Page 27 of The Salamander

Setting her knitting aside, Eunice said gently, “Come, Hannah, show me how well you know your catechism.”

Hannah left her doll and came close with a small, worn book. She straightened her back and asked, almost solemnly, “What is the chief end of man?” Then, with a small, triumphant smile: “To glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever.”

Martha entered just then, sniffing. “Forever’s a long time, Miss Hannah. But you can start now.”

Eunice hid a smile. “Hannah, do you enjoy knowing God and His angels watch over you, even now?”

“I like knowing He watches over me, Papa and Polly, too,” she said.

Glancing at Martha, Eunice said, “These lessons are strengthening her faith and preparing her to one day teach her own children.”

Hannah fingered her mother’s locket, her lifeline. “Papa would want me to know my catechism,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Eunice agreed, her voice softening. “Your papa is at sea, keeping faith, trusting God to bring him home. And you are keeping faith here.” After a pause she asked gently, “Hannah, does your locket hold miniatures of your parents?”

Hesitating, Hannah nodded.

“May I see them?”

At Eunice’s gentle urging, she opened it and offered the chain. Inside, a young fair-haired woman smiled from one side, and Jonathan Haraden’s dark blue eyes gazed out from the other.

“These are your parents,” Eunice said softly. “So young, and your mother so fair. No wonder you and Polly shine with golden hair.”

A tear slipped down Hannah’s cheek as Eunice returned the locket and drew her close. “Oh, Hannah, how blessed you are to have had them both for a time. And now you still have your papa.”

“And you?” Hannah asked, pulling back to look at Eunice.

Eunice held her gaze. “Yes, you have me, too. God willing, I’ll be here with you until you have little ones of your own, and longer, if you’ll have me.”

Hannah rested her head on Eunice’s shoulder and soon started to doze. Martha said, “Best get the child to her bed. Come along, Lass.”

Hannah gave Eunice’s hand a squeeze before following Martha upstairs.

“I’ll stay until Polly sleeps,” said Eunice, rocking the cradle.

When Martha returned, she gave Eunice a long look. “You know, Mrs. Mason, for Hannah to hand you that locket…well, that’s her heart you were holdin’. She doesn’t trust just anyone with it.”

Eunice blinked. She felt the truth of Martha’s words settle deep, heavier than she expected. “She holds my heart, as well.”

“Aye,” Martha said, a wry smile tugging at her mouth, “That child wouldn’t hand her mother’s memory to just anyone. Best not to forget it.”

Eunice glanced toward the cradle where Polly had fallen asleep. “I never will.”

As the house grew quiet, Eunice felt the truth of it sink deep. This was no longer only Jonathan Haraden’s family. It was hers now, too, bound not by blood but by trust, and by a love that had already taken root between herself and the children. Hannah’s small hand in hers, Polly’s sleepy weight against her shoulder, these were not tokens of duty, but of belonging.