Katerina turned to the window as the train departed the station. The crowded
streets and cluttered buildings of the city give way to winter brown fields and naked trees. Spring is still a long way off.
Christopher also regarded the scenery. “This is so much nicer than traveling
by carriage.”
“It is?” she asked doubtfully, noticing the motion of the vehicle made her slightly nauseous.
“Oh yes. Imagine a weary mother and three children bouncing along a rutted
road, the boredom and the whining… it was epic.” He chuckled at the memory.
“Sometimes Father would let me sit with him in the driver's seat outside. That was nicer.”
“Where did you go?” she asked, trying to take her mind off her unsettled
belly.
“To the seashore for a summer holiday. London gets a little… rancid in the
heat.”
“It does,” Katerina agreed.
“Did you never go on holiday?” he asked.
“Not that I can recall,” she replied. Watching the scenery speed past didn't help her belly. She turned her attention to Christopher. That's better.
“What a shame.” He touched her hand, and she took the opportunity to lace
their fingers together. “Going to the ocean was always a highlight of the year for
us. Would you like to go this summer?”
“With your parents?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, his expression distant as though he was already there, “and
my brother, Devin. He's studying to become a solicitor. Can you imagine?” He
shuddered. “He's said since early childhood that he wants to move to Brighton to
live, not just go for holidays.”
“That would be nice,” Katerina replied. “I'd like to see the ocean, and I love
spending time with your family.”
He grinned at her and squeezed her hand. New memories are being created
every day.
Katerina found, as they chugged through the countryside, that she had
nothing to say. Thank heaven Christopher is comfortable with silence. Her fingers laced through his provided enough connection for the moment.
Shortly after noon, they reached Southampton and proceeded directly to the
docks to board their clipper ship for Italy.
The ocean resembled nothing Katerina had ever experienced. Over the roar
of the conversations, she could hear the screaming of gulls, the clanking and groaning of the ships in their moorings, the yells of sailors speaking dozens of languages. The myriad stimulations threatened to overwhelm her, but with the support of her husband's arm around her, she realized she felt quite safe. She drew in a deep breath, enjoying the brisk breeze after the close stuffiness of the
train. The stink of unwashed bodies hung thick in the air and underneath it, the
tang of the ocean, of salt and fish, freshness and decay. Life and death mingling
eternally together.
They stepped out of the weak February sun into the shadow of the clipper, which rose high above them. Masses of billowing white sails attached to three tall masts topped with colorful pennants rolled and snapped in the breeze, like a
toddler dancing and straining on the verge of some coveted adventure.
“Come on,” the wind seemed to whisper through the ropes and lines as it set
them humming. “Come on,” it whispered through the rustling fabric of sails.
