Ruth Axtell Morren - Wild Rose

She wondered how the captain managed his meals on his own. She knew he had deliveries made from Mr. Watson’s store every few days. But how did a gentleman’s son survive all by himself? Although he called himself a sailor, she was certain he knew nothing about sea life below the rank of captain or first mate.

Geneva grabbed Jake’s collar in an effort to suppress the temptation of nosing around in the captain’s cupboards. She tore her gaze from the kitchen and headed toward the veranda.

“Cap’n Caleb?” she called out. “It’s me, Geneva.” When nothing but silence greeted her, she said, “Anybody home?” By then she was in the large living room. “Cap’n Caleb?”

Seeing the door onto the veranda ajar, she walked toward it. Jake broke away from her and reached it first, shoving the door open and bounding joyfully toward one end of the porch. Geneva was quickly after him. She saw the hammock and Captain Caleb lying in it, but wasn’t in time to reach Jake as he jumped up to it, barking, and set it to rocking violently.

“Hey! What—” The captain’s hands came up around Jake’s head. “Hey, boy, down.” Captain Caleb looked up at her as she reached the hammock.

“Jake! Down! What’s the matter with you? Get your paws off the cap’n.” She spoke to Jake more harshly than she had intended, trying to hide what she felt at seeing Captain Caleb lying there. It was clear he’d been sleeping.

This impression intensified when he smiled up at her. “It’s all right. He meant no harm. At least he’s warming to me.” He patted Jake’s head as he talked. Long, sun-browned fingers ran over Jake’s ears and down the sides of his neck, large palms cupped the sides of his head. “What are you doing here, boy?”

Geneva could feel the heat rise in her face as she observed the captain. Thick, wavy hair swept back untidily from his high forehead. His face, just wakened from sleep, had a freshness and an openness that she hadn’t seen since he’d come back to Haven’s End.

“Uh, I jus’ came in by the back. Shouldn’a brought him, I guess—I thought you’d behave yourself, Jake.” She fixed her eyes on her dog.

“No more scolding. There, that’s a good boy.” The captain continued talking to the dog, rubbing his head and neck all the while. “I’m glad your mistress thought fit to bring you. It gives us a chance to get acquainted.”

“Thought it was time, you know, for the lesson,” Geneva explained, shoving her hands into her back pockets.

The captain pulled out his watch. “So it is.” He smiled at her again, transfixing her. “I just lay down a minute after my lunch to watch the sea, and must have fallen asleep. Went to bed too late last night, I guess. Come on, get your dog off me, and help me up.”

Geneva swallowed and took hold of Jake’s collar, ordering him to sit. Not sure whether the captain had meant it seriously, she stuck out her hand. He grabbed it firmly and held out his other hand. Geneva offered hers more tentatively, but he clasped it readily. When both her hands were ensconced in his, she felt joined to him in a way more profound than the simple touch warranted.

She pulled him forward.

“Thanks.” Once he was standing, the captain held her hands an instant longer before letting go. Geneva stepped back to dispel the feeling of abandonment.

He ran his hands through his hair and then smoothed his shirt down. Geneva just stared. He was wearing a white cotton shirt with a barely visible, blue line threaded through it. Geneva thought she’d never seen any material so fine. His collar was open, revealing the brown skin of his neck.

Her own collar felt constricting. Giving herself a mental shake, she walked toward the worktable. Her hand trembled as it reached for a pencil. The captain seemed so at ease; clearly he had no idea what he did to her.

During the lesson Geneva felt more ignorant than she’d ever felt during her short time up the road at the schoolhouse. She couldn’t seem to make sense of anything this afternoon. She mixed b’s and d’s, m’s and n’s. She stumbled over words of more than three letters.

It was worse than when she’d had to trudge to school each morning, wearing the same dress, until Mrs. Stillman’s daughter, Sarah, started spreading the rumor that she had fleas. After that, no one wanted to sit with her.

She vowed never to set foot inside the schoolhouse again, but then Pa demanded to know why she was hanging around at home. When she told him she wasn’t going back, he hauled her up the road to the schoolhouse, vowing no offspring of his was going to grow up into a lazy, worthless, good-for-nothing.

By the time they entered the schoolroom, she was late, everyone else seated and quiet. All the children turned around, staring at her, then shifting their gazes to follow her father. His black hair and beard always spooked the little ones. The older ones said he’d probably been sired by one of the black bears he always hunted in the fall.

She’d hated her father for the shame he caused her, especially when he’d gone and pulled her out of school himself the following year.

Captain Caleb’s sigh jolted her back to the present. “Let’s try this word again. Ap—” he began sounding out for her.

“Ap,” she repeated, then struggled with the other letters his fingers had formed on the paper. Another p. “Puh,” she expelled the sound. That other letter, what was it? Two sticks. L. “Lll.” Then e. What did that sound like again? “Eee.” Now, to put it together. By this time she’d forgotten how the beginning sounded.

“That e is silent,” the captain corrected.

“Why’d they put it there, then?” she asked in annoyance. She looked at Jake sleeping so peacefully on the gray porch floor, his tail thumping every once in a while, while she was strung so tight she was afraid she’d spin around like a top if the captain so much as touched her. Why’d she ever get herself into this?

“I don’t know why it’s there. Usually if there’s an e at the end of a word, it’s silent. So, let’s begin at the beginning. A-P-L.” He said it more quickly, “Apl. What is it?”

“Apple!”

The captain sighed with relief. “Good. Maybe this will help to remind you of the sound.” He took the pencil and began drawing a little circle beside the word. When he added the stem on top, Geneva recognized it as an apple.

“An apple,” she guessed, looking in awe at the neat little picture.

He nodded, continuing to draw. “This should help you remember the a sound in apple. A makes a whole lot of other sounds, but we’ll worry about those later. There.” He put the pencil down and moved the paper toward her. She saw he’d added a little worm coming out of the apple. She looked up to find him grinning at her.

“I don’t know why you bother with me,” she said with a shake of her head. “If I haven’t learned this stuff by now, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Nonsense. People learn new languages every day, and it’s the same thing. It takes a lot of practice and patience. Now—” he took the paper back and began forming a new word “—B comes next. Ball, that’s easy to draw.”

Geneva watched his fingers curve around the pencil, and knew exactly why nothing would come to her that afternoon. She could think of nothing but him sitting there so close to her. Her gaze traveled up to his head bent over the paper. The dark hair glinted reddish gold in places.

She was going to have to stay up real late every night poring over those letters he was writing to make up for her wandering thoughts during lesson time.

As if reading her mind, he said, “I shall have to get you a slate so you can practice making these at home. Now this one’s easy.” He finished printing the letters and moved the paper toward her.