Page 41 of Unlikely Heroes
“Neither have I,” she replied. “If the floorboards leave a mark on my back, you’re in trouble.”
They both laughed. “Eventually everyone will eat, then go home, and I’ll have my way with you on a mattress,” he promised. He stood up and held out his hand. “Up you get, my saucy wench.”
While he dressed, Meri-deelightful looked at the used bathwater, then decided against a quick dip. She settled for a damp washrag and giggled like a bride when he buttoned her bodice, after taking a few husbandly liberties.
He smiled inside, touched by her odd sort of modesty, when she patted her hair in place and asked, “Will I pass muster?”
After that glorious bit of General Merrymaking, he knew he could tease her. “No. You look like you’ve been romping about in the washroom with a randy fellow.”
Ooh. Such a glare. He gave it eight seconds. Nay. Four, and she was in his arms again. “I don’t like separations from you,” she whispered into his neck.
“What a relief that I usually work at St. Brendan’s. Some of those ocean voyages can last two years and more,” he said.
“My goodness.” Meri unlocked the door. “Do wives ever just lie down there on the dock when they see the right ship making harbor?”
He shouldn’t have laughed so loud, but Lord, his genteel wife could pop out with a zinger, when the mood was on her. “Meridee Bonfort Six, you are a rascal.”
“Oh dear, three names. Am I in trouble?” she teased back.
“We’ll make it right later on tonight,” he assured her. “Now let us ask the kind Pegeen to swab out that horrid bathtub and fill it for a lad or two.”
Soon, everyone smelled much better. Before dinner, Ben had escorted Able upstairs so he could shave and put on a clean uniform. Sitting on the end of their bed, his little son informed his Papa of the times Mama cried. His face grew solemn. “I cried, too. Papa, where were you?”
“Sailing against France and keeping Napoleon away from you,” he said. He yanked up Ben’s shirt, blew a big raspberry on his stomach, and flopped down beside his boy so they could laugh together.
“Someone must like Napoleon,” his son said. “Does he have a little boy of his own?”
“Alas, no,” Able told him, touched at how Ben settled so close. There was none of the shy child about his son. It was as if they had known each other since conception. Someday he might ask Ben what his earliest recollection was, but now was not the time. Better to circulate in his son’s orbit while he could, taste of Meri’s sweetness on every level of his life, and return to sea a whole man. He raised up on one elbow to regard Ben. “If he had a little boy, do you think Boney would be a better man?”
Able knew this was not an argument for a one so young to entertain, but he knew this was no ordinary child. Still, Ben surprised him. “Probably, if he had a good mama, too.”
Touché, Ben, he thought. “You have a good mama.”
Ben nodded. “She would be upset if I decided to conquer the world. She wouldn’t think it proper.”
Able laughed and grabbed up his son, setting him on his shoulders. He trotted him down the stairs, Ben hanging on tight to his hair, and into the kitchen where the delight of his life was taking a ham from the Rumford.
“Ben, you’ll never want to go to sea. The food is so good here,” he said as he lifted his son off his shoulders and set him gently on his feet. “Only last week, all we had to eat was ship’s bread, elderly cheese and fish.”
“Mama should be on board to feed you,” Ben pointed out.
He smiled at Meri, who was listening to this exchange with her usual good cheer. He watched her eyes grow misty, and knew how close to the surface her emotions were.Let this war end, he thought.Let it end now. He grabbed her in an all-encompassing embrace that nearly included the ham on the table. “Mama feeds me all she can,” he whispered into her ear.
Dinner became a moveable feast that took the ham and accessories across the street, where it was joined by a beef roast large enough for a school of hungry boys, another ham and chicken pie. The whole school ate and celebrated the return of five Gunwharf Rats, six if he counted himself, and he did.
Ezekiel Bartleby was equal to the occasion, with bread and a cake with lemon icing. Captain Ogilvie carried the cake, a smile on his face. In fact, he looked more cheerfully normal than Able had ever seen. The trajectory of the captain’s gaze rested squarely on Grace St. Anthony, who was busy helping Meri slice the bread. Blows the wind from that quarter?Able asked himself. This might bear a comment or two to Meri later on tonight, provided he took the time to think about anyone else’s love besides his own.
Ben on his lap – Ben had turned into an amazing trencherman – he ate, enjoyed the camaraderie all around him in this former refectory of silent monks and what used to be frightened, cowed workhouse scum. They had changed. He saw the pride, the intelligence, andbon amieand it thrilled his heart as almost nothing else could.
He saw something else, and pointed it out to Meri, when he snagged her by her apron and made her sit beside him, reminding her there was a whole staff of kitchen help. “Look at the faces of my crew,” he said. “They’ve seen more and know more than the others.”
She gazed where he gazed, her hand resting proprietarily on his thigh, under the protection of the table. He watched her face become contemplative, even a little wistful. “Dare I say they look like men?”
He nodded. “We’ll give little Avon another year or so, but he is a marvel.” He leaned across Meri to Grace, who was carrying on her own conversation with Captain Ogilvie. “Lady St. Anthony, you certainly set me up for a huge surprise with Avon March.”
She turned to him with a genuine, happy smile, a smile he hadn’t seen in months from her. “Able, I’d like to have seen your expression when you discovered he could signal with the best men in the fleet.”
“I was predictably surprised,” Able replied. “He is a wonder.” He leaned back. “They all are.”
