeing his bent foot. He behaved much like other babies his age, as Jeremy had said. As Linda had.

"I think Josiah's foot will be normal after a few more surgeries over the next year," Pellan stated finishing a check-up.

"He'll be able to walk?" Joshua asked, surprised.

"Of course he will. He'll be slower to start walking than other children because these surgeries had delayed it, but children heal much faster than adults do. They're very motivated to do what they see adults doing – and other children. He may surprise all of us in how soon he starts walking to keep up with his cousins. It's good that we got right onto fixing his tendon while he's still an infant. He'll forget the pain and even his scars will heal better than an adult's would and become almost invisible in time."

"I thought he'd be crippled for life."

"That used to be the case before we figured out how to fix club feet with surgery. It's part of why I love doing what I do: we can't fix everything, of course, and it involves inflicting some pain, but it's great to be able to improve or save some lives. Just encourage him as he starts moving about and I think he'll be perfectly fine before he's school-age."

"So he might be able to work as a logger someday?"

"If that's what he wants to do. I don't think his foot will hold him back."

"Oh!" Josh smiled, relieved.

"I have to tell you about Callie, though. She may never be much better than she is now. Her heart is scarred from rheumatic fever. She should never do heavy housework again or be lifting anything heavy – like wash pots or Josiah, as he becomes a toddler."

Josh gaped at Pellan. "She won't get better – like she was?"

"No. Having scarlet fever and then rheumatic fever is very hard on the body, particularly the heart – and some people die from it. Callie was strong enough to survive, but I don't think she'll recover where she can run after an active toddler or do heavy housework, so you'll need to arrange help for her. It's also not advisable for her to have any more children. I doubt her heart is strong enough for childbirth and you might well lose both her and another baby."

Josh hoisted Josiah to his hip after leaving Pellan's office and Josiah crowed with delight. He liked to be held up where he could see all around, rather than being pushed in his perambulator. Josh hugged him close and wondered if he would ever get where he wasn't ashamed of himself in how he had treated his son and wife. He hoped that Josiah wouldn't remember it. And Callie: he should never have let her move out and start teaching again, getting exposed to scarlet fever. But they would all have to live with those consequences now and they had been his fault. He was determined not to let either of them down again.

Callie was glad that Josh had changed. Come summer, she and Josiah began to live in the old Bolt cabin with Josh when he was able to be with them. They closed out housekeeping in the 'vacation cabin' where they had started out as newlyweds, making the old Bolt Brothers' cabin their permanent home. Callie could now do some light housework and cooking which didn't involve heavy lifting. Her sisters-in-law were nearby and helped her with the rest, of course. She and Josiah spent a lot of time at their cabins while Josh worked at the camp, especially Candy's. Callie was grateful for having married into this large, loving family. In spite of her physical limitations, she found herself feeling happier than she ever had been. Josh built on a second bedroom to their cabin to be Josiah's. And Josiah began crawling almost as soon as he should have done so, dragging his splinted foot and following whichever of his young cousins were near.

Chapter 25: New Life and New Adventures

In early June of 1885, Lucie Du Saule finished grade school with Miss Essie – who had decided now to quit teaching for good and stay home with her soon-to-be five children. Lucie then joined her mother, Aunt Candy, Aunt Callie, and Molly doing household tasks on the common property full time and also doing some sewing in Aunt Jenny's shop in town, going in with Molly a few times a week. The five of them together made housework very quick and childcare fun and much less of a burden on Julie. They even found that they now had spare time on their hands and went into town to the variety of shops and cafés now present, enjoying themselves.

Some of the time now, Molly had fun with Rolf Jäger. As they began to relax in each other's company, both began to blossom. Molly found that Rolf was well-read with a dry wit. He was modest and considerate, if a little disorderly at home in contrast to the well-ordered pharmacy he maintained at the hospital. Having to be neat, clean, and very precise at work, he didn't like to feel so pressured at home – so he often forgot to pick up his cleaning, didn't make his bed, and sometimes didn't eat in what Molly regarded as a healthy manner. Rolf was amused when Molly bossed him in a motherly way, though she was so much younger than he was. If it had really annoyed him, Rolf would have said something, but Rolf had grown up as by far the youngest child in a family of ten children and was used to being bossed around by his elders; it felt comfortable and normal to him, like an expression of love. Rolf and Molly attended baseball games and picnics and went row-boating on Lake Washington and Lake Union, the upper Duwamish River, and other recreation spots, chaperoned by family members. When Molly was in charge of the menu, they ate healthy food.

Also in June, Jonathan Du Saule finished secondary school at St. Mary's Academy in Vancouver, Washington, and returned home to Seattle for good. Of course, he had encountered Christopher Pruitt soon after his summertime arrival the previous year while shoveling out the family barn. Chris was about eighteen months his elder, but that was not enough to matter at this stage in life. Once Jon was back in Seattle for good, Chris and he would become friends, exploring in and around Seattle when Chris had time free from his job and law studies. And after returning home to his family, the water got a bit choppy for the Du Saules.

June 17, 1885

Dear Judge and Mrs. Williams,

I hope this letter finds you both well and enjoying retirement. I still think of you often with much gratitude for all that you both did for me at what was the lowest point in my life.

I remarried last year. Her name is Candy Pruitt – now Bolt. I first met her the year after I returned to Seattle from your place in 1870. My brothers and I recruited some marriageable young women from Massachusetts, you recall and she was in that group. We were engaged for a while, but later broke it off and Candy returned to her homeplace in New Bedford, Mass. We got back together last year and married in May. And we now have a son, born just last week. We have named him Avery Thomas Bolt. His first name is after Candy's father and his middle name is for you, sir.

We would be honored if you could join us for his christening. Travel has greatly improved to this area with the trains, if you feel up to travel. Please let us know if you are willing to visit us for this event and we can plan his christening at a time that is convenient for you. Seattle is a lovely area, as is much of the country you would see in between.

Deepest regards,

Jeremy Bolt

"At last! Seigneur merci!" Philippe rejoiced, reading the newspaper's headlines in July 1885:

New City Ordinance Requires Sewer Lines for All New Residences

His friend Jacob Furth knocked on Philippe's office door just at that moment and stuck his head inside. "I think you'll want to know what I just saw."

Philippe entered the door of a saloon in the harbor area a half-hour later. A hostess in low-cut frills standing near the door greeted him (too) warmly. He nodded slightly to her without smiling and little eye contact and glanced around the room, spotting Jon and two friends playing cards. Philippe crossed the room to their table. Jon looked up, startled to see his father and noticing simultaneously that his father was not pleased with him.

"Hello, Jon," Philippe said, nodding also to his friends. "I'm here to give you a ride home."

"But I'm playing—"

"Cash out and come with me."

"We've just started—"

"Cash out."

Jon did so – unhappily – and left the saloon with his father. Neither said anything for a while as they headed toward home in the buggy.

"You embarrassed me back there," Jon finally complained, "coming in to get me like I was a child."

"Anyone who patronizes gaming parlors and brothels has to be able to live with embarrassment."

"I was just playing cards."

"Even so."

"I lost eight dollars. I might have won it back if I had played longer."

"That's too bad. You seem to have inherited my skill at cards."

"Can you give me some money?"

"I could, but I won't. You have finished school. It's now time for you to find a job and go to work to earn your own money like any able-bodied young man. There are many businesses in Seattle looking for help. And when you earn your own money, you may be less inclined to gamble it away or spend it on prostitutes."

"I haven't been with a prostitute."

"I'm glad to hear it."

More silence for a while as the buggy trundled on. Jon asked, "Are you angry with me?"

"When I heard where you were, I felt concerned for you. I am aware that there are many people in the harbor area who seek to take advantage of naïve young people. I hoped to spare you that misfortune."

"That was the first time I'd been in that saloon."

"I recommend that you let it be your last visit as well. You are no doubt aware that there is a brothel upstairs, but that is up to you to choose. Before you choose, I want to tell you a story – a true story – from Calais."

"It probably has a moral," Jon sighed with sulky resignation.

"Of course, it has a moral. And if you are smart, you will learn from other people's poor choices and not have to go down the same paths to cause suffering for yourself and others. Anyway, many years ago there was a young married couple who lived in Calais. They had a son about the same age as me – four years old at that time. The man went to Paris on business and lay with a prostitute there. He contracted a disease from her – the Neapolitan Disease – which is now called syphilis, but you will also hear the English call it 'the French Disease'. It is passed during sexual contact. The man then came home and passed the disease to his wife. They both sickened and eventually both went blind and insane – and they then died after some ten years of terrible, slow-progressing suffering. My mother was one of the local healers who tried to help them with herbal salves for their lesions from the disease, but there is no cure for syphilis. They had a second child after his wife became infected. That infant caught syphilis from his mother while he was still inside her. He was born deaf and obviously weak. Their two children had to be given to others to raise and the baby died in his first few months. My mother told me about this shortly after the parents died when I was fourteen or fifteen. I had known their older son as my classmate in school, though he had never lived with his parents while I had known him. She wanted me to know what had happened in that family and how they got sick, hoping that I could avoid catching such a disease since I was then of the age of puberty. I was horrified by my friend's loss and privately vowed that I would not lie with any woman other than my wife and I would keep myself only to her – and that is what I've done. Women who work as prostitutes in Seattle and elsewhere have sexual relations with many men every day, perhaps two every hour. They are commonly infected with such diseases as syphilis, which are passed through sexual contact from one man to the prostitute and then she passes it to another man and those men can take it home to their wives or pass it on to other women – or men - through the sexual act. You need to be aware that that is a real risk anyone faces in such places. I'm not telling you how to live your life or to do as I have chosen; you're an adult now. But before you spend any more time in such places, I want to be sure that you understand the risks – not just to yourself, but to anyone you might someday have sexual contact with – perhaps an innocent girl you might someday marry."

"I didn't know about such diseases."

"No one speaks of them. They are considered shameful."

"Why do the English call it 'the French Disease'?"

"For the same reason the French call it 'the Neapolitan Disease': blaming a shameful disease on their enemies."

"Are the French enemies of the English?"

"Didn't you study history in school? They fought each other many times in the past. Calais was even part of England for two hundred years, beginning in the fourteenth century."

"Oh, yeah. I guess this is different than just memorizing the dates of wars."

"History is about real life, Jon. Someday people will read about the times we are living as history."

"That seems strange."

"It's true, though. People we read about in history books were as real in their time as you and I are in ours. They lived their lives, and made their choices like we do, good and bad."

"Thank you for telling me about this, Papa."

"Try your best to make good choices in life, Jon. They are far more important than making money or any other types of success. Many of our choices affect far more people than us for good or ill. Think beyond yourself before you make choices in life. Think 'Who might this affect? Who could get hurt?'"

Pellan settled his horse in the large common barn, having unhitched it for the evening.

"Uncle-Doctor?"

Pellan smiled to himself that the voice, which used to be the treble tone of a boy, was now that of a man. "Jon? It has to be you. Who else calls me 'Uncle-Doctor'? Now that you're out of school, why don't you just call me Pellan?"

Jon entered the barn and sat down on a bale of hay. "Pellan, then. Thank you."

"What can I do for you?"

"I want to ask you about something."

"Sure. Anything."

"Papa told me that there are diseases that people can catch from … sex. Is that true?"

Pellan took a seat on another hay bale, deciding that this might take a while and was probably important, hopefully not in a bad way. "Yes, that's true."

"Bad diseases?"

"Yes, very bad. And there is no cure for them. Often they're fatal, though it may take a very long time of deteriorating health to get to that point. Why do you ask?"

Jon hesitated, looking down at his feet, then said, "Papa found me at a saloon on the harbor yesterday. It was my first time there. I was just playing cards with some friends I used to know in school here when I was young. We hadn't been there long. I hadn't, you know, been upstairs at all. Anyway, Papa brought me straight home – and he told me about a family he knew in Calais when he was a boy where the father brought such a disease – syphilis, he called it? – home to his wife. Three of the four people in that family died and the oldest child was raised as an orphan even before his parents died."

"How sad. Yes, that can happen. It's very tragic. If I were you, I would stay away from that place and any other brothels. It could save you a world of trouble and, like those in your father's story, it can save other people from having to live with terrible consequences of your actions."

Jon nodded, silent, still looking down at the dirt floor of the barn.

"Myself," Pellan continued, "I think it's best to wait until you get married and try to find a girl who thinks the same way."

"I guess. It's just that some of the guys talk…"

"…and tell some fantastic lies, I'll wager."

Jon looked up and grinned at him, admitting, "I wondered about that."

"I don't wonder at all. I know how boys – and even grown men – brag and exaggerate, especially if they think it makes them look manly in a way that they won't have to prove. Tell me, what are you going to do with yourself now that you're out of school?"

"I don't know. Papa says I've got to look for a job. He said I need to earn my own spending money now."

"Your papa has your best interest at heart, you know."

"I know."

"Well, look around in Seattle. There's lots of variety in things to do here. Have fun and experiment and you'll find the right place for yourself in time."

Jon approached Joshua and Jeremy about working with their logging outfit and they, of course, took him on and began training him. It was hard labor and he was absolutely exhausted at night, falling asleep right after dinner like a small child. That was not what bothered him, though.

After two weeks, Jon waited at the end of the line to collect his pay from Joshua, thanking him. Jon kept standing there awkwardly.

"You need something more, Jon?" Josh asked.

"Does it bother you, Uncle Josh – cutting down trees?"

"No, because I know all the things the wood will be used for and I know that we need them."

"It makes a big mess of the land."

"Yes, it does. We need to think of a way to fix that someday. We've done some re-planting on our mountain and we haven't clear-cut any of it. And some of this land will be used for homes as Seattle grows out in this direction, so we're sort of helping out the settlers by clearing the land for them."

"Uncle, I appreciate the job here, but cutting down these big trees bothers me a lot. I think I need to find some other kind of work to do."

"Very well, Jon. There's all kinds of work around Seattle to try out until you find something you enjoy. I'd rather lose you here and help you on to find somewhere you can be happy. Good luck."

"Thank you, Uncle."

Jonathan knew that his father would have been happy to train him to work in the bank – maybe even hoped that Jon would request that, but Jon also knew that his father was allowing him to find his own path. Philippe was also gently pressuring Jon: furnishing him meals and his old sleeping space in the loft, but no longer giving him any spending money or clothes. Philippe knew that the lack of spending money would irritate Jon and spur him to earn his own … and hopefully not lose it at cards or worse pursuits. Philippe also knew that Jon had adequate clothing for the present leftover from his school days and having to buy new clothing or food in town would teach him the value of the money he earned, so he would learn to budget what he earned.

Jon knew he might choose to work for his father someday, but he wanted to experience more of the world first; he'd been sitting behind desks for years in school and didn't relish thoughts of a teller's job at the bank right now. So he tried painting and delivery work during his first summer and autumn out of school, glad to be outdoors and moving around, no longer confined in a classroom. He hiked around the area outside of town some on his free days – happy to be out, but also feeling adrift and a bit lonely, living tight on what little money he made. He did not return to the saloon. Ever. The eight dollars he'd lost there now seemed like a fortune.

Jon walked downtown one day on his lunch break. It was late fall and he enjoyed the crisp air. He stopped a moment to look in the window of Courson Outfitters. He had bought a rucksack there a few months ago for use on his day-hikes. Today there was a sign in the window, advertising for help. On impulse, he went inside and approached the sales counter. A middle-aged, overweight, rather gruff-looking man stood at the cash register and looked up. "May I help you?"

"I saw your sign in the window about a job and want to inquire."

"I need a helper in the store. Have you worked in a retail store before?"

"No, sir."

"Do you have a job right now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Doing what?"

"Making deliveries for a grocer."

"Do you know how to operate a cash register?"

"No, sir, but I'm willing to learn."

"Why do you think you want to work here?"

"I finished school in June and have tried a few jobs this summer. I'm still looking for something I really like."

"What work have you done?"

"Lumberjack, painting, store errands and deliveries."

"What makes you think you'll like working here any better?"

"Well, this is a beautiful area and I love the outdoors. Cutting down trees ruins the land and bothers me, so I don't make a good lumberjack. Painting was alright. Delivery work – well, sir, I'm not twelve years old anymore and I think I can do more challenging work than that. I have done a lot of hiking around here and where I was in school. Maybe working here would be more interesting, working with people who like the same things I do."

"You from Seattle?"

"My family moved here when I was nine. Some of my family were born here, like my mother."

"Who are your people?"

"My father is Philippe Du Saule, who runs the Seattle Mutual Society bank. My mother is Julie Bolt Du Saule - a sister of the Bolt Brothers, who have the logging camp where I started working."

"Ah, yes. I've heard of the Bolts and of your father's bank. Why don't you want to work for your father?"

"I probably could work for my father if I asked him, but I've been in school all these years. I like being active: walking around or being outside, not a desk job – or a teller's. At least not right now. I've worked at the bank a little in past summers, but I want to see more of the city than just my family. At least for now."

"Well, I can't blame you for that. You come from honest, stable people. I'll give you a try. Take that sign out of the window. You start tomorrow. Go tell your boss that you quit."

"Yes, sir. Thank you. See you tomorrow. What time?"

"Seven o'clock in the morning. Not too early for you, is it?"

"No, sir."

Thus began Jon's employment with Courson Outfitters. On Jon's first day, Mr. Courson observed that Jon was punctual, mannerly, learned quickly, was sensible, modest, clean, and stayed on-task. Jon learned that Lionel Courson was as honest as he was gruff. And Jonathan learned late in the day that there was another incentive to work there: Lionel's wife Annette came into the store with their daughter, Marie.

Jon soon discovered that Marie was as headstrong as she was pretty. She had helped in her father's store for years, knew the use for all their specialty merchandise, and knew a good bit about camping and hiking herself, for being a girl. Marie was of the opinion that they didn't need more help in the store and she was rather rough on Jon for that reason while he learned, but somehow he didn't mind. He endured her brusque remarks with his genial manner and enjoyed meeting their customers and learning more about the area's resources as well as the store's. Since winter was coming on, the customers were making plans for outdoor excursions in better weather next spring.

Ever since moving to Seattle, Jon had gradually been learning about the area and outdoor activities in King County. He had done a lot of hiking and camping with his uncles and father and in the area of his school with teenage school friends. He had even taken his seven-year-old brother Richard and six-year-old cousin Ian on some short, easy hikes that summer to get them out from underfoot while his extended family struggled with Callie's illness and Josiah's needs. It was Jon's idea to organize and coordinate group hikes through the store, beginning in the spring of 1886. It took up his Saturdays to lead them, but again, he didn't mind since he was doing what he loved … and he could be around Marie the more. Jon's parents didn't mind his absence around the house so much, glad that he had settled into a steady job where he was happy. They did notice that he seemed to talk a lot about Marie.

Gradually, Marie came to like Jon, but she didn't "let on." Her feelings confused her. It was some six months before Jon got up the courage to ask Marie out, starting with an ice cream excursion to John Piper's candy store.

Lionel Courson liked Jon, too, though he maintained his persistently gruff demeanor around him. The advertised Saturday hikes brought in more business as newly-recruited hikers bought their supplies. When the Canadian fur trappers came to town that spring, speaking their broken English, Mr. Courson discovered that Jon could speak fluent French. That helped the transactions go more smoothly and Mr. Courson didn't worry about being cheated as much as he had in the past. In a year or so, Lionel came to regard Jon as the son he'd never had, although he also never "let on." (That was long before Jon became his son-in-law three years later.) Jon appeared to be the solution to one of Lionel's problems, although Jon was unaware of doing so: the dilemma of who would take over his store after him. While Marie was smart and capable, her father thought that it would be better that she had a male companion in what was a decidedly masculine business. And the Du Saule boy seemed good-hearted and motivated to succeed in this work. Perhaps that would solve yet another sensitive issue the Coursons had….

Philippe Du Saule stood in the lobby of the elegant Colman Dock in the late fall of 1885, holding a cardboard sign over his head reading "Williams." An older couple disembarked from their ship, spotted his sign, and approached him.

"Are you Judge Williams and his wife?" Philippe inquired.

"We are," the gentleman replied pleasantly.

"I am Philippe Du Saule. We exchanged letters once, while I still lived in France."

"Yes – and your check, too, as I recall."

"Well, at last I can repay you with some hospitality, since you wouldn't accept my check."

They all laughed as Philippe led them on to his carriage to be guests at his home.

Candy had another case of the jitters as they prepared to go to Our Lady of Good Help Catholic Church the following Sunday. "Do you have everything in the basket?" she asked her husband while she finished dressing.

"All packed," Jeremy replied calmly, "zooming" four-month-old Avery side to side in his arms.

"What if the other children misbehave during the ceremony?"

"They'll be fine. We've got lots of family to keep them in tow and you know they want to see Avery's baptism. It will give an opportunity for us to tell them all about their own baptisms, too."

Jeremy had attended the Little White Church (in its larger form and new location) with Candy in their first year back in Seattle. Candy felt more comfortable there, but Jeremy said that he needed to "check in" at Our Lady at least monthly, though she didn't have to go with him if she didn't want to – but she went with him anyway. It was difficult for Candy to know where she belonged, since the family members among whom she lived were all members of Our Lady. There was so much standing and kneeling to which she still wasn't accustomed, although Jeremy coached her along every time they attended mass. The music was unfamiliar and the Latin mass was a total mystery to her.

She and Jeremy had inquired and learned that the Methodists would honor Avery's baptism at a Catholic church, but the Catholics wouldn't recognize his baptism at a Methodist church. Therefore they decided that they would request his baptism at Our Lady. They planned to take him and the two older children to both churches with his extended family as he grew up. They hadn't decided what to do about his schooling yet – or even that of four-year-old Clara – but both decisions were a ways off. "One step at a time," Jeremy would say to her – rather often – when she began to fret over something in the future.

This morning Jeremy reminded her again, "I told you that you're better off with me having been married before and also for having taken two kids to be baptized. We'll just take his little gown that Biddie made and change him again right before mass begins if he messes himself up; then he'll be perfect in time for his baptism and we'll put on his little gown right after, like they do. If he starts to cry during mass, we'll take him out the side door. It'll all be fine."

"You're positive?"

"Absolutely. We all learned the hard way with the other kids. Brigid was so well behaved that we weren't prepared for Erin pitching an absolute fit … but we are now!"

And it was perfect. The O'Sullivans stood with Jeremy and Candy and took vows to be Avery's godparents, as they had already for Avery's older half-siblings. Philippe held Clara up so that she could see what Ian could see while standing: Avery was dipped naked in the baptismal font at the beginning of mass, then wrapped in a white blanket after the rite and dressed in a fresh diaper and his new white gown. He listened to the strange music for awhile and then fell fast asleep for the whole remainder of mass. No one cried or acted out, fainted, or threw up – including Avery's mother – and they all went out for dinner as guests of Philippe at a restaurant in a hotel near the harbor which was used to accommodating small children without protest. Judge Williams and his wife Ruth were touched to be included as the special honorees.

Chapter 26: Racial Tensions

Chinese laborers first came to the west coast of the States in 1848 because of the gold rush in California Territory. They worked in mining operations and helped to build railroads in the West, but this fueled tensions in the West. Caucasians felt that Chinese laborers were driving Caucasians from the labor force by agreeing to work for less money. They feared that Chinese laborers were stripping America of wealth by sending their paychecks back to their families in China. In 1882, Congress has passed the Chinese Exclusion Act due to such sentiments, prohibiting Chinese laborers from immigrating to the States for ten years (but not prohibiting Chinese scholars, businessmen, or diplomats); it would then be extended for another sixty years.

Because Chinese laborers could not legally immigrate to the States, they expected to return to China eventually and had no incentive to change their language, culture, or clothing; for that reason, White people viewed the Chinese as racially inferior and unable to assimilate to the American way of life. In coming years, western states passed laws prohibiting intermarriage of Chinese and Whites and prohibiting "aliens" from owning property.

The Little White Church started a mission school for Chinese immigrants in Seattle, trying to assist their assimilation. Jason and Josh contributed money toward that endeavor, attempting to help the families of their Chinese loggers. Candy Bolt and Biddie Webster became enthusiastic volunteers.

Labor organizations were the most prominent agitators of anti-Chinese sentiment. In Seattle, that organization was the Knights of Labor. Daniel Cronin, a 38-year-old carpenter, became their leader and turned them into a militant brotherhood, planning a systematic expulsion of Chinese from Seattle. They warned that rioting and bloodshed would come in the winter if the three thousand Chinese in the Seattle-Tacoma area did not leave by November 1, 1885. On Oct 24th a mob burned a large area of Seattle's Chinatown, seeming to enforce the Knights' demand.

Between November 4th and 14th, some 150 Chinese did flee Seattle. Another 300 Chinese were expelled from Tacoma and other small towns in the area around Puget Sound. Territorial Governor Watson Squire telegraphed President Cleveland, requesting troops for Seattle. Federal soldiers arrived the next morning, but took no action and returned to their garrison on the 17th.

On February 6, 1886, the Knights of Labor met and tasked a six-man committee to deliver an ultimatum to the Chinese that they must leave immediately or be forcibly removed.

People in town who had helped the Chinese in the past were also threatened. Reverend Denison, another pastor named "Brother Mack" McNemee, and Civil War veteran A. J. Smith stood vigil on the steps of the Little White Church for three days and two nights (February 6 – 8, 1886) to prevent the mob from torching their church. Jason and Joshua Bolt and other church members took their turns in helping stand guard in the evenings as well. Those Bolt brothers were delightfully surprised when Philippe, Jeremy, and the Rameaus joined them on the second night. "No one burns down a church if I can prevent it," Philippe stated grimly, while the others nodded agreement. It was a healing moment in their extended family's Catholic/Protestant tensions.

On February 7th, "Order Committees" descended on Seattle's Chinatown, forcing their way into Chinese homes for 'health inspections.' They claimed to find that the Chinese homes were unfit for habitation and demanded the Chinese residents pack up and report to the steamship Queen of the Pacific at 1:00 p.m. A search was conducted for any Chinese who hid or fled and then some 350 were herded down to the harbor. Seattle Sheriff John McGraw was sympathetic to the Knights. He and his deputies merely protected the Chinese from violence in the riot as they were herded to the steamship for forced deportation to China.

At the dock, the rioters proved to be short of the funds required to transport 350 by steamship to China; passage for only 97 had been raised and the steamship captain wouldn't transport them without cash payment in advance. An angry Chinese merchant complained to Judge Greene, who issued a writ of habeas corpus – requiring the captain of the steamship to produce all the Chinese in court the next morning.

At midnight, Sheriff McGraw and local militia did block two attempts by the mob to pack off the remaining 253 Chinese on a train to Tacoma. McGraw ordered the train to pull out before the mob could arrive with the Chinese.

The next morning, the Sheriff led the 97 Chinese passengers with paid passage to the territorial court per the order from Judge Greene. The mob tried to block their progress to court and eight Knights were arrested. In court, Judge Greene informed the 97 Chinese that they had the right to stay in Seattle and promised them protection if they did, but only 16 elected to stay; the rest were escorted back to the Queen of the Pacific. By the time they returned, the mob had raised funds for another 115 Chinese passengers and the Queen set sail for China.

The mob and the Sheriff agreed that the remaining 150 Chinese would be sailing on the steamship George Elder once funds were raised for their passage. People did not get news of that agreement, however, and a new mob formed as the Sheriff, deputies, and local militia tried to escort the remaining Chinese back to their homes. The leaders of the mob were arrested and clubbed with rifle butts by the Seattle militia. Those rifles were wrested away by rioters and shots were fired. Two militia and three rioters were seriously injured. An extra company of Seattle militia arrived and dispersed the mob, which began to reform.

At that point, Governor Squire declared martial law. Federal troops arrived on February 10th to reinforce Seattle's militia in maintaining martial law. The order was dropped on February 23rd, but two companies of Federal troops remained in Seattle for another four months to be sure there would be no further violence. This incident caused tension and mistrust between Whites and Chinese in Seattle until on into the 1930s.

Chapter 27: Aaron Stempel Did What?!

The first time Aaron Stempel was elected mayor was 'way back in 1874, serving a one-year term. He was elected mayor again in August of 1886, but this time things were different. He was twelve years older – now 76 – and people noticed that he was becoming senile. Philippe Du Saule was one of those who noticed and prudently didn't renew him for another term on the board of directors of his bank. Stempel didn't seem to notice and Philippe was glad he was spared a painful and difficult conversation.

