The Ghosts of Aquinnah (12 page)

“
Max?”

“
He was our dog when I was growing up. My father used to say Max ran the farm more than he did.”

“
Your family had a sheep farm?”

“
Yes.” Stella waved her arm around the barn. “This was our farm, actually.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
This land belonged to my family. The Hammetts were sheep farmers for generations here in Chilmark. But Josiah sold most of the land when we got married.”

“
What about the rest of your family?”

“
There was only me and my parents. They died five years ago when I was 15. The consumption.”

Christopher nodded. It didn’t matter what side of the ocean you came from, everyone knew the toll consumption could take.

“
I’m sorry,” he said.

“
Josiah and I married a few months later. He let me keep a few sheep but he sold the rest.”

Christopher thought back to his talk with Eliza Luce. “What happened to his first wife Lillian? Did she die of the consumption too?”

Stella shook her head but had no opportunity to answer further. She jumped from the bale of hay as Henry ran to the barn entrance to welcome Josiah.

The doctor stared at both Stella and Christopher without saying a word.

“
Josiah,” Stella said as she made her way to her husband. “You’re done seeing your patients?”

“
Indeed I am. And where is my dinner while you’re in here cavorting with the help, woman?”

“
I was just helping Mr. Casey with his sling,” Stella stammered. “I’m sorry, Josiah. Dinner is nearly ready.”

“
See to it that it is.”

Stella nodded and practically ran from the barn, Henry close on her heels. Josiah stared at Christopher with undisguised contempt.

Christopher rose from the hay. “I’ve got your supplies in the buggy, sir.”

“
Not doing me much good in there, are they? When did you plan on getting them unpacked?”

“
Now, sir,” Christopher said. He paused as he remembered Eliza’s question about his employer’s health and considered asking the man if he was ill. It didn’t take but a second to realize what a mistake that would be. He walked past Josiah and out into the now dark evening without saying another word.

****

A few hours later, Christopher sat up straight as he noticed flashes of light playing along the walls of the barn he was temporarily calling home. He relaxed as he saw the source of the light – Stella. She carried a lantern in one hand and a plate of food in the other.

“
I know you must be hungry,” she said.

“
That I am.”

“
I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you your dinner sooner. Josiah had some chores for me to finish first.”

Christopher had no doubt that whatever chores Stella had needed to complete had been made up by her husband on the spot. He was actually surprised to be getting any dinner that night.

“
It’s fine,” he said. “You don’t need to serve me.”

“
You’re our guest. Of course I do.”

“
I don’t think your husband considers me a guest.” Christopher said. “In fact I daresay he won’t be requiring my services much longer.”

“
Don’t be silly. You’ve been a great help to him.”

Stella set the plate of fish chowder and bread on the bale of hay Christopher had claimed as his own. She had expertly balanced a mug of hot coffee on the edge of the plate.

“
Are you warm enough in here?” she asked, shivering in the cold night air. “I could bring you another blanket.”

“
I’m fine,” Christopher said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. “I’m used to it in here by now and Grover and the sheep are fine companions. We all stay warm together.”

Stella chuckled and rubbed Grover’s nose. Christopher couldn’t help but think that she wished she could stay in the barn herself. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part.

Stella met his eyes as if she could read his thoughts. “I should get back to my husband now,” she said.

“
Yes, you should,” Christopher said while wishing for the exact opposite.

As Stella started to leave the barn, Christopher suddenly remembered the paper he had purchased at the apothecary.

“
Mrs. Winslow, wait,” he called out. “I forgot your paper.”

Stella turned around and ran back to him on tip-toe, her finger pressed to her lips. “Shhh,” she said. “I told you Josiah wasn’t to know I asked you for that.”

“
I’m sorry,” Christopher whispered. “I forgot.”

He stood up from the hay and retrieved the newspaper from his makeshift bed. “For you, madam,” he said as he handed the paper to Stella with an exaggerated bow.

Stella giggled as she took the paper in her hands. “Thank you, kind sir.”

She sat back down on the bale of hay and motioned for Christopher to join her.

“
Did you read any of it?” she asked.

“
I can’t read,” he said. “I was too busy working and helping my mam pay the rent to ever learn.”

Stella turned to him, the light of the lantern dancing in her green eyes. “I could teach you to read,” she said. “It’s not hard. And you’d love it. I know you would.”

As Christopher stared down at her the last thing he cared about was learning to read. All he wanted was to kiss her. He leaned towards her before stopping and scolding himself inwardly. She was a married woman. And, no matter what he thought of Josiah Winslow, he was a guest in the man’s home. His mother would have been ashamed of him.

“
What is it?” Stella asked. “What are you thinking about?”

