Stopping to Home

( 8 )

Overview

What do you do when you don't have a home or a family to call your own anymore?

Eleven-year-old Abigail is not entirely sure how she'll do it, but after losing her mother to smallpox and her father to the sea, she knows that it is up to her to build a new life for herself and her little brother, Seth. But carving a future out of the harsh realities of life in Wiscasset, a nineteenth-century Maine seaport, proves difficult, and Abigail fears that there will always be more ...

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Overview

What do you do when you don't have a home or a family to call your own anymore?

Eleven-year-old Abigail is not entirely sure how she'll do it, but after losing her mother to smallpox and her father to the sea, she knows that it is up to her to build a new life for herself and her little brother, Seth. But carving a future out of the harsh realities of life in Wiscasset, a nineteenth-century Maine seaport, proves difficult, and Abigail fears that there will always be more questions than answers. How long will they be able to stay and work for the young Widow Chase? Will Seth be able to let go of the past?

As the months roll by like waves on the sea, Abigail searches tirelessly for a solution and for an answer to the question she holds most dear: Will they ever find a place to call home again?

In 1806, orphaned eleven-year-old Abigail and her little brother Seth find a home with the young Widow Chase in the seaport of Wiscasset, Maine, and help her discover a way to support them all.

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Editorial Reviews

From The Critics
Set in 1806, this novel opens with eleven-year-old Abigail Chambers left on her own to care for her younger brother Seth. Their mother has just died of smallpox, and their father, a sailor, may not return for months. Thanks to a thoughtful doctor, Abbie finds work in a young widow's home in their Maine seaport, and despite their grief, the children adjust quickly. But when finances grow tight, Abbie must come up with a new plan for survival. Fans of historical fiction will enjoy the details about everyday life in this compelling tale about children seeking a home.
—Kristin Kloberdanz
Publishers Weekly
A strong and memorable heroine narrates this compelling debut from Wait, which effectively evokes life in 1806 Maine. After the death of her 30-year-old mother during a pox epidemic and the prolonged absence of her mariner father, 11-year-old Abigail must work for young Widow Chase to earn room and board and to keep her four-year-old brother, Seth, from being sent to the orphanage. "This house is not ours; we are only waiting here until something else happens," Abbie tells herself. However, while they wait, practical and observant Abbie ascertains Widow Chase's dire financial situation, notices that the woman is expecting a baby and schemes a plan using the widow's millinery talents to support and keep them all. Seth's romanticized view of his seafaring father and his high hopes for the man's return (despite the mariner's spotty history) heighten the tension. Throughout, Wait weaves in customs (such as tolling bells when a person dies), language and geography that capture this bustling town by the sea. Ages 8-12. (Oct.) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Children's Literature
This story of young Abigail Chambers, who must take on adult responsibilities after her mother dies of smallpox, comes along at a time when smallpox is much in the news. Abigail and her four-year-old brother Seth are orphaned when their father is lost at sea and they suffer many hardships while trying to stay together in 1806 in the seaport town of Wiscasset, Maine. Although Abigail is only eleven, she is fortunate enough to be hired by a young woman in town whose husband lies dying of smallpox. After his death, she stays on, helping the widow prepare for a new baby. Although to young people of today her life may seem unbearably difficult, she is resourceful and smart and proves able to take care of her brother and provide a brighter future for both of them. The solutions to serious problems come about too readily, but a great deal of historical background is provided as Abigail's thoughts and hopes are presented, and the story moves quickly. 2001, Margaret K. Elderry Books/Simon & Schuster, $16.00. Ages 8 to 12. Reviewer: Carolyn Mott Ford
School Library Journal
Gr 4-6-A strong novel. Abbie Chambers, 11, finds work as a housemaid when she and her 4-year-old brother lose their mother to the smallpox epidemic of 1806. The girl holds little hope that their seafaring father will rescue them from their destitute state while young Seth pins all his hopes on the man he has rarely seen. Life in Wiscasset, ME, (then a territory of the State of Massachusetts) is well captured, as is the longing and dread that the two children experience in their rootless state. In the end, the siblings and their benefactress, the pregnant Widow Chase, gradually become a family. Wait's writing is sufficiently accomplished and Abbie is an interesting enough character to prevent the message about the nature of family from overpowering the story. This title will appeal to fans of the "Dear America" series (Scholastic) and to those who may have graduated from the "American Girls" series (Pleasant Co.). The author provides a picture of life and social issues in early 19th-century America while, with only a few very minor exceptions, keeping true to the voice of her preteen narrator.-Sue Sherif, Alaska State Library, Anchorage Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
A quiet tale of love and belonging, set on the coast of Maine in 1806. Eleven-year-old Abbie and her little brother Seth are effectively orphaned when their mother dies of smallpox and their mariner father is off at sea, incommunicado for the past six months. Determined to keep what's left of her family together, Abbie offers her services to the young Mrs. Chase, herself soon widowed. As the seasons change from late winter through the year to winter again, Abbie, Seth, and Widow Chase find that they have molded themselves into a new family, to be completed by the birth of the widow's baby in the winter. Newcomer Wait offers a quietly lyrical text that deftly and painlessly weaves into Abbie's deeply personal story observations about the social and cultural structure of this small, seafaring town: "Captain Chase and his wife had three fireplaces. One in the kitchen, to be sure, but here was another, unused for now and that I could see was for company, and Mrs. Chase had talked of still another, upstairs. . . . It was hard to think of such luxury." Abbie and Seth emerge as fully fledged characters, Abbie a thoughtful girl with few illusions about the world, and Seth a boy pining for his father and determined to follow in his footsteps. The Widow Chase is less well-realized; her determination to stay in her husband's house rather than return to her family goes largely unexplained, and therefore her willingness to take up a trade (millinery) to maintain her independence in defiance of social mores is not sufficiently grounded. This is a small quibble with a novel otherwise finely crafted, with a very nearly perfect sense of its setting in place and time. (historical note) (Fiction. 8-12)
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780689838491
  • Publisher: Aladdin
  • Publication date: 1/1/2003
  • Edition description: Original
  • Pages: 160
  • Sales rank: 958,946
  • Age range: 8 - 12 Years
  • Product dimensions: 0.38 (w) x 5.00 (h) x 8.00 (d)

