Toward the Sea of Freedom (30 page)

Kathleen was happy for Claire’s friendship, but Ian Coltrane did not prove as enthusiastic about his wife’s new acquaintance. Kathleen would not have told him anything about Claire at first. Since Ian so readily misconstrued her remarks as attacks and harmless stories as confessions of infidelity, she had become exceedingly careful, only telling her husband what was necessary.

But Sean blurted out the news as soon as Ian came home. He mocked—as well as he could at his age—Mrs. Edmunds’s strange saddle.

“’potty, ’potty,” Colin squealed, laughing.

“Are they talking about that upper-crust bitch and her donkey?” Ian asked.

Kathleen explained the children’s comments and told him where Claire’s residence was.

“With the sailor husband trying his hand as a ferryman?” asked Ian. “He’s not getting anywhere. And that woman—I have to warn you, Kathleen, the respectable women in Christchurch won’t talk to her.”

So that was why Claire had feared Kathleen might rebuff her.

“Why not?” Kathleen inquired. “Granted, she’s a bit strange. But quite friendly and open.”

“She’s stuck-up, is what she is,” Ian said. “And forward. The woman at the dry goods store in Christchurch says she asked such inappropriate questions that she blushed like a schoolgirl. And what’s more, she’s slovenly. Even her husband says so. All the women feel sorry for him, the way he runs around. She can’t patch his clothes, can’t cook. And their house—I’ve seen it myself, Kathie. A real shame. I don’t think it’s right for you to associate with her.”

Kathleen shrugged her shoulders. “Well, the fine ladies of Christchurch won’t know about it anyway. Although I find it interesting how much of their gossip you hear. But no matter what the whole world says about Claire Edmunds, I’m having a baby soon. And the only woman within ten miles is Mrs. Edmunds. She’s promised to stay with me and—”

“Her?” Ian laughed. “She still believes storks bring babies. I’m warning you, Kathleen.”

Kathleen lowered her head. But then she continued anyway. She and Claire had not shared any secrets, but contact with the lively girl had given her strength.

“That’s because no one will answer her inappropriate questions,” Kathleen said curtly. “And besides, Claire Edmunds is pregnant. Someone has to help her when the baby is born, and that will be me. It’s my Christian duty, Ian. Whether you like it or not.”

To Kathleen’s amazement, Ian did not talk to her any more about Claire Edmunds, nor did he expressly forbid contact with her. Probably, he recognized that he had no way of enforcing this.

“I’ll hear about it, Kathleen, if you make too nice with Matt Edmunds,” was all he said, standing up from the table and ordering Kathleen into the bedroom with a dark look. Kathleen followed him—but while she lay beneath him, bearing his thrusts and rough kisses, she did not think of some other man but instead of the armored, warlike goddess Minerva.

“Oh, Matthew doesn’t like that we’re friends either,” Claire said when Kathleen cautiously alluded to Ian’s opinion.

As it happened, Claire knew very well what people said about her. She had also heard a bit about Kathleen, which she now reported. “They say you don’t want to have anything to do with the parish since you’re Catholic. Irish, you’re all supposed to be Catholic. And who knows what strange observances you might have.”

“Observances?” asked Kathleen, who did not know the word.

“Customs. Something about actual blood and flesh in your services—if you asked the chandler’s wife, you’d think you all ate babies.” Claire laughed, but Kathleen was horrified.

“Seriously, Matt says I’ll have to keep an eye on the little one. But he’s just angry at that Ian of yours because of the matter with the donkey. He’s nursing a grudge. And he’ll need a mule soon—hopefully your husband won’t trick him again. Couldn’t you have a word with him?”

Kathleen shook her head regretfully. Ian did not inform her of his sales plans, but naturally, he was still cheating people. For Kathleen, the worst of it was that now he had the boys watch as he transformed an old, lame nag into a shiny young horse with a charming temper in time for a sales conversation. The children did not understand much of it yet, but they both felt very important when their father took them into the barn to explain his “craft.” If this continued, they would become swindlers before they could even speak properly.

Kathleen tried to impart a healthy moral foundation for the children with as many Bible stories as she could tell, but these stories were of no interest to Sean. Claire quickly became his idol. Other than Pere no one could tell more and better stories than she, and she was happy to exchange them for practical guidance in everyday matters from Kathleen.

Soon the women were visiting each other as often as three times a week. The path along the river became so worn down that Claire’s donkey and Kathleen’s mule could trot along without getting stuck. Claire’s cooking skills improved, and her house now gleamed, just like Kathleen’s.

In turn, Claire was helping Kathleen with her reading. Father O’Brien had taught her the basics, but she was never truly at ease with it, so her return to it was halting and slow. The Bible was all she needed at first. But then Claire lent her one of her few exciting books. Kathleen exerted herself, and very soon, she read almost as naturally as her friend. At night, she found the greatest pleasure in taking out Michael’s farewell letter, which she had strenuously hidden from Ian since their marriage. Now that she read easily, it was as if she heard his soft, low voice as she read.

Mary Kathleen . . . I’ll come back . . .
Oh, how long it had been since she’d heard him call out her name.

