by Walsh, Dan
“Well, he ain’t really missing, now, is he?” Maylor said. “Cap’n gave him till we’re ready to shove off.” Maylor turned toward Joel. “Anything you can tell me, sir? I’m first mate.”
“I really need to speak with the captain. Micah has been hurt, pretty badly.” The look on both men’s faces registered instant concern.
“He gonna be all right?” the younger one asked.
“Can I please come aboard?”
“Suppose so,” said Maylor.
Joel walked up the gangway and was led across the deck through a darkened doorway. He ducked his head and stepped inside. A knock on the door.
“It’s me, Captain,” Maylor said through the door.
“Mr. Maylor, I told you I want to be left alone. I’ve got to sort all this out.”
“Sorry, sir. There’s a man out here, a proper gentleman. Says he’s got word about Micah. Got hurt bad somehow.”
Silence for a few moments, then footsteps. The door opened, and a large man stood in the doorway. “Want to talk in here or on deck?”
“Wherever you prefer, Captain. I won’t take but a minute of your time.”
“On deck then. Too hot in here, no breeze today.”
The three men walked outside. “Let’s talk up here,” the captain said. “You come too,” he said to Maylor.
They stood near the bow. “You said Micah got hurt?”
“Pretty badly, in fact.”
“What happened?”
Joel began to tell them about Maul’s attack. The more he spoke, the greater their rage. Halfway through, he had to stop and reassure them how the story ended. Both men were ready to leave that moment and go after Maul.
“So where’s Micah now?” Captain Meade asked.
“In my parents’ home. But the thing is, the doctor said he can’t be moved, his wounds are too severe.”
“Where’s he hurt?”
“Right here.” Joel drew a line across his shoulder. “The doctor stitched him up last night and said he will eventually heal. But I’m told you’re planning to leave this afternoon.”
“Can’t now,” Meade said. “I need to leave as soon as we can, but . . .” He looked toward the steamship office building. “Those men in there. God’ll judge them, I know that much.”
Joel didn’t know what he meant.
“After all I’ve done to rescue these women and children, bring them all the way up here.”
“Are you saying they won’t reimburse you?” asked Joel. It seemed hard to fathom, but he knew a bit about corporate greed.
“Paid me for the supplies but nothing for all my lost days and nothing to repair my ship. Look at it.”
Joel followed his eyes but knew nothing about sailing ships.
“They said they’re not responsible for all this damage, the storm is. What kind of attitude is that, after all we did for them?”
Joel thought he understood the steamship company’s point of view. The storm damage wasn’t their responsibility. They could have taken the high road and offered to help the poor man, but they had just lost a major ship. Not to mention a hull full of gold. Then there certainly would be an investigation, claims to be paid out to the officers’ families, and—stop it! What was he thinking? He sounded just like his father.
“Gonna cost me at least a thousand dollars,” the captain said, “get her seaworthy again.”
“When do you think you’ll be ready to leave?” Joel asked.
“Probably take me a day or two to drum up enough business to fill my hold, pay all these expenses. Wanted just to get the money, fix ’er up, and shove off, get down South where we belong.”
“Hopefully, Micah will be healed sufficiently to leave then.”
“No hope involved, sir. Fact is, I need Micah. I’ll give him time off his chores to heal up, but he’ll be healing up on this ship. When we’re ready to leave, Micah’s coming with us.”
58
Joel had returned and briefed the family about his visit to the Cutlass, except what Captain Meade had said at the end. The news was a relief, at least for now. Immediately, John’s mother had said Micah could stay on the sofa, if needed, until the ship set sail. Laura observed the surprised look on Joel’s and Allison’s faces and concluded an offering like this was completely out of character.
Sally sat on a stool next to Micah, holding her father’s hand. She hadn’t said much. Laura wondered if she was naturally shy or just overwhelmed at being allowed to mingle with her masters. Then Laura remembered, Eli had said that neither he nor Sally were slaves. They were servants who got paid for their labors.
“So kind a’ you, Mrs. Foster,” Micah said. “Seem like God knew what was gonna happen to me, keeping the Cutlass here couple more days. I’m sure I be ready then.”
“Maybe so,” said John’s mother. “But don’t worry about a thing. I told Sally she could look after you. And Sally?”
“Yes’m?”
“In between your chores for the next two days, you can sit right there. I’m sure you and your father have some catching up to do.”
Sally’s face lit up like she wanted to shout for joy, but she pulled back and simply said, “Thank you, Mrs. Foster. Thank you.”
“Joel, why don’t you go and tell Eli that in his spare time he can do the same.”
“I will, Mother. Very kind of you. I’m going to leave for about thirty minutes, go home and tell Evelyn all the news. I’ll stop by after that, before I head down to the office.” He walked over and hugged his mother, then extended his hand to Laura. “It’s been a pleasure, Laura. I hope to see more of you in the days to come. I know my wife would love to meet you.”
“Thank you,” Laura said. “I look forward to it.” She actually did. Joel turned and left.
“Come, Laura, come see my roses.”