Meet the Author

Lea Wait made her mystery debut with Shadows at the Fair, which was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Novel. Shadows on the Ivy, the third novel in her acclaimed series featuring Maggie Summer, is forthcoming in hardcover from Scribner. Lea comes from a long line of antiques dealers, and has owned an antique print business for more than twenty-five years. The single adoptive mother of four Asian girls who are now grown, she lives in Edgecomb, Maine. In addition to the Antique Print mysteries, Lea Wait writes historical fiction for young readers. Her first children's book, Stopping to Home, was named a Notable Book for Children in 2001 by Smithsonian magazine.
Visit her website at www.leawait.com.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1

Wiscasset, District of Maine

March 1806

Don't cry, Seth. No one will take you away." I looked straight at Doc Ames. Seth's arms tightened around my waist. I could feel him shaking as he burrowed his head deep into my long petticoats and apron. "I promised Ma I'd take care of Seth. That's what I'm going to do."

"Abbie, you're a strong girl. Stronger than most for eleven. But life isn't easy. You'll be able to find service in some home in Wiscasset. But Seth is too young to work. Let him go to the orphanage in Portland. He'll learn a trade there. When you're older, maybe then you can bring him home."

Seth turned. His red curls were matted; his face swollen with tears. He looked at the doctor, and then at me. "Pa will come and take care of us, won't he, Abbie?" His voice softened, and his shoulders slumped against me again. "Pa will come."

"Your father's been gone over six months now, Seth. There's been no word from any aboard his ship." Doc Ames shook his head. "No other relatives?"

"We have a grandmother in Baltimore." Ma had come from Baltimore. She had once said her mother might still be alive. A grandmother would want her grandchildren, wouldn't she?

I pulled the blue knit shawl tighter around my shoulders and looked once more at the room that had been home for Seth and Ma and me. And Pa, when he'd not been at sea.

