Luck and Love in 1902

By Jody Gorran

Everyone could use a little luck!

 

Do you think you have life figured out, as Ethan and Alice did? They believed they had their futures planned until reality got in the way. But little did they know that fate had something else in store for them. Sailing to Saint-Pierre Martinique in 1902, Ethan and Alice's paths finally cross, and their lives are forever changed. The lush tropical setting of Saint-Pierre becomes the backdrop for an incredible adventure filled with beauty, mystery, deceit, romance, and danger.

 

As they explore the island paradise, they soon realize that all is not as it seems. Secrets lurk beneath the surface, including betrayal and murder. And as they discover, these hidden secrets are just a part of the dangers they face. Will their growing attraction be enough to overcome the obstacles that threaten them?

In this historical romance novella, luck plays a pivotal role as one door closes, and another opens for each of them. But as they grow closer together, events conspire to tear them apart. And when a catastrophic event strikes, who will survive? Will luck be on their side?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jody Gorran
• Release date: Sep 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798991198103

Book preview

Prologue

The early spring of 1902 at Saint-Pierre, Martinique, painted a vibrant scene by the bay, with the backdrop of the imposing Mount Pelee, a beautiful yet sad reminder of nature’s unpredictable temper. The air was filled with a salty breeze that carried the distant call of seabirds and the gentle clinking of rigging against the masts. A flurry of activity dominated the shoreline where stevedores, muscular and glistening with sweat under the tropical sun, were busily loading rum barrels and large crates onto small boats. These barrels and crates were destined for the steamer Roraima, a proud vessel of the Quebec Line anchored in the bay, its white and black accented hull bobbing gently on the turquoise waters.

Amidst the controlled chaos, Amos Scott, a young man of 18, and his father, First Mate Ellery S. Scott, stood on the deck of the Roraima, overseeing the loading process. Ellery, seasoned by his time at sea and his son who was relatively new to it, shared the look of mariners, their faces etched with lines of hard work and sun exposure. As a sailor, Amos showed a keen interest in the proceedings and occasionally pointed towards a particularly heavy crate being expertly maneuvered by the stevedores.

Ellery, with his more authoritative stance, kept a close watch, ensuring the cargo was correctly handled; his eyes occasionally drifted towards the looming silhouette of Mount Pelee.

Look at her, Amos, Ellery remarked in a tone mixing awe and apprehension as he nodded toward the mountain. She’s quiet now, but more than a hundred years ago, it must have been a sight when she blew. That’s what the locals have told me. It makes you respect the power beneath our feet."

Amos nodded, his eyes tracing the contours of the volcanic peak. Do you think she’s done, or is it just a breather? he asked, a slight edge of concern in his voice.

That’s the nature of these beasts; unpredictable, Ellery responded, gazing at the workers below. We best be on our way soon. I don’t want to be around if she decides to wake again," he said with a wink.

Their conversation was punctuated by the shouts of the stevedores and the occasional thud of a rum barrel settling into its place in the hold. The urgency of their departure hung over them as they prepared for the journey to New York, always eager to put a safe distance between themselves and what they saw as the temperamental mountain.

As the last of the rum was secured and the final checks were made, the Roraima’s engines began to rumble to life, signaling the imminent voyage. Father and son shared a brief, understanding glance - a mixture of anticipation and relief. With a sharp whistle and a wave from Ellery, the steamer slowly started to pull away from the bay; the shores of Martinique receded into the distance as they headed north towards the bustling port of New York, leaving the shadow of Mount Pelee behind.

At the same time, a young man who lived sixty miles from New York believed he had his whole future mapped out. He thought about his life and contemplated making a decision.

Chapter

One

M y name is Ethan Woodward. I was born in 1876, the year of our country’s centennial. I grew up in Hopewell, a small New Jersey village about 10 miles northeast of Trenton, our state capital. My father, Joshua, a pleasant man of English stock, publishes the local newspaper, the Hopewell Herald. I was just seven when I was given my first job sweeping the floor. My mother, Nicole, a French-Canadian, taught me to speak French at age eight. I traveled just twenty miles to New Brunswick for higher education, where I studied English at Rutgers College on the banks of the old Raritan. I graduated in 1897 and immediately commenced my new career as editor of the Hopewell Herald alongside my father. It’s 1902, and my life is on the right track. And then I have Jenny, dear sweet Jenny. I am a very lucky man.

Inside the kitchen of the Woodward home, Ethan, almost 26 and tall and handsome, was seated at the kitchen table with his father, Joshua Woodward, a 54-year-old tall, rugged, well-built man. Ethan’s mother, Nicole Woodward, a 45-year-old petite brunette, attractive woman, was fixing breakfast.

It’s Spring, and I have an important announcement! Ethan declared.

