Forever in My Heart: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 2

  “Then that’s what he’d done that would have ended his life. Ye’d have hit him to protect yer daughter, and I suspect that’s what would have killed him.”

  “But that means I would have brought about his death, not him.”

  Jock shook his head. “Nay. He was the one who dared raise his hand to a child. Ye were only doing what a mother should, protecting her children no matter what.”

  “I swear to ye as God is my witness, it was never my intent to kill him. I just didn’t want him to hurt Katie.”

  He leaned forward, taking her hands in his again. “I know. And it looks like fate stepped in, in the form of a pocket watch and an old woman named Gertrude, to protect the lassie and ensure ye didn’t have to face murder charges. She said something about the universe unfolding as it should and I guess that’s what’s happened. Do ye believe me?”

  She gaped at him as the full ramifications of all he’d told her sank in. “I have to. Jock could never have woven such an elaborate tale. But now what? When ye go back, I’ll be left without a husband.”

  “First, I won’t be spending any more money on beer while I’m here, so let’s burn a little coal and take the chill off the air. We’ll buy more. And maybe I’ll be able to find a way to make a little extra money while I’m here.”

  “But Jock works sixty hours a week as a laborer in the ship yards, there is no extra time. And even if there were, he has no other skills.”

  The new Jock smiled. “He doesn’t. But I do.”

  “Even so, with no history of working anywhere else, who would hire ye and pay ye more than three and nine?”

  “I suppose ye’re right. Unfortunately I’m not sure I know what a shipyard laborer does.”

  She gave a little laugh. “It’s pretty simple—mostly just lifting and carrying. The boss tells you to do something and you do it. I’m sure ye’d catch on.”

  “I suppose so. But there’s one other problem. I’m not sure how I’ll explain not knowing anyone there. I’ll have to think about that. For now, let’s get it warmed up in here.”

  “Aye.” She stood, preparing to stoke the fire but he stopped her.

  “I can do that. Have ye anything else to cover those bairns with?”

  She smiled. “I do. I kept extra blankets hidden. Jock believed that being cold and hungry made ye strong.”

  He snorted. “It just makes ye sick.”

  “I know. I lost my whole family to illness. So after Jock was asleep every night, I added blankets under the top cover.”

  “Good lass. From tonight on, we’ll see they’re kept warm. And if there isn’t money for coal, they’ll sleep with us.”

  That sealed it. On no count would Jock have ever shared a bed with the children. But he’d said sleep with us. He’d just told her that he wasn’t her husband. Did he intend to sleep with her? Ah well, she wouldn’t worry about it for the moment. This man had saved her from a terrible fate. Jock would have been dead. She’d have been carted off to jail and her children—essentially orphans—would have been sent to an orphanage or the workhouse. If he wanted to sleep with her, she wouldn’t protest. She hurried into the children’s bedroom, pulled out the extra blankets and covered them snuggly.

  When she returned to the main room, Jock—or whomever he was—stood by the stove, warming his hands. The firebox was still open. The hot embers he’d uncovered glowed orange and he had added a small shovel of coal.

  Drawn by the warmth—whether it was his, or the fire’s—she moved to stand beside him, reaching her hands toward the stove.

  She felt a lightness that she didn’t quite understand. Then it occurred to her, for years she had lived in constant fear of angering him by saying or doing the wrong thing. That fear was gone. She knew that once this man returned to his home and Jock was gone, there would be many more fears to fend off. But for now, she felt…at peace.

  The silence stretched between them, and eventually she felt she should say something. “I have so many questions.”

  He chuckled. “I have a few of my own. I don’t even know yer name.”

  “Mary. Mary Campbell. What should I call ye?”

  “I’ve been contemplating that. I think ye should just call me Jock.”

  “But what’s yer real name?”

  He turned to face her. “Mary, I’m not sure if telling ye is a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have sixteen great-great-grandparents who are alive in this time. My mother’s family was already in America by now, but most of my father’s family would have lived in and around Glasgow. The temptation is strong for me to find them, just out of curiosity. How many people get to meet their great-great-grandparents? But I promised Gertrude I wouldn’t.”

  “And yer worried that after ye leave I too would be sorely tempted?”

  A grin slipped across his features. “Would ye?”

  She laughed for what must have been the first time in years. “Aye. I would.”

  “Then it’s better if I’m just Jock Campbell.”

  “Can ye tell me about the times in which ye live?”

  “I don’t see why not. Gertrude didn’t say I couldn’t.” However, before she could ask a question he added, “But perhaps not tonight. Ye need to rest and so do I. Ye go on to bed. I’m going to warm things up a bit and then I’ll bank the fire until morning. If ye have an extra blanket, I’ll just kip here on the floor.”

  She smiled. “That’s very decent of ye to offer. But ye’ve just stated that while ye’re here, ye’re Jock Campbell. Jock Campbell is my husband and he warms my bed.” She couldn’t believe the bold statement had left her lips.

  He laughed and the sound caused a flock of butterflies to take flight in her belly.

