River

Chapter 1

July 1811, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Lydia

Coming out of the house, I stretch out my back before continuing down the hill to the shipyard along the Monongahela river. Rosetta was fussier than usual while trying to get her settled down for her afternoon nap. I had to take over rocking her from the nursemaid, until she finally drifted off to sleep. She’s a year and a half old now, an extremely active and willful toddler. I hope she isn’t going to give up napping, because the afternoons are the only time that I get to focus on working at the shipyard.

I look over the activity along the riverbank as I approach, holding the basket containing our lunch. Men are engaged with all the different aspects of the steamboat construction, as busy as ants moving over the area.

I see Nicholas on the other side of the yard, next to the growing structure of the steamboat. It is starting to take shape, seeming more real every day. The keel has been built, and the wooden planks steamed and bent alongside to comprise the frame of the vessel. The steam engine itself has finally started to arrive, in pieces transported by wagon over the mountains from New York. It will be installed inside the hull before the deck can be built. Eventually, the two masts will be erected, made from the huge logs waiting nearby that were finally located in the nearby forests. The two paddle wheels, one for either side of the boat, are being constructed separately and will be added once the primary form of the vessel has been completed. Our plans are being realized, with our hard work and the funds of our investors.

Poor Nicholas is probably starving, since I am so late after lingering with our headstrong baby. I wonder if the one I’m carrying now will be any less stubborn. I guess I’ll find out in a few months.

He looks up and sees me approaching with his lunch. He stops what he is doing at once to come over and greet me. “Hello darling,” he says, taking the basket with one hand while reaching behind my head with the other. He brings my face closer for a kiss, then puts his arm around me, leading me to the bench where we normally eat lunch. “I’m very glad to see you.” I look at him as we sit down, adoring his handsome face, with the creases around his eyes deepening as he smiles down at me, framed by his graying temples.

“I’ll bet you are,” I laugh, “you were probably wondering whether your lunch would ever arrive.”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he sets the basket on the bench between us. “I think I can guess the reason for the delay? A certain red-headed little girl?”

“Obviously. She will only take her nap if everything is exactly to her liking. She is very obstinate.”

He guffaws. “I can’t imagine where she got that from!”

“Well, ‘Obstinate’ is my middle name,” I reply. “Here, eat this before you faint from hunger."

He laughs again.

We enjoy a pleasant few minutes together, sitting on the bench and chatting while we watch the workers go about their tasks. Soon, he returns to his duties, and I move into the small office that we keep at the shipyard, to attend to mine.

The books and ledgers are right where I left them yesterday, with a pile of recently received mail nearby that needs to be opened and answered. I start with the ledgers, entering the information about our expenditures for payroll and supplies, totaling up columns of figures, determining whether we will need to withdraw additional funding from our primary investor’s account at the bank in Pittsburgh. I am using his accounting methods, which he demonstrated when he visited us a couple of months ago. Gregor made himself useful not just with his investment, but with his knowledge and even his manual labor. We both wished that he could have stayed longer.

When I finish with the books, I turn to the stack of correspondence. I sort through the bills and invoices, and find letters from both Robert Fulton and Gregor Slavson. Eagerly, first I open Gregor’s, wanting to hear how his journey home went, and how things are going in Natchez as he prepares the Mississippi town for the arrival of our steamboat. I see his careful and elegant script filling up the page. Before I read it, I glance out the door of the little office to see if Nicholas is nearby, because I know he will want to hear it as well. We both grew very fond of Gregor during the two weeks that he was here. I’m glad to see my husband just a short distance away.

“Nick!” I call out to him. He looks up, inquiringly. “We have a letter from Gregor. Want to hear it?”

He returns to me at once. We settle back down on our lunch bench together, in the shade that our little office building casts over it in the afternoons. He watches me expectantly. I unfold the letter with a flourish, and begin to read aloud.

“‘My Dearest Mr. and Mrs. Roosevelt,’ he begins,” I tell Nicholas with a grin, trying to imitate Gregor’s unusual eastern European accent. He laughs and waves his hand over to the letter so that I will proceed. “‘I write to inform you of my successful return to Natchez, after a journey of some five weeks. The weather was better returning than it had been on the road to Pittsburgh, and my horse Issoba and I were able to return home without any noteworthy incidents.’”

“So far, so good,” Nicholas says when I pause.

I rattle the paper in my hand importantly. “To proceed: ‘The most significant thing that occurred during my journey home was that I spent a great deal of time following your mutual advice, and thought deeply about your suggestion that I find a way to best secure my own happiness.’”

“Ah-ha!” Nicholas says, delightedly. “Go on!”

“‘I concluded that there was only one feasible way to do so, and therefore acting upon your advice, upon my return I at once proposed to the wonderful woman whom you had so astutely realized I was missing while I was in Pittsburgh.’”

“Ha!” Nicholas exclaims, leaning forward with anticipation. “And?”

“‘I am delighted to share that Rosalind’ - apparently her name is Rosalind - ‘accepted my proposal after I undertook certain tasks to persuade her,’ - I wonder what he means by that? - ‘and we were married at the local Methodist chapel this Thursday last.’”

Nicholas whoops with glee. “Already! Gregor certainly does not waste time, does he?”

I grin and continue. “‘We are now a happily married couple, living at the home I have acquired for us in Natchez (see return address), and I am most grateful to the both of you for encouraging me to discover what I was too blind to see for myself.’”

Nicholas enthusiastically embraces me, somewhat crushing the letter still in my hand, and says, “Young love! What could be better!”

“There’s more,” I tell him once he finally releases me, and continue reading aloud. “‘I did receive upon my return the two letters that you had written to me while I was traveling to Pittsburgh, but as we discussed the contents thereof while I was visiting you last month, I do not feel the need to respond to them directly. For now, I will continue working on our joint project from my end. I will shortly begin to undertake improvements to the docks here in order to accommodate the steamboat traffic. I eagerly anticipate hearing back from you, and receiving updates about how the construction is going. Do not hesitate to draw any funds necessary from my account. When you arrive in Natchez with the steamboat later this year, Rosalind and I would very much like to host you in our home for a meal, or for as many nights as you are able to stay.’” I grin up at him before continuing. “The letter finishes with, ‘My love to little Rosetta. I look forward to my Rosy meeting yours.’”