J. D. Lowman, Stempel's nephew via his half-brother, had moved to Seattle some years before. He found a business partner and opened Lowman & Hanford – selling pianos, organs, and stationery, and doing custom printing. (This is where Christopher Pruitt found a job.) Lowman probably had hope of inheriting his uncle's sizeable estate, but Stempel still had some tricks up his sleeve.

Stempel no longer had any close friends. He surrounded himself with low-lifes and became a sucker for get-rich-quick schemes, borrowing and lending freely, and getting stuck with bad notes. His nephew Lowman was distressed about all that, suspecting that Stempel could go bankrupt and leave nothing to inherit. So Lowman got himself named Stempel's property manager through an intermediary at a bank – not Philippe's! – in March of 1886.

Stempel had been living as a bachelor in the same small house – a converted store – near his lumber mill for thirty years. In 1883 he decided to build the largest, finest, most ornate mansion in Seattle on a hill in town, which took four years. Stempel filled his grand mansion with strange people whom he had never met before. His nephew Lowman was beside himself and tried to recruit 'spies' among the residents to find out if his uncle was being swindled by any of his tenants.

Chapter 28: Progress on Several Fronts and a Massive Defeat

In September of 1886, Clara Bolt, Jasper Bolt, Patrick O'Sullivan, & Samuel Rameau all began school at the Academy of Holy Names, where Richard Du Saule was entering his fourth year. Their extended family thought that these four cousins, who were close friends and all the same age, should attend school together, too. "Where does the time go?" Jess mourned to Julie and Candy. "Well, at least we have more time to get out now. Let's go in town to shop and eat a late lunch before school lets out."

"Papa, this is for you," said Lucie, handing Philippe a parcel after dinner one September night.

"What's the occasion?" said Philippe with a smile, untying the ribbon.

"Nothing, really. Just because I love you."

Inside were six handsome handkerchiefs. They were monogramed white-on-white, all hemmed differently. Philippe admired each one.

"I hope you don't think them too fancy for a man," added Lucie.

"No, they are quite handsome, but I shall be rather afraid to use them as handkerchiefs. They are too elegant."

"Oh, Papa! That's what they're for. Aunt Jenny wanted me to practice monogramming and different styles of hemming, so I made these up for you. Jenny said I did nice work."

"Thank you, cherie. I will treasure them and try not to be too rough on them so I'll have them forever."

"Oh, Papa! When you need more, I'll always make more for you."

Philippe smiled warmly at her. She had become a lovely girl – a young lady now at 15 – with thick, wavy, dark hair which seemed a combination of his hair and her mother's. He knew it wouldn't be long before young men would come calling.

"You're sure I can manage it?" Rolf Jäger asked Philippe in the latter's office in January of 1887.

"Yes. You have a steady job and with the saving you've done, there will be no problem."

"Not a word to Molly!"

"I never discuss business conversations with my family." He winked. "Good luck!"

"Come with me before we go to get lunch," said Rolf a few days later. "I want to show you something."

Molly boarded a horse-drawn taxi with Rolf and they rode out and up the tallest hill in Seattle. There were a few houses scattered about, but it wasn't crowded with homes at this point in history. They turned at Rolf's direction about half-way up on one of the unfinished side streets where there were a couple of smaller homes under construction.

"Stop here a minute and wait for us," Rold told the driver. Rolf got out and helped Molly down. They walked a short distance down the dirt road.

"What do you think?" Rold asked, gesturing toward Elliott Bay to the west.

"Think of what?" Molly replied.

"I've bought this plat" – he nodded across the road, reaching into his coat and drawing out a folded paper. He unfolded it – "I'm thinking of building this house on it." He showed Molly a sketch of a modest-sized house in the fashionable "Queen Anne" architectural style for which that hill would be eventually be named. "It will face the Bay and have a nice view of the sunset from the porch."

"Oh! Well, yes, it's … charming."

"You like it, then: the house and the location?"

"Yes…."

Molly's heart was thumping hard and she found it difficult to breathe. She stared at Rolf with wide eyes, in suspense.

"I'm hoping you would like to live here, Molly," Rolf continued with a gentle smile.

"Rolf…?"

"You make me very happy. Will you marry me?"

"Oh, Rolf!" She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

"Does this mean 'yes'?"

"Of course, it does! You make me happy, too." Molly beamed up at him.

"Oh, good. Then I can give you this…."

He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a tiny, gift-wrapped box. She looked inquiringly up at him as she took it from his hand and unwrapped it with trembling fingers, expecting to find a ring. Instead there was a tiny, folded piece of paper inside, with words written in the precise script of a pharmacist:

Good for One (1) Engagement Ring of Your Choice

They laughed together. 'Together' is a wonderful feeling.

In the summer of 1887, after their Queen Anne cottage was complete, Molly Pruitt married pharmacist Rolf Jäger in the Little White Church. Mrs. Jungren cried at Rolf's wedding as much as any mother of the groom, turning his 'mothering' over to his new wife. Jeremy gave away the bride and clapped Rolf on the shoulder after the ceremony, asking, "How have you managed to become my brother-in-law twice now?"

If you recall [Chapter 22, prior to 1887, civic-minded women in Seattle felt triumphant. Their support for reform politics had voted monied interests out of political office, closed brothels (including Lou Graham's), revoked liquor licenses, and kept such laws enforced. This drained the city coffers of the steady vice fines for nefarious goings-on, which created problems for the city management and the city fathers without other sources of municipal revenue (like property taxes.)

In 1887, a Territorial judge suddenly ruled that women having the vote in Seattle was unconstitutional because women weren't enfranchised U.S. citizens. This came as an additional shock to local women. An appeal was made to the Territorial Supreme Court, which upheld his ruling. Seattle women then appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court, who also upheld the ruling, writing:

Woman suffrage has proven a practical failure in Washington Territory. It has accomplished nothing in the way of public or private good. There have been no moral, social or political reforms as a consequence of it. On the other hand, it has made dissension and trouble everywhere.

Jason Bolt noted that these rulings, coming after the crisis of reform politics on Seattle finances and after four years of women's suffrage having been allowed in Seattle, seemed a strange coincidence. He strongly suspected that The Powers That Be in Seattle were attempting to turn the tide against the women's improvements in Seattle's moral state … and the resulting loss of funds from vice fines. He was glad that his days on the Territorial Legislature had ended the previous year, or else he felt that the irate female members of his family would have served him his head on a platter. They were crushed and demoralized and Jason didn't blame them. He knew how hard his relatives and other females in King County had been working since some came as settlers with the Brides almost twenty years before, working to better the lot of many local people.

"Jenny, I'm sorry about the ruling," Jason said before a family dinner one night, noting her glum countenance and pulling her aside. "I know that you and Siobhán, Candy, and many others have worked hard on that cause and for many charities in the county for a long time. I don't agree with what the courts said and certainly not the way they said it. From the time the Brides first came here, things have improved in this whole area. I've been here all this time and I've seen it first-hand. I remember how things were before that, too."

"Thank you, Jason. Especially since you have been on the Legislature. It's just disheartening."

"There's a lot of corruption in politics, you know: money passing hands on the sly."

"Yes. Pierre pointed that out. But it makes me angry."

"It makes me angry, too. It's unjust. But I do believe in goodness in this country. It may take a long time, but I think women will get the vote in the entire country."

"Perhaps our children will live to see it."

Jenny spoke as a prophet. Women in Seattle and King County would not be allowed to vote again until 1910 – after the lifespan of some members of the Bolt family. And national suffrage was not granted to women in the States until 1919.

Somewhere around this time, Philippe felt another sense of victory when Thomas Crapper of England sold the people of Seattle his new invention of the toilet, commonly called "the Crapper," and also the plan for creating the first sewer system in town. Wealthy people began installing Crappers in their homes and plumbing became a thriving new business opportunity. Several people of more modest means, including Rolf and Molly Jäger, also installed Crappers … and took out loans to do so … which made Philippe even happier.

Chapter 29: Jon and Marie

Jonathan Du Saule took Marie Courson boating on Lake Washington one Sunday afternoon in the spring of 1888.

"You seem distant," he remarked. It was true: Marie had scarcely said a word that day, which was not unusual. Jon was well aware of Marie's moods. She had such days at work and sometimes with him when they weren't working. He had learned to side-step her temper and still found her beautiful, smart, and capable. In fact, he had chosen this day to propose.

"Just am, I guess." Marie sighed.

"It's not the weather, the crowds, or me this time?"

"No," she sniffed. "How can I complain about a little tepid sunshine and spring flowers? Or not expect others to be out here enjoying them, too?"

"And it's not me?"

"No, Jon. I'm just moody at times. You know me by now."

"Yes, I do. Or I think I do. But I don't know what causes your moods, so I sometimes ask."

Marie said nothing, looking sadly down at the water.

"You look sad today. Are you?"

"Not particularly."

"Ah."

Jon pondered where to head next in his intended conversation, but he had found that sometimes it helped with Marie's moods to just be quiet. So he said nothing, rowing steadily along, enjoying the day. Marie did not help him out today, though, and he eventually had to take a risk. "What do you want to do with your life, Marie?" he asked.

"What I'm doing, I guess."

"Working in your father's store?"

"Yes. You?"

"I'm content there for now."

"You don't want to stay there?"

"I don't know yet."

"'Yet'? You've been there two and a half years."

"I want to marry you, Marie. But if you say 'no,' I don't think I can keep on working there, perhaps watching you fall in love with someone else."

Marie looked sadly at Jon a long moment, then away. "You may not want me."

"What do you mean by that? Haven't we learned to get along? And you don't seem to mind when I kiss you."

Marie gazed off into the distance. "I guess I need to tell you." She drew a ragged breath and continued: "I'm not a virgin."

Jon gaped at her, dumbfounded.

"It was my uncle: my father's younger brother. He forced me when I was seven years old. I didn't even know what he was doing. That's why my family moved here from Baltimore: my father wanted to get far away from him and the rest of his family after that happened." She again looked sadly at Jon. "You're the only person I've ever told."

Jon suddenly comprehended why Lionel Courson seemed so gruff and protective of Marie, and so wary of him when he began dating Marie. Jon also understood something more about Marie's moods and occasional anxiety. He found his voice. "I'm sorry, Marie. That's … horrible. I'm so angry that happened to you."

"So do you think I'm 'damaged goods' and want nothing more to do with me?"

"Why would I think that about someone who was attacked when they were a seven-year-old girl? It's not like you've been working in one of the local brothels on the side."

Jon immediately regretted making that last statement, fearing that it appeared insensitive and crass. But for once, Marie gave Jon the most brilliant, grateful smile and he felt like the sun was breaking through the thin clouds to shine on both of them in full force. They became engaged that day and married in the fall.

Chapter 30: Christopher and the Librarian

Christopher Pruitt carried the stack of legal volumes to the counter of the legal library in Olympia and set them down as gently as he could. It was the summer of 1888 and rather warm to be lugging around such a load.

"Didn't you just check them out yesterday?" a female voice inquired with an amused tone.

"Oh. Well, yes. I just needed to check a few things."

"You must read fast. Are you an attorney?" remarked the young brunette.

"Yes. Well, almost, that is," he replied, reflecting to himself that he had lost all his social skills in the years of his apprenticeship with Barnabus Webster.

"I don't remember you being here in the past," she persisted, stamping the books back in.

"We're just here for the week from Seattle," Chris replied.

"Ah, you have a hearing here."

"Yes."

"What sort of law?"

"We've done several kinds. I'm just finishing my apprenticeship and taking the bar exam this week while my boss has the hearing."

"And if you pass the bar, you'll be a licensed attorney? Will you go out on your own?"

"I may stay on as his partner if he asks me. He seems to have too much business to handle by himself."

"That's nice you have that opportunity."

"I'm most interested in the new environmental law."

"Oh, that's radical! I didn't know that anyone on the West Coast cared how many natural resources they despoil."

"Some of us do."

"That's very good of you, Mister … ?"

"Pruitt. Christopher Pruitt."

"Alicia Vernon." She held out her hand and Christopher took it. He also took her to lunch.

Alicia was a librarian, born in Tacoma and working for some years as a legal assistant in Olympia while living with her aunt and uncle. Her uncle was on the Territorial Legislature.

Christopher passed the bar that week and returned to Seattle with Barnabus to continue in practice together. Jeremy and Candy threw him a nice family party and Christopher began on a new project: cultivating a long-distance relationship with a certain librarian.

Chapter 31: Seattle Shenanigans

Thirty-two-year-old Robert Moran was a protégé of Jacob Furth and his two business partners. In July 1888, he was elected mayor of Seattle. The Populist party was lobbying for a public water supply for Seattle to be piped in from Cedar River at a cost of a million dollars … which was entirely impossible, given Seattle's municipal coffers at the time, plus legal limitations on property taxes. In the fall, Mayor Moran requested the City Council to hold a referendum on the question of private versus public ownership of water.

Lou Graham entertained Seattle's more elite clientele with drink, lively political discussion, and the pleasures of the upstairs rooms – all free of charge to government representatives and Lou's establishment had become something of a satellite office of Seattle's City Hall. She built a new parlor, Lou Graham's Sporting House, in 1888 - diagonally across the intersection from Our Lady of Good Help Catholic Church at Third Avenue and Washington Street. She had experienced their opposition to her trade during Seattle's reform years and this location was her form of revenge. Philippe was deeply disgusted, knowing how much time, money, and effort Father Prefontaine had expended to build their church building and congregation. He suspected that even the finest brothel would draw others to the location and that would hurt the church.

One Sunday in September of 1888, the O'Sullivans and the Du Saules had gone together to mass at Our Lady of Good Hope. (Jeremy and Candy had gone to the Little White Church that Sunday with Josh and Callie and all their children.) Father Prefontaine detained Pellan and Philippe after mass to discuss some desired improvements to the church building … and funds needed.

Pellan left the sanctuary first to join the women at their carriage while Philippe finished up the funding discussion with the priest. Pellan found two drunken men beginning to force themselves on Lucie (now age 17) and Brigid (age 11), while Jess and Julie tried to push them away. Richard (10) and Patrick (7) tried to help their mothers and sisters while Erin (age 8) started screaming in terror.

Philippe heard their raised voices and screams and looked out the church door just in time to see Pellan throw the first punch. Philippe leapt down the front steps to join him. Although Philippe (almost 46) and Pellan (38) were older than the assailants and unused to fighting, they were in better general health and sober – and thus better-coordinated. They soon bested the drunks and left one unconscious and the other groaning on the ground, then quickly loaded their families into the wagon and headed home to calm everyone's nerves and nurse their own wounds.

As they drove off, Philippe noticed Lou Graham leaning against her doorway across the intersection, impassively observing. He couldn't tell from her expression if she approved or disapproved. He wondered if the men had come from her place or perhaps she had just turned them away herself. Although he loved their church, Philippe realized that he didn't want his family in that area of town ever again without him present or another of their male relatives.

Pellan interrupted Philippe's ruminations as their carriage rattled along: "I guess I need to go back to church to confess again," he sighed.

"I don't think defending your family is a sin, if that's what you're referring to," Philippe opined.

"No, but I enjoyed the fight!" Pellan grinned wickedly. "Or maybe I should wait a bit longer until I feel some contrition about it. Putting their filthy paws on our girls! Those bastards better hope they don't find me treating them if they wind up at the hospital with their injuries. I think we might be fresh out of anesthetics." He sighed dramatically and continued. "Come to think of it, I can add vulgar language and evil thoughts to my list to confess, if not actual malice. Yet."

Philippe, with a reddening bruise near his eye, gave him a slight sideways smile of agreement, but said, "Somehow I still believe that you would treat their injuries with the same kindness that you do everyone else."

"Mmm, maybe. But I'll tend to my family first in this, if you'll forgive me; those drunks can take a number. You've got a shiner starting there, Philippe. How else are you hurt?"

"Well, my knuckles, of course. He punched me in the stomach, too, so that may well bruise. I think that's the worst of it for me."

"Well, I've shed blood!" bragged Pellan, whose lip had been split. He laughed: "So I get more points!"

"We're giving scores for that back there?"

"Of course! There has to be some reward for mussing our Sunday best. And our women have to praise our heroism and make over our wounds." He winked at Jess in the back of the wagon, who gave him a baleful stare while she held Erin close to comfort her.

On Wednesday, October 24, 1888, there was a double celebration in the family: Jon and Marie married on Philippe & Julie's 25th anniversary.

"How can it have been twenty-five years?" asked Philippe as they were dressing for the wedding. "You still look the same."

"Oh, I don't think so, but thank you anyway."

"I know I don't look the same."

"You seem to improve with age."

"I don't know that I believe that either, but I'm glad that you think so."

Later, Philippe and Julie watched the steamship pull away from the dock, taking Jon and Marie to Vancouver, Canada, for their honeymoon. Philippe squeezed Julie's shoulder. "I remember another middle-aged couple standing on a dock, watching two newlyweds sail away on their honeymoon. It doesn't seem that long ago, really."

"But it surely feels like another place and time."

"Well, it was. And this is now. Let's go home!" He whirled her around by the waist, feeling almost frisky for a 46-year-old.

That same fall of 1888, the Rameau twins, Polly and Dolly, began primary school in town.

"Now you'll have more free time with your three all in school," Julie pointed out to Jenny.

"And three times as much homework when they come home," sighed Jenny.

"Well, you married a teacher," Julie said. "He should be able to help with that."

"I think he'll have to. I've got another bun in the oven."

"Jenny!"

"I just hope it's a single bun this time, not a pair."

In November of 1888, for whatever reason, the requested referendum about the water system was dropped without a word of explanation from Mayor Moran, the Council, or the newspapers, even though the citizens wanted a public water system. The decision was tabled until the next regular municipal election, scheduled in July 1889.

On Christmas Eve, Seattle began to have regular scheduled steamship ferries around Puget Sound. Up until then and before the railroads, the "Mosquito Fleet" of assorted ships went back and forth on the Sound … but not on any dependable schedule.

In the thirty-five years between the first White settlers in 1853 and 1887, 168 subdivisions accumulated in King County – almost all of them in Seattle. In 1888 alone, 75 new plats were filed. Buildings were now packed together all over the hills of Seattle and around the central core of the business district, which was once only little Pioneer Square. Some of the downtown buildings there were quite imposing – like Union Block, with its three tall stories on the waterfront and large awnings hung on the front, and the rebuilt, triangle-shaped Occidental Hotel, where Jacob Furth's Puget Sound National Bank was now located.

In 1889, 151 more plats were filed and Seattle was gaining one thousand new residents every month early in the year. There were five hundred buildings under construction just in the month of March 1889 alone.

On March 31, 1889, the first electric cable car began running a circuit up and over the hill to Lake Washington and then back to Jackson Street and Second Avenue South. People marveled at its technology: it was only the fourth such system in the world and one of the most technologically advanced at the time.

With all the growth and new technology being used, Seattle citizens could perhaps be forgiven for ignoring their remaining chronic problems: sewers still flooding at high tide, narrow wooden streets jammed with all manner of conveyances, rotting wooden water pipes, and a deep bed of sawdust underlying much of the downtown buildings.

In late May, Pierre and Jenny Rameau and their three children were delighted to welcome their new 'bun.' He was named Philip, after his Uncle Philippe, to whom Pierre and Jenny both owed large debts of the heart.

Barnabus Webster was astonished when Christopher Pruitt informed him of his engagement to Alicia Vernon. "How did you manage that? Perhaps I should have assigned you more cases."

"You may recall that I volunteered for every trip we needed made to Olympia," Chris said slyly.

"I thought you were just overly fond of Olympia oysters."

"It was really the Olympia library. Or the librarian."

Christopher Pruitt married Alicia Vernon at her parents' church in Tacoma on Saturday, June 1, 1889. They left on the train southward for a honeymoon in Oregon and planned to rent an apartment in Seattle once they returned, considering more permanent housing options.

Chapter 32: A Strange Form of Luck

Philippe felt relaxed and mellow in the five days following Christopher and Alicia's wedding. The weekend visit to Tacoma had been a nice little get-away for Julie and him. Pellan and Jess had stayed in Seattle due to Pellan's work schedule and looked in on Lucie and Richard Du Saule (now ages 17 and 11) while Julie and Philippe were away. Of course, Jeremy's entire branch of the family had also gone on the train to Tacoma, along with Barnabus and Biddie Webster. Julie and Philippe had had no particular responsibilities in this wedding and had been free to enjoy the celebration, the time away, and each other. The weather had been unusually dry and sunny then and since.

Philippe opened one of his newspapers on Thursday morning, June 6, and read an article about the World's Fair in Paris. The Fair had built and opened a new spectacle for the occasion named the Eiffel Tower on March 31st. The sketch of the tower was beautiful and graceful. Philippe felt a tinge of regret that he now lived so far away and would never see it. "Ah, well," he said and re-folded the paper to pass along to Pierre and Gaston when he saw them at lunch.

Pierre had a class at the University at eleven o'clock and Gaston had a morning photo shoot at the home of wealthy clients, so Gaston still carried his camera equipment into Philippe's club as the three met up at 1:00 p.m. It was an unseasonably warm day with a strong north wind. The waiters and kitchen staff at Philippe's club seemed to all have spring fever, for their lunch was finally served at 1:30 p.m. Still, the three men enjoyed cooling off and catching up en français during the long wait, discussing the new Eiffel Tower in the center of Paris. Then they ate at leisure and were just walking down the front steps of the club about 2:45 p.m. when they heard screams erupt in the distance: "Fire! Fire in the downtown!" Seattle's "perfect storm" of a catastrophic fire had commenced.

John Berg [Note: Some sources say his last name was Back.] was a 24-year-old Swede who had been in the States for two years, eight months of which he had been in Seattle. He had found work as a carpenter in the shop of Clairmont and Company: a cabinetmaker at the southwest corner of Front Street and Madison. [Author's note: Another source says the shop was at the southeast corner.] This particular day, a pot of glue was warming on the workshop's stove. Suddenly a carpenter yelled, "Look at the glue!" It was boiling over. Another worker set a scrap of lumber on top of the pot to tamp down the glue, but the board caught fire. John Berg then doused the flames with a bucket of water … and globs of hot glue were splashed onto turpentine-soaked wood shavings on the floor, which burst into flame. A cross-breeze through the shop's open doors immediately spread the flames throughout that shop and then the flames moved on to the wood-framed basements of other downtown buildings. A nearby liquor store exploded as the heat grew intense.

Someone alerted Seattle's volunteer firefighters, but the fire chief himself was out of town. While the private water system had enough water in tanks to fight the fire, for some unknown reason there was no water pressure in the hydrant nearest to the carpentry shop where it began. Firefighters tried to pump water from Elliott Bay, but it took thirty minutes before that water could reach their engine. The firefighters tried to thwart the flames by exploding buildings, but that created new fires. The flames and heat thwarted their efforts. The heat was so intense that stacks of dishes fused together.

Philippe and the Rameaus ran down the hill to Jenny's shop and encouraged her and her staff of modistes to grab the most valuable of her wares and supplies and take them directly to Philippe's masonry bank and, of course, they all fell to work, salvaging perhaps half of it before they had to stop. Jenny's shop was closer to the fire than was the bank and was built entirely of wood.

Over the next eighteen hours, 66 blocks (125 acres) of Seattle's main business district burned completely to the ground, along with all but one of the docks on the waterfront. The buildings had almost all been built of wooden clapboard, often attached to an adjacent wooden building. Sidewalks between buildings were also made of wood and burned, spreading the fire from building to building and block to block. The opera house burned. Hotels burned. Lou Graham's bordello burned. Jenny's women's shop (Philippe's original bank) burned. The railroad stations, coal bunkers, freight warehouses, and newspaper and telegraph offices all burned.

The fire jumped across roads and from wharf to wharf on the Bay. It burned south during the night until there was nothing left to burn and then the fire extinguished in the tide flats of Elliott Bay around 3:00 in the morning. Coal bunkers at the foot of King Street burned for several more days. The few wooden buildings which survived the fire smoked from the heat alone. There was absolute devastation of anything that had been flammable. Only broken walls remained of some fine buildings. All that remained of the new Occidental Hotel was its tall masonry façade and Jacob Furth's fireproof safe, where he posted a watchman with a shotgun.

Philippe, the Rameaus, Jason Bolt, and every other able-bodied man (and some women) did all they could to help contain the fire, but it couldn't be thwarted.

Photographers like Asahel Curtis and Gaston Rameau were busy that day and the next, recording scenes of the eerie-looking wreckage for posterity. Electrical power and telephone lines were down. The Little Brown Church's building was destroyed, but the Little White Church's second building somehow survived. (They built a still-larger building later that same year.) Clancey's (relocated) Saloon and its row of wooden buildings on the waterfront were destroyed, along with Bill Grose's boarding house and Aaron Stempel's former residence, his mill, and his dock.

Seattle was fortunate in that, unlike other large city fires elsewhere, no lives were lost and residential areas further up the hill were spared. The city of Tacoma sent a train and three boatloads of emergency food and volunteers, setting up on Seattle's one remaining pier and serving thousands of meals over the next two weeks while martial law was declared in the business district. San Francisco, Portland, and Olympia also made substantial donations for disaster relief in Seattle: nice that, for all the cut-throat competition between these cities, they would still support each other in times of need.

On a positive note, all the dilapidated wooden buildings of Skid Road were now gone, along with over one million rats and their fleas. All the old, established buildings which had prevented widening or raising the downtown streets were now gone, too.

Poor John Berg was mentioned in the papers as being slow-witted. He was blamed for the entire catastrophe and fired from his job. The public also flew into a rage against the Spring Hill Water Supply company, blaming them for the lack of water available at the fire's source. The question of a public water system was suddenly back on the ballot and Seattle voted in favor it – 1875 to 51.

Philippe's masonry bank was not destroyed by the fire, although it had smoke damage and required extensive cleaning. He was so glad that he had rebuilt without wood and a few blocks away from the downtown. His brothers-in-law now saw the wisdom of his choice in turning down their offer of lumber for his second building.

What stunned Philippe was how everyone in Seattle quickly became very happy about the fire. They became cooperative with each other … for two days or so. Large fires had occurred in other cities in the States and now Seattle had a similar, joyful opportunity to be able to start over and build a city with beauty in mind, now that the central core with its sewage and grading problems had been obliterated.

The day after the fire, Philippe, Jason, and Jenny attended an open-air meeting at 11:00 a.m. amid the debris where about six hundred business owners vowed that Seattle would rise like a phoenix from the ashes. Jacob Furth proclaimed that Seattle would come to see the fire as a blessing, that Seattle would be finer than before – and within eighteen months! There was optimism in the air! Citizens helped each other to find lost goods and housed those who were displaced. Citizens made plans to re-grade, hire architects, plead for assistance, and take full advantage of their good fortune. Bill Grose had recently sold his hotel for $5,000 … and then it was destroyed. After the Great Fire, he looked up the new owners of the destroyed hotel and returned all their money. Bill Grose did not rebuild, but retired on his savings to a twelve-acre farm outside of town.

Christopher and Alicia Pruitt were flabbergasted upon returning from their honeymoon, finding the Seattle they had known obliterated! Molly and Rolf Jäger put them up until they could find an apartment to rent that hadn't suffered smoke damage.

Three days later, the same kind-hearted and civic-minded Seattle citizens came together in the evening to revoke everything they had just planned, now that they had found out how much money would have to be levied on them for repairs and condemned properties!

Some people, like 79-year-old Aaron Stempel, objected to the city's plans for their destroyed property. A corner needed to be cut off of Stempel's land near Pioneer Square so that the street could be raised and new sewers installed on the lower end of town. He attended the City Council meeting on June 24th and, in a foot-stamping rage, tore up his will, which he said had bequeathed a million dollars to Seattle. He got a lot of bad publicity in the city's papers for stubbornly standing the way of progress … and also imperiling a sizeable reconstruction loan from San Francisco. The Council (under pressure from Stempel) voted to let Aaron have his way and keep that corner of his property. The public, however, immediately blew up and Council members realized that siding with Stempel in this matter would cost them their political futures, so the Council changed their collective mind. Stempel took the city to court, but rebuilding began so quickly that the ground had to be flooded with water so workers wouldn't burn their feet.

Within a month of the Great Fire, 88 buildings were either under construction or planned. Also within a month, Seattle's downtown became a tent city. All manner of trades – furniture, bakeries, pharmacies, clothing, jewelry, shoe-repair, barbering, dentistry, food vendors, and other sales and offices (including Jenny's) – took place under one hundred tents … and then the tradespeople slept in those same tents in the summer night air to guard their businesses. The locals laughed at their inside joke – "Our business is intense."

Indeed, it was a bad summer for catastrophic fires in greater Washington Territory: the central district of Ellensburg burned on July 4th and downtown Spokane burned exactly a month later.

