tides of new shores

      Emmett couldn't describe how grateful he was when his feet landed on solid ground. Over a month on sea left him aching for corridors that didn't feel like they were moving around you. He witnessed passengers around him experience what the crew referred to as sea legs, and he assisted the ones that were wobbling and waddling beside him. It took a while for Emmett to retrieve his luggage. Once he did, he flagged down a coach and asked to be taken to nearby lodgings.

The streets of New York were uneven — and Emmett was reminded of the ship once again — but the views were almost breathtaking. He expected the tall buildings to be ominous and foreboding, but they were welcoming. After having nothing but salty sea air to inhale, and the ship's latrine system if it was clogging, the smoggy atmosphere was appreciated; it reminded him so much of London. Emmett — without even reaching his actual destination yet — vowed to return to New York one day.

The coach was kind enough to help him carry his luggage into the foyer of the street inn. When the manager of the building wrote down his name, he looked up over the rim of his half moon glasses.

"Wright?"

Emmett nodded. "With a W."

The manager made a face, looking like he was about to argue that he knew how to spell a common surname, but he decided to bite that back. Instead, he put the pen down and turned to the cubby holes behind the desk. The old man's finger hovered over the different spaces before finally reaching into one. He pulled out an envelope and opened it with an extremely thin letter opener. He took out a letter — that he didn't unfold — a card, and a few bills that Emmett recognized as American currency. The man handed Emmett the letter and kept the card and the money.

Furrowing his brows, he put down the bag he was still carrying in order to unfold the letter and hold it open with both hands. The further he read the letter, the more his eyes widened.

Dear Emmett,

If you hired a coach to move you into an overnight room before coming to Massachusetts, chances are it would be this old inn this letter will be waiting at.

Inside the letter is the payment for your lodgings, enough for one night, and a card instructing the manager to give the letter directly to you.

I hope you sleep well, and I anticipate your arrival for the following day.

The letter was signed by old Mr. Laurence himself, and Emmett was baffled; he was prepared to find an inn and pay for a room himself, but this retired colleague of his father's was clearly still sharp for his age since he found Emmett without really needing to — and without trying.

     Emmett couldn't help but be amused. He made sure to remember to pay Mr. Laurence back. Gathering his things, he dragged himself to the room he'd be staying in.

"If you ever decide to stay in New York," said the employee that helped with his bags, "there are boarding houses better suited for it. That is, if you don't mind cleaning up after yourself."

Emmett gave a smile. "I don't mind. Thanks for the tip." With that, he gave the employee a tip in return, and put everything to one side.

Laying still in the bed felt impossible, for it felt as though his stomach was still sloshing around like the waves had been against the ship. Emmett was uncomfortable and queasy all night, begging for the day to come.

* * *

"You don't look so good," said the coach, eyeing Emmett.

"I promise I won't be sick in your carriage," Emmett stated, watching the inn men hoist his luggage onto the top of the carriage. He turned to see the coach giving him a skeptical look. "I already, er, relieved myself in the morning. There's no chance of having any more . . . relief."

The coach shrugged. "Well, it'll be more your problem than mine anyway. We have a long journey ahead, a few hours under a day to Concord." He gave Emmett another once over. "You'll be fine." The coach then unceremoniously pulled himself into the front seat, leaving Emmett to grit his teeth, don his hat, and force himself into the carriage. The carriage lurched into mobility, sending Emmett through a roll of nausea before he could calm himself down again.

      Taking deep, even breaths, Emmett pulled out items from his coat pocket. The items included a few papers with minimal descriptions of stories he'd tell his brother, a wooden carving of a rabbit Charlie made, and a blue silk ribbon from a pair of his mother's gloves. She had long lost one of the gloves, and she had given the remaining one to Emmett. He didn't really know why she did. Either way, when Charlie had given him the wooden rabbit, the glove had since gotten old, except for the ribbon. He pulled the ribbon off of the glove and tied it around the rabbit's neck like a makeshift collar. It became a good luck charm for him, he always had it in his pocket during school exams and sporting events. As his mother and brother left the world, Emmett decided to keep it in his pocket forever. Emmett wanted some way of always having them with him.

The journey was uncomfortable, and Emmett found himself consistently rubbing his thumb over the rabbit to ease his nerves. It reached a point where he started humming a lullaby his mother always sang to him and Charlie, and the more discomfort he felt, the louder the humming got.

"What's that song?"

Emmett stopped humming, and he was grateful the coach couldn't see his cheeks flush red with embarrassment. He hadn't realized just how loud the humming had gotten.

"It's a lullaby," Emmett shouted back. "It's probably the only song I know besides Christmas carols."

"It sounded familiar."

This confused Emmett; it was a traditional English lullaby, and although America originally consisted of British migrants, he didn't think it would become popular in American homes.

"Do you know Lavender's Blue?"

The coach harrumphed. "Never mind, I have no idea what that is."

Emmett nodded, even though the coach couldn't see him.

"By the way, we're reaching the Laurence house soon."

Shocked, Emmett looked out the window to see a great big house looming up ahead. It didn't look all that inviting. Emmett had met Mr. Laurence only a few times, and from what he remembered the man was very warm and kind. He wasn't sure as to what made the estate seem so cold now.

The carriage was stopped, and the coach helped Emmett take his things down. As Emmett watched the coach bring down the last bag, he heard shouting in the distance. Emmett looked across the way from the Laurence house, around the side of the carriage. He spotted four young women making their way to a humble dwelling.

"Slow down, Jo!" one of them cried, trying her best to keep up with the tallest one. She had another — who appeared to be one of the younger ones — giggling as she hooked their arms together.

