Sally sighed and turned her back to Molly.
“Don’t be angry,” she begged. “I was just surprised is all. You know that I love you, don’t you?” Molly threw her arm over Sally’s side and pressed up against her, making spoons. Sally took Molly’s hand and kissed each finger.
“That’s my dearheart.” Molly sighed with relief.
“Shhhhh,” said Sally as she took her friend’s hand and led it back under the covers, under her shift, to her need.
Molly kept her eyes closed and let her friend do what she wanted. Feeling Sally pant and gasp, Molly felt an odd pressure between her legs, and an urgency to go somewhere, though she didn’t quite know where. Finally, Sally sighed, let go of her hand, and fell asleep.
Molly rolled to her back and stared up at the ceiling, happy and frightened and suddenly resolved. She didn’t know what to think about what they’d done, nor how to speak of it, but it had changed something between her and Sally, and she couldn’t remember when she’d been so happy.
She would never again suggest that they leave the quiet of Dogtown for Portsmouth or anywhere else.
Molly dozed off, too, waking up to the sound of Mrs.
Stanley’s return. She leapt to her feet, afraid that the madam would be able to tell that something had happened in her absence, terrified that she would send the two of them packing.
But Molly had no cause to worry. Mrs. Stanley paid little attention to anything that did not directly touch upon her own needs and comforts. Once Sammy left, Sally and Molly had the whole of the front room to themselves and looked forward to long winter nights when business was dead and they could bundle without fear of discovery, warm and
150
DOGTOWN FINAL PAGES 27/9/06 2:07 PM Page 151
The L A S T D AY S of D O G TOW N
content in each other’s arms. In truth, there was no one on earth who cared what Sally and Molly did, which suited them just fine.
151
DOGTOWN FINAL PAGES 27/9/06 2:07 PM Page 152
Oliver Younger’s Heart
The courtship of Oliver Younger and Polly
Boynton began on the day he brought John
Stanwood to yank out two of Tammy’s rotten
teeth. Oliver was fourteen at the time, and though he’d gotten his height, his voice was still changing and he was far too shy to look Polly square in the eye as she stood, half hidden, in the doorway of her father’s house.
She had retreated to Dogtown, planning to remain a widow the rest of her days, but Oliver’s visits seemed harmless and she appreciated having a little bit of company besides her father. He found a hundred reasons to stop “on his way” from one place to another, and he always brought her a gift: a bucket of clams, fistfuls of lilacs or bittersweet, or at least a few sticks of kindling.
While he was there, Oliver fixed broken clapboards, carried water, pulled weeds from the kitchen garden, and whittled a new walking stick for Mr. Wharf. In exchange for his help, Polly insisted upon washing and mending his clothes.
Sundays became their regular day together. Polly stopped walking to church so she could stay with her father, who claimed that his swollen knees would carry him no farther than Easter’s place. Oliver would appear
152
DOGTOWN FINAL PAGES 27/9/06 2:07 PM Page 153
The L A S T D AY S of D O G TOW N
midmorning—as clean and combed as he could manage—
and drink a pot of tea with father and daughter. He would bring whatever news he had from Tammy or from town and then spend the better part of an hour while Mr. Wharf dissected the weather as though it might contain the secrets of the universe. “Rain this early is usually a good sign,” said Mr. Wharf and Oliver agreed heartily, though he didn’t quite know why that should be so.
Polly would prepare the Sunday meal while the men talked, serving apologies alongside the burned fish and gummy bread. Oliver protested that it was the most delicious food he’d ever tasted.