Much good came out of Seattle's Great Fire:

By July 19th a newly-hired building inspector began issuing building permits for one- and two-story frame buildings, mostly for single-family homes.

Leaders founded Washington National Bank & Loan on September 21st to help rebuild the city.

New construction in Seattle was now required to be of brick or steel and use of professional architects brought a new coordination and elegance of style to both business and residential structures.

A professional (i.e., not volunteer) fire department was created and also a new municipal water works with more hydrants and larger pipes.

Wharves and docks were reconstructed.

Streets were widened and raised to accommodate sewer lines.

The corner which was cut off of Aaron Stempel's property under his protest became the enduring Pioneer Square of the present day. It was raised higher than the old one and became the center of the commercial district, made into a public park and used for civic celebrations.

Property owners filled in the mud flats at the edge of Seattle with sawdust to prevent future flooding and installed plumbing.

Ladies talked the Council into planting three thousand trees in the downtown, pointing out that Olympia had lined their streets with trees back in the 1870s.

Pioneer Square property owners built eight-foot walls on either side of the original sidewalks and filled them in to raise the street level up to the second story of the buildings to prevent future flooding. Square glass prisms were set into the new sidewalks to furnish daylight to the basement levels below, where businesses now had to access their original first floor by ladders and staircases, creating "Seattle Underground." For more than a decade, the Underground became a refuge for all types of people, particularly the homeless and shelters who were scamming them, but also illegal businesses, clandestine bars during Prohibition, and opium dens. Between 1890 and 1906, opium use was at a critical point – which coincided with the Seattle Underground.

Although her first building was destroyed in the fire, Lou Graham contributed generously toward civic rebuilding. She had accrued enough profits before the fire to rebuild at the same location of Third and Washington across from Our Lady of Good Help, this time in brick – four stories high.

Jenny's new business location was built out of masonry this time and was designed as a couturier's fine shop should be, not worked around in spaces which were designed for something else.

"She's done quite well for herself," Philippe remarked to Pierre on day.

"Oh, she has. She's doing far better than I am as a teacher," Pierre laughed.

"Well, her clients can pay more," pointed out Philippe. "And she let's them do it. Why not?"

Before the Great Fire, Seattle was something of a large town; after the fire it became a small city. Citizens became newly conscious of the city's visual impression on those arriving by ship on Elliott Bay. Within two years, 3,500 buildings were constructed on the ruins – most designed by architects this time. Within ten years, the new sewer lines in Seattle behaved properly, sidewalks and streets were clean, there were flowers in window-boxes, and electrified trollies were in use around town. Seattle then looked as refined as New York City did. Seattle's population went from about 23,000 before the Great Fire, to about 43,000 just six months later! Perhaps most of those new people were in town temporarily for construction jobs or were low-lifes, but even they became a source of civic revenue in vice fines.

Jacob Furth invited Philippe to lunch at the exclusive Ranier Club for local businessmen. They discussed the post-fire building boom, prospects for a new and better Seattle, and also such general topics as prospective investments.

Philippe mused, "I once thought I was a capitalist, since I appreciate having a free market. After moving here, what I read in the papers sounded like those men who have money feel they should make decisions for everyone else, since they think that they know better and certainly have the financial power to do so."

"That is the way many think, yes," agreed Jacob.

"In this country particularly, it seems that all people should have a fair chance to make their dreams of a decent living come true and have a say in their future. So many have fled other countries and situations in that hope for life in this country. So I signed on with the Populist party."

"Is that why you haven't pushed for large accounts at your bank?"

"I do quite the volume in small accounts and invest in local utilities and transportation which will benefit everyone."

"And that works … until some bad economic climate affects everyone."

"True, which I always hope it won't."

"Don't we all!"

"Having just a few large accounts depends on the fortunes of only a few people, which can be risky, too," Philippe pointed out.

"True. Either way, we must be optimistic."

They laughed together. They both knew that finance is gambling on good fortune.

Chapter 33: Water Wars and Financial Gains

In 1889 Seattle hired Benezette Williams, a hydraulics expert from Chicago, to produce an estimate for the city on what it would cost to buy out Spring Hill Water Supply and build a gravity flow system to pipe water to Seattle from Cedar River. The city paid him $35,000 to do the work, but the only person in town who knew where the pipes were buried was the meter-reader, Pete Berquist. After Mr. Williams conferred at length with Mr. Berquist, he told the Council that Spring Hill Water Supply was worth $119,170.

After lengthy negotiations with Jacob Furth and his Spring Hill partners (who had already read in the papers that Seattle was planning to pay $1 million for a new water system and didn't mention the gravity-flow system), the city and Spring Hill negotiated a price of $352,265.67 – all pure profit to Furth and his Spring Hill partners, including Philippe Du Saule. But Mr. Williams failed to notice … and Furth failed to mention … that there were $50,000 in outstanding bonds that Spring Hill was pledged to pay, making the real purchase price $402,265.67.

Mr. Williams started surveying, then told the Council that Seattle should obtain its supply from Rock Creek instead, since it had a ten-million-gallon flow and would increase perhaps fifty percent in the years ahead. One of the Councilmen examined the figures and pointed out to Mr. Williams that he had his decimal point in the wrong place: that there was only a one-million-gallon flow. Mr. Williams withdrew his proposal for Rock Creek. Someone asked him what to do with the city's sewage. "Dump it in Lake Washington," Williams retorted. Long-term City Engineer, R. H. Thomson, later redid all Mr. Williams' 'expert' calculations for the water system and came up with Cedar River being the best option, which was where things were to begin with.

Two other momentous events happened in Seattle that same year of 1889. The Territorial University enrollment was up to three hundred students, still operating in the devastated downtown. Graduate Edmond Meany was made head of a legislative committee to find a site for a new campus. The institution eventually moved to what was the north side of town and was also renamed the University of Washington because, on November 11, Washington became a state. Finally.

And in September 1889, Josh and Callie's son Josiah set off, grinning broadly, for his first day of school– on his two perfectly-functioning feet.

Chapter 34: Milestones and Transitions

After Jason Bolt's last term on the Territorial Legislature ended in 1886, he took a course in surveying and acquired employment with Seattle's mapping office in addition to running the part-time census office (which became full-time in census years). Jason knew the whole area, could plan sensibly, and interacted well with all kinds of people. He still looked in on his lumber operation, of course, but he had never recovered the full use of his leg for tree- climbing … to his wife's secret relief. He turned fifty years old in 1890, and was content with his varied work, in coaching eight-year-old Jasper's baseball team, and, of course, teaching Jasper and all the other Bolt kin in his generation local history and folklore.

As Seattle moved into "the Gay Nineties", it was almost four times larger than Calais had been in 1876 when the Du Saules had left for the States. If Calais had not annexed another town in 1886, creating a 34% increase in their population, Seattle would have been larger than Calais was in 1890. 201 new plats were filed in Seattle in 1890. The first Bon Marché store opened at First Avenue and Cedar Street It was only one story tall, but would grow larger in two other locations in 1896 and 1928. There were large buildings three- and four-stories high in the downtown area again with horse-drawn streetcars just a year after the Great Fire. Electric wiring was strung on tall poles to carry power between buildings.

In 1890, Lou Graham filed a petition with the city to widen the sidewalk in from of her gaming parlor. Her petition was denied since the city felt that the whole street would require re-planking if it was accepted.

The Transcontinental Railroad extended a line from Tacoma to Seattle – at long last!

Eighty-year-old Aaron Stempel married his housemaid, Minnie Gagle – who was the daughter of his first cousin and 55 years younger. Gossip in town suspected that it was not a love match. His nephew and property manager J. D. Lowman was nearly undone.

In the summer of 1890, Pellan O'Sullivan and Pierre Rameau both turned forty and laughed about how they were 'suddenly' the experienced ones at the hospital and the university: a convenient way to avoid saying they were getting on in age. Both were now doing less of their original work of surgery and teaching and more administrative duties.

Jon and Marie became parents – and Philippe and Julie became grandparents – in the late summer of 1890.

"How did you choose the name Ivy?" Philippe asked his son.

"Well, we agreed that if the baby was a boy, Marie would choose the name. And if it was a girl, I would choose. I first thought about flower names, but how many girls are already named Rose and Daisy and Lily and Violet? And Fleur!" He laughed.

"But Ivy?"

"You'll laugh…."

"Maybe. But please explain."

"She's named for Ivy Hill."

"What? Pellan's old boarding house in London?"

"Yes. I was very happy there, living with all my extended family. I felt like I was growing up and the world was opening up for me, traveling beyond France and moving here. I hope that Ivy will feel happy like that here, surrounded by her large family."

"Ah!"

"Crazy?"

"No, it's a beautiful wish for her. You might have named her Willow, though, after our home in Calais."

"She already has that in her last name, doesn't she?"

"I guess you're right about that. Well, Ivy is a unique and pretty name for her."

"Say, Papa, have you heard about the developer Guy Carlton Phinney's place on Green Lake? He's created a little resort with a farm house and boat house on Phinney Ridge and named it Woodland Park. I took a little group of Courson customers up there two weeks ago and it was very nice. They enjoyed it and the food was great! I got to thinking: do you suppose my uncles could create a resort like that on Bridal Veil Mountain? They can't log it forever, but they could do something like that and still keep the mountain – or part of it. That would preserve it into the future. Jason hasn't clear-cut it and it's still beautiful. Some of the other logged-out sites in this area are like a vision of Hell."

"That's a wonderful idea. But let's look for the right time to suggest it to them."

North Seattle Cable Railway Company began construction of the Queen Anne cable car line in 1890. The car was linked to a 16-ton counterbalance weight. As the weight slid down the hill in an underground tunnel, it pulled the car up. When the car came down the hill, it pulled the weight back up to the top. Such contraptions were a continual source of wonder to all the local boys, who could observe construction going on all around town. Rolf and Molly were glad to have a cable car serving their hill now with a stop just a few blocks from their door. It was such a convenience for them and their two children to get in and out of town.

In the fall of 1890, little Avery Bolt started school where his cousin Josiah attended, one grade ahead of him. Now all the children in that generation of the Bolt clan were in school. It was a new era for them … and for their parents. Julie scarcely knew what to do with herself without any preschoolers to watch. She said as much to Candy one day.

"I guess we can go exploring in town while school is in session," Candy suggested. "Maybe we can start sewing for Jenny!"

They laughed together, since that the last thing either of them wanted. They'd both done enough household sewing and mending for their own and other children in the family for a lifetime.

One day while out walking on his lunch hour, Philippe saw employees at a grocer throwing food into a metal trash bin and setting it afire. "You there! What are you doing?" he called out. "Those vegetables looked perfectly good."

"Well, we didn't sell 'em today and another delivery comes in tonight which will be fresher, so the boss says out it goes! We don't have room to store it."

"It's wrong to destroy perfectly good food just because it can't be sold for profit."

"Sorry, sir. That's just the way things are."

'But does it have to be that way?' Philippe thought to himself as he resumed his walk.

Philippe detested waste and began to think about options to market fresh produce at lower prices. He remembered the old open-air marketplace in Calais. Why couldn't something similar be built in Seattle? Then anyone, like Crying Bird's people and others, could rent space and sell whatever they liked. He began to float the idea, recruit some investors, and then search for a good location. The next year in 1891 construction began on a building for the outdoor market on Pike Place in the downtown. It seemed a good way to invest his Spring Hill Water Company profits.

Chapter 35: Gone Missing

On Friday, March 6, 1891, the Bolt/O'Sullivan/Rameau cousins were conveyed straight from school to Aunt Jenny's home in town for an overnight/weekend party to celebrate Ian Bolt's twelfth birthday and pending First Communion on Sunday. The Du Saules, Jeremy, and Candy brought the kids from school and stayed on to help chaperone the noisy weekend.

After supervising the logging camp to the end of that Friday, Joshua Bolt came home and suggested to Callie, "Since Josiah is at Ian's party in town, let's take some time for us. Let's ride out east tomorrow toward Mount Si. It's been a long time since we did anything just by ourselves." Callie smiled happily and bundled up on Saturday morning for the buggy ride in the early spring air. Off they went, feeling light-hearted like newlyweds, enjoying their day. They ate a light picnic lunch that Callie had packed and then a scrumptious late dinner at a café, then headed for home as evening drew on.

At 7:40 p.m., there was an earthquake measuring about 5.0 that centered on Mt. Si. It was felt all around the eastern side of Puget Sound, rattling everyone's nerves (especially Philippe's) and even Ian's party miles away in Seattle.

The next morning, the Bolt/O'Sullivan/Rameau children went to mass at Our Lady of Good Hope with their adults for Ian's First Communion and then returned to their individual homes. Josiah Bolt scampered happily along the path to his home at the far end of the Bolt property beyond Forester's Creek, eager to tell his parents all about his fun-filled weekend in town … but his parents weren't there and the fireplace was cold. He was confused and ran back to tell his Aunt Candy and Uncle Jeremy.

Jeremy returned with Josiah to look around the empty cabin, hoping to find a note about where Josh and Callie had gone, but he didn't. He did discover that a two-seater buggy and one horse were missing from their communal barn. He took Josiah back to his cabin to stay with Candy and his three children, then rode up to the logging camp to ask if anyone there had heard Josh say anything about plans to travel over the weekend – but no one had. Jeremy was in the process of recruiting Corky, Swede, and some others to help him search when Jason arrived from town. Jeremy could tell that he brought bad news.

Between rain-softened ground, rotting timbers, and the earthquake, an old bridge across a deep gulch collapsed as Josh and Callie rode their buggy onto it – perhaps just as the earthquake hit, perhaps startling their horse, perhaps causing it to rear and causing the bridge to collapse from the weight of its impact. The horse was still been alive on the morning of the 8th. The sounds of its struggle alerted some people as they discovered the collapsed bridge. The horse, injured and trapped in its harness with the broken carriage, had to be put out of its misery. Neighbors used ropes to get down into the gulch to the shattered carriage and its occupants.

A sheriff's deputy and a medical examiner from Tacoma thought that Joshua Bolt had died instantly of his injuries and that Callie had succumbed afterward from her weakened heart in the cold night air, trapped in their predicament. She was snuggled again Josh's body, dried tears streaking her pale face. Telegrams were sent about what they found and Jason received one of them.

Jason and Jeremy gave the loggers two extra days off with pay to recover from the shock and to allow them to reorganize for the future.

Sitting in the office-tent, in shock themselves, Jason asked Jeremy, "What are we going to do about Josiah?"

"Candy and I will take him in and raise him. We're his godparents."

"If you want him to come live with us in town..."

"No, it's better that he lives with us, if he agrees. It's on the same property where he was living, so he'd have less change. He can go to the same school he was attending with Avery. They're almost like brothers as it is; they've played together all their lives, just a year apart."

"You've already got three children and a wife at home to support on one income, plus yourself. Allyn and I have two incomes and one child. Let us pay for Josiah's clothing, school supplies, and education; you feed and house him and give him the personal support a boy needs from his parents. How does that sound?"

"I.… Well, that's all true. And fair. Thank you, Jason."

"If you need any other help, you just let us know."

"Thank you; I will. I don't think we'll need more help with Josiah right now, but I know I'm going to need help with the camp."

"I can help you, now that the census is past. Maybe you can take one team out and we can promote Corky to lead the other. Or we can drop to one team. We're going to have to do that eventually as the best trees run out. I can do the books and payroll and things around camp."

Jeremy and Jason returned to the Bolt enclave beyond Forester's Creek and delivered the terrible news to Josiah as compassionately as they could, reminding him that Jeremy and Candy were his godparents and offering for him to live with them now. He tearfully nodded agreement.

The bodies of her parents joined that of little Linda Bolt in the family cemetery. The old Bolt cabin fell empty again after Julie and Candy cleaned it out.

"Are you okay?" Candy Bolt asked her husband a few weeks into their family transition, sitting by the fire after their now-four children were all in bed asleep, the three boys in the loft and Clara by herself downstairs.

"Ah, yeah. It's just been rough," Jeremy sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Josh and I had our differences over the years, but he was always around, you know? I keep thinking I hear him. Or I find something I want to show him or tell him – and then remember I can't. It's like it was for me with Marta, in a way – I guess because these were both sudden losses. Eventually there's just a big, gaping hole of grief and absence. And we adults still have to soldier on, doing all the normal stuff of life and holding it together for the kids."

"I was thinking: if this terrible tragedy had to happen, I'm glad it happened in the time after Josh and Callie reconciled and they seemed to all be happy again as a family."

"Yes, so am I."

"I'm even glad that it happened after Josiah's foot healed, so Josh and Callie saw that he'll grow up to be a healthy adult."

"Yes. Same here."

"Are things working out with Jason back at the camp?"

"Oh, sure. He's very familiar with the way Josh kept the books and did payroll. I'm relieved of having to keep up with receipts except to put them in the lockbox for Jason to post and organize. And Corky does fine with his new responsibilities. Jason hasn't bossed me around or argued with me at all and seems to wait until I ask his opinion on something. But we have to plan things with each other so we can both cover for the other if something happens. That feels awkward at times, I guess because it's new and it's just us two now without Josh to fill in. It feels like we're both nervous about the future – which is true, at least for me."

"You look worn out."

"You've had it hard, too: taking in another boy to raise. Think the loft will collapse when they get to tussling?"

"With three boys instead of two, maybe there won't be as much tussling. Maybe Ian will learn to settle any fights the younger boys have. Josiah's a sweet boy. He's minds well. I do think the laundry and mending with three boys seem to have increased ten-fold since Josiah moved in."

"They just find things to get dirty together. Wait 'til they hit teenage."

"Well, Ian and Clara should be grown by the time Josiah and Avery are teenagers. One day at a time, I guess."

Jeremy reached over for Candy's hand, which she gave him. "We'll get through this." They smiled at each other. Of course they would.

Jeremy Bolt and Gaston Rameau both turned forty later in that year of 1891. Brigid O'Sullivan finished grade school in June, going to work in Aunt Jenny's dress shop – her new sign reading "Jennifer Rameau, Couturier" – and feeling grown up. Indeed, the girls of the younger generation were the main workers in Jenny's shop at this point. Like Jason and Jeremy at the logging camp, Pellan at the hospital, and Pierre at the university, Jenny had become more of a supervisor now.

Also in 1891, a rookie policeman arrested Lou Graham for prostitution, ignorant as to who she was. A jury trial took place; Lou was acquitted; the Reform mayor, Henry White, resigned in protest.

Seattle annexed the residential areas reached by their new streetcar lines, increasing city's area from 13 to 30 square miles.

The Society of Jesus (Jesuits) founded a new Catholic Church in Seattle (Immaculate Conception) and secondary schools for boys in Tacoma and in Seattle. The one in Seattle later became Seattle College, then Seattle University.

Philippe and his family left Our Lady of Good Help after fifteen years and with no hard feelings with Father Prefontaine. After the incident with the drunks, Philippe became wary of the changing area around the church. He didn't permit Julie, Lucie, or any of the rest of his female family members to go there without a male escort or two. The Du Saules became active at Immaculate Conception, building on their friendship with the Jesuits. The O'Sullivans and Rameaus soon joined them there, as well as Jeremy and his family.

Chapter 36: Who Knew French Could Be So Useful?

Philippe Du Saule and the Rameau brothers met for their monthly lunch en français in August 1891 at a new café in town, catching up with each other. Pierre gave Philippe the letter he had just received from an attorney in Amiens, France. Philippe read over it and the two very large checks enclosed. "Sacre bleu! I thought you said that your parents cut you off when you left France."

"That's what our father said," Gaston chuckled, "but it may have been fortunate for us that he died before our mother – and also due to Pierre for keeping in touch with her all these years."

"I just wrote to her occasionally and sent photographs that Gaston made," Pierre said modestly. "She never replied, but I thought she would like to see her grandchildren and hear how we are getting along, even if she was still angry with us for leaving France. I felt that was the right things to do."

"Apparently she was concerned that her grandchildren be well provided for in life, as well as yourselves," Philippe replied, looking again at the very large distributions from her estate settlement.

"Well, yes," Pierre agreed. "Gaston and I wondered if you can deposit those checks in our accounts and if you have ideas of how to invest them."

"Of course. I'll deposit them for you today, if you'll just endorse them. And I can explore other ways you can invest the money if you want it to try to grow it. Or perhaps you want to set up trust funds for your children when they come of age or for their education. We can meet at the bank in a week and I'll have some information for you."

They agreed and endorsed the checks, which Philippe put in a secure inner pocket of his waistcoat.

Pierre next shared that he had a new assignment: to review a play on September 24th for the local newspaper.

"That's a new job for you," Philippe observed. "How did you come by it?"

"Well, this play is in French," Pierre explained. "I suppose the newspaper came to the University, seeking someone who could understand French to review it for them. They gave me six tickets as pre-payment. I wonder if you and Julie and Gaston and Siobhán might come along with me and Jenny? Then I could get more French-speaker input before I write."

"Very well," agreed Philippe. "But why would Seattle want a French play performed here when most people can't understand French at all?"

The big draw of the play – Fedora – turned out to be the famous French actress, Sarah Bernhardt. She swept into Seattle the morning of September 24th by steamship from Victoria, Canada. Ms. Bernhardt learned that there were bears in the wild areas nearby and immediately demanded a bear-hunt for herself and five companions. Courson Outfitters was promptly contacted and Jonathan Du Saule was recruited to be the trail guide for the celebrity party.

Jon took them on a picnic wagon ride out to Green Lake. They found some bear tracks, which they followed for three hours without sighting any bears. The thespians drank wine liberally, tossed bottles into the lake and shot the bottles, plus a squirrel and a few small birds, then headed back to Seattle by seven o'clock. Fedora was performed that evening for an audience of fifteen hundred at Courdray's Theatre. Most people in the audience didn't understand a single word, but found Ms. Bernhardt dramatically mesmerizing nonetheless. Gaston Rameau took a few photographs of Ms. Bernhardt on stage and Pierre wrote his review for the paper, delivering it before the deadline for publication.

Jon had found the hunting expedition with the famous visitors disturbing and vented to his father a few days later. "Papa, they were just as boorish as the drunks I can see on back streets in Seattle any day! They spoke French around me and I didn't let them know that I could understand. After ten minutes with them in the wagon, I didn't want to talk to them any more than I had to, regardless of who they were."

"Jon, just because people are famous does not make them good people," Philippe replied. "People attend the theatre to see an illusion, which talented actors can create. It doesn't have anything to do with how anyone is in real life, actors included. I'm glad that your eyes are clear about what you see."

By 1892, First Hill had become the residence of choice for the elite, monied class in Seattle. Some of the houses were beautifully designed and constructed with sapling trees planted about, trying to redeem the mud of construction. Residents played croquet in the tiny lawns of their homes. The Bolt clan still lived happily on their same family property beyond Forester's Creek, even though the oldest cabin remained vacant.

Richard Du Saule finished grade school at Academy of Holy Names in June that year and enrolled in the University of Washington in the fall. He was a quiet, observant boy – more at ease with city life than his much-older brother Jon. Philippe found Richard's personality a bit like his grandfather Chrétien, though he favored the Bolts in his straighter brown hair and increasing height. He, like Jon and Lucie, had taken short turns working small jobs at their father's bank during summer break from school, but Richard seemed to enjoy it the most of the three. That was reassuring: Philippe now thought that he might not need to worry about his bank's future if Richard was inclined toward that line of work once he finished secondary school.

In late September, Philippe turned from one side to the other, viewing the fit of his new winter suit in the mirror at Livingstone Tailors. "Yes, this is fine. It fits me quite well, as is usual for your work."

"That style is popular in France, too," submitted the tailor's son, who was assisting Philippe today in this final fitting.

"Which would be excellent if I planned to ever go to France again," laughed Philippe. "It will certainly do for Seattle."

"Yes, sir."

"Let me settle up with you, then."

"Of course."

The young man moved to the cash register while Philippe got out his personal check out of his wallet and completed the transaction.

"If I may ask something, sir?" the young man ventured, looking nervous.

"Yes?"

"Might I call upon your daughter, Mr. Du Saule?"

"My daughter? When did you meet– ? Ah, I remember. She came with me to my first fitting."

"Yes, sir. She is quite charming."

Philippe looked appraisingly at the young man, now viewing him in an entirely different light. "I guess that will be alright."

"Thank you, sir."

"Archibald, is it?"

"Everyone calls me Archie, sir. Please feel free to do so as well."

"Archie, then. Friday evening might be a good time. I will tell Lucie she may expect you."

"Thank you, sir."

The next day featured torrential rain, which brought work like logging and banking almost to a stand-still. In the former, working in the rain was miserable and even more dangerous than usual. In the latter, people stayed home unless they were desperate for funds.

Philippe read newspapers all morning without any interruption. He finally took off his reading glasses and got up to stretch his stiff back, peering out from his second-story office window at the driving rain and looking forward to lunch for variety.

'Miserable day!' he thought, noting that the streets were almost empty of foot-traffic even in mid-day. 'Champagne weather.' He noticed a man and woman under umbrellas approaching his bank's door. 'Loan applicants?' he wondered. 'Who else comes to a bank on a day like this?'

A few minutes later, Siobhán Rameau knocked on his door, smiling. "Philippe? There are people here you'll want to see."

Philippe stood up and walked around his desk just as Siobhán stepped aside and a middle-aged man and young woman entered. Philippe stared a moment, then recognized the man. "Zacharie!" His best friend from his youth in Calais! They laughed and embraced in the French manner, exchanging kisses on both cheeks.

"I'm so surprised and happy to see you, my old friend!" Philippe exclaimed. He noted somewhat sadly that Zacharie looked old for his age. He, like Philippe, was approaching fifty years.

"Arlise," Zacharie Martin said, "this is my good friend from school days in Calais, Philippe Du Saule."

"Enchanté, Monsieur Du Saule."

"My daughter, Arlise."

"Enchanté, Mademoiselle Martin," Philippe responded and invited them to sit, resuming a third chair nearby. "You were living in Belgium, the last I heard."

"Gerdie and I did live in Belgium for many years, tending to my father's business there and in the Netherlands."

"Is your father– ?"

"He left us almost four years ago."

"Ah, my condolences."

"Thank you. And so Gerdie and I moved back to Calais with our son Luc, who was fourteen at the time, to live with my mother in the old house there. I had in mind enrolling Luc in secondary school in Calais. Arlise was in finishing school in Belgium and we let her stay on to finish her time there while we settled with my mother. Then" – he drew a long breath – "there suddenly came an influenza epidemic. Gerdie, Luc, and my mother all left us within two weeks' time."

"Ah, quelle horreur! I am so sorry!"

"Arlise came to Calais once the contagion had passed. We've been trying to put our lives together ever since. I eventually realized that I didn't want to live in Calais – didn't want to live in my parents' home, surrounded by their things. I didn't want the reminders of them everywhere I looked at home and around town. I didn't want to return to Belgium either, since it wouldn't have been the same without Gerdie and Luc. I didn't even have the heart to carry on my father's business, although it was doing well. And Arlise felt the same. So we considered what to do. I ran into Matthieu Garnier in town one day – he manages your old homeplace now, you know? – and he told me where you were. Arlise and I just decided to sell everything and come to visit. We thought the long travel might clear our hearts of sorrow and maybe we would find some place we liked along the way where we would want to settle. So I sold the business and our house, we packed up, and here we are!"

"Well, you are most welcome to Seattle! I'm just sorry that the sun didn't welcome your arrival today."

There was a hint of winter in the night air as Philippe and Julie rode home after visiting Jon, Marie, and two-year-old Ivy one Friday night that November. They were elated by the news which Jon and Marie had shared with them: the pending arrival of another grandchild in the coming year.

Philippe confessed, "Julie, I would go mad if I had to live in Seattle these days like Jon and Marie do. All those three-story buildings all over town! I feel like I'm walking through canyons and the roads are always torn up, putting in ever more streetcar rails. I'm so happy to come home every day where it's quiet and clean and peaceful – and much of that is due to you, I know. I hope you don't find me too much of a homebody. We can attend more plays and concerts, if you wish, now that we've gotten Zacharie and Arlise settled in that apartment. I think Jacob Furth will find him an able employee once Zac gets used to American ways."

"And learns a little more English?" supplied Julie. "Well, Arlise seems content to keep house for the two of them, though I'm also glad that Jenny recruited her for the dress shop. She has Jenny, Siobhán, and Lucie to talk to in French while she tries to learn English, which should help her. I shouldn't think a 21-year-old will be content for long as her father's housekeeper, even if she doesn't speak English. She's a lovely girl, but so sad-looking. I learned yesterday from Jenny that one of her old beaux also died in that same influenza epidemic as it spread into Belgium. No wonder she wanted to leave Europe with her father. Neither of them really had anything left."

