Marina refrained from looking at the captain, even while her curiosity made it difficult. Her family, upon arriving in the New World from Sweden eighteen years ago, had settled along the costal shores of Maine. Communities there were far apart and needed every member’s participation in order to survive. Therefore, religious tolerance, of how or when their neighbors worshipped, was more accepted. Even though, in her case, religion hadn’t been the cause of her banishment, she couldn’t help wondering if it had been the reason behind him leaving his family.
“They are attempting to repopulate the world,” the captain said with more than a hint of disdain. “Will do anything to increase the population of every Puritan village up and down the coastline.”
“Indeed,” Uncle William said. “Are you one of them?”
“No.”
The response was so fast and stern, Marina couldn’t stop her gaze from snapping in his direction. She’d never questioned how her uncle had known who Gracie’s father was or how he knew where to find him. She, like most of the villagers, had believed he’d perished at sea.
As if he realized how harsh he’d sounded, the captain added proudly, “I’m of the Christian faith.”
“But your wife was a Puritan,” Uncle William stated.
Richard’s eyes were on her and boring in so deep Marina looked down at the floor and swallowed hard to ward off the shiver rippling over her shoulders. In the far recesses of his eyes, she’d seen pain and recognized it as something he didn’t want revealed. She didn’t like when that happened, when it was as if she could see into another person’s soul. No one should be able to do that.
“Yes, she was,” the captain said. “I refused to convert. Therefore, Sarah chose to remain with her family. I agreed to provide for them financially.”
“I know the life of a sea captain well,” Uncle William said. “Wives and families in ports all around the world.”
“Sarah was my only wife,” Richard replied coldly. “Grace is my only family.”
Marina could no longer remain silent. He’d opened the opportunity for her to ask a question that took precedence over all others. “Will you return to the sea when you and Gracie leave here?”
“Of course I will.”
“What about Gracie?” she persisted. Her heart had almost broken upon finding the little girl so ill and dirty. From that moment on, determination filled her to see Gracie healthy, safe and well. Perhaps because it was her only chance to do so. It was a known fact witches—real witches—couldn’t conceive children. “She needs a family,” Marina stated with all the fortitude filling her. “A father, not just a provider.”
* * *
For a woman who’d stared at the floor, not mumbling a word, Miss Marina Lindqvist certainly wasn’t afraid to let her contempt be known when the moment arose. Richard, on the other hand, was skilled at keeping things inside, where no one but that sleeping giant judged him. Unwilling to explain his plan for his daughter, he asked, “How did Grace come to be here? With you?” Although dressed like one, this woman was not a Puritan, nor was she married, as he’d assumed from her note stating his daughter could be found at “our” house. However, knowing those two things only increased the number of questions rolling around in his head.
William was the one who responded while his niece remained silent. “Because of Marina, your daughter is alive, Richard. Despite those intolerant fools.”
Anger set Richard’s jaw tight. The tiny child upstairs had been neglected. Neglected until she was little more than skin and bones. He may have visited his wife and family only once, but he’d sent money regularly and other things. Goods and materials, furniture, seeds. Anytime he’d heard someone mention an item the colonials needed, he’d sent a good supply to Salem Village in Sarah’s name. When he discovered who’d withheld food from his daughter, he’d throttle them with his bare hands. “What intolerant fools?”
“Practically everyone in the village,” William said. “That new preacher has blinded the lot of them. The poor fools were so hungry for a leader they don’t recognize they’ve been duped.”
Richard didn’t miss the emphasis the man used. Sea captains weren’t known for their religious affiliations. He’d never known one who’d held regular church services upon their ship—other than him. He’d captained the passenger ship that had carried Sarah and her family to America. It had taken less than two months to sail from shore to shore, and during that time he’d wedded Sarah, who was pregnant with Grace before he lowered the sails for the final time. He couldn’t say he’d been coerced into marriage—that had been Earl’s explanation when he’d told the man what had happened. A part of him may have fallen in love with Sarah, longed for a communion with her, or at least the young, supple body she’d so readily offered. He hadn’t told Earl that but had mentioned he wasn’t the only one to become wedded on that trip. A total of six mates had joined him at the makeshift altar aboard his ship. All but two had been at his side when he’d set sail for England a week after landing in Boston. Earl had chided the lot of them. Claimed that was what the new order of Puritans did—sought out strong, healthy males to impregnate their women in order to gain new bloodlines in their communities. In his berating, Earl had described them as nothing but studs needed for service. Richard had been demoted to first mate for the next six months. The punishment may have lasted longer if a fierce winter storm hadn’t set pneumonia into Earl’s lungs. Unable to captain the ship, the illness getting the best of him, Earl had called Richard to the helm.
“That man is as corrupt as his papa was,” William was saying. “He made a mess of things in Barbados and again in Boston. Guess preaching was the only thing he hadn’t tried.”
Richard hadn’t heard who William was talking about. If the other man had said a name, it had been while he’d been recalling other things. Setting his mind on listening, Richard asked, “What’s he doing?”
“Filling their heads with lies and misinterpretations,” William said. “Ideas have changed since the first Puritans came to America. The original founders have died off and the next generation isn’t satisfied with their lots. They seek power and wealth, just like the rest of the world. Some have become merchants and businessmen, and those set in the old ways have grown resentful of any who won’t give the church all of their income or spend hours worshipping each day.”
If for no other reason than the things William was saying aligned with Richard’s own beliefs, he nodded. Changes were happening all around the world, and those not willing to accept that would never flourish. He’d used that fact, how sailing was his means to provide for his family, as an argument when Sarah’s father had insisted he needed to choose between the sea and his life as a married man. The two, his father-in-law had insisted, could not be one. Blasphemy. This very country had been settled by those escaping religious persecution and he hadn’t been about to become a victim of such unjust piety. Nor had he been willing to become a farmer.
“Salem Village was once the farming parish of Salem Towne,” William said, “but when those in Salem Towne began to prosper, the poorer farmers in the village grew resentful. They petitioned separation and the right to form their own community. They wanted their own church, too, and to hire their own minister, not one chosen by the Salem business owners. I figured things would settle down once that happened. It didn’t.”
“The new preacher you spoke of...” Richard said. His attention was spiked by the way Marina had started to fidget in her chair. She didn’t seem bored with the tale her uncle was unraveling. In fact, the way she wrung her hands together told him she was nervous about something her uncle might say. That was what Richard wanted to hear. Instincts said it included his daughter. Whoever had almost let his daughter starve would pay dearly.
“Yes,” William said. “I can’t say why they hired him. Samuel didn’t know. Samuel Godfrey, that is. He owns a store in town and only