“Can I come?” Allison asked.
“Of course.”
Laura followed them both through the house, through the veranda, and across a narrow walk that ran through the backyard, bordered by dwarf mondo grass.
She continued on and stepped inside the greenhouse; except for a few rows of brick, it was made entirely of glass panes. It was a square building, about the size of a large bedroom. The smell, rich and delightful. Laura inhaled deeply. Opposite the doorway she saw a workbench with stacks of small pots of various sizes. Hand tools hung neatly in rows on a wooden wall connected to the bench.
“Would you be a dear, Allison, and straighten up the bench a bit?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“They are a little past their peak colors, but aren’t they beautiful?”
Laura turned to see three rows overflowing with roses and ferns, a narrow stone walk between each. Red roses of every shape and size occupied the first two rows. But the third was a mix of yellow, pink, white . . . even orange roses. “I’ve never seen so many roses in one place.” She followed John’s mother down the first row. She stopped at every plant and spoke affectionately over each, as if they were children. Clearly, the work in this place was not delegated to servants.
At the end of the first row a small opening allowed them to cross over to the next. They walked up the second row toward the front. About halfway there, John’s mother changed subjects.
“I hope after a few days,” she said, “well, I don’t mean to pressure you in any way . . .”
“What is it?” Laura said.
“I was hoping at some point, you and I might talk, when you are up for it . . .”
“You mean about John?”
“Yes. I so want to hear all about his time out West. How you met, how he spent his time, what your life together was like.”
“How about if Laura and I tell you all about it together?”
That voice.
Is it possible?
Laura looked to the doorway. John was standing there. He was solid, not a mist or vapor.
Allison screamed.
John’s mother, standing in front of Laura, muttered, “John,” and
fainted on the spot. All three—Allison, Laura, and John—rushed to catch her and set her down gently. Laura and John stood and looked in each other’s eyes.
Allison held her mother’s head in her lap. John took two steps back. Laura stepped over his mother. Then she leapt into his arms. For a few moments, neither spoke as they released a passion pent up over four days, and a lifetime. Both were crying.
Laura pulled her head back just enough to see his face. She was trembling all over. Through her tears, she said, “I thought you were dead. But you’re here. How are you here? I don’t understand. I was so afraid. Everyone said you were dead. I was alone again. I even read your letter. I thought—”
John pulled her close again. He began to sob, heavily. A few moments later, his head still buried in her hair, he said, “All I thought of was you. This moment, right here.” Then he said, “I thought I’d never see you again.”
She stroked his face. He was a mess. Unshaved. Oily hair. His face full of smudges. He didn’t smell nice. And he was so thin. But he was the most handsome sight she’d ever seen. She crushed him again in a hug. “You’re here. I can’t believe you’re here.” They held each other a full minute, quietly. Laura felt a calm come over her. She instantly knew . . . she didn’t have to be strong anymore. Or pretend she could make it on her own.
John was here.
They both turned to see Allison gently patting their mother’s cheek. “Mother, are you okay?”
Her eyes fluttered and she came to. She looked up at John hugging Laura. Her eyes widened. Laura was afraid she might faint again.
“He’s really here. John’s really here,” Allison said. She helped her mother up.
She stood there a moment, looking at John’s face. Tears streamed down her face. “I welcomed her, John. I didn’t turn her away.”
“Thank you,” John said. Still holding Laura, he opened his left arm wide to make room. His mother put her arm around his waist, and he held her close.
After she stopped crying, she said, “You are so thin. Are you hungry?”
John looked at Laura again and then answered. “I am very hungry.”
“Then we’ll fix you something to eat.” She pulled away and took a step toward the door.
Immediately Allison ran toward John, filling the spot left by her mother. She didn’t speak. She just cried, burying her head into his chest.
John rubbed her back gently and stroked her hair. “My baby sister. I’ve missed you so much.”
A few moments later, their mother turned around. “You can cry some more, Allison, in the house. Your brother needs to eat.”
She followed her mother through the door, John and Laura, arm in arm, right behind them.
“I don’t understand, John. Everyone said you were dead. Even the newspapers.”
“I’ll tell you all about it back in the house.” Halfway across the backyard, he whispered, “There’s a colored man sleeping on the living room sofa.”
“I know. That’s Micah,” Laura said. “After you tell us your story, I’ll tell you mine.” They walked the rest of the way without words, looking at each other every few seconds. Laura couldn’t believe it. John was home, safe and well.
Her John.
59
While Sally prepared lunch, John was able to go upstairs and clean up. As he finished dressing in some of his old clothes, there was a knock on the door.
“You look very handsome,” Laura said, smiling. She hugged him again. Her eyes were as bright as their wedding day. “We can go shopping later. Get you something . . . not so musty. I’ve already found some wonderful stores.”
“I would love to take you shopping, my dear. Do we have any money?”
She walked over and opened the top drawer of his old dresser. There was the black pouch of gold. She set it on the dresser and opened it. He walked over. “Gold,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. “We’re rich.”
