For the rest of the meal they chatted about all kinds of things. Finally, it was time for Adam and Martin to head back into town. Adam would drop Martin off at his home on the way.
Chapter Thirty-Five
WHEN ADAM MADE IT BACK to the warehouse, he was surprised to find his grandfather out of bed and sitting in his chair, reading the paper.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked Emmanuel.
“Well, I’m up anyway,” Emmanuel answered.
Adam could see that the old man was doing his best to stay warm, wearing his blue banyan, or house coat, over his layers of clothing, and a gray knit cap on his head. He also had a quilt folded in half over his legs.
“I’m tired of being in bed,” he said. “My back and my shoulders and my hands are all aching terribly whether I’m lying down or sitting, so I thought it best to get up and move around a bit into a different position so that my old bones don’t lock in place.”
“That sounds like a wise thing to do. Can I get you anything?” Adam asked. “Would you like another cup of tea?”
Emmanuel looked into the bone china cup sitting on the little table beside him. He picked it up and took a sip and then said, “No, I don’t think so. Thank you. How was the supper at Miss Rocksolonah’s home?”
“It was perfect. Everything tasted so good, and there was so much of it.”
“And the young lady? How is she?” Emmanuel asked.
“Laney? She’s just fine.” He smiled. “And beautiful, as always.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m happy to hear you had a nice time,” said Emmanuel. “I was just reading the paper here. Boaz brought it to me this afternoon so I’d have something new to look at.”
“Oh good,” said Adam. “I reckon it’s too soon for them to have anything about the apprehension of Harmon.”
“I should think so,” said Emmanuel. “But you will want to know that your name is printed right here.” He pointed to the top of the far left column on the last page of the paper.
“What in the world for?” he asked.
“It says there is a letter waiting for you at New Bern.”
“What? May I see?”
Emmanuel handed him the paper.
“Hmph. It sure does! I’ve never been sent a letter before. Who in the world would be writing to me?”
His grandfather shrugged. “That I do not know.”
“And why would they send it to New Bern?”
“It may have been carried here if it said Carteret next to your name, but as it’s written… See there”—he pointed to the paper in Adam’s hand—“it says Beaufort. You see some of the places listed beside the names are counties and others are towns. We have a Beaufort County—where Bath is, of course—and a Beaufort town here in Carteret. I would imagine they just weren’t sure which it should be.”
“Hmm,” said Adam. “I don’t know what to think about this.”
Emmanuel chuckled. “I do. Looks like you’ll be traveling again. You’ve got another mystery to solve.”
“I reckon I do,” said Adam. “The mystery of who wrote this letter. But with that thunder the other night, snow is coming, so this might have to wait a few weeks.”
Emmanuel nodded in agreement.
“Do you mind if I keep this paper? I’ve never seen my name in the paper before,” said Adam.
“Sure you can keep it, but do you mind if I finish reading it first?” Emmanuel held out his hand so that Adam would give him the paper back.
“Oh, of course not,” Adam said, handing it to him.
He stood from the settee to excuse himself to go to bed.
Emmanuel turned to the page he had been reading before Adam came in, then looked over his spectacles at his grandson and called out to him, “You know, I’m reminded of something.”
Adam turned back to look at him. “What’s that?”
“When you first came here, I remember you said you had never been anywhere. You couldn’t wait to go to new places, see new things. Seventeen years old you were, and you’d never even left Carteret County. Just look at you now—you’ve been to New Bern more than once, Bath, Nassau, and even Havana. Seems you’ve gone far in a short time. Wonder where else you’ll go?”
Adam took a deep breath in contemplation, then let out a sigh. “You’re right. I have been to a lot of places in a short time, but I’ll tell you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“This place—Carteret County—this will always be home. And there’s no place else I’d rather be.”
Emmanuel smiled. “I’m perfectly happy to hear that, son. Now go to bed, and try to think about who might’ve sent you that correspondence.”
“Oh, believe me I will,” said Adam. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
<<<<>>>>
Thank you for reading Murder in the Marsh.
If you enjoyed it, I hope you will consider posting a short review.
Subscribe to the Gazette newsletter if you'd like to be notified of author news, upcoming titles, and historical items of interest. No spam, guaranteed.
Adam Fletcher's adventures continue in The Gypsy's Curse.
Click here to learn more.
Acknowledgements
AS ALWAYS, MY GRATITUDE GOES, first and foremost, to God for continuing to allow me to write and publish, and to have readers who enjoy my books. I’d like to express my appreciation to research historian and author Kevin Duffus for being my go-to consultant on Blackbeard history and everything to do with eighteenth century sailing, Victor T. Jones, Jr., Department Head of the Kellenberger Room at the New Bern Public Library for always being willing to answer my endless questions about colonial New Bern (or Newbern, as it was then called), and Alan D. Watson, Professor of North Carolina History at UNC-Wilmington, for providing me with information on the Harlowe Creek Canal project. A huge thank you also goes to MGySgt (Retired) Phil Molloy for reading an early manuscript of Murder in the Marsh and offering his invaluable input. In addition, I’m grateful to Marcus Trower for continuing to be such a fabulous copy editor. Finally, I want to thank all of you, my readers, for loving these stories and characters as much as I do. I hope you enjoy this novel, and that I will continue to be able to write many new Adam Fletcher Adventures to keep you turning those pages.
—S.D.G.—
Murder in the Marsh Page 20
