The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons (13 page)

A faint clattering sound stopped me. A rat in the cabin, escaping rising water in the bilge? I froze, trying to determine the source. There, in the corner—no—it was from Annie's berth. I grabbed a thick book off the shelf to hurl at it.
Cl . . . cl . . . cl . . . clackclackclack . . . clclclclclclclclclcl
. . . .
CLACK!
I reached back and opened the door to provide an escape route for the vermin. Crept toward the bunk.

I peered into the tangled nest of blankets. Silence. Then
cl . . . cl . . . cl . . .
The covers shifted. I raised the copy of
Treasure Island.
Aimed. Took a deep breath and heaved it.

Nothing. I tiptoed forward.

Cl . . . cl . . . cl . . . cl . . .
Like chattering teeth . . . or were they mine? I craned my neck. Bit my lip.

CLACK!

I pinched the edge of the blanket and yanked it up in the air.

The black box of cards. The lid trembled and shook.
Cl . . . cl . . . cl . . . POP!

The top blew off and the deck shot out. A shower of cards floated toward my feet. They landed in a pyramid arrangement, a house of cards that looked suspiciously like our mansion back at Simmons Point—before it became a ship. There, the porch, there, a turret. The cards facing out were face cards, all of the characters I'd seen aboard the specter ship. Plus the image of Mother and Father in the upstairs windows.

I gaped at them.

They all leaned forward, their mouths moving in unison.

“Happy birthday, Lucy!” Mother blew a kiss. Father saluted. Then the queen of spades threw back her head and laughed, a long, sarcastic cackling, until the house of cards blew in on itself and collapsed in a heap.

T
he tail ends of dreams swam through my head like a school of dark fish, swishing their slick bodies inside my brain. . . . A rat beneath my blankets with chattering teeth, nibbling my toes. The cowrie-eyed voodoo doll stalking across the deck. Giant playing cards bobbing in the ocean like flotsam. Quaide, hooking something from the sea, hauling it up on a squeaky winch. Dangling from the line, it dripped. As it spun, back to front, I saw it was a face card. And the face on the card was mine. I woke up. Sat bolt upright in my bunk, disoriented. Sweating. A shaft of early afternoon sunlight cast a warm beam through the cabin. Hard to believe that just this morning a storm had been raging.

The cards! I looked toward the floor where they'd fallen. The box sat on the bunk, cards neatly stacked inside. Had the house of cards been part of my dream? Or had it actually happened?

Knock knock knock.
I shook my head to clear away the nightmare images.
Knock knock.
Someone was at the door. I swung my feet to the floor. Shivering, I realized I'd never changed out of my wet clothes—after the drama with Quaide and the house of cards, I must have sunk back to my bunk and fallen right off to sleep.

“Lucy!”

I wrapped myself in a blanket and threw open the door.

“Happy birthday, Lucy!”

They were all there—Addie in front, a lopsided cake on a platter in her outstretched hands. A parcel wrapped in paper, tied with string, was tucked beneath her arm. Hours later they still all looked a little green and disheveled from the storm, but their smiles more than made up for it.

“Can't believe me girl is thirteen!” Addie gushed.
Tirteen
is how it sounded.

Annie threw herself against me and wrapped her arms around my legs. Georgie grinned sheepishly. “We got presents for you!” he said. He held a burlap sack in his clenched fist.

Marni smiled with one side of her mouth, eyeing what must have been my frightening appearance. “Glad to see you dressed up for your party!” I ran a hand through my damp, salt-encrusted hair and pulled the blanket more tightly around me, suddenly embarrassed. There was Walter at the back of the group. When our eyes met he nodded and looked away. So, this is how it will be, I thought, feeling something between sadness and anger. All thanks to Quaide.

“Well then,” Addie cried happily, “I say we give Lucy a minute or two to freshen herself up.” She winked at me and continued. “Then meet in Miss Marni's stateroom for the proper party to begin!”

“Yes, lovely.” I found myself having to push some levity into my voice in order not to show my frustration about Walter.

“Go on then,” Addie ordered, handing the cake off to Marni. “I've somethin' special t' give. The rest o' ye go on ahead!” They turned and headed for the stateroom. Annie stuck her blond head back in the doorway.

“And Lucy . . .” Her blue eyes were open wide. “Hurry up!”