  “Thank ye, Mary. I’m sure we’ll both be cozier. But I promise ye, I don’t expect anything from ye but a bit of warmth. ’Twould be wrong to…well, force my attentions on ye.”

  She nodded. “That eases my mind.” And yet the more she thought about it, the more she felt she might want his attentions. She might even enjoy them.

  Chapter 2

  Mary woke the next morning before first light. Comfortable and warm, she wanted to close her eyes and sleep a bit more. But Jock would be irritable if his breakfast wasn’t ready for him when he woke. And when Jock started the day out-of-sorts it usually only got worse.

  Then she remembered the events of the previous evening. Had it really happened? Was Jock—the volatile, aggressive, mean Jock—really gone?

  She turned toward him so she could see him. It might have been her imagination, but even asleep, this Jock looked different…kinder.

  As if thinking about him drew him from slumber, Jock opened his eyes. “Good morning, Mary. I trust ye slept as well as I did.”

  Aye kinder. Much kinder. “I did, thank ye. It’s early still and it’s Sunday. Sleep a bit longer.”

  “I will if ye will.”

  Sounds of Robbie waking in the next room were sharp and clear in the cold morning air. She chuckled. “I can’t. It sounds like Robbie is waking.”

  “His name is Robbie? After ye were asleep I remembered that I hadn’t asked ye that.”

  “Aye, his name is Robbie.” The bairn’s fretting became more insistent. “And it sounds like he’s more than ready for breakfast. Go back to sleep. When ye wake, I’ll have breakfast ready for ye too.”

  “I’m not going to lay abed while ye work. Go fetch the hungry lad and I’ll stoke the fire. While he’s nursing, we can figure out our next steps.”

  We. All of a sudden she rather liked that word. Mary got out of bed, and pulled on her outer garments. She lit a lamp in the main room, putting it on the table so a little light would spill though the door into the children’s room. Then she hurried to soothe her wee lad.

  Katie, having learned to sleep through Robbie’s late night and early morning demands for food, just snuggled deeper into her covers. On any other day, Mary would have awakened her and put away the extra blankets befo
re Jock happened to see them. Today, she didn’t have to.

  “All right, laddie, give me a moment to change yer wet nappy and then ye can warm yer toes by the fire while ye have yer breakfast.”

  Once he was dry, not to mention well and truly angry at the indignity of having his wet backside exposed to the chill morning air, Mary took him into the main room. Seeing Jock stoke the fire brought a smile to her face as she settled into the rocking chair. Robbie calmed as soon as he began to nurse. Mary covered them both with a blanket.

  This is how she’d always imagined marriage—navigating life together. Her parents had been like this. They had gone through the ups and downs of life together as a “we.” And sadly death took them together too.

  “Yer face has gone very serious. What troubles ye?” asked Jock.

  “I was just thinking of how nice it is having a bit of help this morning.”

  “And that made ye sad?”

  “Nay, it just reminded me of what my parents were like.”

  “Were? They’ve passed on?”

  “Aye. Until I was about ten, we lived on a croft in the Highlands. But things began to change. It seemed impossible to produce a sufficient amount from farming to feed us and be able to pay rents and debts. Da took work in a quarry to try to get ahead of things. Mama, my brothers and I did the farm work. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. We left the Highlands and came here. Da heard there was work in the shipyards. But he hated it here. He said the smoke from all the chimneys blackened even the sun. He wanted to emigrate to America, but couldn’t afford for all of us to go. He sent my brothers with the intention that we’d join them as soon as he had the money saved.”

  “But that never happened.” The unmistakable sadness in Jock’s tone touched Mary’s heart.

  “Nay. It seemed like he worked all of the time. Mama was an excellent seamstress. She took in sewing and taught me how as well. We were saving bit by bit. But then cholera struck shortly after I turned seventeen. Both of my parents died. I had to use the money we’d saved to live on until I found work with a tailor. Even after that, I intended to start saving again until I had enough to join my brothers in America.”

  “Why didn’t ye?”

  “Jock began courting me. He had worked with my da. He was handsome and charming, and I fell head over heels.” She felt the blush rise in her face. “When we were courting he said he wanted to go to America too. He had big dreams of the life we’d have there. By the way he talked, I was certain we’d be in America before the end of our first year together. But ye can’t drink the bulk of yer pay and save money for ship passage.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone.

  “Do ye still want to go?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know what it costs in yer time. Here it would cost me five pounds five shillings to go by steerage. That’s nearly a full year of Jock’s wages. The children would be less but it would still take years to save enough. And now, with Jock gone, I’d be a woman, traveling alone with two children. I don’t think I have the nerve to do that. Besides, I’m not even sure where my brothers are now. Initially they had been in New York. But the last we heard—which was before my parents died—they had work building railroads in Pennsylvania. I have no idea how to find them.” She looked away blinking back tears. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “Broken dreams should remained buried. It was a mistake to unearth them. I suppose it was never meant to be. What was it the old lady said? The universe unfolds as it should? I guess the universe wants me eking out a living here in Govan and not in the wide open spaces of America.”

  He stepped closer to her, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek and turn it gently toward him. Those warm, beautiful eyes captured her gaze.

