Free My Sister's Prayer by Mindy Starns Clark Page B

Berta to follow her.
    Celeste had always been so level headed. So compliant. So responsible. Berta, on the other hand, was the unpredictable one. Brave, yes, but impulsive. Reckless, even. Anyone who knew them would have thought Berta had been the cause of all this trouble. This time, however, the fault lay entirely with Celeste. The “responsible one” had been impulsive and reckless—and now here they were. Her only defense was love, a love so searing that it burned her heart like a brand.
    The sun disappeared, leaving nothing but a glow at the horizon. Spenser often snuck up on the deck at night to watch the stars, and then he’d come back down and describe the constellations to Celeste. One night he said her parents must have loved the heavens to have named her after them. “More than that,” she had replied. “They called me Celeste as a reminder that they’ll spend eternity with the loved ones they left behind in France.”
    Despite having a name that derived from “celestial,” she’d never had much interest in the stars—except to hear Spenser describe them. But if she stayed on the deck a bit longer now she might see the stars herself for the first time in ten weeks. She couldn’t allow herself to linger, though. She needed to get back down to steerage and to her sister.
    A sense of hope settled over Celeste for just a moment. But as dusk fell, she once again felt unsure about what tomorrow might bring. Making her way toward the hatch, she tried to pray everything would be made right, but she couldn’t form the words.
    Surely all of it would work out just fine as soon as they reached Jonathan.

C HAPTER S IX
    Celeste
    E arly the next morning, the Royal Mary crossed into the Chesapeake Bay and then eased up the James River, finally docking at Norfolk. Now Celeste stood on the wharf, her bundle at her feet and both arms around her sister, waiting for Captain Bancroft to show them the contract. She’d had to remind him twice.
    Berta leaned heavily against her. Celeste’s own legs were so unsteady she nearly buckled under the extra weight. It didn’t help that the summer morning was already hot and painfully humid. Sweat beaded along her hairline. Nearby seagulls fought over scraps of food. Sailors unloaded cargo from the ship, lugging it past them on the wooden walkway.
    Behind the wharf was the town, so small she could practically see the whole thing from where she stood. First was a tavern, then a few warehouses, and beyond those were several streets lined with shops and homes. Wagons and carriages rolled along the cobblestones. At the far end was a fortified building flying the flag of England. Norfolk was barely a village.
    A group of men were gathering on the wharf, talking and laughingamong themselves. Celeste returned her attention to her sister. “How are you faring?”
    â€œAll right.” Berta was still pale and weak, but at least she wasn’t out of her head as she had been for much of the voyage. Her fever had broken shortly before dawn, and she’d been coherent ever since, a good sign that perhaps she was past the worst of it.
    â€œWe’re on land now, right?” she asked weakly, lifting her head to look around.
    â€œClose to land but still on the wharf,” Celeste replied, surprise sounding in her voice. Did Berta not remember making her way down the gangplank, supported by both Spenser and Celeste, just a short while before?
    â€œI know we’re off the ship, but this must be some sort of floating dock. Can’t you feel it rocking and moving?”
    Celeste smiled, relieved. “That, dear sister, is what’s known as ‘sea legs.’ I’ve got them too. The wharf isn’t moving; it just seems that way. According to what one of the deckhands told Spenser, this happens a lot—and it can take a while for the feeling to go away.”
    â€œReally?” Berta returned her head to