Spirit Lost Read Online Free PDF

an adventure while still sheltered safely in the comfort of the warm house and the friendly company.

Chapter Two
    Willy and Anne were looking out the attic window down over the rooftops and trees to Nantucket harbor.
    “This street,” Willy said, “Orange Street, used to be called the captain’s lane during the whaling days. The wives of the captains of whaling vessels could look out from their widow’s walks to see if a ship was returning to harbor. The next street down, down the hill, was called the first mate’s street. Sometimes the husbands were gone for three or four years . Imagine it. And then, when they returned home, there were times when the tide wasn’t right and they couldn’t get into the harbor. The wives could stand on their widow’s walks or here, at windows like this one, and look out and see the boats waiting to come in.”
    “I couldn’t stand it,” Anne replied. Her hands were clasped protectively over her stomach as she stood by Willy’s side, looking out. Now almost seven months pregnant, she couldn’t get as close to the windows as Willy could. “How did they stand it, those women? They must have gone mad.”
    “Or had affairs with their gardeners.” Willy grinned.
    “Or with each other.” Anne laughed. “Something.”
    “They took laudanum,” Willy said. “It’s a derivative of opium. The Realtor told me. It was a common practice. But when their husbands returned, they were so wealthy, brought back such treasures, silver, Chinese porcelain, ivory, silks …”
    “Forget all that,” Anne said. “I just want Mark in bed with me every night . That’s all the treasure I want.”
    “Well, not quite.” Willy smiled, looking at Anne’s tummy.
    “What about you?” Anne said, turning away from the view so she could lean up against the wall. She sighed. With the baby pressing on her, she was always sighing these days. “Willy, you’re thirty . If you’re going to have a baby—”
    “There’s time,” Willy said. She moved close to the window and rested her cheek against the cool pane. Through the filigree of bare tree branches she could see the bright blue water of the harbor. It was filled with small boats, scallopers. “John wants five yearsto paint. To be really dedicated, committed, uninterrupted. It’s necessary to him, Anne. It’s the whole point of our move here. You know that.”
    “Five years,” Anne said. She sighed again. “You’ll be thirty-five.”
    “Everyone’s having babies late these days,” Willy said. “I can get pregnant at thirty-five.”
    “Maybe,” Anne said almost sullenly.
    “Oh, you just want everyone to be pregnant because you are,” Willy said, tilting her head away from the window and laughing at her friend. “Don’t be silly. Don’t worry, Anne, we’ll have babies. Or maybe we won’t. I want children. John wants children, eventually. But first he really wants to work on his art, and you know my priorities. I want John to be happy. I want our marriage to be good. It’s been so good for eight years now, just think of it. Oh, Anne, it really is something these days to have such a good marriage after eight years. The same with you and Mark—what is it, six years now? Talk about treasures, I think a happy marriage is the ultimate treasure.”
    “Yes,” Anne said. “You’re right. We are lucky. We really are lucky.”
    “And look at this place,” Willy said, turning from the window and stretching out her arms. “Won’t it be heaven for John to work in? Of course he’ll need to put in banks of fluorescent lights. But the space and the wide-board floors and the views …”
    Anne smugly crossed her arms over her enormous stomach and watched Willy as she moved around the big open attic. Slightly miffed because Willy didn’t share her enthusiasm for pregnancy, Anne looked at Willy now with a critical eye.
    Willy was such a large woman, as large as her husband, but still graceful and feminine. She had played enough