Cadence

Eighteen

Eighteen

 

Christmas Eve, 1867

 

Cadence went to bed Christmas Eve as she did every other night.

Alone.

In the last couple weeks Curtis had become increasingly withdrawn and she felt at a total loss. He didn’t come to bed at night and she may have thought he’d taken up residence in another cabin except he looked so haggard she doubted he slept at all. Most nights she would lie awake waiting for him to come, longing to speak with him or even just look into his eyes, but he never came.

What had happened?

They’d been so happy in London, at least she’d believed them to be happy, and then she’d stumbled across something from his past, something dark, and it was as though he’d descended into the black oblivion of a hell known only to him.

Tonight was Christmas Eve. Surely,he will come tonight. But she was so tired. Fighting against the fuzziness invading her senses, she was certain if she waited just… a little… longer…

Cadence woke with a start.

She was sick. Miserably so. Every movement of the ship was riotous and sent the roiling of her stomach to heights of nausea she’d not thought possible for a human to experience and survive. Rolling from the tangle of bedclothes she could not readily find anything to throw up in, and hurtled from the cabin, swallowing convulsively. If she could just make it to the deck... the rail… She stumbled through the companionway hatch and dashed to the wooden rail, heaving over the side.

“Cadence.” Curtis appeared at her side along the rail seemingly from nowhere. “Are you all right?”

“I think I’m seasick,” she collapsed cold and trembling into his arms, it was an experience she’d hoped to forgo.

“Jesus, I’ll say.” He scooped her up. “You’re shaking and in your barefeet.” He snuggled her more securely against his chest, turning to stride to their cabin. “You’ll catch your death out here.” Settling her on the bed he quickly pulled the heavy quilts over her quaking form, rubbing first her arms and then her legs to warm them. “Are you feeling better?”

“I’m not going to throw up again, if that’s what you mean.” She closed her eyes against the dizzying sway of the ship. “At least not imminently.”

“I can ask old Jack for one of his special teas. I don’t know what he puts in it but it works wonders for seasickness.”

“Hmm, that might be a good idea. No wait. Curtis?”

“What?” he was already halfway to the hatch.

“Don’t wake him.”