Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Violet

Lily

The varnish on the ship's rail is blistered from the sun. The decks are bleached like driftwood. The night's breeze is soft and warm, but the stars above her look cold and hard as ice. She wonders if they have names or are too tiny and numerous to be christened.

Her mother believes in christening all God's creations, however small they are. She suspects her mother would name the stars after the saints, although she thinks even her mother would run out of saints before naming them all.

She wonders if she will ever have a child of her own to name. She would like a little girl, she thinks, but maybe that is because she misses the weight of her sister on her lap, the feel of her cheek against hers. She does not want to replace her sister and does not think she could love her own child more, but she feels deep inside her a yeaning that sometimes catches her unawares, like when a wave appears from nowhere out of the calm ocean. Then something shifts inside, a sudden longing at the heart of her.

If she were to have a baby girl, she thinks she would name her after a flower, however much her mother would line up the saints in front of her for inspection. She might even be brave enough to turn down the blessed Virgin's name (her mother's ace). She does not want to hold a ‘Mary' in her arms. Instead she thinks of ‘Rose' or possibly ‘Daisy'. Her choice of name changes like the seasons: ‘Primrose' appearing in the spring, ‘Lavender' in the summer and ‘Marigold' when the fields ripen to gold.

Standing on the deck, the latent heat radiating from the wood beneath her hand, she thinks of a little girl in a white dress, called Lily.