William chuckled. “No, he didn’t, but he didn’t tell me it was surrounded by Puritans until after he hauled me and all my belongings here. That was two years ago. If Marina hadn’t come to live with me a short time later, I may have given up on the place and gone back to the sea. Still might someday.”
Marina remained silent. As much as Uncle William spoke of returning to the sea, she knew it wouldn’t happen. Not without assistance. He’d never accept charity or pity, but his mind was outliving his body on land. He often repeated stories or rambled, and climbing the stairs to the second floor winded him. She’d taken apart his bed and carried it downstairs to the room off the hall leading to the kitchen to save him from climbing the stairs last winter. Convincing Captain Tarr her uncle wasn’t a washed-up old seaman, and to take him, along with Gracie, might not be an easy chore, but there wasn’t anything easy about her lot in life anymore.
A smile almost tugged at her lips because, for a brief second, she could hear her father’s voice proclaiming there wasn’t a task a Lindqvist couldn’t complete.
“Marina’s family had a bit of a mishap up in Maine,” Uncle William said. “She came to live with me winter before last. It was a cold snowy day when you arrived, wasn’t it, child?”
Marina agreed with a nod. Although she considered her home being attacked and her entire family killed more than a mishap, that was how Uncle William referred to it. As if calling it less than the calamity it had been would lessen it in her mind. Nothing could ever do that, but she never made mention of that to Uncle William, either. Perhaps because she wanted him to think she wasn’t trapped in the past. That she didn’t regularly recall the savage attack that caused her to be persecuted by neighbors until she had no choice but to flee. She told him she’d dreamed about him the night before his friend had arrived in Maine, but he hadn’t thought it significant. She did. It was the first time one of her dreams had come true.
If Captain Farleigh hadn’t arrived that snowy night, she’d have died again. Not by Indians or the wolves terrorizing the few chickens left in the barn, but at the hands of those who used to be friends.
Uncle William refused to speak about that, about what she’d told him, and she could understand why. It was hard for nonbelievers to accept. She’d struggled with it, too.
“Marina’s always been special. Always had a glow about her,” Uncle William said. “From the day she was born, she lit up the world.”
She’d heard that tale before, from her parents and brothers. If her family had known how different she was, what her destiny would be, she wished they’d mentioned it to her. A little preparation would have been helpful.
“Her grandpappy was my brother, and after having so many grandsons, he was beside himself to have a little girl to bounce upon his knee. I don’t know how I got along until she came to live here. Of course, things were different before. When Puritans weren’t set on killing one another.”
“Killing one another?” Richard shook his head. “The Puritans may have strong beliefs, but I don’t believe killing is one of them.”
Marina held her breath, curious about whether she would now learn why he’d deserted his family. An act she couldn’t fathom.
“Tell me, Richard,” her uncle said. “What do you believe?”
“About the Puritans?”
“Yes,” Uncle William replied.
Marina refrained from looking at the captain, even while her curiosity made it difficult. Her family, upon arriving in the New World from Sweden eighteen years ago, had settled along the costal shores of Maine. Communities there were far apart and needed every member’s participation in order to survive. Therefore, religious tolerance, of how or when their neighbors worshipped, was more accepted. Even though, in her case, religion hadn’t been the cause of her banishment, she couldn’t help wondering if it had been the reason behind him leaving his family.
“They are attempting to repopulate the world,” the captain said with more than a hint of disdain. “Will do anything to increase the population of every Puritan village up and down the coastline.”
“Indeed,” Uncle William said. “Are you one of them?”
“No.”
The response was so fast and stern, Marina couldn’t stop her gaze from snapping in his direction. She’d never questioned how her uncle had known who Gracie’s father was or how he knew where to find him. She, like most of the villagers, had believed he’d perished at sea.
As if he realized how harsh he’d sounded, the captain added proudly, “I’m of the Christian faith.”
“But your wife was a Puritan,” Uncle William stated.
Richard’s eyes were on her and boring in so deep Marina looked down at the floor and swallowed hard to ward off the shiver rippling over her shoulders. In the far recesses of his eyes, she’d seen pain and recognized it as something he didn’t want revealed. She didn’t like when that happened, when it was as if she could see into another person’s soul. No one should be able to do that.
“Yes, she was,” the captain said. “I refused to convert. Therefore, Sarah chose to remain with her family. I agreed to provide for them financially.”
“I know the life of a sea captain well,” Uncle William said. “Wives and families in ports all around the world.”
“Sarah was my only wife,” Richard replied coldly. “Grace is my only family.”
Marina could no longer remain silent. He’d opened the opportunity for her to ask a question that took precedence over all others. “Will you return to the sea when you and Gracie leave here?”
“Of course I will.”
“What about Gracie?” she persisted. Her heart had almost broken upon finding the little girl so ill and dirty. From that moment on, determination filled her to see Gracie healthy, safe and well. Perhaps because it was her only chance to do so. It was a known fact witches—real witches—couldn’t conceive children. “She needs a family,” Marina stated with all the fortitude filling her. “A father, not just a provider.”
* * *
For a woman who’d stared at the floor, not mumbling a word, Miss Marina Lindqvist certainly wasn’t afraid to let her contempt be known when the moment arose. Richard, on the other hand, was skilled at keeping things inside, where no one but that sleeping giant judged him. Unwilling to explain his plan for his daughter, he asked, “How did Grace come to be here? With you?” Although dressed like one, this woman was not a Puritan, nor was she married, as he’d assumed from her note stating his daughter could be found at “our” house. However, knowing those two things only increased the number of questions rolling around in his head.
William was the one who responded while his niece remained silent. “Because of Marina, your daughter is alive, Richard. Despite those intolerant fools.”
Anger set Richard’s jaw tight. The tiny child upstairs had been neglected. Neglected until she was little more than skin and bones. He may have visited his wife and family only once, but he’d sent money regularly and other things. Goods and materials, furniture, seeds. Anytime he’d heard someone mention an item the colonials needed, he’d sent a good supply to Salem Village in Sarah’s name.
