Free The Sister Wife by Diane Noble Page B

days before they anchor, and it will be only for a few hours.”
    â€œBut Ma says it might be the clipper,” Brodie insisted, “and ye’ll need to be on your way, otherwise ye’ll miss the captain.”
    â€œI’m quite certain the ship isn’t the Sea Hawk .” Though Enid spoke with confidence, she couldn’t help the spark of hope the child’s words kindled in her heart. Would her husband ever veer from his set course just to see her, to draw her into his arms? It was folly to entertain such a thought. She knew Hosea Livingstone well. Though she never doubted his love for a minute, he was the master and commander of a ship filled with some two hundred people whose lives depended on his wisdom and decisions. Those decisions could never include the whim of visiting his wife, no matter how deep his love might be. The thought made the back of her throat sting, which surprised her. She wasn’t one to brood over Hosea’s scarcity of visits.
    Brodie Flynn slid off Miss Minnie’s back. “I’ll go with ye then, should ye just want to have a wee peek at her sails. Just in the rare event ’twould be the Sea Hawk comin’ without ye knowin’ it.”
    Enid ruffled the boy’s hair. “I think someone’s spotted a packet ship, likely bringing us mail from Halifax, sailing a different routeto stop at other villages on the island. That’s why the confusion. But now that I think about it, my dear Brodie Flynn, it may indeed be worth a trip to the harbor.” With each schooner that arrived from Halifax, she expected mail from Scotland: a veterinary book from Dr. Fergus Duff in Glasgow, who’d written that as soon as it was published, he would send her a copy.
    Brodie’s eyes grew as large as teacups. “Yes, ma’am. Indeed it would.”
    â€œGo back home and tell your ma what we’re up to, and then come by my farm in a half hour.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” Barefoot, with trousers rolled above his ankles, he swung over the dun’s bare back, waved to Enid, and rode off.
    â€œAnd put on your shoes,” Enid called after him.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” he hollered back.
    Â 
    When they reached the Charlottetown harbor, the schooner Flying Swan had just dropped anchor, its sails gleaming as white as new-fallen snow in the sun. As she suspected, it was indeed a packet ship delivering passengers and mail from Halifax. She drove the buckboard alongside the wharf, just as the harbormaster met the ship’s chief mate to exchange mail packets. Passengers milled, some waiting to board, a few making their way down the gangway, children and valises in tow. The harbormaster stood off to one side of the gangway, checking the list of passengers as they disembarked, and then asking information of those waiting to board.
    Enid knew Angor Wallace, the harbormaster, well, as did everyone, young and old, on Prince Edward Island. He was known to read the mail and relate to his wife Maeve the contents, should they be of a curious nature. She would then spread the word about the island, telling each to dare not tell another, which of course they readily did.
    Enid gave him a nod as she took her place in line with others awaiting Angor’s distribution of posts and parcels. She was ready to turn away, disappointed, when he called out, “Mrs. Livingstone, I’ve something fer ye!”
    Her heart lifted as she approached him. “’Tis terribly good news. Yer captain is on his way. This was sent by packet from Liverpool a full month before he sailed on the Sea Hawk .” He handed her a letter with a broken seal. “Don’t know how that happened,” he said, just as always.
    Enid accepted his curiosity as a fact of life, as did most other citizens of the island. Angor had been harbormaster for longer than she could remember. He meant no harm.
    She thanked him and made her way back to the buckboard where