Roughly one month after the women’s first meeting, Kathleen gave birth to a girl. It was an easy birth. Heather was quite small compared to the boys; Claire could hardly comprehend how delicate and well formed her little toes and fingers were, how cute her little mouth, and how soft her blonde hairs. Despite his assurances that he would be home for the birth, Ian was off on yet another business trip. Claire stayed with her friend as promised—although her help consisted largely of making tea and offering encouragement. Kathleen had never thought someone would manage to make her laugh during her contractions. But Claire compared Kathleen’s delivery so seriously and insistently with that of a cow that Kathleen could not hold her laughter inside.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to reach into you,” declared Claire as she finally laid the baby in Kathleen’s arms. In the meantime, lambs had been born on both farms, and Kathleen had expertly helped when there were complications. Claire had watched the events with interest but only roughly understood what Kathleen did to deliver twin lambs, wound up in each other, one after the other into the world. “But, of course, if it had come to it, I would have done it!”

Claire’s own delivery did not pass without complications. After her friend spent two days in labor, Kathleen seriously feared Claire would not survive the birth. Matt was not prepared to send for a doctor in Christchurch. When Kathleen asked him why, he pointed out the high cost.

“You two can do it alone,” he complained. “The animals don’t have any problems.”

“Then you’ll be sure to help out like you did with the cow, right, Mr. Edmunds?” Kathleen responded angrily.

That did not happen. After the first few hours of Claire screaming and moaning desperately, Matthew Edmunds climbed into his boat and let the gentle current take him to the nearest tavern.

Kathleen was frothing with rage. To her astonishment, Matt’s disappearance filled Claire with hope.

“I’m sure he’s looking for a midwife,” she wheezed, “or a doctor, even. It can’t be that expensive. He, he loves me, after all.”

In the end, the young woman also proved considerably tougher than Kathleen had judged her to be. When the baby was finally ready, Claire pushed with all her might, and with a bloodcurdling scream, her daughter slid into the world.

“I’ll never be a lady,” groaned Claire. “My mother said . . . my mother said, ‘Ladies don’t scream. A lady lets every pain pass without complaint.’”

“Really, now?” said Kathleen. “Well, we don’t need any ladies here. They can all just stay in Liverpool. Look what a lovely baby you have. Do you know what you want to name her?”

Claire agreed that her baby was delightful. “I think I’ll name her Chloe,” she said. “That goes well with Claire.” She stroked the baby’s delicate little face, which still looked a little wrinkled after the birth.

“But I don’t know if I want to do that again.” Claire considered. “I admire you, Kathleen. Three times through this torture? I find once to be enough.”

Kathleen took a confused Chloe out of her arms and began to bathe and swaddle the baby. “Matt probably won’t ask you to,” she said bashfully. “Ian, on the other hand . . .”

“So, you only have three children because Ian insisted?” Clair asked curiously. “And I thought . . . well, I thought I was the only one.” She bit her lip.

“The only what?” inquired Kathleen. Ian was not wrong. These conversations were a bit more than inappropriate. Yet she was curious.

“The only one for whom it isn’t fun. That is, hm, the, well, act of love.”

Shocked, Kathleen did not know whether she should laugh or hold her peace, but Claire was already continuing.

“In books it says it’s supposed to be nice. Well, it doesn’t really say anything, of course, but the wedding is always the high point, and they live happily ever after. Only, I, I thought it nicer before the wedding. Matt had always spoken so kindly to me, and when he kissed me, it was tender and soft. But now . . . Have you ever thought it nice, Kathie? What, what, that is, what people do in bed?”

Kathleen smiled and thought she could feel Michael’s kisses on her skin again. All at once she felt the urgent desire to share her secret with someone. Or at least to hint at it.

“It doesn’t necessarily have to do with a wedding,” she said. “With before or after one, I mean.”

She left it at that. After giving birth, Claire was too tired to solicit more.

Summer and winter passed. Over time, Kathleen saw that Matthew Edmunds disappointed her friend far more than she’d initially thought or than Claire would portray. By the stories Claire had told, Kathleen could not have imagined the uncommunicative fellow who did not even show particular interest in his new daughter. Yet Claire persisted in depicting her handsome sailor as a daredevil and lively storyteller who had taken her heart by storm. She seemed to judge him based on this, and indeed, Matt Edmunds was quite good-looking. He was tall and blond, but Kathleen thought he always wore a sullen expression, which made him seem unapproachable and unlikeable. Claire’s husband seemed to nurse a grudge against the whole world, especially his lovely, vivacious, and charming wife.

Apparently, Matt had imagined emigration and life in this new country differently, although Claire and Kathleen could not quite figure out what displeased him. Considering they arrived with little more than some china and a few books, the Edmundses were not doing poorly. Matt had invested his meager savings wisely, and he now earned enough from his ferry business to support his family. Over time that would increase, for the growing city of Christchurch promised all citizens a secure existence. Perhaps Matt simply missed the adventure his life at sea had offered. And it was clear that Claire, for all her charms, could not make it up to him.