Cadence

ONE

One

 

September 13th, 1867

Charleston, SC (One week prior)

 

The afternoon sun cast a pale glow through the rippling panes of glass and lent a rosy hue to the fabric being gently plied beneath expert fingers. The needle worked with expert swiftness through the exquisite muslin until at last the seamstress tied a secure knot and plucked the thread from the hem. Holding the red gown out by the shoulders Cadence narrowed pale eyes, shrewdly assessing the garment for any flaws that may have been overlooked during creation of the exquisite piece.

“Perfect,” she murmured wistfully as she stood to hang the ball gown in the back of the room. “Absolutely perfect.”

There was a time not so long ago when she’d been privileged to wear such beautiful clothing. With casual disregard she’d picked the most tasteful fabrics and worn the most fashionable styles, her every whim had become a reality. After the war her father’s business had fallen to ruin and he was now destitute. The family’s lack of funds gave Cadence a new sense of the responsibility, and she had learned to do without the expensive luxuries she’d known as a child. At the age of nineteen, she worked as a seamstress, doing much to support her family. Of late her father had become far more interested in securing funds to feed his desire for strong liquor and gambling tables than seeing to the needs of his family.

Cadence sighed as the grandfather clock against the wall chimed the hour, six o’clock. She took a few minutes to tidy the sewing supplies and bid farewell to Mrs. Bridger before donning her coat and stepping into the October evening. The South Carolina air held a bite promising winter weather soon to come, and a multicolored array of leaves adorned the massive trees along the roadside. A gust of wind swept the street sending a montage of leaves swirling high above the streets and her spirits dared to soar with them. How nice it would be to dance upon the wind… holding out her arms Cadence longed to be blown far, far away. Turning her face to the harbor she brushed windblown curls from her face and on impulse strode toward the masts towering above the lower regions of the city. The desire to put off going home for just a while longer was overwhelming, and she’d always enjoyed the activity surrounding the ships in port.

The air of the harbor was vibrantly alive with cargo being loaded and unloaded from the hulking wooden vessels and sailors swinging high in the rigging or scampering around the docks. The smell of the ocean was intoxicating and she delighted in the sights and sounds of the seaside port. She’d been enamored with the sea for as long as she could remember and had long craved a sailor’s adventure. Had she been born a boy she would have undoubtedly made her way as a daring sea captain. Cadence had even entertained fantasies about disguising her identity and stowing aboard a vessel so that she might see faraway, exotic lands.

Sadly, she looked down at the sore on her finger where a wayward needle had pricked open the flesh earlier that day. She was getting too old for such romantic fantasies. As it presently stood her only hope for escaping the never ending trap of her life would be to find a husband. But she didn’t want a husband. She wanted a life of adventure and consequence. She longed to climb aboard one of the wooden vessels and to sail away without a backward glance.