There are folks who are rich and folks who are not. And my ma and pa and Seth and I, we are not. Our home was a small, low-ceilinged attic over the room where Widow Wink lived and made and sold her ginger beer on Water Street, near Union Wharf. Now the smell of ginger mixed with that of the sulfur Doc Ames had thrown on the floor to try to rid us of the smallpox, and with the salt river air that blew through the walls and the slats in the wooden shutters.

The pallet where Seth and I sometimes slept and the quilts that covered, if not warmed, us were in one corner. The table where we ate and Ma and I sewed was in the center of the room. On it was Ma's one treasure: a small female eider duck carved out of wood. A peddler for whom she had once sewn a waistcoat had given it to her. Sometimes Ma had sat and stared out over the river, stroking the wood as if it were a real bird. I looked at the duck. I didn't look into the corner where Ma lay.

Her body was on the pallet she had shared with Pa when he was ashore, and with Seth and me, for warmth, when he was not. I had already washed her with river water, combed and braided her long dark hair the way she liked, and covered her body and face with her favorite green quilt. She was my ma, but she was not beautiful, and the pox had not been kind to her. There was nothing else to be done for her now.

Doc Ames ran his hand through his long thinning gray hair. He had spent more time with us than most would have. There were others in Wiscasset who needed him. Others who could pay for his help. And it was late in the day. No doubt his wife had hot biscuits and boiled ham waiting for him. The thought of supper made my stomach rumble.

"It is too cold to leave you two here tonight. You need warmth, and you need food." He looked around. It was clear we had neither fire nor provisions.

"Come with me. Captain Chase is ill, and his young wife without help. Their kitchen girl fled to her people in Hallowell for fear of the pox. You could work for your keep, Abbie, and for now they might find a place for the boy, too. It would give you time to write to your grandmother in Baltimore."

If there were any chance Seth and I could stay together, I would take it.

I wrapped our thickest quilt around Seth and picked him up. The warmth from his body would warm me, too, at least a little. I didn't remember how it felt not to be cold. Winters are long in the District of Maine. I tucked Ma's eider duck under the quilt with Seth. We needed to take a bit of Ma with us.

Water Street was filled with red flames and black smoke. It looked like the picture of Hell in the Reverend Packard's Bible. The flames were from tar barrels filled with burning oil that people thought would kill the pox. Low mists of river fog mixed with the smoke, merging the land and water with red streaks of sunset.

"Red sky at night, sailor's delight," Pa always said. There would be fair weather tomorrow.

I carried Seth along the rough dirt and stones of the street, following Doc Ames and stumbling with Seth's weight and my weariness. The smell of burning tar filled our noses. Seth coughed deeply. I forced myself not to cough, and shifted his weight, making him easier to carry.

Suddenly the church bells rang.

Mr. Webber, the sexton, only rang the church bells on a weekday for one reason. He rang the bells when someone in town had died.

For the past two weeks he had rung those bells five or six times a day. Doc Ames and I counted quietly together.

Three rings. A child had died. Nine rings would have been for a man; six, a woman.

We stood still. The second group of rings would tell us how old the child was.

One ring. Then another. Then another. Then silence. Three years old. I looked at Doc Ames.

"Must be Willy Bascomb; his fever went high," Doc said.

Willy Bascomb. The little boy with the dark skin and big eyes who had chased his dog through the church during services only last month. His father was a mariner, like our pa, and Willy and Seth had often played together on Union Wharf. I held Seth tighter.

"I'll tell Mr. Webber about your ma before I stop home."

"Thank you." It would take longer for Mr. Webber to ring for Ma. In January we'd opened our last jar of strawberry jelly to celebrate her thirtieth birth day.

The streets were empty but for the barrels of flames. We left the wharves on Water Street and turned up Main Street, passing Mr. Johnston's store, where we owed money, and the newspaper office, and Whittier's Tavern, where Ma had gone when she'd hoped for letters from Pa. The stage from Boston usually stopped at the tavern twice a week. But now there were white flags of sickness in front of many Wiscasset houses, and no stages stopped.

