A Preacher and His Wife

Chapter Nine

We found a post office with little trouble and Grace folded and sealed her letter and wrote on it her father's name and address and went to pay the post worker.

I did not know how much money her father had given her, but I knew it could not have been a great sum. I insisted on paying for it myself and was shocked by the cost. Nearly eight times the price of sending a letter back in Ireland. It was travelling much further, so this was sensical in a way, still, I was stunned.

I also had a shopping list from Mr. Ryan, detailing what I would need sustenance-wise on the road as well as a few items which would be much less expensive to purchase in the new world than back in Ireland. Grace was most helpful with this.

She knew how to speak to the shopkeepers so as to have them lower their price or offer a second item for much less.

"If we were to buy two, how much would each be then?" she would ask.

To my surprise, they would name a lower price. When she seemed to think the cost was fair she would look to me for my approval before agreeing. This stroked my pride far more than I cared to admit.

It seemed every person in the city spoke a different language and sometimes random strangers would stop and speak the word the shopkeeper was trying to find, or listen to what Grace was saying and speak to the shopkeeper on her behalf. And there was nothing to do but trust the stranger even though there was no way of knowing if our meaning had actually come across.

In addition, it was difficult to gauge the actual value of things given that several currencies were used. I made sure to get rid of the playing card I had left because I was still not altogether sure that it was actual money. The grocer took it from me without thinking twice.

As we were leaving Quebec, we saw the Murphys once more. They were too far away to speak to, but the children piled up in the back of the cart waved to us and Grace waved back. The Murphy's were heading North.

Grace cried a little when they were out of sight and she turned to look forward again. She saw me notice this and set her face firm and apologized.

"Forgive me, Mr. Moore, I am not so good with goodbyes."

I was not bothered in the least. In truth, I also felt a little sadder than I had expected, for although I had despised Mr. Murphy upon first seeing him, I no longer disliked him so much. I could not tell how much of my sadness came from the idea of being alone without people I could turn to for guidance or help and how much of it had to do with the man himself.

The road was far rougher than those back in Ireland. Within Quebec City, the streets were cobbled, but the moment the cart moved passed the last home the road was dirt.

I thought back to something Grace had said to the Murphy's when we parted. "Make sure before you settle in a town that you ask after the doctor and you see to it that the man has had at least five years apprenticeship in one of the more developed countries."

Mr. Murphy asked her about this and she said that her father told her that there was a shortage of doctors in the new world and that many towns had no man capable of medicine and that some towns had appointed a man to study and learn of being a doctor but with no one to teach them, they likely would not be of much use. Seeing as the Murphys had so many little ones, Grace did not want them to settle somewhere without a skilled doctor.

It was clear the Murphys had not thought of such a thing and were grateful to Grace for bringing it up.

"Are there really fake doctors with no practice?" I asked her.