Ethan, don’t keep your mother and me in suspense. Tell us! urged Joshua, his interest piqued.

Ethan stood up, feeling significant at the moment. Well, there comes a time when a grown man has to do what a grown man has to do.

And that would be...? Nicole prompted, looking over at him with curiosity.

And that would be that it’s time I got married, Ethan announced confidently.

Joshua stood up and proudly shook Ethan’s hand. Congratulations, son! That’s wonderful news, he exclaimed, a broad smile spreading across his face.

A wedding! I love weddings! Have you and Jenny set a date? Nicole asked, her excitement evident.

Not exactly. I haven’t actually asked her to marry me yet, Ethan admitted, a slight nervousness creeping into his voice.

You haven’t asked her yet? So it’s not official, Joshua noted, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

It’s really a good idea for you to ask her first. You are going to ask her, right? Nicole added, a hint of concern in her tone.

Well, of course, I’m going to ask her. But we’ve been sweethearts since we were children, and I’ve been officially courting her for six years. I mean, we’ve planned out our whole life, Ethan explained, his voice filled with conviction.

Well, as long as you’re both in agreement, Joshua said, his tone reflecting a mix of amusement and support.

Of course. Jenny finished her studies at the State Normal School and began teaching at Hopewell Elementary. I’ve worked and saved my money so we could afford to get married and set up our household here in Hopewell. Jenny will now quit teaching and stay at home, and we’ll have lots of kids. So you see, we have it all planned out, Ethan elaborated, detailing their plans with a sense of pride.

Joshua and Nicole exchanged a look, shared parental approval, and had a happy moment. Now that sounds just fine, as long as you’re both singing from the same hymnal, Nicole finally said, her voice warm with affection and agreement.

Later in the day, on the streets of Hopewell, Ethan and Jenny Fuller, a 21-year-old attractive redhead and his fiancée, walked together, reveling in the spirit of their time.

Isn’t this a great time to be alive? Jenny exclaimed, her face alight with enthusiasm.

Well, sure it is! This is quite an age we live in, Ethan agreed, his eyes scanning the familiar scenes of their village.

I mean for a woman, Jenny clarified, drawing Ethan’s attention more closely.

Oh, yes, Ethan responded, pausing momentarily, his expression slightly confused. It certainly is.

Jenny, encouraged by the subject, pressed on. Just fifty years ago, at the time of the first Woman’s Rights Convention at Seneca Falls, New York, an educated woman was a rarity and was gazed upon with something akin to awe. Such was the helpless, dependent, fettered condition of women.

Ethan nodded, acknowledging her point. Well, women have made great strides. Someday, you may even get the vote.

Today, every trade, vocation, and profession is open to women, and we now have every opportunity at our command to prepare ourselves to follow these occupations, Jenny said with conviction, her eyes sparkling with visions of possibility.

That is true if you are inclined towards that sort of life, Ethan replied, indicating he hadn’t fully considered this perspective.

The girls and the boys of a family now fit themselves for such careers as their tastes and abilities permit. A woman is no longer compelled to marry for support, but may herself make her own home and earn her financial independence, Jenny explained, her voice strong and clear.

I understand that, but if two people love each other and the plan is to get married and the woman stays home and has babies, there’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Ethan asked, seeking reassurance.

No, there’s nothing wrong with that if the woman is ready to choose that path, Jenny conceded, her tone soft yet firm.

Jenny, you sound like one of those Susan Bees. Why haven’t I heard this before? Ethan questioned; his curiosity aroused.

Perhaps because you just haven’t taken the time to listen or ask because you assume you know everything about me. Well, in my heart, I’ve always looked up to Susan B. Anthony, Jenny confessed, her admiration for the suffragette evident.

Jenny, I love you. I want to marry you, just as we planned. Let’s set a date, Ethan proposed, his voice filled with hope and affection.

Yes, Ethan, I know. And you want me to quit working and stay home and have babies. And you want us to live the rest of our lives in Hopewell, Jenny responded, her words carrying a weight of unspoken thoughts.

Well, er, yes! Isn’t that what we’ve always planned? Ethan asked, his expression beginning to cloud.

That’s what you’ve planned. Susan B. Anthony says that the greatest necessity is for the body of women to take possession and hold the ground that has been gained. It is not sufficient for women to fill positions as well as men; they must give vastly better satisfaction to prove their claims. And I don’t think I can do that by staying in Hopewell, Jenny explained, her resolve hardening.

What do you mean ‘staying in Hopewell’? I’m the editor of the Hopewell Herald, a partner with my father, and a newspaperman at the top of my profession. We planned to make our lives together in Hopewell! Ethan protested, his voice rising with emotion.

"Ethan, I care greatly for you, and maybe I, too, shared