Free Afternoons with Emily by Rose MacMurray Page A

words warming me. “He was my teacher,” I said. “He wants me to learn everything I can here.”
    “And so you will.” She smiled. “You can answer him that you have new teachers now. Your Lettie, the sea, and Barbados — you
     will learn from all of us.”
    I picked up my sandals, grinning. “Then let’s go to the sea, now! I want more lessons right away.”
    My second or third day at York Stairs, Dr. Hugh asked me to come to his hospital, a small outbuilding next to his office.
     This was his examining room, with glass cases full of his pills and powders and instruments. I liked the retorts, teardrop
     vials in stained-glass colors — and the high shelves all round the room, displaying hundreds of beautiful shells.
    I met Ella, Dr. Hugh’s nurse, tall and slender and formal in starched white. “I know you,” she whispered. “You are my cousin
     Lettie’s dear friend.”
    Dr. Hugh weighed and measured and tapped me, just as Dr. Jackson had always done.
    “I like what I hear,” he told me. “Our island air is working for you already! It cured me, you know. I was consumptive when
     we came here from Charleston. Barbados has been a favored sanatorium ever since General Washington brought his sick brother.”
    “Did Barbados cure him too?”
    “No, he wasn’t one of the lucky ones. But I was — and you will be too.”
    “Is that why you came here, Dr. Hugh?”
    “One of the reasons. We arrived just after the big hurricane of ’31, and this plantation was a ruin. Your father came to visit;
     he helped us design the great house. That double staircase was his idea, or should I say he was inspired by that Italian fellow
     Palladio?
    “Anyway, it was so striking that we named the plantation for the staircase and for Yorkshire in England, where the Carolina
     Jameses came from. And after a while the trade winds blew my consumption away!”
    This was exciting news to me — the possibility that this island could work its magic on me too. I vowed to inhale those trade
     winds very deeply!
    “Now I want to hear about what you did in Boston, Ara,” Dr. Hugh said. “Who were your friends, and what did you do together?”
    “Well, I had my book friends, introduced to me by my tutor, Mr. Harnett.” Dr. Hugh seemed very interested, so I told him a
     lot about our studies in the nursery. He had the same effect on me that Mr. Harnett had; I wanted to tell him anything he
     wanted to know and to tell it well. When I stopped for breath, Dr. Hugh smiled.
    “I surely do wish I’d had a teacher like that! Now go on and swim with Lettie. Your lungs sound mighty fine to me.”
    The days and nights settled into a peaceful natural rhythm. Every morning, Lettie drew back my netting and handed me my eggnog
     and my banana. Often, she first had to take the book that I had been reading when I fell asleep the night before. Then we
     chose the chiton for the day. Sometimes we combined colors very boldly: a deep pink tunic and violet trousers! These were
     my favorite clothes ever, as comfortable and forgettable as my own skin. Now I had my Roman sandals, made for me by Lettie’s
     uncle Gabriel.
    We explored the beaches near the great house, and sometimes my father came to Learner’s Cove; he was a fine swimmer. After
     a fortnight of learning with Lettie, I had become competent as well as fearless. Now Father showed me ways of moving in the
     water as a fish swims, without splashing. I hoped he would hold me, bending my arms for me or gripping my waist as Lettie
     did, but ever the teacher, he seemed to prefer demonstrating a position or stroke.
    In my weekly letters to Mr. Harnett, I tried to describe the sea — since he knew only the North Atlantic. He loved my stories
     about York Stairs and the James family.
    “You are having important experiences,” Mr. Harnett wrote to me. “Ones that will last your lifetime. Everyone should know
     the sea, and everyone should meet at least one ‘great lady.’ It is a term one