Finally, when I could hardly go farther, we turned onto Union Street. The doctor stopped in front of a large white house. It was wider than four houses on Water Street put together, and twice as tall. I had seen houses like it before. There were maybe a dozen in town, and more being built up on High Street. But never had I expected to see the inside of one.

A white flag hung over the large paneled door, as a flag had covered our door. Money did not make a difference to the pox. I thought of Ma on her cold pallet, and tears started to come.

Doc Ames looked at me sharply. "Abigail, remember. You'll need to mourn for your ma, but you can mourn as well in a warm kitchen where you'll be of use as you can in a cold room with no food."

I tried to brush away the tears without waking Seth. When you're four you can sleep anywhere, and Seth was used to sleeping in my arms.

"I can work." I stood up straight and tried to smile. I wasn't very tall, and some would say I was scrawny, but I could work as well as any my age, and better than many. I knew fire and food didn't come without work.

"If you don't make trouble, and help as you can, then they may let you stay for a time. Usually no one would take you, coming from a sick house as you do. But Mrs. Chase has had the pox herself. She's getting better, as Seth is, although she's still weak. Now she's nursing her husband."

I knew cleaning and I knew cooking and what I didn't know I could learn. The teacher at the new brick schoolhouse had said I was quick in learning. I suspected she was right. School learning was the easy kind, though. Learning to please folks was harder.

"I will do what needs to be done." I wished I'd taken the time to rebraid my tangled brown hair so I looked neater. Too late to do that now.

Doc Ames knocked on the door.

The young woman who opened it was very pale. She had probably been pretty a few weeks ago. Now her blond hair hung loosely about her face, perhaps to conceal pox marks that were still healing, like the ones on Seth's back. She held her candlestick out toward Seth and me and then looked at the doctor.

"Mrs. Chase, I've brought you help."

I tried to look taller, and capable. It was hard, with Seth and the quilt tangled in my arms.

"The care of two children is not what I call help, Dr. Ames." Mrs. Chase wrinkled her nose and backed into the hallway of her house. She was wearing a loose white high-waisted muslin gown and shawl that made her look even thinner and paler than she was.

"We need no care but what I can give." My words slipped out as I saw her moving away from us. "I can cook and clean and sew as well. And wash and carry wood and make soap." It was our only chance. She had to take us.

"Shush, Abbie." Doc Ames frowned at me. "Mrs. Chase, you need help with the kitchen and with caring for the captain. Abigail and Seth Chambers here have just lost their ma. Abbie had the pox in the epidemic ten years ago. She won't get it now. She's a good nurse. She helped Seth over the fever. And their ma might have lived if she hadn't been sickly before the pox came."

Mrs. Chase looked at me and at Seth. For a few moments no one said anything. Seth whimpered in his sleep and tried to snuggle closer. The whimpers were as much from hunger as from grief or discomfort. There had been no food for two days. I had given Ma the last of the broth Widow Wink had left on the stairs for us.

Mrs. Chase finally spoke. Her voice was softer this time. "Losing your mother would be hard at any age. And you're right. I could use some help with the captain." Decision made, she turned to the doctor. "Doc Ames, please see if there's anything you can do. His fever's broken some, but the rash has started. His back is hurting him something awful."

Just like Ma had been after five or six days.

She pointed toward the left. "The kitchen's that way. There's enough beef soup on the fire and bread on the table for you and your brother." She turned toward the stairs. "There's bedding in the corner of the kitchen that Jessie used before she ran to her folks. You can use that. After you've eaten, go outside, by the back door — you'll see it — and get some wood from the pile and bring it upstairs. I'll need more logs for the captain's fireplace soon."

She headed up the circling stairs, holding her candlestick high. Doc Ames followed.

He looked back a moment and spoke softly. "It's up to you, Abbie. Each of us makes his own future."

I walked through the room to the left, carrying Seth carefully so we wouldn't touch anything. It was an elegant room, with a polished wood table and chairs. Above a mantelpiece silver candlesticks shone in the red tar barrel light coming through the glass windows.

Captain Chase and his wife had three fireplaces.