She laughed. “They don’t take gold here, my love. The clerk at the hotel said, ‘This isn’t the Wild West, ma’am.’”
“What hotel?”
“When I first got here yesterday, that’s where I stayed . . . where I thought I’d be staying.”
“Why? Did something happen with my family?”
“Don’t you remember?” She pulled the note out of the pouch and unfolded it. “Your family didn’t know we were married, because someone decided not to tell them.”
She said it playfully, but it still stung. He stood straight and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Laura, so sorry.”
She turned and faced him. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You were trying to protect me. I know that. And you need to know, as soon as they found out about me, Joel and Allison came right to my hotel.”
“So you stayed here last night?”
“Right over there in that bed.”
John smiled and kissed her.
“I loved the note, by the way. And I can read it differently now that you’re here.” She held it up and read the last part aloud: “I will think of your face, your smile, the love I have cherished in your eyes, our precious conversations. If it must be so, that I am to sink into the deepest waters below, you are and will always remain my only love.” She looked up at him. “When we get home, you need to write me more of these.”
He smiled and hugged her again. “I remember writing every line. It seems a lifetime ago.”
“When I read it yesterday, the wonderful things about it slipped by me. I was just overwhelmed that you were gone. But God brought you back to me.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m going to save it forever.” She carefully put it back in the pouch.
“So what’s next?”
“I was sent up here to get you. Lunch is ready, but I wanted to talk to you about something first.” She touched the black pouch. “If we’re to go shopping later, we’ll have to convert these nuggets to cash.”
“That’s not a problem, any bank could handle that. I know of several nearby.”
“How much do you think is there?”
“I don’t know.” He looked inside. “I’d say between fifteen hundred and two thousand dollars, depending on the going rate.”
Laura smiled. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Well, we were going on our honeymoon. And I didn’t know how much we’d need to spend on hotels and restaurants if . . . things didn’t go well here.”
“So we don’t need most of this for the rest of our trip?”
“I suppose not. Haven’t seen my father yet, but I don’t see him doing anything that would cut our visit short. It was my mother I was mostly worried about. Her and possibly Joel.”
“Joel? He seems so nice. Not like you nice, but . . . nice.”
“Joel . . . seems nice?”
“Yes. But we’ll have to finish this later. Everyone’s waiting for us downstairs.”
They walked down the hall toward the stairway, holding hands. “So . . . why the questions about the money back there?” he asked. “Something you’re wanting to buy?”
“Something like that,” she said. “I’ll tell you about it when we’re alone after lunch.”
When they were halfway down the stairs, the doorbell rang. Beryl came out of nowhere to answer it. Beryl, John thought. What a sweet old friend. He had almost fainted dead away, like his mother had, when John rang that same bell thirty minutes ago. John had to steady him as he walked through the door. Then Beryl did something he hadn’t done since John was a child. He hugged him, tightly. Beryl had always been so proper. When he straightened up, he had tears in his eyes.
“Mr. Foster,” he’d said. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”
“And you,” John had said.
As they reached the base of the stairs, John’s brother Joel walked through the foyer. When he saw John, he froze. An astonished look on his face. “John?”
“It’s me.”
“But how . . .”
John walked toward him, holding
out his hand. It was the least he could do, though they had never gotten along.
Joel took his hand and pulled him into an embrace. “I thought you were lost to us, brother.”
John couldn’t believe it. Joel had tears in his eyes. He returned the hug and found himself suddenly overcome with emotion. Was it possible that they might, at long last, be brothers? “I was almost lost.”
Joel pulled back, resting one hand on John’s shoulder. With the other, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes.
Allison walked in from the dining room. “Isn’t it wonderful, Joel? Can you believe it?”
“It is. Were you rescued with the others in Norfolk?” Joel asked.
John nodded.
“Norfolk?” Laura asked.
“I’ll tell you about it over lunch. Can you join us, Joel?”
“I can.” He walked over to the sofa. Micah had just now awakened. “Have you met Mr. Micah?”
“I haven’t.”
“Micah, this is John, Laura’s husband.”
Micah’s eyes opened very wide. “Missuh Foster . . . you alive?”
“I guess I am.”
“John, Micah was injured last night,” said Joel. “Some fellow from the ship came after Laura with a knife, and Micah stopped him.”
“What?” John looked at Laura.
“I’m okay.”
“Who attacked you?”
“He’s in jail,” Laura said. “Let’s go eat. We can talk in there.” She pointed toward the dining room then looked at Micah. “Have an appetite yet?”
“Startin’ to.”
Laura walked over to Micah. “Sally made a plate for you, and she’ll bring it in whenever you’re ready.”
Micah smiled.
John walked over to the sofa and knelt down. “Mr. Micah, I hope to spend more time making your acquaintance. But for now . . . how can I ever thank you? Laura is my life.”
“Happy to help, suh. Your wife the finest lady I ever meet. Treat me and Crabby better than anyone ever has.”
They shook hands and John stood up.
“We’ll see you in a bit,” said Laura.
John walked with Laura a few steps toward the dining room, then whispered, “Crabby?”
