David.
She touched the locket at her throat. He had given it to her after she agreed to marry him. It would one day contain tiny portraits of the children they hoped to have. Now it held a lock of his sandy blond hair. That was all she had to remember him by, for more than two years ago the Army had sent him to faraway Key West, and he would not return for six more years. What would she do until then?
“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. Franklin asked.
Prosperity knit her fingers together and nodded.
She was spared further questions by Mrs. Newton, who chased two boys from the kitchen with a scolding that they must wait until dinner was served.
Mrs. Franklin chuckled. “I think he nabbed a biscuit off the tray. That was my Donnie back in the day.”
Her voice blended into the drone of the half dozen women gathered in the tiny parlor. Outside on the porch, the men clustered together, supposedly to keep the children in the yard. Their guffaws punctuated the knowing whispers and pitying glances of the women sitting on the chairs loaned by generous neighbors. Aunt Florence held court in the opposite corner, informing all who would listen that she’d known her sister would die and was amazed she’d hung on so long in this dreadful, drafty shack.
True, the rough slabwood walls held no charm and retained little of the stove’s heat. A scarred table occupied the center of the room, topped with a vase of daffodils, shadbush, and white violets brought by one of the ladies. Little else graced the room, for Prosperity had been forced to sell every item of value in the years following her father’s death. Nothing frivolous or beautiful remained. Even the cold gray of late April refused a ray of sunlight.
“There is nothing left here,” she breathed.
Mrs. Franklin, a kindly soul, clasped her hands with the warmth of a dear friend. “You must find the strength to go on. Your mother would have wanted it.”
“I know.”
Yet it was easier to say than to do. Once the condolers left, she would be alone with nothing but memories, a few personal items, and David’s letters. Those had brought comfort in the most difficult days. He had pledged a life together. David Latham never broke a promise.
“He will return,” Mrs. Franklin stated with a knowing nod.
“How did you know I was thinking of Mr. Latham?”
Mrs. Franklin sighed, her gaze far off. “A woman gets a certain look when she recalls the man she loves.” She patted Prosperity’s hand. “Never fear. You only need write, and your lieutenant will come back from that wilderness.”
“Key West.” It might as well be Tahiti, for both lay beyond reach. Ship passage, even in third class, cost far more than she could save.
“Wherever it is, your young man will set sail for home the moment he receives your letter. Mark my words, he will not hesitate.”
Prosperity wasn’t as certain. David had stressed that his tour of duty would last eight years. Even now she could recall how worry had pinched his brow that day. Eager to brush it away, she had promised to wait. A rare smile had flickered across his lips, and she had been pleased. She had not accounted for this day.
“I doubt the Army will grant leave,” Prosperity murmured.
“Nonsense. You must write. He will find a way to return to you. Then you can decide together what to do.”
That was the fanciful talk of a woman seeking to comfort. The Army would not grant David leave because his fiancée’s mother had passed away. No, she must find her own way. She couldn’t stay in this house. That much was unavoidable. She could not afford to pay the overdue rent, least of all continue the lease of an entire house on her own. Mother’s rainy day jar had been emptied long ago. There were no secret bank accounts, no accounts at all. John and Olivia Jones had left this world as poor as they’d come into it.
Mrs. Franklin, short and portly and pink-cheeked beneath her white lace cap, must have been chattering for some time, but just one statement caught Prosperity’s attention. “You can stay with us if your relations can’t take you in. Mr. Franklin would dearly enjoy your delicious currant cakes each morning.”
Prosperity mustered a smile, though she could not manage the emotion to go with it. Her parents were gone, and life on Nantucket Island was slipping away.
“You are very generous,” she said, though living with the Franklins was out of the question. No Jones accepted charity.
“Only until your young man returns for you, of course.”