Addie stepped in and closed the door behind her. “A heck of a day it 'twas!” she exclaimed, “but fittin', somehow, for one as lively and brave as me little Lucy. How grand it will be for your auntie t' see how the sense of adventure she's always had runs in the fam'ly!” Her face beamed with pride.

My heart instantly filled to overflowing. “Addie . . .” I began. My eyes welled up and I stopped. There was so much I hadn't told her. “Everything is . . . different. . . . There's so much . . .”

“Aye,” she said, “the teen years are like that, they are, fer sure.”

“It isn't that. . . . It's . . . you know, when I fell overboard . . .” I stopped. Bit my tongue.

“Don't be frettin' about that, child. It turned out fine, now didn't it?” She held out the parcel. “Here . . . I've been preparin' fer this day fer quite a while, I 'ave.”

Addie watched me take the parcel and untie the string. I folded back the brown paper, revealing a patch of beautiful pine-green satin. It shimmered as I ran a finger along it. The paper fell away, and a gorgeous frock unfurled. It had a sweetheart neckline, trimmed in delicate black lace, a waist cinched with a matching thick band of black velvet. The sleeves, also of black lace, puffed slightly at the shoulder and fell in an airy flounce just below the elbow. Black velvet bows edged the sleeves. The bodice was shirred black satin with twinkling green crystal buttons down the front.

“Addie . . . it's beautiful! Where did you . . .”

“Bought the fabric in Boston town, I did. Been stitchin' by lamplight durin' the evenin's ev'ry chance I got.” The pleasure on her face warmed me, and also conjured up a wave of sadness. How I would have loved for Mother . . . “Oh, Addie, it's so beautiful!” I placed the dress on Annie's bunk and threw myself at her. We embraced, until she grabbed my shoulders and held me at arm's length.

“Go on to the head. I poured ye some water in the basin and left some Pear's soap, scented with lavender, 'tis. Wash yerself up. Then come back and we'll get ye all gussied up!” She leaned close and whispered. “I bet I know someone aboard this ship who can't wait to see the young lady in her finery! Go on! Go!”

As I went to the head, I wondered if Walter would look up long enough to notice. Inside, I dropped the blanket, peeled off my wet clothes, and shivered again as I dunked my arms in the basin. I lathered up with the bar of lavender soap, washed as best I could, and rinsed. Looked into the small oval mirror tacked to the wall. A cloudy image stared back at me, so like my aunt Pru. The Simmons eyes, the wild red hair. Face slimmer than it had been in childhood. My heart tripped with longing—and determination.

Back in the cabin, Addie helped me into my dress, then brushed my hair from my face in long, torturous strokes. She wrapped and coiled and tucked and pinned. I bit my tongue, as complaints would seem juvenile.

“There. Now, step back and let me have a look at ye!”

I spun in a circle, afraid to move my head for fear of upsetting my coiffure.

“Ye look like a dream, ye do! Now, just loosen up yer neck, so's ye don't appear like a wooden pilin' in a dress!”

In the short time it took for us to march to the stateroom, I became aware of just how comfortable I'd become in denim overalls. The gorgeous dress pinched at the waist and the crinoline underneath it pricked my skin. And, despite what Addie had said, I felt myself holding my neck very rigid in order to preserve my complicated hairstyle. We passed the Reds in the companionway. Their four blue eyes popped in unison and they stepped aside. One, then the other bowed deeply. “M'lady . . .” said the first. “Yer wish is our command,” said the second. I blushed, and covered the smile on my lips with my hand. Laughed out loud as I noticed the black lines ground under my fingernails—a permanent state of affairs since becoming an expert at all the duties and chores aboard ship.

Addie pushed open the stateroom door. “
TAH DAH!
” she announced as I swept in. Annie squealed in delight and rushed over, touching my skirts with tentative hands and extended pinkies. “Oooh . . . Princess Lucy!” she cooed.

“That ain't Lucy,” Georgie said skeptically, peering at me as though he'd never seen me before.

“Isn't,” Marni stressed. “That
isn't
Lucy.”

“Then who is it?” Georgie asked, missing the point. He was starting to sound more and more like Quaide.

Marni gazed at me, the edges of her mouth twitching. “What a vision!” she exclaimed. I couldn't help looking at Walter. “Happy birthday, Lucy,” he mumbled, his Adam's apple bobbing, cheeks flushed. He looked away in an instant.

