Andrea Barrett - Voyage of the Narwhal

Alexandra would never be able to sort out the next few minutes. How Zeke and Lavinia got from their embrace halfway down the drive to the solarium; how Copernicus got Erasmus to his feet and into the shelter of the Repository; how she herself made her way to the mound of boxes and the two figures sitting there, so out of place — all this jumbled in her mind. One minute she was standing over the strangers — one was a woman, an Esquimau woman, and the smaller figure a little boy — and saying, as she would to anyone, “Won’t you come inside?” The next she was leading them into the house and giving orders to the bewildered servants.

Zeke was a ghost, but Zeke was here; he had his arms around Lavinia, who couldn’t stop weeping, but he was also calmly greeting Alexandra and asking if his companions could stay here.

Lavinia touched his arm, his neck, his face. “Yes,” she said. “Anything you want.”

“This is Annie,” Zeke said. “And Tom. They come from Greenland.” He pressed Lavinia’s hand to his cheek. “They have other names, Esquimaux names, but these are the ones they use with me.” He kissed Lavinia’s fingers. “They speak English, I taught them how. Annie saved my life.”

For a while, as Alexandra glided automatically up the stairs, that was all she knew. She turned halfway up and found no one behind her. The visitors stood at the bottom, clinging to the bannister and testing the first step as if checking the thickness of ice. Annie wore breeches, a hooded shirt, soft boots even in this heat— all made from some sort of hide, deer or seal, something Alexandra couldn’t name. Tom was dressed in a similar suit and the hides smelled, or perhaps the smell came from the people. She lifted her skirts above her ankles so Annie and Tom could see her feet; she took the steps slowly and let them see how each step was safe.

In the spare room across the hall from Copernicus’s room she said to Annie, “You will stay here, with your…”

“It is my son,” Annie said. “Called Tom.” She seemed to understand Alexandra perfectly.

Alexandra went to her own room, where she gathered undergarments and her gray dress. When she returned Annie and Tom were at the window, pressing their palms to the glass as if trying to reach the outside air. Alexandra opened the sash and Annie pressed her palm against the air where the glass had been, and then smiled. She shook her head at the gray dress Alexandra held to her shoulders.

“You’ll be more comfortable,” Alexandra said. “In this heat.” Tom stuck his upper body through the window and Annie joined him. “Annie!” Alexandra said. She touched the woman’s jacket and Annie pulled away and frowned. Alexandra left the dress on the bed.

Downstairs, she tried not to stare at Zeke. There were sharp lines carved around his eyes and his hands were battered and scarred; part of his left ear was gone. His clothes were patched and torn and stained. Slowly she recognized the remnants of the elegant gray uniform once worn by all the Narwhal's crew.

“I put them in the second guest room,” she said, hypnotized by the way Zeke’s hand moved over Lavinia’s back and shoulders. What was he doing here, how was he alive? Where had Erasmus gone? “I brought Annie one of my dresses, but she won’t put it on.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Zeke said. He rose. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Alexandra took his place on the sofa, sitting still while Lavinia leaned against her shoulder and wept. Later, when Zeke went out to the Repository, Lavinia pulled Alexandra upstairs. They found Annie seated on the floor with Tom in her lap, her head resting on the windowsill and her body draped in Alexandra’s dress. Best not to think what Zeke had said or done to get her into it. The bodice was loose, the sleeves too long. The white collar set off her shining dark skin. When they entered she swiveled her head and looked at them without interest. “Tseke?” she said. “Where is Tseke?”

I DIDN'T KILL HIM, Erasmus thought That moment in the garden, when he’d tumbled to the ground: what was the name for the feeling that had toppled him? Guilt, shock, horror all mingled with joy, with relief— I didn't kill him.

He stood near the herbarium case, supported by his sticks and finding it difficult to breathe. Copernicus sat by the window and Zeke orbited the Repository, gazing at what was new among all that had once been familiar. “I thought you were dead,” Erasmus said.

“Well, I’m not,” Zeke said. “As you see.”

He looked much older, Erasmus saw. Stronger, more contained. And frighteningly calm. Why didn’t Zeke embrace him, or strike him, or demand an explanation or offer one of his own? Not a word; he turned to Copernicus and said, “When did you get back?”

“Two months ago,” Copernicus said. “I headed home as soon as I heard about Erasmus.”

“I waited as long as I could,” Erasmus said. How could he explain himself? “All the men were sure you were dead and they were frightened about spending another winter there. They made a plan without me — they said I had to lead them south, because you’d left me in charge. I had to take them, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sure you did,” Zeke said. “I’m sure you did everything you could. I had news of you in Godhavn. I heard you got at least some of our men home safely.”

“All of them,” Erasmus said, more sharply now. “All that chose— the four that split off, I couldn’t stop them from going.”

“As you say,” Zeke said. “Anyway I forgive you. Whatever you did, I’m sure it was the best you could do. It turned out to be a blessing. To be alone, the way that I was alone — I know things about myself now. Things you’ll never understand.”

“Tell me,” Erasmus said.

“Why should I?”

Zeke’s face was clenched. After a long silence, Erasmus thinking every second, Hit me. Get it over with, Zeke said, “Why would I tell you anything, ever again?”

Copernicus cleared his throat. “But where were you? How did you survive?”

“That,” Zeke said, “is a long story.”

Apparently he wasn’t going to tell it now. He wandered around the Repository, peering at a drawing of a fossil Alexandra had left pinned to her easel, ignoring Copernicus’s draped painting, looking down at the books open on the long table. He touched Dr. Boerhaave’s journal, then the green silk volume Lavinia had once given him. “I wondered what had happened to these,” he said. “When I got back to the Narwhal, and found my box broken into and Dr. Boerhaave’s journal gone, I was very… curious.”

“I thought you were dead,” Erasmus said. “I wanted to preserve what I could.” He couldn’t bear the questions on his brother’s face. “Who are these people you’ve brought with you?”

“Who are you to criticize what I do?” Zeke asked. “You abandoned me.”

“I’m not criticizing" Erasmus said. “Only asking.”

“Would you have had me spend the winter with no comfort? In a place where it’s an insult to refuse what’s offered? Annie’s family took me in.” Zeke turned to the pile of manuscript pages. “You’re writing something? A little memoir?”

“Not a memoir,” Erasmus said. What did that mean: Annie's family took me in ? “Something different.”

“You agreed not to write anything for a year after the voyage,” Zeke said. “And to turn the journals over to me.”

“It’s already been a year,” Erasmus said. Then was appalled at the tone of his voice; and still couldn’t stop himself. “You were gone. And anyway, anyway — this isn’t a book about our journey, there’s nothing in it about you or me or the Franklin relics, or what happened to any of us. It’s about the place— a natural history of the place through the seasons.”