  “Mary, the universe has not completely unfolded yet and none among us—except perhaps for Gertrude—knows what’s in store. As far as that goes, dreams can sometimes be bruised and a little squashed, but they only die if you let them. Let’s see what the next few weeks bring, before we decide what the universe has in store, shall we?”

  She nodded, but she wasn’t sure how he could think there was even a remote possibility that she would ever travel to America.

  “Good. Now, let me fix ye a cup of tea.” He motioned to a jug on the sideboard. Is this drinking water?”

  “Aye.”

  He started to fill the tea kettle and then stopped. “Where does yer water come from?”

  “I have a barrel out back that catches the runoff from the roof. I let the dirt settle to the bottom and use it for washing. I get the water we drink from a community pump.”

  He frowned. “Do ye boil it before drinking?”

  “Nay. It’s clean water.”

  “Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t. You mentioned a cholera outbreak. Cholera is spread by dirty water. Glasgow had some of the worst outbreaks in history because of overcrowding and foul water.”

  “Well, Govan isn’t as bad as Glasgow for overcrowding, but there certainly are a lot of people here.”

  “And yet ye have this wee house to yerself. I’ve read of huge families living in less space.”

  “That is one thing I’m thankful to Jock for. His family lived in a tenement during the same cholera outbreak that killed my parents. It killed his parents and two younger brothers as well. Jock’s older brother and his wife survived, but they lost all three children. Mavis was never the same. The three of them were determined to move out of the tenement. They believed it was a miasma that caused cholera—the air was fouled by so many people living together. This is where they lived when I met and married Jock. It’s not quite as close to the shipyard as some of the tenements, but there’s a little elbow room.”

  “Where are they now? Yer brother-in-law and his wife?”

  “Mavis died giving birth to another child. And after that, his brother was determined to leave Scotland. He found work on a ship. I don’t know if he just worked long enough to reach new shores or if he found his life at sea. But after he left, Jock insisted on remaining in this cottage, even though it meant paying twice as much.”

  “Well it isn’t a miasma that causes illness, but overcrowding usually results in contaminated water. And ye haven’t see the last of cholera. There will be another serious outbreak in less than ten years. The best way to prevent becoming ill is boiling the water ye drink. You should also scrupulously wash yer hands in boiled water—especially before ye eat or prepare food. For that matter, any food that ye eat raw needs to be washed in boiled water.”

  She was amazed at how much he knew about it. “Is cholera still a problem in yer time?”

  “Not in developed countries, like Scotland, where we have good sanitation and clean water now.”

  “Then how do ye know so much about it?”

  He smiled. “My da is a doctor. And I’ve studied a lot of science.”

  “Then ye can read?”

  “Of course. But back to the tea, I’ll let the water boil several minutes before making it. And thereafter, we’ll boil it before using it for anything.”

  By the time the tea was steeping in the pot, Robbie had finished nursing. She put him on the floor and gave him two spoons to play with before taking cups from the sideboard. She poured a little milk in each one and filled them with tea, placing one in front of Jock, along with the sugar bowl. “I’ll let ye add yer own sugar.”

  “I don’t generally take sugar in my tea.”

  “Neither do I.” She started to return the sugar to the cabinet but he put a hand on hers to stop her.

  “Is that because ye don’t like sweet tea, or to save sugar so Jock can have it in his tea.”

  She shrugged. “Honestly, I started going without so Jock could have it, but I’ve grown to like it without sugar.”

  He nodded, letting go of her hand and she put the sugar bowl away.

  “I’ll just make some porridge. Katie will wake up hungry soon.” She busied herself preparing their breakfast. With the dream of emigratin
g to America reawakened she asked, “Have ye ever considered emigrating to America?”

  “Nay. But I’ve been there several times. My mother is American. I was actually born there but we returned to Scotland when I was three.”

  “Ye aren’t serious.”

  “I am.”

  “It takes three weeks or more to get there and ye’ve been more than once?”

  He grinned. “It doesn’t take quite that long in my time.”

  “Really? How many days does it take?”

  “Well, less than a week by ship, but most people don’t travel that way anymore. This might be a bit hard to believe, but in my time there are machines that fly called airplanes. It’s possible to fly from Scotland to America in just hours.”

  “Hours?” The idea was thrilling. “When were these machines invented? Will it happen in my lifetime?”

  “The first successful airplane was flown in 1903. But, a plane didn’t cross the Atlantic until sixteen years later. And it was about twenty more years before planes carried passengers.”

  She sighed. “So, nay, I won’t. Still, it’s wonderful to dream about.”

  “You might see a motorcar someday though.”

  “A motorcar?”

  “Aye, it’s a carriage with an engine so it moves without horses.”

  “Like a train?”

  “Sort of, but they aren’t powered by steam and don’t need tracks.”

  “Really? That’d be something to see.”

  He grinned at her. “Yer whole face lights up when ye get excited about something and ye become even more beautiful.”

  The heat rose in her face. “Thank ye. It’s been a long time since someone said something that nice to me.”

  “Ye deserve much more.”

  “Ye’re kind.”