"That's so tragic for both of them. And in moving to the States, they left everything they had known of European life. Perhaps a complete break after such a large amount of loss is best, I don't know. I just remember how difficult it was for me at times, with family here to help me and without such a tragedy in my past."

"I remember, too – though I don't recall you ever saying so. And I appreciate all that you've accomplished here, as well as what you sacrificed for us. I wouldn't have you be any different than who you are. I know there's a temptation to become a different person, living or working in a large city, but I also know you're still the farm boy I married and love. Jon and Marie seem happy enough in town, even if he does look like a backwoods trapper with that dreadful beard."

"Ah, he just wants to prove that he can grow a beard and maybe it looks appropriate to Courson Outfitters customers. By the way, I read the annual report of the Department of Engineering today. They're still hauling "night soil" [i.e., sewage] from the business district to Elliott Bay and dumping it into the Sound some miles out. I'll wager some of it just washes right back in with the next high tide. I'm so glad that we're away from that. It's so much healthier for us out here. I wish they could do something about sewage in town, even though things have improved some since the Great Fire. It's never going to get better as more people keep moving to Seattle – only worse."

Philippe wasn't the only immigrant who helped old friends from Europe get settled in Seattle. Over the years, about a half-dozen families from the Dingle peninsula of Ireland made their way to Seattle, seeking out Pellan as their old clan head. Pellan found it ironic that in Ireland he had felt that he could do nothing to help his people, but in Seattle he was able to help them resettle in livable homes, find work, and he treated their medical needs pro bono.

Chapter 37: Financial Squabbles and Challenges

On December 16, 1892, Aaron Stempel died at the age of 82. Soon after, his much-younger wife, Minnie, was arrested for having destroyed his will. A doctor, who was also a resident in the huge Stempel mansion (and rumored to be Minnie's paramour), was also arrested, jailed, and charged with the same crime. There were whispers that strychnine might have been involved in Stempel's demise and a trial ensued.

Thus began a ten-year squabble over Stempel's million-dollar estate between Minnie Gagle Stemple and her mother vs James Lowman and the City of Seattle. Indeed, Stempel would not have had an estate at all but for his nephew J. D. Lowman's management of his property in his later years. Minnie was supported by the estate for several years and lived in the grand mansion until 1899, when it became the first home of the Seattle Public Library. It burned less than two years later. Minnie and her mother then moved to Los Angeles.

January 7th, 1893, was a momentous day for Seattle. After decades of negotiations, betrayals, and dirty-dealing between railroad owners, Congress, and civic leaders in Tacoma and Seattle, the Great Northern Railroad finally completed a line to Seattle, connecting them on a standard-gauge rail to the outside world for imports and exports. Seattle immediately began to steal San Francisco's trade from Alaskan steamships and grew even larger and wealthier. Civic optimism was riding high and the arrival of the Great Northern Railroad cushioned the blow of what was about to happen.

In February of 1893, a railroad company in Pennsylvania failed and The Panic of 1893 began. It was an economic depression that spread around the entire globe: from the United States to Argentina, South Africa, Australia, and Europe. It prompted a run on gold in the U.S. Treasury. There were runs on banks and credit crises. Railroad companies in the U.S. failed, including the Northern Pacific Railroad and the Union Pacific Railroad, both of which served Washington Territory. Fifteen-thousand other companies and five hundred banks (many in the West) failed as well. The trolley companies in Seattle went bankrupt and the enormous building boom resulting from the Great Fire came to a halt. Almost twenty percent of the workforce became unemployed. Middle-class people lost their life savings in failed banks and so were unable to pay their mortgages and had to walk away from recently-built homes.

This affected Philippe's bank as well, which was focused on serving average people, as well as his carefully calculated investments in Seattle's waterfront and local infrastructure. He was put in a severe pinch for funds and worried constantly if his bank, too, would have to fold. He cancelled his club membership and brought food from home for his lunches now, cutting out all unnecessary expenses. He had to let some tellers go – temporarily, he hoped, as he told them. Everyone in town was living the same way … if they were lucky enough to still have employment.

On Valentine's Day, when the economy had still seemed bright in Seattle, Archie Livingstone asked Lucie Du Saule to marry him and she joyfully accepted. But when economic hardship began increasing all around the area, affecting both of their fathers' businesses, they postponed their marriage to the fall and planned for a very small, family wedding.

Richard Du Saule took a reduced load of classes at the university and found a part-time job on campus, helping to pay his tuition. It seemed like no business or family was untouched by economic hardship and belt-tightening, including the Bolts' timber business (where contracts dwindled), the hospital (where patients put off non-emergency medical attention), and the university (where many students dropped out). Courson Outfitters had to focus on selling the basics that backwoodsmen needed and not catering to the pleasure-hikers (who were cutting their own non-necessities). Even grocers noticed that housewives opted for home-baking and simple, less costly foodstuffs for the table. Restaurants struggled to survive.

One afternoon in early summer, the doorbell rang in the public banking area and Philippe was surprised to hear a knock come shortly at his office door. "Come in," he called, fearing that it might be another person needing a loan or wanting to cash out their account which he knew would find difficult to produce. In swept Lou Graham. She was a short woman, but exquisitely dressed and with a commanding presence, wearing her signature excess of diamond jewelry. Had Philippe not known her face, the diamonds alone would have given him a hint as to who she was. Philippe was momentarily dumbfounded. "Miss Graham," he finally said, standing.

"Mr. Du Saule," she nodded in greeting, her large, plumed hat exaggerating the gesture.

"Please be seated," he offered. She perched on the chair opposite his desk and Philippe resumed his own chair.

"I'm sure you are surprised to see me," she stated. "I will get to the point. I know that this present economy is difficult on bankers and other businessmen in town. I have made private loans to some citizens who are in difficulty and to another banker with whom I am acquainted. If you need assistance, I am offering to do the same for you."

"Why would you do that for me, Miss Graham?"

"I know your good reputation in the community. I remember you from the day those two drunks accosted your family coming out of church and how you and Dr. O'Sullivan came to their rescue."

"You remember that? I wondered if they had come over from your place."

"I had just turned them away; I want no sopping drunks in my establishment. I serve a better clientele than that, as you are no doubt aware. In fact, you remind me of my uncle back in Prussia. I admired him; he was a good man."

"What do you want from me, Miss Graham?"

"I want this town to succeed. It can and it will again after it gets beyond this present downturn. I'm aware that your whole family has done a great deal for Seattle, and that you sacrificed a comfortable living in France to come to Seattle with your wife and found the first bank here."

"That is kind of you, especially knowing that I am not one of your patrons."

"You need not ever be. I am helping the town by helping you and others. How much do you need?"

Mrs. Finch was finishing up her own banking transaction when Miss Graham left Philippe's office and joined "Chong," her right-hand man, who had been waiting for her in the lobby. Philippe escorted her out and thanked her again. Mrs. Finch drew in her breath sharply.

Pellan O'Sullivan was about to enter the bank just as Lou Graham and Chong approached, holding the door open for them to exit. She nodded pleasantly at him from under her ostentatious hat. "Good day, Doctor O'Sullivan." She glided down the sidewalk to her waiting carriage.

Pellan entered Philippe's office and shut the door. "Does Lou Graham have an account here?"

"No," Philippe replied. "She came to see me about something else."

"Do I want to know what that was about?" Pellan asked with an exaggerated, look.

Philippe knew that Pellan was nothing if not curious and recounted his visit from Miss Graham and her offer. (If it had been in regard to a personal account of Ms. Graham's, he would have said nothing.)

"That's amazing! I didn't know that she was so generous around town with her money."

"She is nothing if not discreet about business of all kinds, I hear."

"I don't want to pry, but you know better than to—"

"I assure you that I haven't and I will never with her or anyone else."

Pellan nodded, relieved.

Mrs. Finch ran into Julie Du Saule at the grocer's an hour later. "Mrs. Du Saule, you poor thing! How are you?" she began, with exaggerated sympathy.

"I'm fine, thank you," replied Julie, wondering how she qualified to be considered a 'poor thing.'

"Of all the horrid things we have to endure in this city and to think that it has now touched your family, too."

"What are you talking about?"

Mrs. Finch then held a hurried and whispered conversation with Julie, imparting what she had seen in the bank that morning. Julie's jaw dropped, but she said nothing.

"What a day!" Philippe sighed as he came in the front door of their cabin in the evening, hanging his frock coat on a nearby peg and running his fingers through his unruly hair. Julie stood at the stove, as usual, stirring something which made his mouth water. Venison stew, perhaps? She glanced at him and smiled – rather faintly, he observed – but perhaps she had had a tiring day, too.

He crossed the main room to give her his usual hug; she seemed a little stiff and unresponsive this evening, which was odd. "How are you?" he inquired, lovingly.

"Fine."

"The children?"

"At the O'Sullivans' right now. They should be back soon."

"Ah." Julie wasn't usually this reticent. Philippe asked, "What did you do today?"

"I did some baking and mending this morning and went into town for some things after lunch."

More unusual silence. Philippe continued: "Forgive me, but is everything alright? You seem tense…."

Julie glanced up at Philippe and then back at the pot. "May I ask you something?" she said, timidly.

"Of course. Always."

"Have I ever failed you? In anything? As your wife?"

"No. Never. I can't think of a single thing."

Julie nodded, still looking at the pot which she continued to stir without seeming to see it. More silence; Philippe waited. "You would tell me," Julie added after a moment, "if you weren't happy, wouldn't you?"

"If it was some serious matter," he responded. "Why such questions today?"

Julie shook her head, her face contorting as she began to cry. They could both suddenly hear their children's voices in the distance.

"Alright. I see that something is very wrong," Philippe stated. "And we will talk about it tonight when the children can't hear. Agreed?"

Julie nodded and wiped her tears with her apron. Philippe turned his attention to occupy Lucie and Richard as they entered, giving Julie a moment to collect herself.

Once dinner was over, the dishes washed, and Lucie and Richard off to their rooms for the night, Philippe banked the fire and headed to their bedroom. Julie seemed slow to join him, puttering around in the kitchen, but he sat down in a rocking chair to wait and gathered his wits to get to the bottom of her distress. She finally came into the bedroom and shut the door slowly and quietly, meeting his eyes almost fearfully, he thought, as she sat down in the other chair.

"Tell me. Tell me what has upset you."

Julie propped her head in her hand wearily for a moment and said nothing.

"Please tell me," Philippe persisted after a minute.

"I ran into Mrs. Finch at the grocer today."

"Yes?"

"She said that she'd been at the bank earlier. She called me a 'poor thing' and I didn't know what she meant. Then she said that she saw Lou Graham coming out of your office with you and that you were warm and gracious to her and thanked her. I guess she assumed that you and Miss Graham are … close … somehow."

Philippe sighed wearily. Now it was his turn to rest his head in his hand. "I didn't notice Mrs. Finch at the bank, but she was correct: Lou Graham did come to see me at the bank today. She came on her own initiative; I didn't invite her. She doesn't have an account at my bank and she didn't request to open one. And I was courteous to her; I hope I'm courteous to everyone who comes into my bank."

Julie's blue eyes were like saucers, staring at him. She said nothing.

Philippe continued: "I told you when we married that I had never been with another woman – even a prostitute – and that I resolved that I never would after what happened with that family in Calais, where the whole family contracted syphilis from the father. That has not changed: I have not been intimate with Lou Graham or with anyone except you. That won't change. Ever."

Julie nodded and looked relieved, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry to have let Mrs. Finch upset me. It's just that I know I'm not young anymore and I can't give you more children."

"You have given me three fine children in the past; what would we want with more? Neither of us is young. We are grandparents of one now with another on the way!"

"Are you angry with me?"

"No! I'm angry with Mrs. Finch for making scandalous assumptions and for upsetting you for no reason. I wonder how many other people she has spread false tales to."

"I should have known that's how it was. I've heard her gossip about other people – things that weren't true."

"Furthermore, you know how terrible the economy has been. It's been difficult for all our bankers when ordinary people can't pay their mortgages and loans, not to mention the large loans made to businesses who are all struggling. I haven't talked about that much around you because I didn't want to worry you, but most of my days at work are spent juggling funds to barely meet my bank's obligations until the economy recovers."

"I guessed as much. And I guessed that you were trying not to worry me."

"Apparently Lou Graham has been making private loans to people around town during this downturn to help some avoid bankruptcy. I think Jacob Furth must have mentioned my struggles to her, because he's the only person with whom I've discussed my bank's problems, trying to figure out if I was missing some angle in how to manage. That's what she did today – offered me a loan – and I accepted it. That two thousand dollars should tide me over a tight spot and maybe things will improve soon."

"But Philippe, she's a—"

"Yes, I know. She's also one of the wealthiest people in Seattle, whose 'business' never seems to be affected by railroad failures or anything else. And I'll say this for her: she actively cares about the city and its people. She has that reputation, too. These loans aren't the first thing she's done to help out some people in town."

"What do you mean?"

"Jacob told me some time back that he has sometimes had people request loans which he didn't think he could get his Board of Directors to approve, so Jacob sent them to Lou with a note, and she gave them a loan – at a higher rate of interest, of course; that's part of how she's made her fortune. She's a very shrewd businesswoman and she keeps her mouth shut about loans and more. Unlike Mrs. Finch."

"But is it right to accept a loan from someone who runs a … a parlor – and you know what goes on there! Have you been there?"

"Yes, I have." Julie's jaw dropped for the second time that day. "The city council sometimes conducts their business meetings there," Philippe continued, "and that was the only reason I went there a few years ago to pitch my idea for the outdoor market on Pike Place. Julie, you have to be aware that I do business with many people I don't like or approve of. Sometimes it's the City Council!" He chuckled. "I have people with accounts at my bank who are alcoholics, some who are rumored to beat their wives or children, some who may not earn their money entirely on the up-and-up, and then gossips like Mrs. Finch. If I just did business with people I like and approve of, I don't know that I would have been able to create a bank at all – here, or maintain the one in Calais. I think it's that way in any business – maybe even at Jenny's dress shop."

"I think you're right. I've heard Jenny talk about difficult customers. What's it like in Lou's … parlor?"

"'What's it like?'"

"Yes. What does it look like inside?"

"Well … there is a very nice, comfortable lounge on the ground floor. Booths and tables for eating and playing cards. A bar. Rather heavy and masculine furnishings, since that is who she seeks to attract. A good-sized meeting room – where the Council was the day I was there. Lively conversation about politics and business even with her female employees, who seem more intelligent than the norm for prostitutes. And she has posted rates for food, drink, and 'accommodations,' with everything … and I do mean everything … free for the City Council members. That's why they favor her place and hold Council meetings there. I hear that other such places in town adjust rates upon sight of a man for what they estimate he can afford. And some places will rob a man while they are 'entertaining' him. Lou's place is discreet and one's valuables are said to be as safe as at any bank, or so I hear."

"Where do they—?"

"On the upper floors, but I haven't seen them." Philippe smiled, amused now by Julie's curiosity.

"Oh."

"Do you want me to go upstairs so I can tell you about the décor there, too? And whether the mattresses are too soft or too hard?"

"Don't you dare!" Julie rose and pulled him close with a warning smile, her usual confidence in him restored.

"Ah, I'm so relieved!" He rolled his eyes in exaggeration as he embraced her. "I'm not much able to describe interior decorating. And why would I ever go there for a soggy croissant when I can have a fine brioche at home?" He embraced her with a sigh of contentment, her warm body relaxed in his arms as usual. All was well again. And he would have a word with Mrs. Finch.

Ian finished grade school in June of that horrible year and started to work at the logging camp with his father. Ian was still mechanically inclined and enjoyed creating and constructing tools and contraptions that they needed for their work. Jeremy couldn't regard Ian as a partner in the logging enterprise until he learned more and was older and stronger, but he was glad that someone in the next generation was interested to learn the trade. Jeremy also knew that their logging of Bridal Veil Mountain could not go on forever once suitable trees were gone. They already had to travel farther to work these days, logging around the east side of the mountain, opposite from Seattle. Many nights Jeremy and Ian both stayed over at the camp to save time.

Jeremy kidded Jason: "Did you imagine the day that we'd be the old men training the next generation?"

"I really didn't," Jason admitted with a chuckle. "Neither did I think that you would have a teenager before I did." (Jasper was still eleven to Ian's fourteen years at this point.)

"I was just precocious, I guess," Jeremy grinned, knowing that Jason had never thought that of him in regard to sexuality.

In mid-summer of 1893, Marie Du Saule gave birth to a son, whom she named David after her deceased grandfather back in Maryland. Jon pondered what to do with his family, which was outgrowing their small two-bedroom apartment above the store with Ivy now toddling about. But in the economic downturn, moving was not a concern for anyone unless it was absolutely urgent. Jon was grateful that they had a roof over their heads and secure employment in the family business downstairs, which was also convenient and saved on transportation. Their children were still small. Moving to a larger place could wait. He would count his blessings.

In mid-October, Lucie Du Saule married Archie Livingstone in the side chapel at Immaculate Conception: an intimate wedding only for family. Philippe dressed for the occasion in the same suit he had purchased on the day Archie asked permission to come calling on Lucie. He looked at himself in their bedroom mirror and turned to Julie: "So, does the father-of-the-bride look presentable?"

"Handsome as always," Julie declared fondly with a kiss, straightening his cravat more out of habit than necessity.

"I wish we could give her a larger wedding and a formal dinner," he said wistfully. "I hate how her wedding has coincided with the Panic this year."

"Economic downturns happen, as I've heard you state many times. I think it speaks well of Lucie that she didn't pout about the economy affecting her wedding. She's a sensible, practical girl and realizes that everyone is struggling right now. That will do her – and Archie – in better stead in coping with real life than any fancy wedding-day trimmings."

"True, but I still wish…"

"Come on, my love! Let's go make the best of it. We'll be late."

Chapter 38: Things You Never Expect

On Sunday night, November 5th, there came a knock on the door of the apartment of newlyweds Archie and Lucie Livingstone. They exchanged a glance. Who would be calling at this hour? Archie cautiously cracked open the door and found his brother-in-law Jonathan Du Saule standing on the landing of the exterior catwalk, very muddy and disheveled, holding Baby David in one arm and three-year-old Ivy's hand with his other. A large sack had been dropped on the landing beside them and Ivy's face was streaked with tears. 'Is that blood on Jon's clothing?' Archie wondered.

Lucie came up behind her husband and gasped at her brother. "Jon! What's happened to you?"

"May we stay with you tonight? Marie is … gone … and her father told us to get out. I don't want to take a taxi out to our parents' home at this hour."

"What?!" the Livingstones gasped simultaneously, pulling their door wider to admit them. "Of course! Come in."

"Let me take Ivy and clean her up and get something for you to eat," said Lucie, sounding to Jon a bit like their mother. "You know where our water closet is for you to wash up, too. Archie, get some extra blankets out of the closet and make some pallets for them. And do you have some clothes Jon can change into?"

Jon handed Lucie the sack after she took Ivy's hand. "Here are some of Ivy's clothes."

The Livingstones' apartment was above his father's tailoring shop – even smaller than the one Jon and Marie had shared – and had one bedroom, a tiny parlor, kitchen, and water closet. The men made pallets on the living room floor for Jon and the children. Archie took turns holding David and amusing Ivy while Jon washed up and changed and Lucie warmed some food. No one mentioned Marie and they had a rather stilted conversation, waiting until Ivy was clean, fed, comforted, and bedded down for the night. Then the three young adults had an intense, hushed conversation in the kitchen, holding the oblivious, sleeping baby who had drunk some infant formula.

"What in the world happened?" Lucie asked.

"You know Marie and I went camping yesterday morning with the Ramseys and the Heltons," Jon began. "Perhaps we shouldn't have gone, but Marie – you know how willful she can be – and the Heltons pushed hard for it, too, as a last fling before winter. Marie complained that she'd been cooped up most of the year being pregnant and nursing David, which is true, and everyone's been so broke that we haven't gone on outings like we used to in the past. So we left early while Marie's mother kept the kids and I hoped that we'd have good weather after all that rain last week. We set up camp and had a nice hike, a good dinner and conversation last night. This morning we ate breakfast and were getting ready to break camp. The women went 'down the road a-piece' – you know what I mean – and then a little later we men heard them screaming. We ran in that direction and found that Marie and Alice had slid down an incline when the path gave way. We pulled Alice up with ropes; she hadn't slid far and was scratched up, but okay. Marie slid much further down, went off a little ledge, and hit her head on a rock. It killed her instantly, I think; at least I hope it did, so she didn't suffer. There was so much blood! It took us a long time to get down to her with ropes and pull her up the slope using the horses. We took her body to the hospital; I didn't know what else to do. Pellan wasn't on-shift. Dr. Tanner said the medical examiner needed to see Marie's body and fill out the paperwork. Then I went home and told her parents. Her father was just furious – flew into the vilest rage! He shoved Ivy at me and said, 'Get out and take your brats with you!' I couldn't believe he would talk that way about his own grandchildren – and in their presence! Of course, Ivy was scared and crying and so was Annette, who handed David over to me. I didn't know what to do, so I threw some of their clothes in a bag; I'll have to go get the rest of our stuff later when he cools down. I'll tell Papa and Mama tomorrow, but I didn't want to go out there in the middle of the night like this."

"Of course not. You stay with us as long as you want. I'm sorry we don't have a bed for you," said Archie.

"This is fine. It's just for tonight," Jon promised.

"Don't worry about Mr. Courson," said Lucie. "People say crazy things when they're shocked and grieved. He'll cool down. Give him some time."

The next morning, dressed in clothes borrowed from Archie, Jon walked to the bank to tell his father about the tragedy while Lucie kept his children and Archie went down to work in his father's shop.

Philippe looked up in surprise when John quietly opened his office door.

"Jon! What a nice surprise—" Philippe began, but quickly saw in Jon's face that something was terribly wrong. "Jon?"

"Oh, Papa!" Jon excclaimed, tears welling up in his eyes. Philippe quickly rounded his desk and put his hands on Jon's upper arms. "What has happened?"

"Marie … has left us."

Philippe had ridden his horse to the bank that day without a buggy, so he rented a carriage and team. First they went to the police station to tell their side of the story and obtain an escort, then they drove on to Courson's Outfitters. Lionel Courson was gone when they arrived and they were relieved. Annette admitted them to the upstairs apartment – apologies pleading in her eyes – and immediately returned downstairs at the officer's direction.

"Just take your clothes and Ivy's and her toys and whatever David needs," Philippe directed. "Leave everything that belonged to Marie. And you don't need anything else from the household while living at our house. Leave all that here."

"What about gifts I gave Marie?" Jon asked.

"No, I don't want the Coursons to accuse us of robbing them in any way."

"What's he going to do with Marie's clothes and jewelry? Annette can't wear her clothes."

"Perhaps he'll wear them himself, I don't know. I hope he'll calm down and re-think all this, but we can't be sure. I just want to be gone from here before he returns and avoid a confrontation, even with the police present."

They worked quickly and silently, tossing clothing, toys, and Jon's personal effects into pillowcases and sacks, willy-nilly, and loading them into the carriage. They thanked the officer and left the apartment for good.

Next they retrieved the children from Lucie and drove out of town to the Bolt property beyond Forester's Creek. Julie heard the carriage arrive in late morning and looked out the window, realizing that something was amiss for Philippe to come home at this hour and in a rented carriage. She tossed aside her dust-rag and went out on the front porch. "What is it?"

Jon had dismounted and took Ivy in his arms to set her down, then received David from his father's arms and walked to the front porch. "Hello, Maman." Philippe followed closely and gave a warning look and shake of his head to Julie, saying, "Let's take the children inside and get them settled. They will be here for some time with Jon." Julie led them all inside and quickly found some cookies and milk for Ivy.

"Jon, can you tend to the children for a moment while I talk with your mother?" Philippe asked.

Jon nodded, knowing that his father would tell his mother what happened once out of Ivy's hearing. Philippe held the door of their bedroom open for Julie to enter, then shut it behind them.

"Oh, my goodness!" breathed Julie.

"Yes. So they need to stay here indefinitely while this is sorted out," Philippe explained. "Jon and I need to go back into town today. He must sign some papers after the hospital has finished examining the body."

"Of course," Julie agreed. "The poor dears! Poor Jon!"

Philippe and Jon ate a quick lunch at home and then promptly rode back into town, straight to the hospital. Some horses wearing police livery were tethered there and something felt amiss. A horse-drawn paddy-wagon trundled off in the direction of the city jail.

"Hm," Philippe grunted, frowning. "I wonder what has happened? Yet with police about, we may be safer than if they weren't."

They tethered the carriage and entered the hospital lobby cautiously, identifying themselves to the nervous-looking woman at the desk and asking for Doctor O'Sullivan. The woman looked up sharply and responded, "Doctor O'Sullivan is … unavailable. Could you wait a minute, please?"

They took a seat and eventually Dr. Wright came out, hugged them, and invited them back to her office. Once there, they learned from her that Lionel Courson had already signed to release Marie's body to a mortuary. Allyn detailed that Mr. Courson had come to the hospital in 'a state' of irrational behavior, demanding release of his daughter's body. Pellan – then on-shift – had tried tactfully to intervene, stating that Jon, as Marie's husband, was next-of-kin. Mr. Courson wasn't having it and began to bellow his demands. Another hospital administrator had come in the room, trying to de-escalate the situation, and finally overruled Pellan and allowed it. Then Mr. Courson shouted, "You Bolts are always interfering" and shouted "You killed my daughter!" He then drew a pistol from his jacket and shot Pellan.

Dr. Wright said that Pellan was in surgery at the moment, having the bullet removed from his left shoulder, but should recover fully. Police were called, Mr. Courson had been arrested and taken to jail … so Philippe and Jon guessed who was being transported away in the paddy-wagon just as they arrived.

"Sacre bleu! Does Mrs. Courson know about this?" asked Philippe.

"I suppose the police will inform her," Dr. Wright said.

"Perhaps we should go and see her. Offer our assistance…" wondered Philippe, thinking out loud.

"I think we should all stay away from them right now and let the police deal with them," advised Allyn. "Jon, did you and Marie have any plans for your burial?"

"No, I mean, we're in our mid-twenties. We hadn't thought about that yet or made any plans."

"I assume that the Coursons will bury her in their family plot in Lakeview – that's what he said, at any rate. You can move her coffin elsewhere at some point in the future, if you want. You are her next-of-kin, Jon. But given that he's been violent, I would stay away from him right now. It's not right that he's taken over, but he wasn't rational today. He may well have been drinking, too. Our administrator was trying to pacify things and avoid violence. Everyone in the hospital is shocked about what happened to Pellan. And Lionel will be charged with assault with so many witnesses around, so this isn't ending with Marie's funeral or any time soon. You can expect it to be in the papers tomorrow. Just be advised and keep clear of them."

They thanked Allyn and went to ask after Pellan, who was still in surgery.

"Jon, would you take the carriage back home with your possessions and I'll get my horse home from the bank when I leave here. Stop by the bank on your way and tell Siobhán; she may want to come here to see her brother. Tell her to close the bank early if she wishes and put a sign in the window," Philippe directed. "Also stop by Jenny's shop and tell Brigid and Jenny, then go on home to your mother and the children. I will sit here and wait on Pellan. I don't know where Jess is. She may be at home, but Erin and Patrick need to be told what has happened when they get home from school today, too. See if you can find Jess and I'll look for her around here."

"Of course, Papa. Thank you." Jon hugged his father and left. Philippe sat down in the surgery waiting room, as directed.

In about a half-hour, Jess walked in, looking alarmed, and Philippe stood to greet here. "Philippe! What's going on?! I was in the building next door, teaching my little nurses, and police came in and wouldn't let us leave the building! Now they brought me here and won't tell me what's going on!"

"Jess, sit down with me and I will tell you everything I know. There has been a bad situation here." He gave her all the details that he knew. She was alternately horrified, then sobbing, then finally numb. "It's alright, Jess. It will be alright. If it had to happen, it couldn't have been in a better place for Pellan to get immediate medical attention. You know the staff here will give him the very best of care, given who he is." Jess nodded, leaning against his shoulder.

After a while Dr. Tanner came to the waiting room. "Oh, good! I didn't know where you were, Jess. I guess Mr. Du Saule told you what happened. Pellan will be fine. It's good that the bullet hit a few inches too high to involve his heart." He's still sedated, but I imagine he'll have plenty to say when he comes around. We're all very upset over this whole situation. And I'm sorry, Mr. Du Saule: this whole episode should not have happened. Marie's body should have been released to your son as next-of-kin."

