The Wedding Journey. Cheryl St.John

done a thousand times.”

       “I hope he gives you a chance to show what you can do and doesn’t have you washing all the dishes. The crew would miss out if you couldn’t cook for them.”

       “You’re a sweet lass. Biased, of course.”

       “Dr. Gallagher is expecting me back in the dispensary to help organize supplies.” Maeve located a faded apron in her bag and slipped it on over her dress. “This will have to suffice for a uniform.”

       “It’s clean and adequate,” Nora assured her. She rested her hand atop Maeve’s as her sister reached into her bag for her comb. “Thank you for accepting the doctor’s offer, Maeve. I know you worry you’re unqualified for a job with so many responsibilities, but you always did your best to help Mother and Da and our neighbors in Castleville. The local women declared you the most knowledgeable and dependable midwife in all of County Beary. I’ve no doubt you will be a benefit to the doctor.”

       “I’m hoping to learn from him.” Maeve braided her hair as neatly as she could manage and secured it with a length of twine. For the first time she wondered what other passengers like that Fitzwilliam woman would think of her helping the doctor. Maybe they would simply see her as his servant, and find that acceptable. Was that how the doctor saw her? She surely didn’t look forward to any more encounters like the one with Mrs. Fitzwilliam.

       “The three of us will have an income…all because you so bravely went to that boy’s aid.”

       “Helping him was simply instinctive,” she replied. “Not heroic.”

       “Tell that to the lad who is alive, thanks to you.”

       “God provided the way for us,” Maeve told her eldest sister. “He used what could have been a tragedy to find us jobs and bring the boy onboard. It will be interesting to see what develops next with Sean.”

       “Only you would find the silver lining in an otherwise cloudy situation.”

       Maeve stretched to her fullest height to give Nora a peck on the cheek. Nora leaned forward to accept the kiss. She took Maeve’s face between her hands and looked into her eyes. “Mother always said you were like a bright star on a dark night. Even as a wee bairn, you saw everything differently than the rest of us. ’Tis a quality I admire.”

       “Nothing would get done without your practical thinking and logical planning,” Maeve reminded her. “Sometimes I wish I was more like you.”

       “You’re perfect just the way you are.” She released Maeve. “Now go about your duties at the dispensary.”

       Maeve turned and headed for the door. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was looking forward to something.

      Chapter Four

      A knock sounded on the door. Flynn looked up as Maeve Murphy opened it and peered in. She had bound her wild red hair and donned a plain coarse apron in preparation for her duties. He liked that she was efficient and punctual, adding those qualities to her quick thinking and kind manner with the boy. So far he liked everything about her.

       “Come in, Miss Murphy. I’ve only just opened the first of the supply boxes.” He gestured to the wooden crates lining the wall in the rectangular room.

       She walked toward him, her bright blue gaze taking in her surroundings. In the morning’s confusion he hadn’t looked her over, and he did so now. She was a tiny thing, her flaming red hair creating ringlets that framed her cheeks, while the rest had been contained in a braid. Her skin appeared as fragile as porcelain, with healthy pink cheeks and a mouth like a China doll.

       If a person judged on appearance, he’d think she was nothing more than a sweetly pretty girl, and overlook her wit and courage. Not many people had the knowledge or the compassion to jump to the McCorkle boy’s aid the way she had.

       She glanced with keen interest at the sturdy cabinets with chicken wire instead of glass in the doors, where only a few bottles and tins stood. “If you’ll be so good as to acquaint me with your system, I’ll store the supplies.”

       “We’ll both work on it.” He led her to the other room, where Sean lay sleeping on a low cot, a blanket pulled to his chin.

       “How is the laddie doing?” she asked softly.

       “Very well, indeed,” he replied. She smelled good, too, like clean linen and spring heather, and his reaction startled him. He hadn’t noticed a woman in that way for a long time. He took an unconscious step away.

       Her inquisitive gaze took in her surroundings, fastening on the storage cabinets and workspaces. There were no rimless surfaces in his dispensary. Everything had been designed to accommodate the normal rock and sway of the ship or even a storm. He explained his mortar and pestle for grinding roots and seeds, the scale and weights for measuring ingredients, the piece of marble on which he prepared salves, sets of measures, dosage spoons and a plaster iron. The young woman listened with interest and apparent understanding. She asked surprisingly insightful questions. He was glad now that he’d learned of Hegarty’s true nature before the ship sailed. Maeve Murphy looked to be the better choice.

       He described the contents of each crate as he carried and opened it. Between each ocean voyage, he spent weeks preparing bottles of saline draughts and barley water, jars of calves’ foot jelly and plasters. He saw to it that those who fell sick on a ship he worked received the best care possible. His meager pay didn’t begin to cover the cost of medicines, but he drew from his inheritances and vast investments.

       He’d left his father’s practice over the objection of his family to make a difference and to forget. He truly believed it was his calling to help people so desperate to start new lives that they risked a journey like this. Everyone he encountered had a dream of a new beginning he didn’t share. He didn’t think about his future, only about the work he had to do today.

       “I wish I’d had half as many cures when my friends and neighbors were ailing,” she said wistfully. “I may have been able to save more of them.” Tears shone in her wide blue eyes as she gazed at a bottle of vitriolic acid.

       Uncomfortable with the intimate glimpse at her suffering, he placed the bottles he held inside the chest and withdrew from his pocket the key he carried at all times. “We’ll lock the mercury, laudanum and calomel in this chest under the case here.” He stood slowly.

       “Truth be told I wouldn’t have known what to do with half of them.” She raised her gaze to his in an earnest plea. “I’d like to learn.”

       He couldn’t ignore her sincerity. “It won’t be a bother to share their uses and common dosages,” he said. “You have a natural instinct, Miss Murphy. I might even learn a few things from you.”

       He handed her his checklist and a pencil. As they worked he explained the contents of each bottle and their uses. She knew most of the more common medicines and was fascinated by others. He also took the opportunity to educate her a bit about ship life.

       “They’re electing the council today,” he mentioned.

       “What does that mean?”

       “Each voyage the male passengers meet and select a group from among them to form a council. When problems arise—and they will—these men govern by representing the passengers.”

       She couldn’t imagine what would come up that would require their government, but she trusted the process.

       “Are you ever on the council?”

       “No, I’m technically not a passenger. I’m part of the crew.”

       When Sean woke up, Flynn’s new assistant efficiently saw to his needs, inquiring about food supplies and then making the boy a gruel of millet and rye flour. Though Flynn grimaced at the concoction, the boy lapped it up and lay back with a contented smile.

       “You’re a blessing, you are, Miss Murphy,”