One in the kitchen, to be sure, but here was another, unused for now and that I could see was for company, and Mrs. Chase had talked of still another, upstairs in the captain's chamber. It was hard to think of such luxury. We had had no fireplace at all, just the heat from the sides of the chimney that took the hot air from Widow Wink's fire downstairs to the roof above us. She had been kind enough to let us use her kitchen for cooking each morning. But when she was not to home there was no fire and no heat.

The Chases' kitchen was large, and the fire well banked. I put Seth down near the hearth and added a bit of kindling from the pile next to the fireplace. The fire heated up easily enough. I shivered as the warmth entered my outstretched fingers and I realized how cold the rest of my body was. Seth smiled drowsily at the red and yellow flames.

The heavy iron pot on the crane was half full of beef soup. There were even pieces of carrots and potatoes in it. I didn't wait for it to heat more. I ladled some into a pewter porringer and broke off pieces of dark bread from the loaf on the table.

Seth opened his mouth as soon as he saw what I had. I sat next to him on the floor near the fire, spooning the fragrant broth into first his mouth and then my own. When there was no more in the porringer we wiped the bowl with the bread and ate it, every crumb. I cannot imagine anything tasting as good as that soup and bread.

"Seth, we are going to be warm here. We are going to have food. And we will stay together. You must be very good and I must work very hard and we will be all right." I spoke to myself as much as to him. I hugged him tightly and tucked him under the pile of many-colored quilts and woven blankets Jessie had left. I put Ma's eider duck on a small empty pine shelf above the pallet.

I didn't want the captain to wait long for his wood.

As I filled my arms at the woodpile, the bells tolled again. Six rings for a woman. Doc Ames must have told Mr. Webber about Ma.

The bells were still ringing when I reached the captain's bedchamber. It takes many minutes to toll a lifetime.

Copyright © 2001 by Lea Wait

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First Chapter

Chapter 1

Wiscasset, District of Maine
March 1806

Don't cry, Seth. No one will take you away." I looked straight at Doc Ames. Seth's arms tightened around my waist. I could feel him shaking as he burrowed his head deep into my long petticoats and apron. "I promised Ma I'd take care of Seth. That's what I'm going to do."

"Abbie, you're a strong girl. Stronger than most for eleven. But life isn't easy. You'll be able to find service in some home in Wiscasset. But Seth is too young to work. Let him go to the orphanage in Portland. He'll learn a trade there. When you're older, maybe then you can bring him home."

Seth turned. His red curls were matted; his face swollen with tears. He looked at the doctor, and then at me. "Pa will come and take care of us, won't he, Abbie?" His voice softened, and his shoulders slumped against me again. "Pa will come."

"Your father's been gone over six months now, Seth. There's been no word from any aboard his ship." Doc Ames shook his head. "No other relatives?"

"We have a grandmother in Baltimore." Ma had come from Baltimore. She had once said her mother might still be alive. A grandmother would want her grandchildren, wouldn't she?

I pulled the blue knit shawl tighter around my shoulders and looked once more at the room that had been home for Seth and Ma and me. And Pa, when he'd not been at sea.

There are folks who are rich and folks who are not. And my ma and pa and Seth and I, we are not. Our home was a small, low-ceilinged attic over the room where Widow Wink lived and made and sold her ginger beer on Water Street, near Union Wharf. Now the smell of ginger mixed with that of the sulfur Doc Ames had thrown on the floor to try to rid us of the smallpox, and with the salt river air that blew through the walls and the slats in the wooden shutters.

The pallet where Seth and I sometimes slept and the quilts that covered, if not warmed, us were in one corner. The table where we ate and Ma and I sewed was in the center of the room. On it was Ma's one treasure: a small female eider duck carved out of wood. A peddler for whom she had once sewn a waistcoat had given it to her. Sometimes Ma had sat and stared out over the river, stroking the wood as if it were a real bird. I looked at the duck. I didn't look into the corner where Ma lay.