“Cake or present first?” Marni asked.

“Cake!” Georgie shouted.

“Present,” insisted Annie.

“Lucy?” Marni asked.

“Present,” I said. Georgie thrust the burlap bag at me. It was light, whatever it was. I reached in and felt a smooth surface with soft edges. A book of some kind.

“Take it out! Come on!” Georgie urged.

I pulled out a slender volume. The title read,
Fingering and Embouchure Technique for Flute and Recorder.

“I found it in my chest of drawers,” Marni said. “Thought you could use it to learn some new songs. We've all heard that one you play—and only part of it, to boot! Now . . . who knows . . . you might learn a whole repertoire of sea chanteys!”

I opened the book. It was filled with staves of scale-wise notes, and beneath each, a crude drawing of a flute, some holes open and others darkened. There were numbers beneath each ranging from 1 to 4.

“The darkened circles show where to place your fingers to produce the note pictured.” Marni pointed to the diagrams. “The numbers indicate which fingers to use.”

“This is wonderful!” I said, thinking of the book of sea chanteys I had stowed in my room. “Thank you, Marni, thank you all!”

Georgie pleaded, “Now can we have cake?”

Marni laughed and turned toward the tray laden with cake and plates, took the silver cutter, and held it high.

“Make a wish,” Walter said. He looked up at me for just a moment, his eyes bright. Marni waited.

“All right,” I said, and closed my eyes. The words jumped into my mind. I wish Walter wouldn't pay Quaide any mind, so we can go on as we had before. I opened my eyes and stared at Walter, to see if my wish had taken hold. But he kept his eyes on his brother. Marni looked at me, questioningly. I nodded, feeling rather deflated, as she sliced the first wedge. Addie helped her pass the pieces around. I plunged my fork in and savored the sweet yellow cake, spiced with cinnamon and cardamom. But the sweetness couldn't remove the hint of bitterness I felt toward Walter. That, and the thought that I'd wasted a wish. Why hadn't I wished for . . . safety at sea, success in finding Aunt Pru, unlocking the safe and the mystery of the family curse? No. Instead, I wished for some silly boy to notice me. I'd show him!

There was a tap on the door and I pushed past Walter to open it. Rasjohnny stood bearing a large tray of coffee and milk.

“Refreshments for de birt'day girl, I got!” He ducked through the doorway, his dark eyes searching my face. He moved past and set the tray on the sideboard.

“Why not send for Javan?” I asked. “He'd love to have some cake, I'm sure.” Walter shot me a surprised look and quickly turned away. My heart skipped a beat. Had it been a brief flash of jealousy I detected? I was almost ashamed at the satisfaction I felt.

Georgie, his chin covered in crumbs, mumbled, “I'll go get 'im.” He pressed his index finger onto the remaining morsels of cake on his dish, licked his finger clean, and fetched two more plates. “I'll bring this to 'im,” he said.

Walter stepped in front of him. “Good idea. Bring Javan a slice of cake. But what do you think you're doing with that second piece?”

Perhaps Walter preferred Javan not join our party. And secondly, I'm sure he imagined Georgie sneaking Quaide the extra slice. Marni and Walter exchanged a glance. “Leave the plates here,” Marni said, “and bring Javan back. That's all.”

Georgie set the plates down with a clatter, hunched his shoulders, and huffed toward the door. Walter reached out, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. Georgie shrugged it off. “Georgie!” Walter said, but he was already on his way. I fought the feeling of empathy that rose in my chest. I walked to the door and watched Georgie go. Rasjohnny bent to exit, and as he did our eyes met.

“A word widdya, miss?” He mouthed the words. “Soon as ya can make it t' da kitchen, yes?” I tried to avoid his eyes, still feeling so unsettled from the scene in the galley. But the begging in his voice tugged at me. He whispered, “Gotta explain, I do.” The others were laughing and talking, enjoying their dessert, pouring coffee. I slipped out the doorway and closed the door quietly behind me.

“Rasjohnny . . . what were you doing this morning? The candles, the doll . . .”

“I pray dat ye didn't tell . . . and Grady, he be too superstitional.”

“I didn't tell, not yet. But I should . . .”

“No, please, Miss Lucy, the cap'n might be misunderstandin', and Miss Marni.”