Chapter Thirteen
SHE COULDN’T WAIT ANOTHER DAY
Very few ships came into the little port town. But when they did, Kyrah watched carefully as everyone got off, hoping she might see Ritcherd. Instinctively she believed he would have gotten on a ship just as fast as he could to try and find her. She had discovered that this was a popular port for ships coming from England—mostly privateer vessels. It was a place strictly used by people who lived for any profit they could make off this war. And as yet, the British authorities had no holdings here. She felt that these facts increased the likelihood that if Ritcherd came looking for her, he would eventually come here.
At times she became filled with doubt, convinced that it was ridiculous to expect him to find her here. At other times she felt certain he would arrive any day. Despite her constant changes of heart, she waited patiently day after day, watching each ship carefully. From the window of her room she could see the tops of the docked ships’ masts. She became accustomed to counting the number of masts each night and comparing them the following morning. Occasionally she would awaken to see that a ship had come in during the night. The first time it happened she panicked, thinking he might have come and she’d missed him. But by making inquiries about town and learning to assert herself more, she found methods of getting information. And her time at the pier made her rather proficient at knowing which men came and went from which ships.
To ease the wait, she often worked on sewing clothing for the baby. She wasn’t as skilled with a needle as her mother, but she was grateful for the skill she’d been taught in her youth that allowed her to be prepared for the coming arrival. There were days when thoughts of her baby gave Kyrah great comfort and a sense of serenity and purpose. But just as with her hope for Ritcherd to find her, she was often swayed to feelings of doubt, even despair, in wondering what kind of life she would have to offer her child.
Kyrah remained persistent in her efforts to find an England-bound ship. Only one opportunity came up, but her hope was dashed when the captain of the vessel adamantly refused to take her aboard. It wasn’t until after it had sailed that she wished she had at least sent a letter for her mother. Still, she refused to give up hope that eventually she would find a way home, or that Ritcherd would somehow find her.
The weather cooled as autumn deepened in its march toward winter, but Kyrah couldn’t be discouraged from her vigil at the pier. She often wrapped her cloak tightly around her to ward off the continual breezes from the sea. Her days were all much the same. Each evening she would have dinner at the boardinghouse and go to bed with the hope that perhaps tomorrow would be the day Ritcherd found her. After eating breakfast she would walk to the pier, where she sewed a little and watched the seagulls and other shorebirds. She marveled at their simple displays, and enjoyed identifying each type according to her book. The sound of the birds’ crying became familiar to her, along with the rush of waves against the shoreline. She would often close her eyes and listen, inhaling the salt in the air, absorbing the cool breeze from the sea. As her surroundings mingled with her emotions, she felt certain that being near the sea would always represent sadness to her. Looking out across the seemingly endless stretch of blue, it seemed to clearly mirror the feelings in her heart. She felt as if the ocean had somehow become her friend, even though at times she had been intensely angry with it for providing the means to tear her away from her home and all she loved. Still, with the endless hours she had spent mesmerized by the ebb and flow of the tide, she felt somehow compelled by the sea. It was as if the ocean itself somehow understood her, and in turn, she had come to understand it.
Kyrah pondered deeply her feelings for the sea, searching for the words that would describe it best. Of course, she found it captivating. She felt drawn to it in the same way she had felt drawn to Ritcherd from the first time she’d laid eyes on him. It was as if there was something inside of her that couldn’t be complete without being close to him. But the emptiness she felt in his absence was somehow soothed by the ocean’s continual whispering along the shoreline. Still, she knew that the captivating whispers were only one facet of the sea. It was powerful and intense in a way that sharply contrasted with its eloquence. And most amazing to her was the way it could be all of those things at the same time, always leaving her fascinated over what new aspect she might discover.
The only company Kyrah had, beyond the sailors who came and went, was a market vendor with a little cart that he pushed down the pier and back up again each day. He was a clever old man with a lot of beard and very little hair. He sold fruits, breads, and cheeses, and Kyrah often made little purchases from him. His company helped ease her boredom, and the food settled the nagging nausea caused by her condition.
The only break in Kyrah’s routine came on Sundays when she visited a local church. She slipped in quietly after the meeting had started in order to avoid bringing any attention to herself. Then she slipped away as soon as the congregation was adjourned and she hurried to the pier.
Kyrah had been visiting the pier for nearly a month when a deep voice startled her from her reverie. “I’ve heard rumors about you.” She turned to see Peter Westman, and had to admit she wasn’t entirely disappointed. It was good to see a familiar face—even his.
“Really?” she said. “And what have you heard?”
“There’s talk around town of a beautiful phantom woman who stands at the pier every day. And here you are.”
Kyrah shrugged, certain he was teasing her. She turned her attention back to the gulls flying overhead. “I would have thought you’d be long gone by now.”
“Nonsense,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t leave here without you. How are you getting along?” he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.
“Fine, thank you,” she replied. He smiled, but Kyrah could almost imagine that he was disappointed. He was congenial and stayed to talk with her until early evening. Kyrah appreciated his company, even though much of what he talked about held no interest for her. He walked her back to the boardinghouse, where she thanked him and left him standing at the door.
Peter began making a habit of seeing her daily at the pier; occasionally he would stay to walk her home, although she was careful never to let him into her room. He seemed puzzled over how she had managed to come up with the money to support herself, but Kyrah evaded his questions, deciding that he could think what he liked. Although he said very little about it, Kyrah sensed that he was dismayed that she was managing fine without his help, and she’d had no problems as a result of being alone and inexperienced, as he’d put it. Much to her relief, he made no further reference to his proposal of marriage. And she didn’t contemplate too deeply the reasons for his attention. She simply enjoyed his company for what it was worth, certain that Ritcherd would come for her any day.
It didn’t take long for Peter to guess why Kyrah spent so much time at the pier. More than once he repeated his speech about what a wretch Captain Buchanan was, telling her she was a fool to get her hopes up that he would actually go to the trouble to find her. His motives seemed kind enough; he seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare. Still, Kyrah fought to hold on to the feeling in her heart that Ritcherd did love her and he would come for her. But weeks continued to pass, and still Captain Buchanan did not come to Hedgeton. The illness Kyrah felt from her pregnancy began to subside, but each week she was more aware of the life growing inside of her by the way her figure swelled. Her clothing hid the evidence fairly well, but she was grateful for the cooler weather that made it possible to wear her cloak whenever she was with Peter.
With time she came to be on friendly terms with the market vendor, and discovered his name to be Mr. Birch. She was grateful for his kindness and the distraction he offered, and she was pleased to discover that he shared her interest in the birds along the shoreline. He knew them well, and they had many conversations about their habits and displays. It was the avocets that fascinated Kyrah the most. They had a unique way o
f eating, and their extravagant courtship rituals were enchanting. Somehow the avocets gave her hope that Ritcherd, who symbolized to her the greatest bird of all, would find her. He just had to!