On a Cold Dark Sea by Elizabeth Blackwell

Author:Elizabeth Blackwell [Blackwell, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781477808900
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2018-04-09T22:00:00+00:00

ANNA

Anna never read American magazines. But Mrs. Wickstrom at the Farmers Cooperative store did, and there was one open on the counter when Anna came in. Anna glanced at the pages while she was waiting for Mrs. Wickstrom to fetch more yeast from the storeroom. Upside down, the words were a jumble of black squiggles, but one of the pictures caught her attention: a close-up portrait of a man with dark hair and a jutting chin. There was a smaller photograph next to it, showing a couple in wedding clothes.

Anna reached out and turned the magazine to face her. The man seemed to be staring out from the page, directly at Anna. Older, but instantly recognizable. The caption underneath read “Charles Van Hausen, dead at 43.”

“Good-looking, isn’t he?”

Mrs. Wickstrom had a disconcerting way of appearing out of nowhere; Anna hadn’t heard her come back in.

“Mr. Wickstrom says I’m a fool to care what rich families get up to, but I can’t help myself. I love to look at the pictures of all the parties and clothes.” She pushed the magazine closer to Anna. “You can take it, if you like.” Then, briskly, “Five cents.”

Anna slipped the magazine into her basket and watched Mrs. Wickstrom add the amount in her ledger. The transaction made Anna feel sordid, and she rushed through her goodbyes, not bothering to double-check her shopping list as she usually would. She was sure she’d forgotten something, but it wasn’t worth the embarrassment of staying.

Anna had walked to the store; it was still warm enough, in late September, and she hadn’t needed many things. But as she made her way down the street, nodding to a few acquaintances but not slowing to talk, she wished she’d taken the cart. It would take her half an hour to get back to the house, and she wanted to be there already, in the quiet refuge where she could make sense of her rising distress. Charles Van Hausen was dead, and it shouldn’t matter. She hadn’t known him; she had no reason to be upset. Still, she could feel his eyes boring into her.

The caption under the wedding picture had confused her, for she’d thought he and the lady in the lifeboat were already married. They’d had a great affection for each other; that was certain, because Anna could remember her clinging to his side and clutching at his arm for reassurance. She was the most dazzling woman Anna had ever seen, with jewels that sparkled in her hair. Anna hadn’t known until today that her name was Esme.

Silently, Anna tried out possible pronunciations: Ehs-mee? Ess-may? The sounds were mysteriously exotic, like the woman herself. For a fleeting moment, Anna thought of sending a letter of condolence, but she rejected the idea almost as soon as it occurred to her. She rarely wrote letters in English, unsure as she was of proper grammar and spelling, and even if she did write, what good would it do? Esme probably didn’t even remember Anna, other than as an anonymous, weeping girl.

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