Pellan returned to consciousness in a hospital ward and gradually focused his green eyes on Jess, sitting beside him. He smiled wanly, "Well, at least it's been many years since I woke up in a hospital to see you." Jess said nothing, just shook her head sadly and teared up. "What's happened?" he inquired. Jess filled him in.

"How's Jon?"

"I haven't seen him today. Philippe had sent him on to tell Siobhán and Brigid and then home to tell Julie and our other children what happened. I think Brigid rode home with Jon. Siobhán has been sitting here, too. I sent her to get something to eat and to tell Gaston when he got home from work. How are you feeling?"

"Splitting headache and half-sick from the chloroform."

"Let me give you a little water to wash the taste out of your mouth." She poured some water into a small glass and lifted it to his lips for him to drink, supporting his head. "Promise me you'll let administration do whatever they want to in the future. Let them bear the consequences of what they do."

"I should probably learn to keep my mouth shut, though I'm forty-three now and a bit old to learn new habits. I just hate it for Jon, since he had all the horror of getting Marie's body up the mountain and bringing her here. It's not right for her father to take over."

"Allyn said Mr. Courson wasn't rational and to let things be. Mr. Courson is in jail now, if he hasn't posted bail. Allyn advised us all to stay away from them, let things cool down, and let the police handle it. I don't think you know, but Lionel threw Jon and the children out of their apartment last night and they're now with Philippe and Julie."

"What?! Oh, my God!" He snorted in disgust. "I'm glad I didn't know that this morning or there's no telling what I would have said or done. Allyn always stays so calm in a crisis. I've tried to learn from her, but it's not working." He sighed heavily in frustration.

"One lapse in how many years now? I'd say you do pretty well with that yourself. I wouldn't have you stop standing up for what you think is right because that is who you are. Just try to be wary around gun-waving lunatics in the future."

"Yes, ma'am. I know that your advice is always sound."

"What a nightmare!" Philippe exclaimed as he collapsed into bed beside Julie that night. "How can one get up in the morning in a pleasant frame of mind and see so much trauma and change in just one day?"

"I guess we both found out today," Julie sighed in agreement. She kissed him and it quickly escalated into passion tinged with desperation as they came together.

"Your body is such a comfort to me," Julie remarked later, snuggled close in Philippe's arms.

"As is yours to me," Philippe added, nuzzling her neck.

After a pause, Julie reflected, "Poor Jon. He's lost the comfort of a wife now."

"And his children have lost their mother, though they're so young they won't remember her. Even younger than Jeremy's children were."

"We'll just have to give them as much love as we can so that they have a stable life in all this. Let me ask: do you resent this – our seeming to always have someone's children around here since we moved here?"

"No, do you?"

"No, I enjoy children, as I've told you."

"And I do, too. Besides, I grew up without much family and living a rather self-centered life. This is a way I can give back and help others."

"I would never call you 'self-centered'."

"Well, call it 'self-indulged', since I didn't have to consider what anyone else wanted. I may not be making much sense at this point. I'm so exhausted. Let's get some sleep, even though the end of this day has been by far the best part of it."

They drifted off in each other's arms, as usual.

The Coursons held a private graveside service for Marie a day later. Mr. Courson did not inform or invite Jon and was belligerent and difficult with the undertaker, so that he didn't feel it wise to cross him. Mr. Courson, who had posted bail, attended the brief service and then returned home with his wife.

Three days later Jon was in town, seeking new employment, and found himself in the vicinity of Lakeview Cemetery. He decided to search for Marie's grave and located it without much effort. He was startled to see an opened grave almost beside it and then noticed a funeral procession approaching from lower down the hill, the horse-drawn hearse in front. He quickly retreated to a discreet distance and watched from behind some thick shrubbery – curious at first, then shocked to see the cortège stop at Marie's grave and Annette Courson get out of the following carriage, dressed all in black: widow's weeds! Jon's jaw dropped. 'Sacre bleu! What's happened now?'

He wasn't dressed appropriately for a funeral and wouldn't have shown himself to that funeral party even if he had been, so Jon left as silently as possible, unseen. Knowing where everyone was, he passed by Courson Outfitters. He wasn't surprised to find a white funeral wreath on the door and read the hand-written notice in the window about the death of owner Lionel Courson. He returned home and told his parents. They learned the next few day that Mr. Courson had shot himself, just prior to his arraignment for the assault on Dr. O'Sullivan.

After a week with Julie and Philippe, Jon and his children moved into the old cabin on the family property which was once occupied by the Bolt Brothers in their bachelor days. The cabin was still furnished, if cob-webby and dirty, from lack of residents for more than a decade. Julie, Candy, and Brigid cleaned up the cabin and set up housekeeping for Jon.

Jess sat with Pellan every day at the hospital for a week and then he returned home to recuperate. Jon felt lucky to find a new job delivering groceries, given the limping economy. Julie, Candy, and Brigid helped Jon with child care while he worked and everyone planned a simple Christmas celebration at the older Du Saules' home, where Jon and the children took their meals. Richard Du Saule (now 15) and Patrick O'Sullivan (12) were still in school, but joined in holiday activities as they could.

Pellan sat drowsing by the fire in his easy chair, but was awakened by a knock on his door. "Come in," he called, glancing at the mantel clock. It was almost time for Jess to be back from errands in town. Jon entered, carrying several parcels, and greeted him.

"Jon! Are you delivering here now?"

"Jess asked me to drop these off for her so she wouldn't have so much to carry today. She'll be here shortly."

"Well, thank you. Do you need a tip?"

"Nah, not for family. Are you feeling better, Pellan?"

"Yes, but they insisted that I stay out of work a full month. Someone did send a few papers for me to review, though."

"Are you sure you didn't request homework?"

"Not this sort of thing. May I ask you something, Jon?"

"Yes, of course."

"I have Marie's death examination here."

Jon didn't respond.

Pellan continued: "I don't want to upset you…."

"It's alright, Pellan."

"It says that she had old cut-mark scars on her thighs."

"Yes."

"Did she ever tell you about how she got those?"

Jon nodded, cautious.

"Sometimes when something bad happens to someone, they may cut themselves to displace the pain."

"Yes."

"Did something happen to Marie?"

"Yes, she told me about it. It happened long ago."

"Is there someone who needs to be brought to justice?"

"No. Pellan, please. Marie wouldn't want that. She never wanted anyone to know. I don't think anyone did know except her parents and me and the man who did it. It happened long ago in Maryland and it was why they moved here – to get her away from him and protect her. It's why she insisted on giving birth to our children with only her mother attending her: she didn't want anyone else to see the scars. I think it's why her father was mistrustful even of me when Marie and I started dating."

"We wouldn't want that man to hurt other girls."

"No. Well, I mean, he would be older now anyway if he's even still alive. And Marie wouldn't want anyone to know that about her."

"You know there is no shame for someone who is a victim."

"Yes, I know and agree. But even someone who was a victim may not want others to know that happened to them and may feel shame anyway, whether they 'should' feel shame or not. Feelings aren't rational."

"Well, you are the guardian of her memory. I am obligated to ask and inquire if anything had happened around here and the police needed to follow up – or even in Baltimore."

"Yes, I understand. But just drop it."

"Very well. And Jon: I'm proud of how you've behaved and held up in all this. I know it's been horrible for you in particular."

"Thank you, Uncle."

Philippe remained coldly outraged at the behavior of the Coursons during all this tumult, but didn't share his feelings with Jon. Jon drifted between shock, grief, and anger himself, but they all gave as much comfort and stability to little Ivy as possible, while David remained blessedly oblivious in his infancy.

Philippe and Julie decided to take a Christmas fruit basket to Annette Courson as a sort of peace offering, leaving Jon out of it and assessing her state of mind. The widow received them courteously, but seemed still too sunk in grief for a lengthy visit. She did apologize for her late husband's hostility and for displacing Jon and the children. They wished her well and invited her to contact them if there was anything they could do for her. The store had remained closed all this time.

Chapter 39: A New Chapter

1894 began with the usual gray winter days, reflecting the subdued atmosphere among humans in Seattle and in the Bolt clan. Mt. Rainier began smoking again as spring arrived. Jon pointed out the mountain to Ivy one Saturday afternoon, noticing his father with amusement, standing nearby and saying nothing, regarding the mountain grimly.

"You worry about Mount Ranier, don't you, Papa?" Jon grinned.

"Always, Jon. Did you never learn about Vesuvius and Pompeii in school?"

"Yes, but didn't people build back there immediately?"

"Some did, but what of the ones buried in the ashes?"

Jon chuckled. "Maybe such a day won't happen here."

"With a smoking volcano? Ranier is not dormant. How many times have we seen it smoking since we moved here?"

"That's been almost twenty years now."

"Yes, well. Ranier is absolutely huge! If it blows, it will cover this whole region. It will always worry me – if not for me in my lifetime, then for my descendants in theirs."

They turned to the sound of an approaching horse and buggy. It was Annette Courson with a driver.

"Mrs. Courson," said Philippe, half-bowed courteously. "How are you?"

"I am doing some better, Mr. Du Saule. May I speak with you and Jon?"

"Of course. Jon, why don't you escort Mrs. Courson inside your cabin and I will show the driver where he may water the horse."

Jon escorted his mother-in-law into his small cabin, carrying Ivy. Mrs. Courson looked around. "This is where you live?"

"Yes. It's the old cabin where my uncles on the Bolt side lived in town when they were single. They moved it out here when the old downtown began to change and added on more rooms."

"I see. It seems comfortable and warm." She gave Ivy a hug and settled her on her lap. Philippe did not rejoin them, giving them privacy to talk. He went on to his own cabin to advise Julie of Mrs. Courson's arrival and to prepare little David for a visit with his other grandmother.

"Jon, I am very sorry about all the upheaval this past fall. I know it hurt you and frightened Ivy."

"It has hurt all of us, Annette."

"I've begun work on settling my husband's estate. He had not changed his will after Marie's death, of course, which is a complication. I assume that Marie told you about the trouble back in Baltimore before we moved here."

Jon nodded.

"Lionel felt so badly, having tried to protect Marie and failing her on two accounts. He left his estate to me and then to Marie. I know that he was fond of you, too, before the accident occurred. I wonder if you would consider moving back and running Courson Outfitters for me? My sister in Delaware is a widow and has invited me to come live with her, but I don't know yet what I will do."

"Let me think about that," Jon said carefully. "The children are settled in here and I have family here who can care for them while I work, so I don't know that I want to move back into the apartment. We were beginning to need more room anyway. I'll let you know my decision in the next few days about running the store for you."

Mrs. Courson was fine with that plan and, indeed, still felt too depleted from the loss of her only child and her husband to cope with the care of two very young grandchildren. She went with Jon and Ivy to visit briefly with David and the older Du Saules. Then she retrieved her driver and buggy and left for her home in town.

As things evolved, Annette Courson herself moved into the small upstairs apartment and Jonathan returned to run the store for her, assisted by Brigid O'Sullivan (now seventeen). Jon expanded the store into the old family quarters in the back, expanding inventory. Ivy and David stayed with Julie or Candy during the days, and Annette came to visit them occasionally. Pellan recovered from his gunshot wound in good time and returned to his work at the hospital.

Philippe watched Julie nuzzling David one afternoon when he returned from work, while dinner was warming on the stove. "Are you okay with this?" he finally asked.

"Okay with what?" asked Julie, startled.

"Taking a strong hand in raising the third generation."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Julie seemed genuinely puzzled by her husband's question.

"I don't know if you are tired and need someone else to help with that."

Julie gaped at him. Philippe sensed that he had said something terribly wrong.

"Philippe, they're our grandchildren."

"I know."

"I wouldn't want to do anything differently than what we're doing or hand them over to some stranger hired to care for them. I don't think I should. They've lost their mother's care, but I can give them the love of their grandmother."

Philippe well knew already that caring for small children gave Julie tremendous fulfillment and happiness, which was what he wanted for her. It didn't matter that he sometimes fancied a holiday from the intrigue of banking business in Seattle – and no one was traveling now in the economic downturn anyway. He knew he could enjoy 'holidays' on their property with their grandchildren, whom he also loved. He knew that many people did not live long enough to even see their grandchildren. He would count his blessings.

Chapter 40: Sleight of Hand

Philippe opened the Seattle Post-Intelligencer on February 20, 1894, and read that an attempted theft of Lou Graham's diamonds had been foiled. The diamonds were valued at $10,000. "Ten thousand dollars! Sacre bleu!"

A knock came on his office door: it was his brother-in-law Jason Bolt.

"Come in, Jason! Have a seat."

"I can't stay long. I just wanted to tell you the final chapter of our water intrigue in Seattle."

"Oh?"

Both Philippe and Jason were aware that a 63-year-old man named Edward Holmes Ammidown, formerly a wool merchant in Massachusetts, had come to the area to represent some coal mines near Everett and dig his way out of debt. He schmoozed with the governor of Washington and notable businessmen in Seattle and joined the Seattle Chamber of Commerce, where Philippe and Jason had both met him. Jason later learned, and informed Philippe, that Mr. Ammidown had purchased a homestead in the Cedar River area for $200. Now Jason had just learned the real reason for his purchase….

Mr. Ammidown had heard that the old water system serving Seattle was so patched together that it could not withstand the onslaught of population increase. He had hired a young hydraulic engineer to examine old King County records. The engineer discovered (and copied out by hand, verbatim, for Mr. Ammidown) the report Benezette Williams had made in 1889 about the optimal water source for the growing city. Mr. Ammidown then began to quietly buy up right-of-way options on the waterway from Cedar River into Seattle. He next made a proposal to the city to pipe that fresh water into Seattle for $5 million … and it turned out that his homestead claim straddled Cedar River at the very spot that the Williams survey had pinpointed for the intake for the proposed pipeline. Mr. Ammidown had cornered Seattle's optimal water system for $200!

Ammidown and some out-of-town financial backers proposed creating a system for $1,250,000 and selling water to Seattle for two cents a gallon while Ammidown also used the same water to generate electric power, giving Seattle an option to take over the system after fifty years. The city fathers were caught off guard by Mr. Ammidown's actions and didn't have funds to counter his offer (since the city treasurer had just absconded with a lot of money). They issued a revenue bond. Mr. Ammidown no longer had to worry about his debt load.

Philippe and Jason laughed and laughed until they were out of breath. Siobhán Rameau knocked on Philippe's office door after a while, asking "Are you two alright? Customers can hear you downstairs."

Chapter 41: Venturing Out

Erin O'Sullivan and Elise Rameau both finished grade school in June 1894 and joined Jenny's ladies' wear emporium. It was now a rather large family-run business, popular for fancy weddings and among monied society. Jenny made a tidy profit and paid her staff generously.

The new chapter of the American Institute of Architects in Washington State began building in Romanesque, Gothic, French, Georgian, and Italian Renaissance styles in Seattle and elsewhere: a more balanced representation of styles in which Seattle took great pride.

In 1895, Roman Catholic Bishop Junger died after sixteen years in the Seattle area and was succeeded by Edward O'Dea.

The University of Washington finally moved from downtown Seattle to Denny Hall, the first building on their new campus northeast of Seattle on Union Bay. The University Regents never could sell the old property in the downtown, but used it as a source of revenue for the university.

There were plans to fill in the 1525 acres of tidal lands at the southeast end of Elliott Bay, yet the Native Americans in the area still camped on the waterfront of Seattle at the foot of Washington Street in tent-covered boats in obvious poverty.

Cousins Clara Bolt, Jasper Bolt, Patrick O'Sullivan, and Samuel Rameau all finished grade school at the Academy of Holy Names in June 1895. That summer, the boys (all age 14) and their 16-year-old cousin Ian met up at Courson's Outfitters on Saturdays and went riding their new bicycles on trails and paths in the parks which were developing around Seattle. Little Ivy Du Saule looked forward with great excitement to beginning grade school in the fall.

One summer Saturday, Jason dropped Jasper off for a bike ride and stayed on to chat with Jon (now 28 years old) after Jasper and his cousins took off.

Jason remarked, "It was good of you to give them all a store discount on their bicycles. I envy them riding on those new contraptions, as long as they don't take a tumble like Jasper did last month."

"Bicycle sales have kept me solvent in this slow economy. I can get you a bicycle too, Jason – if you want."

"Thank you, Jon, but I know better than to try it with my leg."

"They are now making some safer models with three wheels."

"I think I do well to stick with horses and buggies. Much obliged."

"May I change the subject to an idea I had?"

"Of course."

"I don't know how long you're going to keep cutting timber on Bridal Veil Mountain, but I've been noticing these private parks developing around Seattle. What do you think of the idea of turning Bridal Veil Mountain – or some part of it – into a park? You could build a lodge with hiking paths, horse trails, or even bike trails. That would preserve the beauty of the unlogged part and earn income to offset expenses. You could keep some of your men on to lead hikes or maintain the trails, if they're interested; no one else knows the mountain as well as they would. The trails you've used for logging could probably be easily converted for recreation purposes without having to make new roads."

"Hmm. I hadn't thought of that. Let me talk to Jeremy and see what he thinks of the idea."

"With the next generation coming along, they might be interested in helping develop a lodge. I'll bet Ian would be interested already."

Jasper, Patrick, and Samuel all went on to the University after grade school. Clara joined Aunt Jenny's shop, of course, and her good friend Penelope Webster also came along as well. Rolf Jäger turned forty with Molly and their four children at his side.

Jason did speak with Jeremy about Jon's idea of a recreation park on Bridal Veil Mountain.

"I think that's a great idea, Jason," Jeremy responded. "We both know that when we finish cutting the north ridge where we are, that's the last of our best timber. We could sell off the lower ridges for housing … since the residential areas are growing that way anyhow. And I do think we should include our sisters in the profits and maybe set up a trust fund for Josiah with Josh's portion."

It was obvious to Jason that Jeremy had already given the future a good bit of thought. They both knew that their business had slowed. Since they were now logging on steeper slopes, they couldn't cut as fast and it was more dangerous.

The two Bolt brothers conferred with Philippe – who agreed that a park was a splendid idea (and who didn't reveal that Jon had brought it up to him years before). They began to sketch out ideas of what a park might look like on Bridal Veil Mountain and where a lodge could be located to have easier access from town. They floated the idea with the women in the family. Jenny was delighted. "I'm forty now and my eyesight isn't what it used to be. It would be fun to let someone else run my shop and switch to a new project with less eye-strain involved."

Jeremy (44) hugged Candy's shoulders and said, "That solves some problems for me, too. I'm getting too old to climb trees. And this way I won't have to be away from home so much."

With the ongoing economic depression, it was not a good time to take real action on their plans, but they could dream and put some plans on paper.

The economy began to pick up a little in Seattle in 1895. Philippe repaid his loan to Lou Graham with gratitude … and the agreed-upon interest.

"Philippe, take a look at this!" Pellan said excitedly over lunch one day.

"If that's a medical journal, I won't understand it," remarked Philippe.

"Oh, you'll understand as much as I do right now. The point is that these new x-rays are going to be a real boost for medicine, enabling doctors to see inside the body without cutting it open and risking infection. I wonder when we can get such a machine in Seattle."

"It will just be a matter of time. And money."

"I'm sure it will be that – mostly money."

They laughed. Philippe made a mental note to look into investment opportunities with x-ray machine manufacturers.

On January 3rd, 1896, there was an earthquake in Port Angeles which affected the whole area of Puget Sound, although not severely. 'Why do so many of these natural disasters occur early in the year?' Philippe wondered to himself. He had been keeping a written log of all such events in the twenty years since they had arrived in Seattle.

In February, Annette Courson died after a brief illness. Jon and the children inherited her entire estate.

Chief Seattle's eldest daughter, Kikisoblu (nicknamed "Princess Angeline" by the local White population), died on May 31, 1896. She was buried next to Aaron Stempel in Lake View Cemetery. That event seemed to be yet another sign of the end of the era of the earliest Seattle founders and their families.

Richard Du Saule graduated from the University and began working at the bank with his father full-time, proving to be a quick study. There were some unpleasant banking lessons ahead for him that year, however, as the Panic of 1896 began. It was really a continuation of the economic downturn of the past three years, exacerbated by the turn to the Gold Standard for currency in the United States.

Philippe smiled reflectively to himself one day, remembering that he had not felt enthusiastic about the addition of a third child in their family. Yet it seemed that Richard had become the blessing that he needed in having a son to whom he might turn over his business when the time came. 'Ah, Seigneur Jésus! You always know best!' he admitted humbly.

A few days later at lunch, Richard was quiet and withdrawn. Philippe asked, "Is something bothering you today, son?"

Richard blushed and looked down. "If I tell you, will you tell me what I should have done better?"

"If I know."

"Miss Morris came in today to make a deposit. She had on so much perfume, I thought I would cough before I finished writing out her receipt."

Philippe laughed. "I've noticed that about her, too. Sometimes it helps to breathe through your mouth."

"Yes. It's just that …"

"Yes?"

"I felt she was coming on to me. Maybe laughing at me."

"You know she works for Lou Graham."

"I heard that. She's a … prostitute?"

"I think so."

"I have a hard time believing that women do that."

"You've been raised by women who are very different and who wouldn't do that."

"Yes."

"Miss Morris knows very well how to solicit attention from men. She may be practicing on you for her amusement while she does her banking. I doubt she means it personally, Richard. Such women don't tend to form the sort of personal attachments that other women do."

"Does she come on to you, Papa?"

"No, but I can tell you a similar story from my past. Before I finished school in Calais, I worked many summer days as a teller in my father's bank when I was a teenager. An older woman, with a reputation like that of Miss Graham, used to come into the bank occasionally. She wore low-cut dresses and seemed to select my teller window. It was difficult for me to keep my mind on transactions and writing out correct receipts when six inches of cleavage was within easy view of my quill."

"Papa! What did you do?"

"Blushed and stammered, for the most part. I told my father about it and he laughed. He thought she was amusing herself at my expense and noting how it flustered me."

"So it bothered you?"

"Of course it did. Then I fell into a fantasy, thinking that she was attracted to me. I was sixteen that year and full of myself, you see. One day, I left quickly for lunch within a few minutes of her bank visit. I went out in the street, looking for her, wondering if she might talk to me. I wouldn't have known anything else to do with a woman at that point in my life! I spotted her coming out of a flower shop and I followed her as she went into the patisserie. It was crowded inside and I stood off to the side, watching as she tossed aside her scarf from her bosom and leaned over the counter to talk to the boy working there … who blushed and stammered in the same way I had at the bank. I suddenly realized that she was doing the same act in every shop she entered. I also realized that I didn't want to be standing in the same line with all the panting young men of Calais."

Richard cackled at the image. "What did you do?"

"I bought a croissant and cheese for my lunch and ate alone in gratitude that I had been prevented from making an even greater fool of myself that day than I had already in the bank."

"Did you see her again, Papa?"

"It's odd: I rather stopped 'seeing' her after that day, in a manner of speaking. I realized that I didn't want to talk to a woman who behaved like that with every man she encountered any more than I had to. After that, when she came in the bank and displayed her cleavage, I looked upon her directly with pity … and do you know, she stopped doing it! I guess she went to seek other awkward young men to torment. And a few years later I met your mother, who was worth any amount of effort – even learning English, so that I could talk to her!"

Bishop Edward O'Dea transferred the Catholic diocese from Vancouver to Seattle in 1896, bought property on the top of First Hill, and began to talk of building a cathedral, holding a fund-raising fair in the fall.

Chapter 42: Two Healings

On a crisp September day in 1896, Jon sauntered down from his store to a bench that overlooked the harbor: a favorite spot of his to seek some peace during his lunch hour. Today he found his favorite bench occupied, but he saw that he knew the woman. "Arlise? I haven't seen you around town in some time."

Arlise Martin jumped at his voice and turned sideways.

"I'm sorry," Jon apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, no. Jon. I am thinking another place."

"Would you like to speak French instead of English – if I can remember?" he offered.

"Oui, s'il vous plaît."

His father knew more detail about the Martins' fortunes in Seattle than he did, but Jon was aware that Zacharie Martin had settled into satisfactory employment, doing property appraisals and bookkeeping for Jacob Furth. Jon knew that Arlise had continued keeping house for her father and doing fancy needlework for Jenny, but her English was too limited to wait on customers out in the store. Jon had seen the Martins occasionally at family gatherings, where his father sought to include them.

They continued on in French [translated:

"Are you well today?" Jon inquired politely.

"Yes, I am well. Resting my eyes from the close-work of sewing. I seem to also need a break from listening to English all the time, so sometimes I go out walking at lunch. It strains my brain to understand even a little. They are patient with me and kind, but I don't get on so well learning English in the years we've lived here. How are you, Jon?"

"I'm well. I just wish the economy would pick up. This has gone on forever, it seems."

"Yes. Only the wealthiest women want fine dresses now and some of them are difficult to please. We have to sell small items, like gloves, to make more sales."

"I'm guessing that it takes dozens of pairs of gloves to equal the place of one expensive dress?"

"True!"

And so they began to spend their lunches together – tiny outdoor picnics of shared sandwiches and cookies in the poor economy – but when were bad economies ever able to prevent love from blossoming? Arlise enjoyed being able to speak fluently in French to someone other than her father and Jon enjoyed the refresher course in French, which had been his native language in those long-ago years in Calais. Arlise told him about Belgium, which Jon had visited a few times with his parents. Jon told Arlise about his family's move to Seattle and how very much it had changed in the twenty years that they had lived there.

They both had battered hearts from personal tragedies and began to find healing in each other. The next year, Arlise found something to do with herself other than keeping house for her father: marrying Jonathan Du Saule and becoming stepmother to Ivy and David.

Chapter 43: Difficulties of Various Types

In November 1896, Seattle had a record snowfall of 20.5 inches. As with any other historical event, local photographers went out to take photos for the papers. Eventually the University of Washington began to collect old photographs and keep historical records.

Richard Du Saule became so disgusted at the effort he had to expend to get work at the bank in that deep snow that he approached Jonathan about renting the apartment above Courson Outfitters, where Jon had lived with Marie as newlyweds and where Annette had lived in her final years. It was still mostly furnished and seemed to be a good financial deal for a young bachelor working in the city.

"I don't understand why Richard wanted to move out," Julie complained to Philippe as Christmas drew near. "I wonder if he can cook well enough for himself."

"Julie, Richard is almost the same age I was when I lived in London that year and met you," Philippe observed. "He's a young man trying to prove himself and his older brother is right downstairs from his apartment, I might add. If something serious happens to him, either Jonathan or I will know about it very soon and we'll help him if he needs it. I suspect that Richard wants to live in town so he can sleep a little later and still get to work on time, plus he can ride the trolley anywhere he wants to go and not have to maintain a horse. He's surrounded by cafés in Have you been dressing the city and, once the cost of café meals cuts into his paycheck, he'll probably be motivated to learn to cook at home. He'll be fine."

"What if he doesn't dress warm enough?"

"Did you dress him while he went to the University? If he gets cold, that will teach him quite well to dress warmly the next day."

"But what if—?"

"Julie, Richard is an adult now, out of school and working. He may be young, but we need to let him make his own way, including mistakes – like we all do. That is what is best for him at this point."

Julie nodded, looking downcast.

"It's harder to let the baby go, isn't it?" Philippe asked gently.

"Yes," Julie laughed at herself through tears, hugging Philippe. "Yes, it is."

In December 1896 and January 1897, several high-profile bankers in Chicago committed suicide after the failure of the National Bank of Illinois. Nationwide, unemployment was over thirteen percent and remained so until 1898.

An immense project began in central Seattle in 1896 which would last until 1930: the radical regrading of Denny Hill from Elliott Bay and up the slope. It was believed that flattening this land would open it up for more commerce. This project may have been the largest such alteration of urban terrain at the time. It created a horrific mess in Seattle's rainy climate, with catwalks constructed above the mud to give customers access to store entrances. There were buildings now over all the hills around the central core of town. For years some of those buildings perched atop smaller mounds as the dirt at their sides was scraped away. Other buildings – some quite grand – were destroyed in the process.

Seattle also underwent dramatic development on the waterfront, just in time for an unexpected windfall. In March 1897, port records list eighteen ships sailing to or from Seattle. Then on July 17th, 1897, the SS Portland arrived in Seattle, carrying a ton of gold which had been discovered in Alaska in the previous year. The Klondike Gold Rush began.