“
You,”
Christopher thought
. “How beautiful your eyes are. How much I want to kiss you…”

“
I was thinking about a story Mrs. Luce told me about at the apothecary,” he said. “About a doctor there in Boston who took his own life.”

“
Oh my goodness,” Stella said. “How terrible.”

“
Indeed.”

Stella ran her fingers over the newsprint before folding the paper in her hands. “I shall read all about it tomorrow when Josiah goes to visit his patients,” she said.

She got up from the bale of hay once more and walked to the door of the barn.

“
Good night, Mr. Casey,” she said, turning back to face him.

“
And good night to you, Mrs. Winslow.”

Christopher watched Stella scurry out of the barn and lay back into his bed of hay. He bunched the heavy blankets Stella had already provided around him and gingerly pulled his still throbbing arm closer to his chest.

He thought of Stella getting into her bed inside the house and wondered what that bed and bedroom looked like. He felt a stirring in his groin as he imagined what it would be like to lay beside her. To run his hands through her thick auburn hair and press his lips against her own. To slip her nightdress from her shoulders and take her small body into his arms. He knew it would be heaven.

But it was another man’s heaven, and one he couldn’t possibly have for himself. His face burned with both desire and shame as he scolded himself for coveting another man’s wife. He closed his eyes, but sleep refused to come to him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Stella.

****

Stella tiptoed into her bedroom and prayed that her husband would already be asleep. She heard soft snoring coming from his side of the bed as she removed her dress and long underwear, and dared to hope that her prayers had been answered.

She got into her dressing gown and pulled on the thick wool socks she wore to warm her feet. Blowing out the lantern on her bedside table, she inched herself into bed doing her utmost to not disturb Josiah. She slid under the covers of their bed and closed her eyes.

Stella nearly cried when she felt a rough hand on her shoulder and she realized that Josiah had not been sleeping soundly after all. He turned her onto her back and pushed up her dressing gown. Without a word, he climbed on top of her body and mounted her.

Stella gasped in pain as she always did when he entered her. She struggled for breath from the weight of his body on top of hers. As Josiah grunted and his breath quickened, she stared into the darkness and remembered the trip she had taken to Cottage City and the magic of Illumination Night. She imagined going on such a trip with the young Irishman now sleeping out in her barn. She remembered the day she had bathed him in Gay Head and run her hands over his bare chest.

As Josiah shuddered and rolled off of her, returning almost immediately to his snoring, Stella closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to free her from the confines of both her bedroom and her life. When it did, she dreamed of Christopher.

****

“
So you’ve never sheared a sheep?” Stella asked as she and Christopher walked out of the barn and into the bright sunshine of the surprisingly warm March morning. Henry the dog ran along beside them.

“
Can’t say that I have.”

“
No sheep farmers in Galway then?”

“
No, there were. But I spent all of my time down at the harbor.”

“
Was your father a seaman?”

Christopher shrugged his shoulders. “I really can’t say what he was. He died before I was born.”

Stella stopped walking. “I’m sorry.”

“
Don’t be. It’s not as if I ever knew the man.”

“
What happened to him?”

“
I can’t say that for sure, either. My mam told me he died after a fall, but she wouldn’t say more. When I got older, other children teased me and said my father was a drunk who fell into the sea, that’s what their parents told them. But when I asked my mam if that was the truth, she said I shouldn’t listen to idiots.”

“
Do you think it was the truth?”

“
I do, yeah.” Christopher lifted his head to the sky and soaked in the rays of the sun on his pale face. “I think my mam just believed that you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“
A wise woman.”

“
That she was.”

“
Was?”

Christopher looked back towards Stella. “Yes. She died three years ago; two days shy of my 18
^th
birthday.”

Stella noticed a wave of darkness pass over Christopher’s pale face. “I’m sorry.”

“
Thank you.”

“
What happened to her?”

“
She was caught in a kitchen fire at the home where she worked as a cook. The fire spread fast as lightening and she couldn’t get out in time.”

“
How terrible.”

“
It was.”

Stella suddenly remembered the word Christopher had moaned in his feverish sleep while she cared for him at the Mayhew home.

“
When we were at the Mayhew’s cottage and you were sick with fever, you said a word over and over again,” she said. “
Mamaí. Does that mean mother? Were you asking for her?”

Christopher’s face whitened. “I must have been. That was what I called her, yes. It’s Gaelic for mother.”

“
Gaelic?”

“
The Irish language. It’s illegal to speak it now in Ireland because of the English, but my mam taught me anyway. We just always made sure never to speak it to anyone else. It was our secret we had, she and I.” He glanced at Stella, his eyes clouded with pain. “I haven’t spoken it since she died.”