"Show off!" another of the youngest ones — with hair trimmed neatly above her eyebrows — shouted.

The tall one turned to face the three behind her, walking backwards now and obviously not caring for her skirts. "You think walking faster than you snails is showing off? Watch this!" She turned back around, gathering up her skirts as best as she could, and sprinted for the house. The quietest one cheered her on while the one with interesting hair and the modest one yelled at her to stop.

Emmett unconsciously took a few steps closer, hoping he wasn't about to witness a horrible fall. As the tall one reached the fence, she shot out an arm, grabbed a picket, and leapt over the fence, now rushing for the front door. Emmett's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as the other three girls started running, most likely to check on the state of their companion.

He heard a throat cleared behind him. Emmett jumped and turned, realizing he had completely forgotten about the coach.

"Right! Sorry," he said, fishing out the fare for the carriage from his pocket. "Thank you, sir."

The coach took the money and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "It looks like one of the house workers is on their way to help with your bags. I hope you like it in Massachusetts."

Emmett nodded. "Thank you again. And have a safe journey."

They tipped their hats to each other, and Emmett watched the coach ride the carriage away. When he looked back at the house across the way, the women were safely inside. He sighed in relief, turning around to spot the worker the coach mentioned. Together, he and Emmett hauled the luggage into the house. The worker told Emmett his bags would be taken to his room. Before he could object and say he'll take them instead, a voice boomed from the foyer.

"Emmett Wright."

Emmett looked up and removed his hat. "Good afternoon, Mr. Laurence."

"The last time I saw you, you were much scrawnier. I thought it was a sign of mischief, since my own grandson is still scrawny, and still mischievous." Mr. Laurence approached Emmett, holding out his hand. Emmett took it firmly, giving it a good shake. "I wish you were here under happier circumstances, but I'm glad to have you here regardless."

"I'm happy you could take me in on such short notice."

"Anything for a colleague of mine. Your father was one of the more promising young men I had the privilege of working with. How does he fair now, with the business?"

Emmett pulled on a mask of neutrality. "Better. He's much higher in the ranks since you were last there."

"Glad to hear it."

"You do realize I heard what you said, don't you grandfather?"

Emmett looked up. Sure enough, it was Theodore Laurence, the scrawny, mischievous grandson Mr. Laurence just spoke of. He was slouching where he stood, his hands in pockets. Emmett got the sense that he had something to do with the gloom of the estate.

Mr. Laurence scoffed at him. "Don't be so rude in front of our new tenant. Do you remember Arthur Wright?"

The grandson made a face, and Emmett couldn't help but internally agree with the expression.

"Should I?" is what he said, but the face said he definitely remembered, and he didn't like the memory.

Mr. Laurence shrugged. "You're probably right, you've only met him once." He turned back to Emmett. "Forgive him, it hasn't been the easiest of adjustments for Laurie to be here instead of school."

"It was awful there," Laurie added, picking at something on the wall absently.

"Regardless, his studies will continue at home, his tutor will be arriving shortly after the holidays." Then Mr. Laurence perked up. "Speaking of, I know your journey must have been tiring, but —"

"Grandfather?" Laurie said sternly.

"Would you mind accompanying Laurie to a New Years Eve ball tonight?"

Laurie groaned. "I already told you, I don't wish to attend."

"That's only because you didn't want to go alone."

"I don't mind going alone, but nobody talks to me."

"Emmett is very social."

"Good for Emmett! How does that help me?"

"You can observe and mimic him."

"Yes, I'm sure Emmett would love to have a parrot as his companion to a New Year's Eve ball."

"I don't mind going," both Laurence men were silenced as they turned to see Emmett, "as long as I'm allowed to rest beforehand."

Laurie straightened and scoffed. "You'll go?"

Emmett shrugged.

Mr. Laurence brightened. "Of course you can rest! Laurie will show you to your room, and I'll have someone wake you in time to get ready for the ball."

Laurie walked past Emmett and gestured his head for him to follow. As Emmett caught up, Laurie shot him a look over his shoulder.

"What makes you want to go to this? You really don't have to for my sake."

"It may surprise you, but I'm actually going for my sake."

Laurie slowed enough to be walking beside Emmett now, a smirk on his lips. "Oh? Are you interested in American dames, Mr. Wright?"

Emmett scoffed. "I wouldn't mind having a dance with a woman, but I just . . . something tells me I wouldn't want to get used to staying in the house all the time. I might as well force myself to socialize."

Laurie nodded. "That's understandable. Even though I purposely left school, I felt the same way when I decided to get a tutor here. At least there's still stuff to do in town."

Emmett nodded.

"Hey, my granddad and I may bicker, but we get along for the most part. I hope — if nothing else — we can at least get along, too."

Emmett smiled. "Me too."

Laurie smiled back before skipping up to a door. "Here you are, your luxurious quarters for the few hours before getting back out into the cold air and having to dance it off."

Emmett chuckled. "So welcoming."

"Indeed."

The young men agreed to meet in the front foyer before leaving for the ball, and Emmett settled into the bed after removing his shoes and a few layers. He looked at his bags against one wall, and then the ceiling, and then the open wardrobe, that waited empty and ready to be filled. The whole room, in fact, looked ready to be lived in.

Emmett genuinely hoped he'd be the right occupant for it.

***

Quick A/N: I would've had this up much sooner, but I had assignments due back to back for two weeks straight. I'm already working on the next chapter, and hopefully it'll be up sooner than this one. Thanks for sticking with me, and please comment your thoughts and reactions!