Seattle advertised the Klondike gold strike in newspapers nationwide, mentioning that Seattle was the northernmost point in the U.S. on the railroad heading to the Yukon. Seattle then began supplying the 100,000 or so "Stampeders" who came their way with gear, shelter, and entertainment - "mining the miners," as it were. Jon and other storekeepers benefitted enormously. All traces of the economic depression of the past four years evaporated. Jon renamed his business Yukon Outfitters to better attract the miners. Arlise replaced Brigid O'Sullivan in helping Jon there, keeping one eye on little David while Ivy was in school. Brigid was just as glad: she had her own wedding to plan – to Jefferson Callahan, a newly-hired doctor at the hospital and occasional weekend hiker who had been patronizing Jon's store … perhaps more than was strictly necessary, once he met Brigid there.

New wealth – lots of it – poured into Seattle, enabling them to build the new water supply system from Cedar River, using gravity to pipe in clean water from a higher altitude.

Someone gave a generous donation to expand the hospital, thrilling Pellan, Allyn, and the rest of their growing staff.

Not all the prospectors who went to the Klondike did well: some went bankrupt in their efforts to strike it rich. Lou Graham took in many children for a while whose parents had gone bankrupt or who had become alcoholics.

The Rameau twins, Dolly and Polly, finished grade school in June 1897. But unlike all their kinswomen, they were more interested in cooking than sewing. They took a culinary course and started to work at a patisserie.

173 ships arrived or departed from Seattle in March 1898. While the docks were still privately owned and competed with each other, Seattle had effectually become the largest port in Puget Sound.

In April 1898, little Daniel Christian Du Saule made his debut in the world to Jon and Arlise.

"You know, he may become bilingual like you and Lucie," Philippe remarked to Jon.

"Ha! 'May be bilingual'? I'll be glad if he learns English, since Arlise speaks only French to him."

"Well, she's a dear girl and a good mother, even if English does seem to be a struggle for her. Daniel will still pick up English from the rest of us, if not from Arlise."

Arlise' English had improved, since she was forced to interact with her Bolt relatives once she had come to live in the old cabin with Jon and his children. And she did look happier and less pale these days. Married life and motherhood seemed to agree with her.

Josiah Bolt finished grade school in June of 1898, then joined his uncle/godfather Jeremy and Ian at the transitioning logging camp.

Pellan O'Sullivan stepped out of the jeweler's shop on Jackson Street late one afternoon in early May of 1898, feeling happy with his purchase of earrings for Jessica as their 23rd anniversary drew near. His good mood lasted a mere moment before he heard a commotion at the end of the block and saw a crowd gathering. 'Perhaps a physician is needed,' he thought, and jogged that direction.

The Great Jackson Street Chuckhole" was sixteen feet wide and eight feet deep. It was a popular spot for boys to build small rafts and push themselves around with poles, as ten-year-old Joseph Bufonchio had done that afternoon. His pole had gotten stuck, though, and he had fallen in and drowned. Several men, including Joseph's distraught father, were trying to find his body to the amusement of some two thousand voyeurs when Pellan arrived at the scene.

"Have some decency and help or else clear off!" Pellan shouted angrily as he joined in to help. Police eventually dispersed the crowd. The boy's body was finally located and given to his father, but there was no way to have saved him.

A humorous write-up of the attempted rescue appeared in one newspaper the next day. "That is absolutely not funny!" Julie, Candy, and Jenny protested to their husbands. Jess didn't need to protest to her husband, because Pellan was still enraged. He sent his own letter to the paper's editor regarding the inappropriate tone of their article. Other area papers carried the headline "Boy Drowned in Seattle Streets," embarrassing the city. The civic embarrassment helped, for Seattle then made rules to prevent anyone else from drowning, placing life preservers at all intersections, and demanding that all children learn to swim.

Chapter 44: Good and Not-So-Good Works

If new settlers once had worried that they wouldn't be able to find what they needed in 'frontier' Seattle, those days were now long past. Fine cuisine and entertainment, musical instruments, stationery, toys, millinery, fine tailoring, etcetera, were all available. Perhaps much of it was imported (for a price), but as the turn of the 20th century approached you could certainly shop in Seattle to your heart's content and your wallet's limitations. And Seattle looked better than it ever had. Wealthy residents had been planting trees and shrubs where they lived and some of the trees were gaining in size now, no longer mere saplings. Trees lined some of the cable-car routes as well in the better part of town. There were parks on the small lakes around King County and cable cars to easily transport pleasure-seekers to them for boating or tent-camping. And, lest it seem that pleasure was all that interested the citizenry, compassionate and concerned people also founded the Seattle Benevolent Society and converted the hull of the old steamship Idaho to become the Wayside Mission Hospital for the less fortunate. Pellan and many of the other doctors took turns doing pro bono work there.

In June of 1899 Avery Bolt finished grade school and went to join his father and his brother and cousin on Bridal Veil Mountain as the logging camp dwindling … and the property was now undergoing its transition. The Bolt men, including Ian (who had just turned 20) and Josiah (who was not yet 15), and some of the loggers who wished to stay on after the transition had just finished constructing the new lodge and were now building outbuildings and a few caretaker cabins. The women, under Jenny's direction, worked hard to finish the interior décor and outfit the large kitchen and guest rooms.

On October 18, 1899, a Committee of Fifteen from the Seattle Chamber of Commerce returned from a goodwill visit to Alaska and proudly unveiled a 60-foot totem pole from Fort Tongass. Later it was learned that the pole had actually been stolen from the Tlingit village of Gaash on Cape Fox. A federal grand jury in Alaska indicted eight of Seattle's most prominent citizens for theft of government property! The first totem pole eventually burned and Seattle ordered another one, sending a check. "Thank you for the check," one of the Gaash leaders wrote. "That was payment for the first one. Send another check for the replacement." Seattle didn't.

In 1900 the Seattle census count was 80,671. Philippe read the following year that Calais' population was 59,743. So Seattle was now far larger than his hometown … and in a far, far shorter span of time. Calais was first mentioned in 997 and was then a marshland between England and France. It had been just 49 years since Seattle's first White settlers arrived.

Of course, Seattle residents were very excited to greet the new century. On June 7, 1900, the first transcontinental railroad car arrived in Seattle, greeted by festive decorations all over town. The Alaska Gold Rush began the same year and Seattle wallowed in related wealth, preparing miners to depart for Nome. Jonathan Du Saule was doing very well indeed at Yukon Outfitters!

The Seattle Daily newspaper ran an article in 1900 about how Lou Graham had paid legal fees of almost $1000 for a woman who left her abusive boyfriend and then killed him in self-defense. The woman was not her; Lou had read about the woman's plight in the newspaper and was concerned for her.

In addition to the ongoing regrade of the central business district, Seattle straightened the lower Duwamish River for ships, created Harbor Island, and filled in some of the tidal flats just south of Pioneer Square with relocated dirt from the regrade. Railroad Avenue was now flat and well-tended for the trains that arrived and departed the city every day.

There were 11,872 residential dwellings in Seattle in 1900 and a renewed interest in traditional architecture – Colonial Revival, Classic Revival, Tudor Revival, Foursquare, the Classic Box or Seattle Box – all giving Seattle notable style. One hundred sixty acres over two blocks were developed with paved streets and sewer and water lines, transportation, and nearby schools with the "Avenue of Mansions" on Capitol Hill as its centerpiece. Mansions were appearing on the other hills as well. The Craftsman bungalow style was popular for middle-class people by 1906 as well as houseboats on Lake Washington. Indeed, the new century brought a sort of revolution in technology of all sorts, much of which made its way to Seattle.

Ralph Hopkins traveled to Chicago and bought a 1900 Woods Electric automobile for $1400. He then drove it from Chicago to San Francisco, then to Portland, then Tacoma, and eventually to his home in Seattle. (Truthfully, it was transported by rail during some of that five-month journey due to lack of roads.) His was the first automobile in Seattle. Every morning, Mr. Hopkins would drive from his home on First Hill and stop at a busy street corner in the downtown to attract the wonder of passersby. Then he would move on to another street corner and do the same. Ironically, he died some years later … of carbon monoxide poisoning from his car.

Jason Bolt turned sixty in May, 1900. He and Jeremy had chosen that occasion to formally transition Bridal Veil Mountain. They had sold off lower acreage with proximity to residential developers, distributing the proceeds to all five Bolt siblings and creating a trust fund for 16-year-old Josiah with what would have been Joshua's share. Christopher Pruitt helped them put the higher elevations into a new deed for the park and lodge. They offered transitional employment to loggers who wished to stay on with them and a few of the older ones like Corky McCormick and Big Swede did. They would maintain hiking trails and wagon roads and work as guides for hiking parties. Polly, Dolly, and their cousin Elise Rameau were thrilled to be in charge of the food service. Rolf and Pellan set up a spa service. And then they advertised and opened for business in the early fall as Bridal Veil Mountain Lodge! They felt that a trial run for a few months before winter weather set in would be helpful to see which activities and foods appealed to customers and which didn't.

After Stempel's death in 1892 and the settlement of his estate, his grand mansion became the first home of the Seattle Public Library. Alicia Pruitt worked on the library staff for two years, but on January 2, 1901, the mansion burned down and the library was forced to start over in another location. In 1906 that property was acquired as the site for a new King County courthouse.

Carl Wallin had a shoe repair shop in downtown Seattle. He met John Nordstrom during the Klondike Gold Rush. John later joined Carl after his time in Alaska and they opened a shoe store together in downtown Seattle in 1901 with his gold rush profits. It was named Wallin & Nordstrom and, later, just Nordstrom's.

The notorious new totem pole stood in the redesigned Pioneer Square with the Hotel Seattle and the Olympic Hotel nearby. In 1901, a large, ornate pergola was built there to shelter passengers from the weather while awaiting cable cars; it even had a public restroom downstairs! Seattle now looked very much the busy big city with some buildings several stories high … and yet a young man named Daring Kinsey hollowed out a small home for himself in a huge old tree stump at 1607 East Alder Street. Somehow, down through the years, Seattle has always managed to accommodate the quirky.

Chapter 45: A Long Adieu

Philippe, still 58 in the summer of 1901, came home from work and spotted his wife on the bench under their willow tree in the evening light. He slid in beside Julie with a kiss on her neck, trying to surprise her. She had heard his footsteps approaching, though, and smiled faintly at his embrace, seeming otherwise detached.

"How was your day?" he inquired with a loving smile, putting his arm across her shoulders.

"Oh, fine. With the grandchildren now old enough to do summer activities with their cousins in town and Arlise keeping Daniel at the store, I scarcely know what to do with myself."

"Then go shopping or do whatever suits your fancy."

"There's nothing that I need and, frankly, I just don't have the energy."

She fell silent. Indeed, she sounded weary and, for the first time, Philippe sensed that Julie was not well. "Are you ill?" he asked … and was suddenly afraid of what her answer would be.

She remained silent a little too long. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean? Have you seen a doctor?"

"Yes. Two doctors, one being Pellan."

"You look … thin," he observed, lamely.

"That's what they both said – that I have a wasting disease."

"What is that? What did they recommend?"

"Nothing. They said there isn't a cure. Pellan said that I might try eating more red meat and richer foods. I don't have much appetite, though."

Philippe felt cold fear creeping up his spine. "'No cure,' you said?"

"No cure. Pellan said that I will waste away slowly … and die."

A fathomless silence fell like a heavy boulder between them and Philippe felt that his world had suddenly stopped turning. Then he recovered and said, "Well … we can go somewhere: let you rest and build up your strength. I've heard that Hawaii is very beautiful— "

"Philippe, please don't," Julie stated firmly as she turned to look at him with pleading eyes. "I know you mean well for me, but I want to stay here. I don't know how long I have left and I want to be with you and our children and grandchildren as long as I can. We can all be comfortable and happy in this beautiful house you've built for us, which I love."

"We'll hire you some help in the house, then."

"There's not that much to do without little children around to mess it up." Julie smiled with faint humor.

"I will hire you some help – so you can save your strength and rest. Don't argue with me on this."

It wasn't that Philippe or Julie had been unaware of the passage of time or of mortality. The average age of death was 49 in that era, before the discovery of antibiotics. The Bolt clan had been more fortunate than many families, but they had still lost many friends to death around town and known young women and babies who died in childbirth. Now a transition began for the Du Saules.

"'You don't know what it is?'" Philippe repeated after Pellan, desperate concern burning in his eyes.

"It might be a hidden cancer of some kind which is causing her to lose weight, but I can only guess. She says she has no pain or internal bleeding," Pellan replied. "I wish there was some way to know, but I'm not aware of anything that can be done for an illness of this kind except to try to help her gain weight and to keep her comfortable. She seems to be declining quickly, though."

"Then, please … just don't let her suffer."

"I won't. There are medicines I can give her if she complains of pain. I'll monitor her closely, Philippe. You know I will."

"Thank you."

"And it would be good if you could attend some to yourself. You've looked better."

"I don't know how else I can look when you tell me my wife is dying."

"Yeah. I can't imagine." Pellan squeezed Philippe's shoulder in sympathy. "Just take care of yourself the best you can for Julie's sake, too. She'll need you more and more in the months ahead and you'll need all the strength you can muster for the both of you."

When Julie felt up to it, Philippe took her to the finest restaurants in town, trying to tempt her with delicacies and desserts to build up her weight and strength – to no avail. She ate like a bird, but never complained and seemed to enjoy the atmosphere.

Philippe promptly kept his word and hired a woman from town to come three days a week to their cabin to clean, cook, and do laundry. Julie smiled and didn't complain about that, either. She enjoyed the luxury, even if she would rather have been able to do her housework herself.

Julie waned and Philippe hovered. Julie was privately amused, sensing something of her mother-in-law Lucie emerging in Philippe as he fussed over her, making sure she was warm enough or bringing her some treat from town. She felt cherished, even as she hated that her illness was creating a disruption in her entire extended family.

In the fall of 1901, Philippe asked Richard do the full-time supervision at the bank, while Philippe worked shorter days and spent more time with Julie. Of course, the others in their family were concerned about Julie (and Philippe), too, and came and went from the Du Saules' cabin as their time permitted and the last months of 1901 passed.

The Du Saules had attended Sunday mass at Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, but a day came in late fall when Julie felt too weak and cold to get up in the mornings. Philippe hovered closer, surmising that they had likely attended mass together for the last time. Richard contacted the priest, requesting to bring Julie the Host in their home.

Julie turned 58 in January of 1902, but their celebration was very low-key. She was declining sharply now and had no tolerance for even family crowds. Pellan began giving her laudanum for pain, which had unpleasant side effects. Her hair thinned and clung to her head and the lines of her skull emerged in her face.

Philippe glanced at the hairbrush that he had just run through Julie's hair one February morning, full of graying strands that he knew would never re-grow. He smiled at a precious memory from their honeymoon, when he had first seen Julie clothed only in her long, brown hair. She, in girlish anxiety, had asked him, "Do you think I'm too thin?" Not then,' Philippe thought sadly, 'but I do now. O Seigneur, give us strength!"

Other family members came and went in something of a blur to both of them, bringing food and small gifts to ease and comfort them. Julie still seemed quietly happy and content, which was all that Philippe desired for her at this point, if she couldn't be well again. Inside, his heart was crumbling in an aching void of silence.

Philippe knew that Julie's time was running out and he went to his bank only if Richard needed him. He read to Julie if she wished, or sometimes he just lay beside her on their bed and held her close, reminiscing about times they had enjoyed together. Sometimes she slept and he held her or stayed nearby.

"Have I disappointed you, Philippe?" Julie whispered one afternoon as they snuggled together.

"Not in any way in all these years, my love," he responded tenderly.

"Have I disappointed you in being such a homebody?"

"You've cared for our children and grandchildren and our home and cooked countless wonderful meals over all these years. How could that be disappointing to me?"

"Some of my 'adjusted recipes' when the economy was bad were definitely disappointing. Admit it!"

"Well, you experimented – we all did – to get by in those times. I can't fault you for that and we had some good laughs over it." They giggled together.

"You've been a wonderful wife, mother, and grandmother and cared for half of the next generation in our whole family, too," Philippe continued. "Everyone will miss you terribly when you are gone – me, most of all."

"Have you regretted that we helped with caring for all those children over the years? It didn't leave us much time for just us."

"As I've said, when I was an older child, I began to realize how much I had in things and opportunities and the undivided attention of my parents that other children in larger families didn't have. I felt a bit guilty about that, a bit spoiled – even at the time when I met you and felt self-conscious about having been given that time in London to study cello and learn English. It's helped me feel better to be able to help others in such ways. I'm glad – really happy – that I could pass along my good fortune and give to others in our wider family and beyond. Since you liked to take care of children and be a housewife, I'm glad I could help support that, too. It's been a good way to spend our life together, benefitting more people than just ourselves."

Julie fell silent for a moment, then said, "I want you to promise me something."

"What is that?"

"When I'm gone, I don't want you to pine for me or do anything foolish. I want you to stay on here as long as you are able and help our children and grandchildren – help them like I would if I could be healthy. And if you meet some woman who makes you happy, then marry her and be happy together."

"I promise that I will help our children and grandchildren as you ask, but I'll not be looking for another wife. Anyone else would be a step down from you and why bother? I don't have the energy for courting at my age. Besides, Mrs. Finch is married."

They laughed wickedly. "I just don't want you to be lonely or sad," Julie said, softly caressing his face.

"I don't see how I can avoid being sad when you leave me. Grief is the price of loving, you know. And how can I possibly be lonely in a family the size of ours? I don't really know how many there are now; I lost count after Lucie's third one. I enjoy solitude at times, puttering in the garden or reading or playing cello after dealing with people all day at the bank. We've spent so much time together in this place: I know I'll feel you with me here. You're too much a part of me to not feel you – even when we are parted, I expect."

"Thirty-nine years we've been married. I don't think I can hang on until October to make it an even forty. I'm sorry."

"What does it matter how long we are married when we are happy? There would never be 'enough' time together."

"We've been lucky in each other."

"Yes, very lucky – and lucky to have found each other when we were so young to enjoy more years together. I think I said that once."

"I remember. It was the day you first brought up the subject of marriage to me."

"I haven't changed my mind."

"Neither have I."

Julie smiled and rested her head on her husband's shoulder. Was there any more perfect place on earth?

Jon and Arlise and their four children still lived in the Bolt brothers' old cabin at the far end of the family property beyond Forester's Creek. Jon had considered moving them into town so they could have more room after Arlise had another baby (Chloe) in 1901, but when his mother became gravely ill, he tabled that idea. Besides, it gave his mother such joy to see her grandchildren frequently.

One morning in early April 1902 Jon went out at daybreak to draw water from his well and saw his father in the distance, heading back to his cabin in the fog and accompanied by Pellan. "Perhaps Maman is worse and Papa went to fetch Pellan," Jon thought, leaving the bucket sitting on the edge of the well and beginning to jog toward his parents' cabin. He mounted the few steps to the porch and quietly opened the front door, hearing his father's voice in the bedroom: "…and when I woke up, she was gone. I didn't notice her struggling at all in the night."

"I think that's the very best way to go," Pellan's voice replied. "I'm sure that's what she would have wished: to die in your arms and not alarm you in her passing. I'm sorry for you, though, Philippe. You and Julie had the sort of relationship which we all hope for in life."

Jon moved silently to the bedroom doorway and saw Pellan drawing the quilt over his mother's head. "Papa?"

"She has left us, Jon."

"Oh, Papa!"

Jon embraced his father tightly, as if he was a child again and not 35 and the taller of the two, and they shed tears together.

Pellan sadly clapped a sympathizing hand on Jon's shoulder. "I'm sorry for you as well, Jon. I'll go tell Jeremy, Candy, and Jess. We'll be back shortly."

They buried Julie's body in their family cemetery per her wishes, beginning a new row for the Du Saule branch. Philippe buried her wearing the charm bracelet he had given her as a birthday gift some forty years earlier. "Rest in peace and rise in glory, my coup de foudre."

Chapter 46: Imperfect Solutions

In 1902 an inter-urban rail service with trollies started operation in Seattle. The hill-flattening continued and Seattle was still more of a city for indoor activity, avoiding the interminable mess in the streets. Shopkeepers made extra effort to create pleasant interiors to entice their clientele to town.

One day in late summer, Philippe took a trolley to meet Zacharie Martin for one of their now-weekly lunches with conversation en français. Today was an impromptu picnic in a park overlooking Elliott Bay.

Philippe handed Zacharie a paper-wrapped sandwich and had another for himself. By prior agreement, Zac had brought sodas for them both today.

"What flavor is this?" Zacharie asked.

"I have no idea," Philippe replied honestly. "If I have one more widow bring me food at work, I will start throwing it out the window. I brought a few cookies for us, but I leave all the pies and large plates of sweets in the breakroom. You're welcome to come help yourself to any of that as you wish. I will gain fifty pounds if I eat all that."

They laughed. Philippe added, "Those widows have no idea how disagreeable and cranky I can be."

"I suppose they mean well?" Zacharie suggested.

"Yes, and just what is it that they mean, exactly?" Philippe asked with an ironic expression. They both knew the answer.

"That they are concerned that you may starve, now that Julie is gone?"

"I can cook for myself. And Jon and Arlise would never let me go hungry if I were to fall ill, as you know."

"Oh, I know. And we can well guess what more those widows seek with their offerings."

"Hmph."

"How are you getting on, my friend?" Zacharie inquired kindly.

"Oh, well enough. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, I do. Not easy."

"No."

"I'm glad that you had time enough to say good-bye to Julie."

"Yes, that was the one good thing. It helps me have some peace now. But as much as I miss her, I would not have her back in this world to suffer as she was. Watching that all those months haunts me."

"Yes, I understand something of that, too."

"I know you do, Zac."

They fell silent while they ate, but it was a companionable silence.

Philippe eventually asked, "Zacharie, do you remember our trip to Lourdes?"

"Of course, though I think I was mostly motivated by being free of my parents for a few weeks."

"Yes, I got that impression. I suppose it's natural at fifteen."

"It was a good time. Do you think about it often?"

"Every day!" Philippe chuckled and pulled his medallion of Our Lady from under his collar.

"You still have that?"

"Yes. I've worn it every day since we were there. I also took Julie to Lourdes when we were young, before Jon was born. I wanted her to see it."

"It is a holy place."

"Yes, I'm glad that you thought so, too. I wasn't sure what you felt at the time."

"It impressed me more than I thought it would – and more than I would ever have admitted at that age."

"Well, the reason I asked – tell me what you think: Do you suppose people here might appreciate a replica of Lourdes? It's so far away; few here would ever go to France on pilgrimage. But a replica could be built here, perhaps at a church. It could be a meditation garden. I have been thinking of that as a memorial gift for Julie. What do you think?"

"I think that would be a wonderful gift! And that it would be a garden is something from your heart, too. Very fitting."

"I'll keep thinking, but I appreciate your opinion in the matter."

They again fell silent, having finished their sandwiches.

Zacharie nodded up the hill, nodding toward Lakeview Cemetery. "Suppose I could see Gerdie's grave from there?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"This cough I can't get rid of: Dr. O'Sullivan thinks it is from the cigars. I want to move back to Calais so I can be buried beside Gerdie when my time comes – and I think it is coming before long. I don't fancy being buried by myself here and her so far away. It's a far distance to ship a corpse, so I think I should go back while I can transport myself, though I'll have to pay for my meals this way."

"Zacharie!"

"I'm supremely grateful that Arlise has Jon and their life together, including the new baby Chloe. Arlise has almost returned to being the light-hearted girl she once was in Belgium. Your whole family has blessed us and healed our grief."

"Well, you know Arlise will want to be with you and help you if you are ill. And I will also help you in every way I can."

"I know … and that's why I'm leaving today, without getting into an argument with Arlise about it. I want to remember her laughing like she was last weekend at your house, not grieved over my health. I don't want to burden her with my care. My train leaves at 2:00 and my bag is already onboard. Will you please tell Arlise what I've told you? Here is the key to my apartment; she can have everything in it and sell what she doesn't want."

"Zacharie!"

"And here is that Mark Twain book you loaned me. I'm sorry that I haven't had time to read it yet."

"Oh, keep it, Zac. You'll need something to read on your voyage."

"Thank you, my friend. Thank you for everything all these years. Thank you for your friendship."

"You are welcome, Zacharie. Always. Thank you, too." Philippe hesitated, then asked, "Would you do something for me in Calais?"

"Of course."

"Say a prayer at my parents' grave for me. I hope they know how grateful I am for all they did for me, Julie, and her family and that I have never forgotten them, even though we moved here. Maybe that's silly to ask. I know they can hear me say it just as well here as there. I most regret that I haven't been able to tend their grave over the years."

"Of course, I will."

On Friday night, October 24th, Lucie and Archie Livingstone hosted a family dinner at their new home on Queen Anne Hill for Philippe, Richard and his fiancée Justine Kinley, Jonathan and Arlise, and the seven grandchildren. It was a late 60th birthday celebration for Philippe, but they were all keenly aware that it would have been Philippe and Julie's 40th anniversary and heavy on Philippe's heart in this first year of bereavement. The adults of the family all still wore mourning for Julie. Arlise was still downhearted from her father's abrupt departure for France a few months before, though she had received a wire that he had arrived safely in Calais and was renting a room with a distant cousin.

"I didn't want this day to go unobserved, Papa," Lucie stated. "You and Mama created our family and have helped us all so very much over the years."

"Thank you. I wish she could be here, of course," Philippe said. "But I feel like she is with us in a way we can't see."

They all nodded sad agreement.

"I want to announce a memorial gift I'm planning for Julie," Philippe added. "I have re-written my will, leaving a substantial bequest to Immaculate Conception Catholic Church to build a replica of the grotto at Lourdes in France. I talked to the priest there beforehand and he agrees with the idea. I went to Lourdes the same year of the visions there – just a few months after they occurred – and saw the grotto. I was a teenager then and Zacharie was with me on that same trip with three other boys from Calais and our chaperone." Philippe nodded kindly to Arlise while mentioning her father. "I took Julie there when we were a young married couple. She was carrying you, Jon – so, in a sense, you've been to Lourdes as well. A replica isn't the same as being there, but I thought it might be something that people here can enjoy if they never go to France – a little meditation garden at the church."

"That's wonderful, Papa!" Lucie exclaimed. "And so typically thoughtful of you to plan a gift that others will enjoy."

"Well, I hope so. We give our gifts in love and then let go of them," he said to Lucie in particular, giving her a wink. She remembered when he had first told her that, though it was now long ago.

Heading home in the carriage after dinner in the chill night air, Philippe turned to Jon and Arlise: "Would you two and the children like to move in with me? It would be easier to help each other and I think my cabin is tighter than yours for cold weather. I certainly don't need all that space just for myself. We could add on more rooms if you need them for the children and it will be yours after I am gone."

Jon and Arlise, Ivy, David, Daniel, and Chloe did move in by Christmastime. And it was all for the best, since Ian Bolt had met Ruth Ann Taggart earlier that year. They married the next summer of 1903 … and moved into the old Bolt Brothers cabin.

Jon and Arlise lived with Philippe for the rest of his days.

Chapter 47: More Transitions

In the late 1800s, wealthy and respectable citizens of Seattle kept pressing their mayors to restrict sex workers to a small area – termed "The Deadline" – which kept being moved ever farther from the downtown. The mayors kept putting the issue off. And Lou Graham always managed to get the boundary line for The Deadline gerrymandered around her building. But early in 1903 Judge Thomas Humes outlawed all prostitution in Seattle. Lou Graham was forced to flee to San Francisco, where she was stricken by a sudden onset of severe pain – perhaps a perforated ulcer or stomach cancer – and declined quickly, dying in a few days at the age of 48 on March 11, 1903.

"May her memory be a blessing," Jacob Furst and Philippe Du Saule toasted over lunch one day at his club once they learned of Lou's death. They reflected on the sad ironies of this life. Ms. Graham had become one of the wealthiest landowners in the Pacific Northwest. She owned a fine mansion in Seattle and some dozen properties from Bellingham to Tacoma, but she didn't leave a will. She had begun citizenship paperwork for herself on August 4, 1891, but never completed it. The size of her assets caused Seattle's and other citizens to state that she should never have been allowed to own property. A seven-year battle began with her siblings in Germany until the court split her assets, some of which went to the King County school system.

By great contrast of employment but with a similar concern for children, Seattle now hosted Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini and her Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart, who founded a school, a hospital, and a home for children there. Mother Cabrini was the first U.S. citizen to be named an official Saint by the Roman Catholic Church in 1946 and was made Patroness of Immigrants.

