Page 37 of A Castaway in Cornwall
The girl left and Laura climbed under the bedclothes. She blew out her candle and lay in the dark. Moonlight shone on the Allan apple on her side table. She did not believe in such superstitions. Did she even want to dream of a man?
Unbidden, Mr. Lucas’s face appeared in her mind’s eye.
Oh, why not?After all, she had promised Eseld.
She slipped the apple under her pillow, which caused the feathers to bunch up around her face.Ah well, she thought. It was only for one night.
In the morning, Eseld threw open the door and all but ran into Laura’s room. Newlyn had not even been in to deliver warm water and fold back the shutters.
“Well?” Eseld asked, all eagerness.
Laura barely resisted the urge to pull the blankets over her head and go back to sleep. “What time is it?”
“Just gone eight.”
Laura groaned. She had thought to sleep in after their late night.
“Besides, it’s All Saints’ Day,” Eseld added. “And that means church.”
Laura groaned again, threw back the bedclothes, and sat up.
“Did you dream of him?” Eseld asked. “The man you are going to marry?”
Laura reflected. “Actually, I dreamed of several people. The Kents, Jago, you, even that horrid Tom Parsons. And if you tell me I’m to marry him, then I hope this is apoisonapple.”
Eseld watched her closely. “And Mr. Lucas? Was he in your dream as well?”
Laura closed her eyes, remembering. She had dreamed of Tom Parsons leaning over the shipwrecked man again, to her horror and indignation, while others stood there unconcerned, Treeve and Eseld singing “The Pirate’s Song” and Perry waiting idly with his medical bag. As Parsons raised his cudgel, Laura tried to reach Mr. Lucas, but her legs were trapped in quicksand, and she could not move. At the memory, Laura shivered. “Yes. The dream was not a romantic one, but he was in it.”
“I knew it!”
“And you?” Laura asked. “Who did you dream of?”
Eseld shrugged. “To be honest, when I awoke I could not recall any dreams. So I shut my eyes and daydreamed instead. You know, when you’re still half asleep and tipsy-cake drowsy? I imagined Treeve and me riding white horses along the cliff tops, my hair floating in the wind, and him declaring his undying love.”
“You don’t ride, Eseld.”
“What does that signify? I have a vivid imagination.”
“You certainly do. Does a daydream count, do you think?”
“I hope so. But let’s find out. Come and stand next to me. Bring your apple.”
Laura grumbled into her dressing gown and slippers, retrieved the apple, and crossed the room to stand with her before the mirror. Eseld handed her a paring knife. “Careful to keep the paring in one long strip.”
Starting near the stems, they began peeling the apples. Around and around, all the way to the bottoms.
Eseld recited, “I pare this pippin round and round, my sweetheart’s name to be found.” She glanced over to survey Laura’s progress. “Good. I shall go first to show you how it’s done.”
Taking the long peel in one hand, she said, “I fling the unbroken paring free, my true love’s initial to see.” Then she tossed it over her left shoulder.
She whirled about, eagerly studying the peel, likely hoping to see a certain initial. The peel had spread out, with a small hook at the bottom and a loop at the top.
“I knew it—at!” she exclaimed.
Laura studied the shape with a skeptical eye. “I see ap, Eseld. Definitely ap.”
“I disagree. Now quit stalling. Your turn.”
