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gardening.
    She knew her well-to-do status irked some of the other fishermen’s wives, who barely had a moment’s rest to themselves. She could only imagine their conversations, the words they whispered behind her back. “Did ye see the foxtail fur on her coat? And the fine shoes on her feet? She walks around like the Queen of Marystown, she does.”
    Lillian understood their jealousies. Most of the women worked from dawn to dusk, scrubbing the cod clean and laying it on the spruce boughs that topped the fish flakes. When they weren’t hauling fish to and from the flakes, they were raking hay, planting, and tending gardens. Lord, they worked themselves to the bone, and it still wasn’t enough to properly feed and clothe their children.
    The silhouette of her daughter-in-law, Lucy, caught Lillian’s eye as the young woman walked slowly along the footpath that hugged the bay. Lucy stopped suddenly, took a deep breath and rubbed her broad belly. The baby was due any day now; there was no changing that fact , Lillian thought. What’s done is done . They had been lucky enough that Father McGettigan had married her son James and Lucy in the church. Lucy could barely hide her pregnancy beneath the white gown Lillian had stitched together herself.
    Lillian eyed her daughter-in-law’s long face; James was not yet at sea, and Lucy looked forlorn already. Aye, there’s plenty years of worry ahead, me girl , Lillian thought. If she had a penny saved for every minute she spent staring at the sea waiting for Paddy to return, she’d be a rich woman indeed. Now, like most of the women in Marystown, Lucy would likely give birth while her husband was away. Surely, Paddy was only present for a few of the nine children she’d birthed. As Lucy slowly made her way toward the Mary Bernice , Lillian shook off a chill. She had heard Father McGettigan chastise women who had gotten pregnant before marriage: “You will have to atone for your sins!” McGettigan bellowed from the pulpit. “Dear Lord, forgive them,” Lillian whispered, praying for her son and his new wife. “Forgive them.”
    The laughter of her two younger boys interrupted Lillian’s thoughts. What in the divil are they up to now? From the window, she could see Frankie and Jerome wrestling in the meadow. The boys wore the new knickers she had made for their trip. Surely, they’d be tattered before they left town. She had stitched the boys a new set of clothes telling Paddy, “If ye will be going into port anywhere, I want the boys and yourself to wear your Sunday best.” Of course, there was another occasion for which the boys and Paddy might need their fine clothes on such a journey, but Lillian pushed those dark thoughts from her mind.
    She allowed herself a smile as she watched Frankie and Jerome chase one another in the meadow. The two of ’em never stopped moving. Thin as spirits they were. It was no use trying to fatten them up; they devoured enough biscuits and beef to feed a grown man. In a few day’s time, they’d be eating schooner grub, and it was likely that poor little Frankie would not be swallowing much a’tall as the boat rocked on the swells . Lillian had hoped he would beg off this trip, but the boy would not disappoint his father, nor did he want the taunts from the local lads, who learned of his seasickness on last summer’s journey. “Sissy,” they had jeered. “Ye mustn’t be Paddy’s son after all. Poor little sick lass.”
    The thought of her boy ill and without his mother’s hand to wipe his brow made her own stomach twinge. She knew Jerome would look after his younger brother, but Jerome himself was just a boy of fourteen. “C’mon,” he cried to Frankie from the field outside, “let’s go see Da. Race you!” Lillian followed their shirttails as they disappeared down the hill. It was just a short journey they