Her body was on the pallet she had shared with Pa when he was ashore, and with Seth and me, for warmth, when he was not. I had already washed her with river water, combed and braided her long dark hair the way she liked, and covered her body and face with her favorite green quilt. She was my ma, but she was not beautiful, and the pox had not been kind to her. There was nothing else to be done for her now.

Doc Ames ran his hand through his long thinning gray hair. He had spent more time with us than most would have. There were others in Wiscasset who needed him. Others who could pay for his help. And it was late in the day. No doubt his wife had hot biscuits and boiled ham waiting for him. The thought of supper made my stomach rumble.

"It is too cold to leave you two here tonight. You need warmth, and you need food." He looked around. It was clear we had neither fire nor provisions.

"Come with me. Captain Chase is ill, and his young wife without help. Their kitchen girl fled to her people in Hallowell for fear of the pox. You could work for your keep, Abbie, and for now they might find a place for the boy, too. It would give you time to write to your grandmother in Baltimore."

If there were any chance Seth and I could stay together, I would take it.

I wrapped our thickest quilt around Seth and picked him up. The warmth from his body would warm me, too, at least a little. I didn't remember how it felt not to be cold. Winters are long in the District of Maine. I tucked Ma's eider duck under the quilt with Seth. We needed to take a bit of Ma with us.

Water Street was filled with red flames and black smoke. It looked like the picture of Hell in the Reverend Packard's Bible. The flames were from tar barrels filled with burning oil that people thought would kill the pox. Low mists of river fog mixed with the smoke, merging the land and water with red streaks of sunset.

"Red sky at night, sailor's delight," Pa always said. There would be fair weather tomorrow.

I carried Seth along the rough dirt and stones of the street, following Doc Ames and stumbling with Seth's weight and my weariness. The smell of burning tar filled our noses. Seth coughed deeply. I forced myself not to cough, and shifted his weight, making him easier to carry.

Suddenly the church bells rang.

Mr. Webber, the sexton, only rang the church bells on a weekday for one reason. He rang the bells when someone in town had died.

For the past two weeks he had rung those bells five or six times a day. Doc Ames and I counted quietly together.

Three rings. A child had died. Nine rings would have been for a man; six, a woman.

We stood still. The second group of rings would tell us how old the child was.

One ring. Then another. Then another. Then silence. Three years old. I looked at Doc Ames.

"Must be Willy Bascomb; his fever went high," Doc said.

Willy Bascomb. The little boy with the dark skin and big eyes who had chased his dog through the church during services only last month. His father was a mariner, like our pa, and Willy and Seth had often played together on Union Wharf. I held Seth tighter.

"I'll tell Mr. Webber about your ma before I stop home."

"Thank you." It would take longer for Mr. Webber to ring for Ma. In January we'd opened our last jar of strawberry jelly to celebrate her thirtieth birth day.

The streets were empty but for the barrels of flames. We left the wharves on Water Street and turned up Main Street, passing Mr. Johnston's store, where we owed money, and the newspaper office, and Whittier's Tavern, where Ma had gone when she'd hoped for letters from Pa. The stage from Boston usually stopped at the tavern twice a week. But now there were white flags of sickness in front of many Wiscasset houses, and no stages stopped.

Finally, when I could hardly go farther, we turned onto Union Street. The doctor stopped in front of a large white house. It was wider than four houses on Water Street put together, and twice as tall. I had seen houses like it before. There were maybe a dozen in town, and more being built up on High Street. But never had I expected to see the inside of one.

A white flag hung over the large paneled door, as a flag had covered our door. Money did not make a difference to the pox. I thought of Ma on her cold pallet, and tears started to come.

Doc Ames looked at me sharply. "Abigail, remember. You'll need to mourn for your ma, but you can mourn as well in a warm kitchen where you'll be of use as you can in a cold room with no food."

I tried to brush away the tears without waking Seth. When you're four you can sleep anywhere, and Seth was used to sleeping in my arms.

"I can work." I stood up straight and tried to smile. I wasn't very tall, and some would say I was scrawny, but I could work as well as any my age, and better than many. I knew fire and food didn't come without work.

