Chapter One

                                    

                                          
I proposed to Grace the third time I saw her.
She was thin, likely underfed, but strong, lifting crates of goods her father had secured for me onto the cart I had rented for the day. Each time I had seen her before, she was working just as diligently. The first time was when I came to her father's shop. I had found passage west and was seeking someone to collect for me the things I needed for the trip, someone who knew about what was important to have on long sea voyages, someone who knew better what I would need when I got to the new world.
Mr. Ryan had come highly recommended for the task, though even if he wasn't, I likely would have hired him. He was the only Protestant man who offered such services, and it seemed back luck for a Protestant preacher to put his life in the hands of a Catholic. When I arrived at the shop, I found no Mr. Ryan. Instead, the girl was there. She was reading when I walked in but leapt to her feet and greeted me. I explained to her that I was to be heading west and that I was a preacher and, as such, did not much know what I would need to bring with me.
She explained her father's business in a no-nonsense way. Her father would speak to me and learn a little of my habits and my aims and then name a price, which would have to be paid upfront. He would then use this money to collect the things I would need, keeping the difference if he were able to get items for a better-than-average price. Straight to the point. I liked this. When I agreed to the terms, she fetched the man, and we got to talking.
Mr. Ryan was not well. He moved slowly and had a nasty cough; the girl helped him down the stairs and to his seat. She made tea for us. Within moments of speaking to the man, I knew he had tuberculosis, having seen the affliction in Pastor O'Sullivan when I studied under him. His price was fair, and we shook on the bargain. I paid him what was owed and hoped that he would be keeping a decent amount for himself, for the price was much lower than I had been expecting, and I felt great pity for the man, given his illness.
As I was readying myself to leave, Mr. Ryan was thinking of taking a walk himself. We left his shop together, but the girl chased after us. She held a worn coat out to her father.
"I'll not have you catching a cold." Her words were stern, but her tone was not.
Mr. Ryan rolled his eyes and took the coat from her, I think, somewhat embarrassed to be ordered around by his daughter in such a way in front of a client. I did not think this was something to find humiliating. I thought it was sweet, and I found myself thinking of the girl as I wandered home.
The second time I saw her was in the shop two days later. Mr. Ryan had very accurately assumed that as a preacher, I had books which were close to my heart that I could not bear to leave behind in Ireland. He asked that I bring them and a few other personal effects so that he could make a proper estimate of the crates and luggage I would need to carry everything. As well, his services included the packing of my belongings as many people did not know how to properly lay out their possessions to save space, and this was important as only so much storage room was allocated on the ship with the price of a ticket.
Again she was reading when I entered the shop, and again she leapt up and greeted me politely. She took the bundle of books I had wrapped in a bedsheet from my arms. I, at first, did not want to give them to her, for the bundle was quite heavy, and I feared she would not be able to lift it. She did and went outside with me to help me unload the carriage I had booked for the day. She moved quickly and without unnecessary movements, making it clear to me that she often did such work.
When she helped her father down the stairs to his seat and set about making tea for us once more, I kept my eyes on her for a little longer than was polite. In part because I was impressed with her work ethic, but also likely because she was enjoyable to look at. Mr. Ryan saw me do this, and I felt badly.