Not having been required to take a vow of poverty, long-time diocesan priest Father Francis Xavier Prefontaine of Seattle had been free to buy property and accumulate wealth and he had been doing so for decades. He lived in the church basement of Our Lady of Good Help for twenty years while buying and selling properties in the area … and had amassed a fortune. His niece, Marie Rose Pauze, came to live with him in 1901 when his health was declining. He retired in 1903 to a three-story house on Capitol Hill, where he enjoyed his large library, good whiskey, and cigars. Philippe dropped by occasionally to visit his former priest, bringing him gifts of his preferred libation and reminiscing about old times.

The steamship Minnesota – the largest ocean liner of its time – was shuttling freight and passengers regularly between Seattle and ports in Asia. Clancey would never have imagined such a day – and only twenty-six years after his death.

Seattle formed its own symphony orchestra in 1903. Philippe auditioned and was very pleased to be given a fourth-chair seat in the cello section, despite his sixty years and lessened facility with the instrument due to minor arthritis in his hands. He fully retired from the bank, giving it into 25-year-old Richard's care with a sense of relief, more than sadness. Philippe's life had become comfortable and happy, affording him time to devote to whatever projects he wished while enjoying life with Jon's family every day. Despite his promise to Julie, the extended family were all doing well and enjoying good health, not needing intervention from him. It was a challenge to keep up with all their birthdays and anniversaries. "See, Maman! Our family has not dwindled away after all! I hope you are pleased," Philippe chuckled.

Seattle hired the Olmsted Brothers of Brookline, Massachusetts (founded by Frederick Law Olmsted), to design a city-wide park system in 1903: a two-decade construction project, including the coming Exposition in 1909. The second phase of the Denny Hill regrade also began in 1903, involving a narrower strip of the downtown.

Bridal Veil Mountain Lodge was in its third year of operation. It was becoming a thriving enterprise in the three mild-weather seasons of the year and afforded employment to the next generation of Bolt family, who were young, energetic, and creative.

Jeremy and Candy learned late in the year that they were going to become grandparents through Ian and Ruth Ann.

Chapter 48: The Kids are Growing Up

"Mama?" Clara (aged 22) asked softly in the doorway of Candy's bedroom. Candy (aged 52) was tidying her hair before Jeremy's return from the Lodge and their evening meal.

"Yes, Clara?"

"Last night Daddy gave me a cross necklace that he said had belonged to my mother. He said I might wear it for my wedding if I want and I do. So that can be my 'something old' and my dress can be 'something new.' I was wondering if I could borrow something from you for the 'something borrowed.' You had a greater hand in raising me than my poor mother and it wouldn't seem right to not carry something of yours on my wedding day."

"Well, of course, lovey. I'm honored you feel that way. How about my pair of pearl earrings? They once belonged to my grandmother and then to my mother, so they're pretty old as well."

They were speaking about things, of course, but the more important matter they were acknowledging was their underlying relationship built out of tragedy and mistakes made in the past. Maybe such events can never be erased, but their whole family was a testament that healing can grow out of the ashes – and it had. Who knows? As Jeremy had once said, "I guess this is the way things were meant to be."

Pellan (almost age 53) and Jessica (49) saw their second daughter Erin (23) married to Kevin MacDonald in the summer of 1903. He was a young architect in Seattle.

"Well, I guess if you couldn't find an Irishman, a Scot is second-best," Pellan sighed, kidding her at the reception.

"That's only on his father's side, you know," Erin retorted. "His mother is of English descent."

"Let's not talk about that."

"What's wrong with that combination?" her uncle Jeremy interrupted to ask Pellan.

"Oh, nothing at all … as long as something dilutes English blood."

Cousins Jasper Bolt and Patrick O'Sullivan, both 22, began following a different path from the rest of their cousins in Seattle, sailing off together to San Francisco in late summer of 1903 to enroll in the medical department of the University of the Pacific (later Stanford University). Their parental doctors had inspired them to follow in their footsteps.

1903 ended with astounding news out of North Carolina. Wilbur and Orville Wright, two brothers from Ohio, were able to test-fly their homemade airplane four times in strong ocean breezes on a sand dune on December 17 for twelve to fifty-nine seconds and flying up to 852 feet, proving that human flight was possible. This faraway event would have a stupendous impact on Seattle's economy once timber merchant, William E. Boeing, developed a single-engine, two-seat seaplane and founded the Aero Products Company in Seattle in 1916, renaming it the Boeing Airplane Company the next year. Seattle supplied airplanes and bombers to the U.S. military for World War I and then expanded into air-mail services and the domestic transportation market.

An earthquake measuring 5.3 magnitude shook the whole region of Puget Sound for about fifteen seconds in the evening of March 16th. 1904. Lamps swayed and windows rattled, frightening people (including Philippe) and their animals, but there was no large-scale damage. Newspapers answered telephone calls all night from frightened patrons. Although they had just had telephone lines installed to their cabins, Pellan and Philippe congratulated each other that they had resisted the temptation to call the newspaper themselves. What could anyone do about earthquakes – or volcanoes – except pray?

Immaculate Conception Catholic Church built a new, larger building that year. There were some huge, imposing buildings on many of the hills around Seattle, like the Washington Hotel. But some people still yearned to get away from the city to the wilderness.

James W. Clise, a Seattle banker, bought land along the Sammamish River near Redmond in 1904 and built a hunting lodge and summer retreat named Willowmoor. He moved there permanently in 1907, expanding the property and developing a model farm, raising prize-winning cattle and horses.

Philippe monitored his project with interest. 'Ah! Competition for our Lodge!' he murmured to himself – but that wasn't really true. Bridal Veil Mountain Lodge was a good distance from Redmond. There were plenty of customers to go around in a city the size of Seattle.

Late in 1904, Philippe received a letter from an attorney in Calais, who was settling the estate of Zacharie Martin. 'So Zac has left us now,' he thought sadly, pondering how to deliver yet more painful news to Arlise. Enclosed was a sizeable check for Arlise of the remainder of her father's estate and a separate check to Philippe as a bequest toward the Lourdes replica.

In 1905 Philippe was glad to read that a new city ordinance codified rules for plumbing features, requiring permits and plumbing inspections in new homes, which were now mandated to be fitted with at least one lavatory and one sink. 'This city may become civilized yet,' Philippe chuckled to himself, remembering his initial impression of Pioneer Square 29 years earlier. It had taken longer than he had thought it would, but he was glad that he had lived to see it happen.

The new cathedral of Saint James the Greater was begun in 1905, intended to become the seat of the Seattle Diocese of the Roman Catholic Church. That sounded quite grand … but Seattle still had horrific mud due to the hill-flattening and regrading of downtown streets. Construction chaos stretched out in all directions from Pioneer Square. The U.S. Corps of Engineers was now involved in the project, using water guns to flatten Denny Hill and conveyor belts to transport the dirt to Elliott Bay for land reclamation.

There was a fire in Seattle in mid-February 1905, destroying Schwabacher Hardware's building, but it didn't spread to other buildings. All citizens who could remember the Great Fire of 1889 breathed a collective sigh of relief.

On August 17th the Pike Place Market finally opened for business near the downtown, with eight farmers selling produce from their wagons and carts. Philippe's idea and investment was finally bearing fruit – literally. It quickly became popular and crowded, expanding in the years ahead to shelter other local merchants and some apartments above. Pike Place Market is the main tourist destination in Seattle today. You may have seen that name on bags of Starbucks Coffee, now made in Seattle.

In the fall of 1905, Jason (age 65) rode out from town to visit Philippe (63) at his cabin. Things were quiet and peaceful with Jon, Arlise, Ivy (15), and Chloe (4) in town at the store and David (12) and Daniel (7) in school.

"Here's a taste of town, Brother, now that you've become a country gentleman farmer." Jason handed Philippe a carton of Rainier Beer, laughing at Philippe's wrinkled nose. "Come on, Philippe! It's not that bad!"

"Thank you, Jason. I agree: as beer goes, it's not bad." Philippe cracked open a bottle and passed the bottle opener to Jason, who did the same. Philippe then set the carton on the open kitchen windowsill to cool in the morning air and took a sip. It was true: Ranier Beer wasn't bad. He joined Jason at the fireside.

"I can't understand what you Frenchmen have against beer."

"Oh, it's not beer, Jason. They drink beer in the north of France, where I come from. But beer got wrapped up in politics over the centuries, as that region went between being controlled by France or by England. French monasteries were brewing beer and people brewed it at home. Then local governments tried to outlaw that at times. People argued – as French people do about anything to do with food – whether beer was better brewed with gruit – which is a mixture of herbs – or hops. Up until the last century, England had outlawed hops. I'm sure France in general didn't care what England did, but since Calais is near England and trades so much with them, Calais had to keep up to date on their laws. To drink beer is almost like picking a fight in Calais, where anyone will take issue with any part of that history. As for me, I just prefer the taste of wine."

"Sounds complicated."

"Life is that way. What scandals have you heard in town today?"

"Well, let's see," Jason mused. "The main squabbling right now is Mark Matthews, the Presbyterian minister, facing off against Mayor Hiram Gill over his 'open town' policy, saying it promotes the vices of prostitution and gambling in the area of Pioneer Square and southeast."

"Which it does."

"Well, yes. It's hard to find out what Hiram Gill promotes as mayor, since his platform is only about what he opposes: taxes, unions, and municipal ownership of utilities and transportation."

"Anyone who has been around here for a while remembers when all of that was not part of the municipality. You put all that back in private hands and they will cut corners on costs and regulations and we'll be right back to it. Do we really want sewage in the streets at high tide again?"

"Agreed. We'll just have to see how the citizens vote. I have the sense that they're not as supportive of rabble-rousing anymore, sorry to say." Jason grinned mischievously. "But the best news I have to share is that Jasper writes that he and Patrick have their residencies set up in San Francisco and, next year, they both plan to come home and practice here!"

"Ah, that's wonderful! I've missed them these years they've been away."

Seattle continued to cultivate store interiors to make up for the unending regrading mess in the center of downtown, where store patrons had to walk on precarious planks laid over open gaps down to the basement level below to access some shops. Candy and Biddie loved to meet up and shop at Redelsheimer's department store, which featured a moving walkway to reach the upper floor, a skylight, and a sunlight-well in the center to light the floors and display their merchandise to shoppers.

King Street Station opened in 1906 to serve two railroad lines and shelter passengers from the elements as they loaded and arrived.

William Moore was elected mayor on March 19, 1906, but "open town" sentiment continued to be a bone of contention, especially with respectable Seattle women.

Jasper Bolt and Patrick O'Sullivan returned to Seattle from San Francisco as Official doctors in late summer. They began apprenticeships at the main Seattle hospital and took shifts at the pediatric hospital which was founded the following year.

In 1907 the Jesuits founded Saint Joseph Elementary School, but many children still only attended the eight years of grade school, if that, and then worked at such jobs as delivering groceries, sometimes by dog-cart.

Seattle closed off all (known) entries to the Underground of the old Pioneer Square, in fear of bubonic plague arising among the addicts and homeless people who lived there.

The third phase of the Denny Hill regrade began, flattening a very steep part now.

Patrick O'Sullivan soon settled into medical practice with his father on First Hill. It was nicknamed "Pill Hill" for the collection of medical offices that had sprung up in proximity to the first hospital his father had founded with Dr. Wright. It wasn't easy having his well-known and strongly-opinionated father as his boss, but Patrick admired his father and felt that he could learn from him. Privately, Pellan was delighted to be able to pass on all that he could to his son, but that wasn't to say that they didn't have moments of friction.

"Did you see that last patient in the emergency room?" Pellan inquired of Patrick, while washing up after his hospital rounds."

"Yes."

"Diagnosis?"

"Zozzled."

"What?"

"Inebriated."

"Ah. I trust you didn't write, uh, 'zozzled' in his medical chart."

"Of course not. That wouldn't be professional."

"Good. And what's this with people calling you 'Doctor Pat'?"

"It's so that people can distinguish which Doctor O'Sullivan they mean in the same hospital and office. I can't even sign my name 'P. O'Sullivan' without confusing someone. You remain 'Doctor O'Sullivan' and I'll be 'Doctor Pat.' I'm okay with it; are you?"

Pellan admitted that it made sense. He'd never thought about people confusing him with his son. "You don't think 'Doctor Pat' sounds a bit … casual … for a physician?"

"No. The pediatric patients can say it more easily. It was actually Yliana's idea."

"'Yliana'? Nurse Olsson, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Now you should not take an informal manner with our nurses."

"It's strange to call each other one thing out at Lake Washington and another in the office, but she calls me Doctor Pat here and I call her Nurse Olsson. I think that's being respectful and professional when we're at work."

"You're courting her?"

"For about a month now. I prefer to think of it as 'spending time together,' rather than 'courting'."

"That's … complicating."

"How so?"

"It's hard to work with someone when you're personally involved."

"You were married to your nurse."

"That was … different. Your mother trained as a nurse to help me."

"Training is training. It's not related to relationships."

"Oh, really? What if you two break up and can't stand to be around each other? We'd all get swept up in that."

"We'll figure that out if it happens, I guess, but it doesn't seem likely. We get on well."

"I wish you would have told me that you were planning to court her."

"Am I supposed to ask permission from you about my social life? Are you speaking as my supervisor or as my father?"

Pellan was speechless. He'd have to think about that. In either case, Pellan knew that Patrick had no obligation to tell him about his social life. Patrick was almost twenty-six: the same age Pellan had been when he and Jess had returned to Seattle, having already been married for more than a year and expecting their first child.

Chapter 49: Seattle Comes of Age

On August 28, 1907, the United Parcel Service was founded in Seattle, adding to the city's list of famous innovations … and profit-makers. Times were good … until they weren't.

In mid-October, the Panic of 1907 took place over three weeks, with the New York Stock Exchange losing half its peak value from the year before. An attempt had been made to corner the market on stock of the United Copper Company, which failed. Banks which had lent money to the cornering scheme collapsed, including the large Knickerbocker Trust Company in New York City. Panic spread to banks across the US, and nervous patrons withdrew deposits from regional banks. J. P. Morgan and his wealthy friends slowed the collapse with their own funds, but the Panic was exacerbated in November when stock of Tennessee Coal, Iron and Railroad Company collapsed. Morgan came to the nation's rescue again and took that company over with his U.S. Steel Corporation. This nationwide crisis led to creation of the U.S. Federal Reserve System the next year, to subvert such crises in the future.

'O Seigneur, I don't know if I can endure this again,' Philippe prayed. Although Philippe was retired, Richard (now age 29) spent considerable time with his father, asking advice on how to manage funds and how to reassure and console bank customers.

Richard groaned, "I can scarcely find time for Justine and Elizabeth in all this turmoil. I don't know how you can be so calm about it."

"There are always ups and downs in finances and I've seen many of each," Philippe advised. "Your wife and children will always be your main source of sanity and happiness in this world, whether the times are bad or good." Philippe was trying to be a good role model for his son, but he knew that he himself wasn't calm inside during these financial downturns.

1907 did end on a positive note in Seattle with the completion and grand dedication of the Cathedral of Saint James the Greater by Bishop O'Dea on December 22nd and the old Catholic Vancouver (Washington) Diocese was Officially re-named the Seattle Diocese.

By 1908 Seattle could look like a fancy city … as long as you looked up at the taller and taller buildings being built. There were five-story hotels and large banks and other building in the downtown. There was ornate brick work and popular architectural styles on businesses and nicer homes. The grand Colman Dock terminal had a domed waiting room and a 72-foot clock tower to impress guests entering the harbor. Even small restaurants had padded seats and fine table linens. Pedestrians dressed up to go to town. But, if one looked down, the roads were still being regraded with debris and catwalk boards across to shops. Below the King Street Depot, scaffolding held up the very street above. But no matter. Seattle was well used to this state of affairs by now. A new phase of the Denny Hill regrade began, involving the widest swathe yet of the downtown. It would take four years.

In 1908, Pope Pius X conferred on Father Prefontaine the honorary title of Pronotary Apostolic and Bishop O'Dea gave him the title of Monseigneur. He had lived in Seattle since he was a young man, seen amazing changes and doing a huge amount of good for the city and its citizens, Catholic and otherwise. Monseigneur Prefontaine died in the next year at the age of 72 and left an estate worth over $33,000.

In 1909, Seattle had come of age. It hosted its first World's Fair – the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition – on the new campus of the University of Washington. Indeed, the landscaping by the Olmstead firm and three of the buildings constructed for the Fair continue on in use to this day as part of the University, as well as the statue of George Washington installed at that time. Opening Day was declared a civic holiday and the Fair was declared open by Present Taft in D.C. via telegraph on that Tuesday, June 1, at 8:30 a.m. Eighty-thousand people attended, including as many of the Bolt clan as could get free. They marveled at everything, including the House Upside Down, and rode on a brand-new electric-powered Packard sightseeing bus. (Jason was now 69 and Jenny, 54, so the Bolt siblings appreciated sparing their feet a lot of walking – and the bus was fun.) The Fair ran for four-and-a-half months. Almost four million people attended.

The Washington National Guard Armory was built that same year next to Pike Place Market. It featured a crenellated edge atop the building's three stories with towers at intervals. Philippe found its Medieval architecture greatly amusing and remarked to Jason, "Pellan's son-in-law says that's what the Guard wanted, so we can now pretend that we live in medieval France or England and look out for archers posted on the walls, aiming at us barbarians below. Hopefully their architecture will not give our Guard any ideas."

The drastic regrading of some streets was complete now in Seattle. Second and Pine looked nothing like they had the past – quite flat now with streetcar rails installed. Denny Hill was completely gone.

Old Seattle and the New vied for space, with occasional wagon and streetcar wrecks in town. Biddie (now 58) told Barnabus about a wreck she had witnessed one day, coming out of Redelsheimer's. "My stars! It's just safer to walk!"

Chapter 50: A Long Journey

"You know, Allyn," Jason remarked at a family dinner one evening in the fall of 1909, "I think I'd like to see more of this country. They say Seattle now looks like New York City, so I'd like to see New York City to compare them. I'll turn seventy next year and I've never been farther away than San Francisco – well, except for being born in Scotland and coming here as a baby, which I don't remember, and that endless voyage to New Bedford and then with Clancey and the Brides around Cape Horn. Jasper is settled into his practice and married now. The Lodge is doing well with the kids involved. We can get away for a while without worrying that things will collapse without us."

"Then let's do it, Jason!" cried Allyn (age 64). "Let's take a train east and see Boston and New York and who knows what else. Maybe we'll go on to Paris!"

"I wanted to go with you until you said that last," joked Philippe with a wry smile. But truly, Philippe was content to stay in his adopted region. Julie's grave was here and he never went far from it.

In 1910, Seattle's population was 237,194 – surpassing Portland, Oregon. The regrading of downtown and some residential areas was ongoing, of course. Some buildings were now perched atop small, steep hills in a bizarre fashion while the area below was flattened. Yet in the main part of the downtown, streets and sidewalks were now – finally! – clean and flat, with electric power lines and telephones connecting the town. The city's first electric substation was built at 7th Avenue and Yesler Way.

Young men in Seattle formed sizeable motorcycle clubs and held races, charging twenty-five cents for admission. Horse races were held in Bellingham.

The original building of the Territorial University on First Hill was demolished in 1910 and its four Ionic-style columns were moved to become part of the Sylvan Theater on the University of Washington campus.

"A Sylvan Theater with Greek columns now! Your university has no limits!" Philippe (age 68) laughed to Pierre.

"I'm gratified to see it before I retire," Pierre (age 60) agreed. "It is humorous to a European, especially one who saw how Seattle started out."

Philippe was greatly amused to read in the newspaper about a humble teller at the Ballard office of the Scandinavian-American Bank, who struck oil on his personal property at 32nd Avenue NW and West 54th Street and suddenly came into great wealth. There seemed to be no end to the riches to be exploited in this region and to reversals in fortunes, both up and down, as new discoveries were made and markets crashed. It was hard on the nerves of investors, though, as Philippe well knew.

On March 1, 1910, Philippe drove his carriage into town in the morning. He had received a wire from Jason the previous day. Jason and Allyn were enroute back to Seattle after their holiday to New York and points East. They had been held up by snow in Spokane, but hoped to return to Seattle this afternoon, coming by train through Wellington, and wanted to surprise Jasper with their arrival. Philippe agreed to meet them at King Street Station and take them home. Philippe had received several postcards from them during their travels and looked forward to hearing more details. They seemed to have had a wonderful trip. He checked in with Richard at the bank for a half-hour or so and went on to lunch at his old club, dining solo this time.

The atmosphere at the club seemed unnaturally hushed and his waiter, distracted. Philippe inquired, "Is something wrong today? It seems very quiet."

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Du Saule," the waiter replied. "We've just gotten word that there has been an avalanche in Wellington, destroying two trains."

Philippe's heart lurched. "The trains – they were headed this way? To Seattle?"

"Yes, sir," the waiter said. "Both were coming from Spokane: a mail train and a passenger train. Both had stopped at the Wellington depot for the night due to snow. The avalanche came in the middle of the night after a lightning strike."

Philippe's blood ran cold. He pushed his chair back and stood up slowly, grasping the arm of his chair to steady himself. "I regret that I must leave immediately. I have family members in that passenger train."

"Of course. I'm very sorry, sir."

'What should I do first?' Philippe walked carefully down the front steps of his club in a daze, not as spry as he once was. He remembered – in some absurdly detached manner – being at the very same spot when the Great Fire in 1889 began. 'This must be the place to hear terrible news. I need to drop my membership.' He paused a moment on the sidewalk and took a deep breath. 'I need to go find Jasper first. They are his parents.'

Jasper had found his professional "fit" in the emergency room of the main hospital and, later than his cousin Patrick, he had met a young nurse there, whom he had married in the previous year. Philippe went there now, entering the waiting room and asking for Doctor Jasper Bolt. Jasper came out, looking distracted. "Philippe? I can't talk but a minute. We just heard there's been a train accident somewhere. I may need to go help out."

"I came to talk to you about that," his uncle said. "I just heard about the accident, too."

Philippe next drove the carriage home and swapped it for a single mount. Then he rode up to Bridal Veil Mountain Lodge, which was coping with some new snow at that higher elevation as they prepared to open for the summer. It was no easy journey that Philippe, at 67, made to get there. No telephone line had been run up the mountain yet and all news had to be delivered in person or by mail.

Jeremy, now 58, looked out from the Lodge office off the lobby, surprised to see any visitor today. "Philippe! What brings you up here in this snow?"

"I must speak with you," Philippe said.

'Bad news,' Jeremy guessed.

It had been a difficult transition when Jason stepped back from running the Bolt Brothers logging operation because of his leg injury. It was a traumatic transition when Joshua died accidentally. A bittersweet transition had occurred as the Bolt Brothers logging operation wound down and they opened the Lodge. But Jason had been present in all those times as the larger-than-life elder brother with the wise and calming manner. He had taken a strong hand in designing the Lodge and its trails, opened to celebrate his sixtieth birthday. Now he was gone and there was only one Bolt Brother left.

The Wellington avalanche knocked both trains 150 feet down into the Tye River valley. Although 23 people survived, the last of the bodies of the 96 victims could not be recovered until late July due to weather and terrain. The small blessing in the tragedy was the general belief that the victims had been killed instantly by the mighty force of the avalanche and did not suffer or even know what hit them in the dark of night.

Jasper continued in some degree of shock for most of that terrible year. "If you and Kathleen need something – anything at all – you come to us," Philippe and Pellan both told the 28-year-old, long before his parents' bodies were recovered in June.

"Yes! And you two come for dinner this Saturday night at our place," Jess chimed in. "It's our turn to host. Six o'clock. You don't need to bring anything."

"Yes. Yes, we will," Jasper replied, automatically. "Thank you."

Jason and Allyn were eventually buried side by side in the family cemetery on the Bolt property beyond Forester's Creek. Jasper felt and looked lost for a long time even after he got his parents' estate settled very late in that year, guided along in the process by his uncle Philippe and attorney Christopher Pruitt. Kathleen and their other Bolt relatives emptied out his parents' house in town and they sold it in the coming year. Jasper learned to appreciate in a new way having a large family beyond just his parents and his wife. It was wonderful to have them to lean on in such times as this.

Chapter 51: The Power of King County Women

While the Bolt clan was swept up in their personal tragedy, Hiram Gill was elected mayor of Seattle on March 21,1910. He reinstalled Charles Wappenstein as police chief, whom his predecessor had dismissed for corruption. Prostitutes were once again expected to pay $10 a month to "Wappy", whose police force enforced that rule. Then Beacon Hill became home to a new 500-room brothel granted a 15-year lease from the city: the largest house of prostitution in the world! The decent women of Seattle were absolutely aghast. Adella Parker filed a petition on October 8th for a recall election of Mayor Gill, the first Seattle mayor to face a forced recall.

Women were finally, permanently, given the right to vote in King County on November 8th. The recall election was held on December 20th and Mayor Gill was defeated by six thousand votes. The electorate, now including women, was very different from the one who had elected him earlier in the same year. "Wappy" was charged with corruption, convicted, and imprisoned. The huge building on Beacon Hill, intended to be a brothel, was converted into ordinary apartments.

Chapter 52: Further Developments

In 1911, the Port of Seattle became a publicly-owned and organized entity, instead of a collection of competing, privately-owned docks.

Union Station opened that same year for the trains of the Union Pacific railroad.

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers begin a new, large project, constructing the Lake Washington Ship Canal and Hiram M. Chittenden Locks between Shilshole Bay northeast of Seattle and Lake Washington, opening Lake Washington to ocean-going vessels.

The two-story Tudor-style Firland Sanatorium opened on May 2nd to help combat Seattle's leading cause of death: tuberculosis. Seattle citizens read about the Manchurian plague in that region of China, where 65,000 Chinese citizens died, and hoped it was not brought to Seattle on some ship from the Orient.

Seattle scarcely resembled its past, though the totem pole still stood tall in Pioneer Square.

November 13, 1911, was the sixtieth anniversary of the very first Caucasian settlers' landing at Alki Beach. Morgan & Emily Carkeek hosted a costume ball in historical dress in their First Hill mansion. Guests were asked to donate artifacts or documents related to Seattle's history, which led to the establishment of the Seattle Historical Society in 1914. To those few citizens remaining from the earliest days, it was a strange – and proud – moment: Seattle now wanted to preserve its history. Jeremy and Candy and others rummaged in their family memorabilia to find items to donate.

In 1912, Colman Dock's imposing 72-foot clock tower was struck by the steamship Alameda and fell into Puget Sound. It was extracted and stored, forgotten for almost 25 years, and reinstalled in 1936.

A private bank in La Conner, WA, failed in 1912. W. E. Schricker blamed Jacob Furth and the other officers of Furth's bank, saying Furth recommended that Schricker continue to take deposits at his bank even after Furth knew the bank was in trouble, so Furth was arrested. The prosecution alleged that Furth's supposed advice was motivated to keep Schricker's bank going just long enough to pay notes due to Furth's bank. Furth was convicted and fined $10,000.

But Furth was unaware that Schricker had made $348,554.83 in self-dealing loans to a lumber company in Anacortes, of which Schricker was a partner. Most of Schricker's bank's debt could be explained by Schricker not collecting from himself and this evidence finally came out. Furth's conviction was overturned on December 18, 1914, but Furth had died on June 2.

It was a sad end-of-story for a kind businessman, who had helped Seattle over many hurdles during its rapid growth. Philippe was disturbed by the whole series of events involving his old friend, but he didn't learn how things turned out either.

Chapter 52: October 20, 1913

"It was a lovely party, Julie. I wish you could have been there. It was not a large party like the one last year, but it was fun with just the family present – which is quite large enough! I suppose I could count them up, but there are so many grandchildren running around now that I can't keep them all straight and they never stay still for long. The youngest one is Jon and Marie's granddaughter, Edith – Ivy's little daughter – just a month old now. Her I can remember since she is the newest. Can you believe that our little Jon is now a grandfather? And you and I are great-grandparents! Edith's face is like a little flower – so beautiful! I wish you could hold her and that she could know you. I gave her a kiss for you.

"I'm happy enough here, still where we lived together. It's just Jon and Arlise living with me now. They still run Yukon Outfitters and seem to love doing that. Richard and Justine and their family live in town and he runs the bank. David, Daniel, and Chloé are up at the Lodge most of the time now, helping with that enterprise. So many happy memories here! And Seattle – well, you wouldn't know the place: tall buildings everywhere now for blocks and blocks – flat blocks at that! And clean, at long last! They are still regrading along the shore and in the central business district, though. One skyscraper is being built that will be forty-two stories tall: the L. C. Smith Tower. It will be the tallest building on the west coast and fourth tallest in the world! In little Seattle!