"If you don't make trouble, and help as you can, then they may let you stay for a time. Usually no one would take you, coming from a sick house as you do. But Mrs. Chase has had the pox herself. She's getting better, as Seth is, although she's still weak. Now she's nursing her husband."

I knew cleaning and I knew cooking and what I didn't know I could learn. The teacher at the new brick schoolhouse had said I was quick in learning. I suspected she was right. School learning was the easy kind, though. Learning to please folks was harder.

"I will do what needs to be done." I wished I'd taken the time to rebraid my tangled brown hair so I looked neater. Too late to do that now.

Doc Ames knocked on the door.

The young woman who opened it was very pale. She had probably been pretty a few weeks ago. Now her blond hair hung loosely about her face, perhaps to conceal pox marks that were still healing, like the ones on Seth's back. She held her candlestick out toward Seth and me and then looked at the doctor.

"Mrs. Chase, I've brought you help."

I tried to look taller, and capable. It was hard, with Seth and the quilt tangled in my arms.

"The care of two children is not what I call help, Dr. Ames." Mrs. Chase wrinkled her nose and backed into the hallway of her house. She was wearing a loose white high-waisted muslin gown and shawl that made her look even thinner and paler than she was.

"We need no care but what I can give." My words slipped out as I saw her moving away from us. "I can cook and clean and sew as well. And wash and carry wood and make soap." It was our only chance. She had to take us.

"Shush, Abbie." Doc Ames frowned at me. "Mrs. Chase, you need help with the kitchen and with caring for the captain. Abigail and Seth Chambers here have just lost their ma. Abbie had the pox in the epidemic ten years ago. She won't get it now. She's a good nurse. She helped Seth over the fever. And their ma might have lived if she hadn't been sickly before the pox came."

Mrs. Chase looked at me and at Seth. For a few moments no one said anything. Seth whimpered in his sleep and tried to snuggle closer. The whimpers were as much from hunger as from grief or discomfort. There had been no food for two days. I had given Ma the last of the broth Widow Wink had left on the stairs for us.

Mrs. Chase finally spoke. Her voice was softer this time. "Losing your mother would be hard at any age. And you're right. I could use some help with the captain." Decision made, she turned to the doctor. "Doc Ames, please see if there's anything you can do. His fever's broken some, but the rash has started. His back is hurting him something awful."

Just like Ma had been after five or six days.

She pointed toward the left. "The kitchen's that way. There's enough beef soup on the fire and bread on the table for you and your brother." She turned toward the stairs. "There's bedding in the corner of the kitchen that Jessie used before she ran to her folks. You can use that. After you've eaten, go outside, by the back door — you'll see it — and get some wood from the pile and bring it upstairs. I'll need more logs for the captain's fireplace soon."

She headed up the circling stairs, holding her candlestick high. Doc Ames followed.

He looked back a moment and spoke softly. "It's up to you, Abbie. Each of us makes his own future."

I walked through the room to the left, carrying Seth carefully so we wouldn't touch anything. It was an elegant room, with a polished wood table and chairs. Above a mantelpiece silver candlesticks shone in the red tar barrel light coming through the glass windows.

Captain Chase and his wife had three fireplaces.

One in the kitchen, to be sure, but here was another, unused for now and that I could see was for company, and Mrs. Chase had talked of still another, upstairs in the captain's chamber. It was hard to think of such luxury. We had had no fireplace at all, just the heat from the sides of the chimney that took the hot air from Widow Wink's fire downstairs to the roof above us. She had been kind enough to let us use her kitchen for cooking each morning. But when she was not to home there was no fire and no heat.

The Chases' kitchen was large, and the fire well banked. I put Seth down near the hearth and added a bit of kindling from the pile next to the fireplace. The fire heated up easily enough. I shivered as the warmth entered my outstretched fingers and I realized how cold the rest of my body was. Seth smiled drowsily at the red and yellow flames.

The heavy iron pot on the crane was half full of beef soup. There were even pieces of carrots and potatoes in it. I didn't wait for it to heat more. I ladled some into a pewter porringer and broke off pieces of dark bread from the loaf on the table.

