“Yes,” she mumbled. “I must talk to Becky.” She rose from her seat and began to pace, wondering if she was making the right decision. No. The decision was made. She wanted this with the captain. And knew, like she knew nothing else in her life, that he might know what to do, but how would she hide the fact that she’d never slept with her husband? “Mr. Watkins, I believe I will pay my friend a visit, if you don’t mind. I hope I can get a few minutes alone with her before she starts preparing for her dinner customers.”
Twenty minutes later Mary-Michael pushed open the door to the kitchen at Becky’s tavern, and found her friend standing in front of the long wooden table cutting vegetables, while two other women cleaned feathers from several chicken carcasses near the wash basin.
Becky smile