"Well, Seattle is quite a grown-up city now, many times larger than Calais. It's good to have had some part in building this city and seeing it just explode into being, but you know it's also been stressful and exhausting and not what I most love. People have planted trees and flowers and it isn't mud and construction and noise everywhere like it once was, so that's an improvement. There are so many restaurants and cafés that we could hop on a streetcar and eat in a different place every day if we want, but it would make us fat. Ha!

"I've been puttering around in the garden a lot, trying to think of new ways to keep the rabbits and squirrels out. We don't see so many deer now. I hope you know that I plant flowers on your grave in every growing season.

"I would be much happier if you were here, of course, but I still rejoice that you're no longer suffering. Ten years it's been since you left us. It feels like a very long time, especially having lived every day feeling like I have a knife in my heart.

"I'm proud of our family; they're good people and all are doing well. I'm sure that you and our other loved ones look down on us and have blessed us with safety and health in all these tumultuous times. I will also say that whenever you and our Seigneur want to come for me, I'm ready. I feel that I've done all I can here. I miss you – so very much. You don't know – or maybe you do. I can't believe I have 71 years now. Maman must be very happy that I've lived this long time and even seen a great-grandchild born, so our family line has not died out. I'm past my 'three-score-and-ten' years with our descendants to live on after us, so I can't complain. And so far Ranier hasn't blown up, despite all my worries!"

Philippe leaned back on the well-worn bench beside his memory stone and beneath the mature willow tree he had planted decades ago, its last yellow-brown leaves of the summer twirling to the ground in the autumn air. The evening breeze from across the lake was cool and refreshing, carrying the scent of the ocean beyond. Very cool. Peaceful. Another glorious sunset brightening the sky in this beautiful home of the Bolt clan. Philippe-of-the-Willow-Tree felt content and blessed as it all faded away. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes with a smile, feeling tired. The willow whispered of transitions.

The lovely brunette holding the viola was in the bloom of youth and health again since the last time he had seen her. They seemed to be standing in the darkened back-stage of a concert hall. Philippe felt the familiar neck and bow of his cello in one of his hands. He glanced down and was astonished to see that his hand was that of a young man again, with no sign of the arthritis that had plagued him for years.

"There you are! Oh, it's so wonderful to see you again!" exclaimed Julie, embracing him. Philippe felt something between surprise and nascent euphoria. 'Am I dreaming?' he wondered, too stunned to respond verbally to her.

"Come, let's go play," she invited, extending her free hand to him.

Philippe reached instinctively to grasp it. He had so many questions…. "Is it a rehearsal?" he finally managed to ask.

"No, we don't need to ever rehearse again. We just play," she smiled. "And you won't believe the sound!"

He went joyfully with her into the Light.

Chapter 53: Another Celebration

"A bit chilly tonight," Jeremy observed, putting his arm around Candy's shoulders and pulling her close on Thursday evening, May 1, 1919. "I hope they don't make us sit out here too long and catch our death of the ague."

"Hmm," Candy sighed, leaning her head affectionately against his shoulder. "It's not too bad yet."

"Your skin is thicker than mine."

"I have more fat on me. What do you expect at 68?"

"Maybe that you call it 'pleasingly plump?'" he suggested. "You're not what I'd call 'fat'."

They chuckled. Neither of them was as slim as they once were. Might as well admit it and laugh about it, which they had done often.

"It was a Thursday on that May First, too," Candy mused.

Jeremy nodded agreement. "We were beating the weekend rush for weddings in New Bedford, I suppose. Thirty-five years isn't too shabby, given that we started our marriage late. Maybe the kids don't think we'll make it to forty, so they're fêting us now."

"Oh, hush, Jeremy! Any time is fine. It's nice of them. I know they're all very busy as the new season starts up at the Lodge, even if things are more subdued because of the Influenza. Maybe they think we all need a party after these last years of sickness and war."

"Thirty-five years. Where did the time go?"

"You know where it went. How many new babies, birthday parties, graduations, and weddings have we seen in our big family in all this time?"

"… and dirty diapers, homework assignments, colds, sickness, deaths, etcetera?"

"To think that the Lodge has been in operation for almost twenty years now, not counting the cut-back during the War. I'm so proud of our boys and all the younger generation who've made it a going enterprise."

"A lot of credit goes to the girls, keeping the place going while so many of the men were in the Service. I'm glad that this part of our mountain could be preserved pretty much as it was."

They smiled peacefully, lost in their memories of the past.

"No regrets, Miss Pruitt?"

"No regrets – and it's Mrs. Bolt for thirty-five years now."

"Just checking to see if you still answer to Pruitt." He displayed that crooked grin of his. His eyes were still as blue.

"I suppose some part of me always will."

"Well, these have been wonderful years since you made the name-change. I couldn't have lived without you – or at least not nearly as well and as happily."

"Same here."

They smiled fondly into each other's eyes, shared a tender kiss, and didn't feel the chill.

A door popped opened and Molly Jäger emerged with Pellan O'Sullivan and Avery Bolt, all beaming.

"We're ready for you now!" announced Molly. "Sorry to be slow in getting set up and making you wait. The Rameaus were delayed in traffic, getting up here from town with the camera."

"Let me help you up," Pellan offered to Jeremy. "Here's your stick."

"I call it 'Jason's Stick,' since he owned it first," Jeremy said, accepting Pellan's assistance to his feet, along with the aid of the stick. "Feels like he's still here, supporting me."

"You sure you shouldn't rather blame him for what all those years of logging have done to your back?"

"Hey, it was my work! And you're one to talk. You still haven't regained your weight since catching the Spanish Influenza."

"Yeah, I'm aware."

Avery intervened, offering Candy his arm: "Come on, Mom. We'll leave them out here to bicker. When they get cold enough, they'll give it up and join the rest of us inside where it's warm."

"We can't start an anniversary party without the groom!" Pellan insisted, adding to Jeremy, "We'll have to postpone our bickering to another day."

"Agreed," said Jeremy.

They entered Bridal Veil Mountain Lodge and the party began.

"What was it we were going to argue about?" Jeremy asked Pellan the next afternoon, easing himself slowly down onto the bench under the old willow tree and taking a sip of Ranier Beer.

"Ah, who cares?" scoffed Pellan dismissively, drinking deeply from his own bottle. After a pause, he remarked, "Nice party last night."

"Yes, we really enjoyed it and appreciate all the effort that went into it."

"I hope that your next 35 years will be equally happy."

"Right, thirty-five more years? If I'm still around, I'll be so senile I won't know I'm having an anniversary. What fun is that?"

They chuckled and fell silent another moment. Jeremy stated, "I wish all the others could have been present: Julie and the rest. But I'm glad that Philippe passed before that happened to David. It would have killed him."

"Well, David's healed pretty well from his injuries. A man can live with one arm and Eleanor couldn't have been more supportive of him. Richard will help him so he can function as a bank teller there. So many others didn't come home from the War at all due to their wounds or the Spanish Influenza in the trenches."

"Yeah, I know. Our family got off light and I'm grateful. To the ones who didn't."

"May they rest in peace with our gratitude."

They clinked their bottles.

"I don't think David enjoyed his visit to his ancestral homeland as much as he hoped when he left," Jeremy observed wryly.

"I'm just glad that he got home from that blood-bath. And I'm so grateful that Jasper and Patrick got assigned to serve Stateside, even if they did come back to the Spanish Influenza here at home. Almost five thousand dead in just this state last year! O God, will the stress never end?!" He wiped his brow wearily and Jeremy noticed that his hand still shook since he had been ill. "At least I got those last O'Sullivan immigrants from Dingle settled in and told them to keep to themselves as much as possible until the Influenza was gone. They seem to have been spared."

"Yeah. Your clansmen have kept trickling in to Seattle over the years, haven't they?"

"Yes, poor souls. Things never seem to improve in the Old Sod."

"Once a clan head, always a clan head?"

"Well, I haven't thought of myself that way since the last time I left Ireland in 1875. I think of myself as more as a friend. If they can get here, I'll do what I can to help them get established, as a friend would."

They fell silent again. Pellan eventually stated, "I can't get used to working just two half-days a week. I wake up the same time every morning and can't remember if it's a work day or not."

"I guess they're trying to help you regain your strength. You've put in far more than your share in the past."

"That, or they're trying to phase out the old man."

"You sure about that? Why don't you just assume they care about you and aren't trying to get rid of you?"

"I guess I can think that, but I also know that I should retire and get out of the way of the younger doctors. Patrick's not that far from forty: that advertises my age! I'd just like to see the new hospital open and running; then I'll probably retire."

"I enjoy retirement, myself. You might like it, too."

"I might learn to like it – do things I haven't had time for. The house feels awfully empty, though."

"Without Jess, you mean?"

"Yeah. There were times we lived there when the kids were getting bigger that it felt so crowded and I considered moving us into town to a larger place, but I kept putting it off for one reason or the other. Now I'm thinking of renting an apartment in town since it's just me, now that the kids are grown with their own families."

"No! Stay on here with us. You know it's more pleasant out here than in town in all that big-city noise and chaos. You've stayed here all these years, commuting in to work. Might as well stay and enjoy the peace here once you don't have to commute. Your grandkids seem to like playing around here when they visit."

Pellan nodded. "I've thought about that angle, too. And I do enjoy it here – part of why I put up with the commute. But I think about Jess a lot when I'm here: sleeping alone in that big bed and all. Just keeps it all raw and it's been over seven months now."

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

"I know, but it still hurts. We didn't even know the Spanish influenza epidemic had arrived in Seattle when she caught it: just the second person in town to contract it."

"I'm sorry, Pellan. I miss her, too."

"Who'd have guessed that I'd marry the little kid who once tried to scratch my eyes out on the playground … and that I would miss her so very much now that she's gone?"

"I understand something of your pain. Healing takes a long time."

"I know you understand." He paused a moment. "Do you miss your brothers?"

"Yes, but there are some here who are like brothers to me and that helps." Jeremy held out his bottle and Pellan clinked it with his. "Thank you for your friendship all these years."

"You're welcome, even if I wasn't much of a friend at the beginning."

"What's one fight on the school playground in almost sixty years?"

"And all my picking on you before that happened?"

"Forgiven and forgotten long ago. You had your reasons to be angry at the world."

"Ah, that was a rotten, confusing time in my life. I was such a miserable sod." Pellan shook his head with regret.

"Understandable, as I said," Jeremy persisted, then changed the subject. "If your cabin bothers you, why don't you change it?"

"Like how?"

"I don't know…. Turn your bedroom into a library and sleep in a smaller room that one of the kids used. How much time do you spend sleeping anyway? Move the furniture around. Give the big bed to one of your kids and get a smaller one. Scratch that! You'd fall out of a smaller one." They both laughed. "But change it. Make it your own place now and maybe it will feel less painful. Ask Candy or Jenny; they'll have better ideas than me."

"Hm. Hadn't thought of that. You know I never liked our bedroom getting so much sun in the mornings. It was hard to sleep if I'd worked nights. Jess even made me a black mask to put over my eyes."

"Well, turn it into a study or something you'd use in the mornings where you need good light and sleep somewhere else."

"Good idea. I guess I don't have to keep the house exactly as Jess left it."

"No, you don't. And it's probably better that you change it. It actually helped me when Candy changed the curtains and other things in our cabin when we were first married."

"That didn't bother you?"

"Nothing like I would have predicted. I told Candy to feel free to change anything she wanted, because I didn't want her to feel like she was anchored to my past. Don't you tell her, but I was actually a little afraid of her making changes from my time with Marta. Then I found it actually lifted my spirits. Helped me move on from the past."

"Do you still think about Marta?"

"Of course. I still can't get over how two such fine women wanted anything to do with me. How did I get so lucky?" He chuckled in honest amazement, shaking his head.

"I don't think it was luck. You have a really good heart – honest and sincere. You draw people to you and bring out the best in them."

"I wonder how long it'll keep beating?"

"Your heart? I wasn't speaking literally."

"I know. Just noting that Jenny and I are the last still around from our generation."

"You wondering who'll be the last one standing?"

"Oh, no! I'm not wondering: my money's on Jenny. She'll bury us all – and not even because she's the youngest!"

They laughed. Jenny was and had always been a powerhouse of energy and creativity.

Candy emerged from inside the cabin and joined them, stating, "The roast is in the oven. You'll join us for dinner, won't you, Pellan?"

Pellan stood, vacating his seat beside Jeremy and gesturing for Candy to sit beside her husband. She did so while Pellan responded to her, "Thank you. What man can resist a pot roast?" He sat down on the far end of the bench, stating, "A rose a-twixt two thorns" and smiling to himself at an old, private joke.

"You know, Pellan, you haven't spent much time here since Jess died, except when you were ill," Candy remarked gently.

"Pellan and I were just talking about that and how painful he finds his cabin," Jeremy supplied. "He said that he's thinking about moving to an apartment in town."

"Oh, Pellan! No!" Candy protested, then added, "Unless you're wanting to be nearer your children and grandchildren and the amenities of town."

"It's not that," replied Pellan. "It just feels very empty now … without Jess."

"I suggested that he switch things around in his cabin," Jeremy said. "I thought that might make it less of a constant, painful reminder of Jess."

"Is that it? Yes, some changes might help. We can think about that."

"Good! I'm glad to hear you offering to help … because I sort of volunteered you and Jenny to advise Pellan on what could be done."

"Oh, you did, did you?" Candy gave Jeremy a feigned, 'angry' look with narrowed eyes. They had a long-running joke about not volunteering each other for projects without asking first, stemming from a disagreement early in their dating relationship.

"I didn't think you'd mind too much, since he's family and he lives nearby."

"No, I don't." Candy smiled at Pellan. "We'll give your cabin a freshen-up and I don't see why you don't start taking your main meal with us every day. There's no need for you to eat alone at your cabin unless you just want to. Cooking for one and eating alone is rather depressing."

"Thank you, Candy," said Pellan. "And I can contribute to meals. I can burn Shepherd's Pie with the best of them!"

Brigid Callahan (now 42) opened her front door a few days later. "Da! I didn't know you were coming to town today!"

"Hello, Cailín," Pellan said, using her old childhood nickname. "I wasn't sure I would have time to drop by, so I didn't call ahead. I hope it's a good time."

"It is. Come in! I'll make us some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and lemonade. It's warm today."

Sitting at the kitchen table a few minutes later, Pellan inquired, "How's the book coming?"

"Some days better than others. You really think people will buy a book about Dingle?"

"A few will around here who lived in Dingle once and want to remember it and pass memories along to their children. And we'll market it in Dingle, too, and probably get more sales. A collection of uplifting and entertaining tales about their past may sell better than we think. Those people need that. I know we'll not sell a lot of copies, but I think of this as a gift to them of things I remember from their past. I don't care if we make a profit or not."

"Maybe another month and I'll let you read what I've got."

"No rush. How are Jeff and the kids?"

"Fine. Everyone's fine. Of course, we all miss Mama."

"Yes, I do, too, and always will. I brought you something today to remember her."

Pellan drew a small box out of his pocket and placed it before Brigid on the kitchen table. She opened it and found the old Claddagh ring, professionally polished by a jeweler so that it shone like new. "Mama's wedding ring!"

"Well, it's a Claddagh ring, which belonged first to my mother. I can tell you more about it, if you want it."

"Of course, I want it!"

"I need to tell you that I offered it to Elise first. It should be handed down to the oldest daughter in the family, which is Irish tradition for this sort of ring. I offered it to your aunt Siobhán years ago, having kept it for ten years from when our mother died until Siobhán was fifteen, but she didn't want it. I believe she felt that wearing her dead mother's ring was a bit creepy and she hadn't known our mother as well as I had, being so much older. And then your mother has been wearing it all these years until, well…. So I had it polished up and offered it to Elise, as Siobhán's oldest daughter. But Elise felt that it should go to you, since you have a memory of your mother wearing it and she doesn't. Perhaps you can pass it along to your daughter or her daughter, whatever you wish. If you want it, it's yours now."

"Of course. Thank you, Da." Brigid gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"I guess it's an irrelevant Irish custom and I left there long ago to live in the States."

"Well, I know many people come to the States from painful situations and are only too eager to forget everything about their past. But there are others who want to remember the best of the past with gratitude – and you've raised us to be that way. I appreciate that."

"I hope that it doesn't offend you that I offered it to Elise, since I know that you think of it as your mother's wedding ring."

"No, I understand your reasoning. Will you tell me more about a Claddagh ring?"

"I'm glad that you want to know. You see, the symbols on this ring stand for Irish values of friendship, loyalty, and love…."

Chapter 54: Some Dreams Come True

"Hey, Patrick! Where's your dad?" Jasper Bolt called to his cousin on top of a ladder in the summer of 1920.

Patrick wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his left hand, a paintbrush in his right. "You don't think he'd miss these festivities, do you? Actually, he strained his back an hour ago, helping to move a ladder on the third floor, and I insisted that he go back to his office and take it easy."

"What a good doctor you are!" Jasper proclaimed, picking up a paintbrush himself.

"I walked him to his office and he didn't protest. At least he has a decent chair in there now."

"Did he give you any guff for 'managing' him?"

"I thought he might for a moment, but then he just eased himself into his chair and opened up The Lancet with that half-smile on his face and said, 'Run along. I'll be good.'"

"I'm surprised he hasn't come up here again."

"Give him some time. This has long been a dream of his for decades: a modern hospital with advanced x-ray and lab facilities and a team of specialists. I really think it's all that kept him going after Mom died."

"You think he'll really retire in a few months?"

"I do. He's recovered his strength from the Influenza and seems happier since he's been part-time and made some changes in his cabin: more space for his pass-times and such."

"'The Mason Clinic and Virginia Mason Hospital.' A pity the Masons couldn't cough up just a bit more 'mazuma' to hire professional painters."

"I think we all know something about painting from medical school, don't we? Maybe the Masons think that professional doctors doing the painting are professional painters."

Patrick and Jasper laughed, remembering their torturous summer jobs while they were medical students in San Francisco.

"It'll make it more personal to have done some of this work ourselves," Patrick added. "And we'll probably get it done faster, since we aren't being paid by the hour. We'll be open for business before this year is over. You know how building contractors drag out contracts."

In 1920, Seattle's population was 315,312: more than three times that of their former arch-rival Tacoma and almost five times larger than Calais.

Between 1928 and 1930, the final phase of the Denny Hill regrade took place in the largest area yet (and the farthest from the Bay). And, come 1930, the 34-year project was finally complete.

Seattle grew by stepping stones: the wealth gained from their timber and other natural resources gave rise to Boeing, which then gave rise to Microsoft, Starbucks, and Amazon. And who knows what is next?

The replica of the grotto of Lourdes was built in 1930 at Seattle's Immaculate Conception Catholic Church. Many Bolt descendants gathered for its dedication late in the summer.

Samuel Rameau (48) escorted his mother Jenny (74) in place of his father. Even subdued and in full mourning, Jenny looked the epitome of fashion and remained in good health, still supervising work in her couturier shop. "Have our country cousins arrived yet?" she asked her niece Lucie Du Saule Livingstone (59), who was sitting with Molly Pruitt Jäger (65 and also a recent widow).

"Not yet," Lucie replied. "Josiah said last night that they're definitely coming, though. Oh, wait! There's Avery's automobile now, pulling the hill."

They allowed the car to arrive, park, and unload its passengers.

Avery Bolt (45) pushed his mother's wheelchair as they approached the church's new meditation garden. Candy Bolt (79) had shattered her ankle in a fall three months before. Josiah Bolt (46) and Pellan O'Sullivan (80) walked slowly alongside.

Candy apologized to them, "I'm sorry to slow you all down."

"You're no trouble at all, Mama," said Avery, patting her shoulder.

"I'm grateful that you're not outrunning me anymore," grinned Pellan."It gives me time to catch my breath."

"It's been months and still my ankle hasn't mended," Candy complained.

"Now, now," Pellan admonished. "How many times have I told you that we can't expect to heal quickly at our age. Folks like us need to be glad if we can be out in the world and, indeed, that we are still here at all."

"Makes me just want to give up and stay home."

"Jeremy wasn't a quitter and I don't think he'd want any of us to be. We need to be here today to see this fulfillment of Philippe's bequest and support his branch of the family."

"Thank you all so much for coming!" Lucie enthused graciously, approaching Candy and the others. "I never thought that it would take this long to finish Papa's gift, but I'm sure he would say that any kind of construction takes far longer than you thought it would."

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I think Philippe would prefer that this gift be done well, however long it takes – and it has been," Pellan opined. "I've observed them working on it this spring and I'm sure he'd be pleased with how it's turned out. Even if it is half-scale, it's beautifully landscaped in the space the church had available and makes a perfect meditation garden."

They found their seats and waited for the priest to arrive to lead the dedication ceremony.

Candy whispered to Pellan, "I so wish Jeremy could have been here, too."

"So do I," replied Pellan, "but he knew it was under construction. I still say pneumonia was a blessing with what he suffered with his back for years without complaining. They call pneumonia 'The old man's friend,' you know."

"Yes, I've heard that, but I'll always miss him."

"We've all got to go sometime. Better quickly than not."

"I'm happy for all the Du Saules," said Candy, looking around. "The grotto is lovely. Thank you all for bringing me out here today."

"This memorial garden is a very nice gift for the future."

"I agree," Candy said, smiling at her old friend. "Very thoughtful."

Epilogue

In May of 1932, Brigid Callahan (just turned 55) and her brother Patrick O'Sullivan (50) stood in the Irish museum at the University of Dublin before the display case of torques.

"I guess that's it, then," speculated Brigid. "Suppose they would take it out for us?"

"We can ask…" Patrick responded, and turned on his heel to go pass a message to the museum director, returning shortly to her side.

Brigid continued: "Da said it wasn't as old as most torques in their collection, but it was heavier and more elaborate. I'm impressed he had the courage to wear something so grand. I'd be afraid someone would drag me into a back alley and bash my head in to steal it."

"He told me that Aunt Julie created a cravat pattern to fit over it and he wore those custom cravats to cover it unless he was visiting Dingle and chose to display it there among his kin."

"Yes, he told me that, too. I guess Julie was trying to protect him. She was such a kind-hearted soul."

"Well, Da told me that it was Uncle Philippe who first suggested it, so I don't know which of them thought of it first. Maybe they were both concerned for his safety. He was just a boy when they put it on him: twelve years old, I think."

A man approached from a side door with a greeting. "I understand that you are relatives of someone who wore a torque?"

"Yes, our late father, Pellan O'Sullivan," Patrick replied, introducing Brigid and himself. The man stated that he was Padraic O'Duinn, an Assistant Director of the Museum.

"Your names are certainly Irish, but your accent isn't," remarked Mr. O'Duinn with a slight smile.

"We're half-Irish," Patrick stated. "Our mother was American. Our parents immigrated to the States shortly after my father bequeathed his torque to this museum in 1875. My sisters and I were all born there."

"Ah!" said Mr. O'Duinn, "We always enjoy meeting family of those who have donated items to the museum. They make history come alive." He unlocked the case and removed the O'Sullivan torque, including the paper which was laid underneath its case.

"Da's script!" Brigid exclaimed upon seeing the paper, pressing her gloved fingertips to her lips as tears welled in her eyes. It was the list that Pellan had written out for the museum: a copy of the one he had always carried on his person of his forefathers who had worn the O'Sullivan torque before him. If the Assistant Museum Director had had any doubts about these visitors' identity, the woman's emotional reaction to the list seemed genuine.

"May I hold the torque a moment?" Patrick requested.

"Of course," Mr. O'Duinn replied, gently removing the torque from its velvet case and handing it to Patrick. "May I inquire if you are the eldest son of Doctor O'Sullivan?"

"The eldest and only son, also a physician," Patrick stated, feeling the weight of the golden torque in his hand … and knowing that it held a psychological weight for him as well.

"Then I suppose it would have passed to you upon your father's death," Mr. O'Duinn remarked.

"Which was last year," Patrick volunteered. "He lived to be 81 years old and had a strong constitution, but I think our sister's death the year before broke him … and also the death of our aunt, who lived nearby. His passing prompted our visit to Ireland, well, and the book my sister is writing."

"Are you an author, madam?" Mr. O'Duinn inquired of Brigid.

"I co-authored a book with my father some years ago of his memories of Dingle, combined with memories from his father, too," Brigid replied modestly. "It was just a limited printing for some Dingle immigrants to our city and was also marketed here in Dingle. Now I'm beginning another book about my father's life. I thought it would help me to actually see the places he mentioned in reminiscing about his youth and family. I'm writing it mainly for his descendants, to preserve his memory."

"That is a wonderful gift for your family. Did his memories go farther back than his father?" Mr. O'Duinn was curious.

"His grandfather drowned in his mid-twenties, so no," replied Brigid. "His son Ronan wasn't even born at the time and didn't know his father at all. My paternal grandmother was Black Irish from Tralee – so my father had some Spanish blood – and his father's family was from the Dingle peninsula. I think my father always felt he was diluted-Irish, compared to his father. I understand that his parents' marriage created something of a scandal around Dingle."

Mr. O'Duinn chuckled, "I can imagine. Ireland is a land of more hybrids than we want to admit, so I think your father was an unusually honest man. He must have been descended from some outstanding men, too."

"Dingle was changing in his time and in his father's as well," supplied Patrick. "I think I think he and his father, Ronan, both struggled in trying to figure out how a clan head should function in a country that was changing dramatically from the past. My da always took his position quite seriously, though, even after he decided that his torque belonged in a museum and he moved to America with my mother's family. He helped several O'Sullivan families resettle there in subsequent years. He had me swear to him on his deathbed that if any more settlers should come from Dingle looking for him that I would do all within my power to help them. Of course, I swore."

"So you are of the same character," Mr. O'Duinn stated with honest admiration.

"Well, he raised me that way. He felt that his heritage was a gift to his people more than himself, which was why he wanted to write that little book for them to pass on what he remembered of their common heritage and preserve it. And I understand that heritage is passed on to me, even though I never wore the torque. I still bear the name," Patrick stated simply, handing the torque to Brigid to examine.

"That's a wonderful perspective. Do you have children yourself?" Mr. O'Duinn asked.

"Yes, I have five: two boys and three girls."

"Ah! A fine, full house! Are the boys becoming doctors as well?"

"No, they both took jobs at the aeroplane plant in town once they finished school and seem to like it."

"Aeroplanes! It is a changing world, isn't it?"

"Yes, indeed it is!"

"Have you been to Dingle yet on your holiday?" asked Mr. O'Duinn.

"Not yet," said Brigid. "We just landed in Dublin two days ago. "I feel a little awkward about going to Dingle. We're obviously not from Ireland and don't know anyone here, not even any relatives. Da did mention the name of a pub in Dingle where he said his relatives would go to meet up."

"That's good to know," Mr. O'Duinn said. "You should surely be able to locate your kinfolk from there. They probably still have ties to that meeting place."

"Do you think so?" Brigid asked, timidly. "We ate in a pub last night and no one spoke to us except our waiter."

"Did you sit in a booth?" Mr. O'Duinn inquired.

"Well, yes," Brigid replied.

"In Ireland, if you want to strike up a conversation and meet new people, sit at the bar and not in a booth. That's the social signal," Mr. O'Duinn explained. "Those who sit in booths are understood to want privacy."

"Oh!" said Brigid. "I never thought of that. It was quite lively at the bar in the pub last night. I thought they were just old friends."

"Sit at the bar anywhere in this country. That will make a difference in how friendly you find Irish people. And I dare say you'll find O'Sullivans quickly that same way in the pub in Dingle that your father mentioned," advised Mr. O'Duinn.

Patrick and Brigid thanked him and returned the torque to his care, watching as he carefully replaced it in the display.

Brigid touched the strand of pearls at her neck, also remembering her mother. She didn't know it, but Jessica had worn those same Irish pearls, then brand new, when she had visited the museum with Pellan as newlyweds to donate the torque to its resting place. Pellan had given Jessica's pearls to Erin after Jess had died (as he had given the Claddagh ring to Brigid), but Erin's children were all sons. Kevin MacDonald had then given the pearls to Brigid after his wife Erin died.

"Come on, Cailín," Patrick said as they walked out of the museum into the persistent Irish fog. "Let's go get Yliana and Jeff at the hotel and find some lunch, sitting at the bar this time. We'll see if Irish people really will talk to us, now that we know The Rules."

They walked on into the future.

The End