Seth opened his mouth as soon as he saw what I had. I sat next to him on the floor near the fire, spooning the fragrant broth into first his mouth and then my own. When there was no more in the porringer we wiped the bowl with the bread and ate it, every crumb. I cannot imagine anything tasting as good as that soup and bread.

"Seth, we are going to be warm here. We are going to have food. And we will stay together. You must be very good and I must work very hard and we will be all right." I spoke to myself as much as to him. I hugged him tightly and tucked him under the pile of many-colored quilts and woven blankets Jessie had left. I put Ma's eider duck on a small empty pine shelf above the pallet.

I didn't want the captain to wait long for his wood.

As I filled my arms at the woodpile, the bells tolled again. Six rings for a woman. Doc Ames must have told Mr. Webber about Ma.

The bells were still ringing when I reached the captain's bedchamber. It takes many minutes to toll a lifetime.

Copyright © 2001 by Lea Wait

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Customer Reviews

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Sort by: Showing all of 8 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 1, 2007

    i read this for school

    i thought this was good and made me relize what was important in life but usually i hate historic books

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 24, 2003

    Wonderful story & characters for 8 and up!

    I bought this book for my daughter, who is 10 -- she loved it -- and so did her 15 year old sister. It has just the right mixture of history and humor and a gutsy heroine ... definitely a winner.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 2, 2003

    Wonderful for all ages!

    Stopping to Home is suppposed to be for children, but I'm a grandfather and thoroughly enjoyed it. Vivid characters, a wonderful plot in which imaginative Abbie find solutions to adult problems, and a peek at early New England life. Recommended for ALL ages!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 11, 2003

    Like 'Little House on the Prairie,' set in Maine!

    I love books about old times, and this was one of the best I've read. Abbie and Seth are really great characters, and I really liked all the details about living in Maine in 1806. The ending was so happy I cried a little bit -- and then I sat and imagined what happened to Abbie and Seth AFTER the book was over! I wish Lea Wait would write another book like this one!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 17, 2003

    Wonderful book for moms and daughters to read together!

    I try to find books for our mother/daughter book club, and Stopping to Home was perfect! Lots of details that mothers loved, and a story that the girls could relate to. Provoked some interesting discussions of what girls were expected to do in the early 19th century! Check it out if you're looking for a book to share ...

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 26, 2001

    Best book I have ever read !!

    The book was heartwarming and brought a tear to my eye, I enjoyed every page of this book from cover to cover. Look forward to reading more books by Lea Wait.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 27, 2001

    Historical Novelist, Mystery Writer to Watch For

    Lea Wait, who lives across the river from Wiscasset, Maine, where her first historical novel is set, is a force to be reckoned with in the world of young adult books. Not only that, but in addition to more titles coming in that field, Wait has an adult mystery in the works, to be published soon. 'Stopping To Home' is a splendid first novel. Wait's research is careful and not obvious, but it puts you squarely in the early 19th century world of two orphans, whose mother has died of smallpox. Will a young widow take them into her household, even if she doesn't know how she'll support herself any more? We can be sure that young Abbie will figure out a way to help the widow, and to give her 5-year-old brother a feeling of home and family. Wait's sense of place is excellent, and the reader is hooked in this world right away. We anxiously await more books from Lea Wait in the young adult historical novel field, as well as her forthcoming adult mystery series. Wait is clearly one excellent writer to turn to as an antidote to some of the insipid authors being published today. Keep her name in mind!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 12, 2001

    Wonderful historical novel.

    It's 1806 in the small village of Wiscasset, Maine, and eleven-year-old Abbie Chambers and her four-year-old brother, Seth, are on their own. Their mother has just died, and they haven't heard from their father, a sailor, in years. Abbie takes a position helping the young wife of Captain Chase, an ailing sea captain, on the condition that her brother be given a home there as well, so that he will not have to be sent to an orphanage. When the sea captain dies, the Widow Chase is left alone with no income and a baby on the way. Abbie and Seth are dependent on Widow Chase, but in a way, she is dependent on them, too. This was a heartwarming historical novel about a girl's struggle after her mother's death to keep her brother with her against all odds. I highly reccomend this book.

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