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by Jester Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Novel · Ghost · #2269287
After dying on the widows walk, Constance goes there still, watching for Johnny's sails.
                   






Chapter 7

Constance d.1904










"Most excellent news Connie! I've been awarded a new commission from the government. His latest merchant vessel - Cornucopia--Horn of Plenty- had recently been re-fitted and was ready for ocean commerce. "I am to depart at once!"
"Oh." Constance, was cheerless at the news. "How long this time?" The idea of Johnny out at sea for who knows how long while she was three months pregnant felt like a lead weight.
          "No more than three months, if that." He stroked his waxed mustache, fantasizing about the money to come. I can pay off the mortgage in just a few years if this keeps up.

927 NW Hoyt Street was their new home, a Craftsman Style hand-built beauty. It had two floors had six bedrooms. On the roof was an enclosed Widows Walk with a view of the Willamette River harbor.

"I'll be back well before our child is born. Just think of it. Just a few more commissions like this and we'll pay off our mortgage!"

"Don't forget about the second mortgage, Johnny. We owe that one as well."
"Of course, yes.", he replied nervously.

          "Johnny. I cannot bear this. Your absence for months at a time. Ocean travel can be dangerous." She looked into his eyes. "And now we have a little one to plan for too."

"I do this kind of work for us, for our growing family."

Constance placed her hands on her hips. "Hear this: I am pregnant. I need you here Johnny." She paused to let that sink in. "I ask you to reconsider my family's offer to help. It would not be a hardship for them. They have plenty of money."

His pride offended, John replied evenly, "I am able and ready to provide for my growing family. I need no one's help."

"Oh Johnny, not again. Why does it always have to be about you and your male pride. Be practical for a change!"

"By accepting this commission I am being practical!"
"What? You have already signed the contract?" Constance stood straight up now. "Without asking me? What about me Johnny? And our child?"

"Perhaps you are right Connie in not consulting with you first. But, think of the money. The mortgage, our lives together!"

With the only gesture available, Constance dismissively turned her back to
him. Her chin held upward, she spoke to the facing wall. "Johnny, I and my family await your safe and prosperous return."

He felt a stab of guilt as Constance waked away. "You can count on me Connie!" John waited for more but got no reply. It was time to depart.






"Emma. Can you hear me?"
"Yes, Lady Treadmore." Emma had been sorting dirty clothing for laundry day. A lady's laundry must not be mixed with a servant's collection of work clothing.
"Kindly bring my mail up here. Those stairs will be the death of me!"
Her tabby Simon, unless distracted by a rodent always accompanied his "Missus". He wondered to himself, How do humans do it on two legs? Especially with that dog tagging along to trip them?

The winding staircase to the widow's walk was treacherous, even for the able-bodied. Evermore so for Constance Treadmore, now weary with that heavy fetus in her abdomen. Climbing stairs became more difficult with each passing week. Her due date was yet two months away. I just want to get this over with.

Constance felt resentful. Faithful in life as in Death: The Treadmore family motto. A sacrosanct call to duty, a woman's duty.

She knew well how societal rules applied to her. A faithful wife is always present. Her role is to remain in the home taking care of the family. A faithful wife fulfills her role without complaining. After all, because her man provides the money....And more.

Her personal call to duty, to faithfully wait and watch, was seven months old now. Nevertheless, she pulled herself upward in total darkness each morning to the windowed Widow's Walk on the roof. At least there was a banister. Now great with child she complained to herself, Again and again, these steps. To hell with his commission! Where is my Johnny? I need you! I depend on you! Where is the Cornucopia?

Emma lifted up her work skirt to avoid tripping on the steep steps. She handed Constance the letter. It looked official, from the holding company that owned the Cornucopia. Concentric circles inked the special delivery stamps depicting a bicycle carrier.

"Will there be anything more m'lady?"

"No Emma. You may go now." She ripped the letter open as Emma carefully negotiated the steep stairs down to the second-floor landing.

Opening the letter, Constance felt a cold grip of dread. My Johnny! "It is with regret that I am compelled to inform you of the loss of the Cornucopia. All hands perished. Please accept my condolences....."

She stared off and gasped. Now what?

"Of course you will receive a widow's stipend, You must submit a letter..."

In reply, her abdomen exploded. My Johnny! My, my ah. Oh God!" Constance gazed down at a river of blood streaming down her legs.

          My life was merely a house of cards anyway, now tumbled. What could I have done anyway? I'm just a woman. Light-headed now due to blood loss, Constance gazed straight up, stumbled backward into and down those treacherous stairs.




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