Emily's Vow (22 page)

"I understand, ma'am. Thank you. It's meant the world to my father."

Mrs. McAlester stared at her. "I've done my best for him all these years, despite the troubles we've had. Such tragedies to endure." She sighed and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. "Is the Allhallows dinner still on for next week?"

"Yes, we'll have it despite all that happened this year." Emily glanced at the gold band on her finger. Elizabeth had loved the celebration for her entire life, and Emily refused to end the tradition now. "Elizabeth would have wanted us to enjoy the food and friends, I'm sure."

Mrs. McAlester nodded as she glanced at Samantha. "We'll be there, as usual then."

After she left, Emily turned to Samantha. "What's the matter? You frowned at her the entire time."

"I'd rather not say until I know more," Samantha said.

"About?" Emily's curiosity piqued when her friend became so mysterious.

Samantha shook her head, her lips tight. "Please don't press. Tell me how Tommy fares."

Since Samantha refused to talk about the exchange between mother and daughter, Emily followed her lead. "He's settling. Looks like your choice works despite your mother's doubts."

"She has her ways and I have mine. They don't always agree."

"It's wonderful we have so many who care to tend to this little boy."

Better than him being raised by strangers as he could have if Frank had not claimed him, he had the entire family and their friends looking out for him. Knowing others could step in and help eased some of the burden.

"Always a pleasure to be with this little guy." Samantha brushed a finger across the downy cheek. "He's like my own brother."

"I know you love him, maybe more than I do." Tommy squirmed in her arms, his cries weakening. She kept a firm hold of him, watching him settle even more as the initial shock faded. "How do you know so much about plants and medicines? Did your mother teach you about them?"

Seeing Samantha's nod toward Jasmine, Emily looked at the young black woman. "Is the snake gone?"

"Yes, miss. Solomon took care of it, though he didn't much like it." She shook her head slowly, a mischievous grin forming on her face. "No, miss, he said 'twas like handling the devil himself."

"I want to keep a close eye on Tommy. Jasmine, please move Tommy's cradle into my room, near my bed, and make sure it is cleaned and prepared for him. I'm sure he'll need it before long."

"Yes, miss." She bobbed a curtsy and withdrew.

Emily waited until the door closed. "You were saying, Samantha?"

"I learned much of what I know from my mother. But I also spent time with a Cherokee medicine man while I... visited my grandmother earlier this year."

Emily noticed the slight hesitation in her friend's explanation. "You talked with the Indians? Why would you do such a dangerous thing?"

Samantha set the bowl on the table and sank onto a side chair. "Curiosity, mainly. And it wasn't any more dangerous than visiting a doctor."

"So you went to see an Indian doctor?" The Indians on the frontier were known to side with the British during the war and therefore not to be trusted. "You risked your life and your reputation. Why?"

Looking at the fire shadows dancing on the wall, Samantha let out a long, slow breath. "Because I had hurt my leg and needed help, but didn't trust the town doctor. I did not have what I needed to heal it." She rubbed her right thigh as she spoke, finally turning to face Emily again.

"How did you hurt it?" Emily studied Tommy's face, leaving Samantha to answer when ready. Her question had hovered in her mind ever since her friend returned to town limping. She waited, hoping the silence between them presaged the revelation of her friend's mysterious injury.

Tommy stopped crying, his eyes drifting closed though he didn't feel relaxed enough to actually sleep. The long silence from her friend drew her attention. She peered at Samantha, noticing the way she examined the room, her gaze lighting briefly on the ivory carvings on the mantel, then to the sketch of the town square hanging on one wall, and back to the child. "Well?"

"A bad cut... from an accident."

"My goodness! If it's still bothering you, it must have been very bad. Mayhap you should see the doctor about it."

"I'll be fine." She patted her leg as if to prove its strength. "There's no need to impose on a doctor."

The tension in Samantha's posture indicated she felt defensive, on edge. Emily studied her for a long moment. She couldn't let it go so easily. "But it's been months. It should have healed by now."

"It only aches sometimes." Samantha shrugged lightly. "That's when I rub it."

"I see." Healing skills apparently involved more art than science. Emily gazed at the boy. His little body felt warm in her arms, his breathing fast and shallow. "Will this little one survive? I mean, will the fleabane really protect him from the venom?"

"It should. I don't know if I used enough or too much, but the fever will continue only until the medicine has a chance to work. Babies have different reactions to the herbs than adults do. We'll know more by this evening."

"That seems such a long time considering how many children have died from these invaders." Emily swayed with Tommy cuddled in her embrace. "Need I worry?"

"Nay, he will be fine. I treated him within a short period." Samantha peered at her. "You do believe me, don't you?"

Emily smiled in response. "I need to send for Frank. He'll want to be informed." The little body seared her inner arms. "He's burning up. Do you think mayhap we should call for the doctor?"

Samantha's brow furrowed as she stared at Emily. "We don't need old Dr. Cunningham yet. If he gets worse, we can send for him. His body must fight the venom, so there is internal heat."

So Samantha finally showed her defensiveness. Emily held her tongue, deciding to trust her friend's judgment. Samantha resented being questioned about her longtime role as healer in the town. Doctors employed somewhat suspicious treatments that did not always work. Samantha's reasons seemed based upon her experience and knowledge, so Emily slowly nodded in agreement.

Samantha touched the boy's forehead. "He will sleep now. If you'd like, I'll sit with him while he sleeps and keep an eye on him."

"Thank you. I would feel better if you stayed, given your training. Unless you have other obligations?"
Please stay.

Samantha shook her head. "Come, let's lay him down."

"I wish I knew more about healing," Emily said, rising. "I feel so helpless."

"It's not too late to learn, my friend." Samantha brushed gossamer strands of hair from the boy's forehead. "Even as you teach him what he needs to know, you can learn right along with him."

"But I should already know things." Frustration raced through Emily. Why had they kept her from learning so many things? Only recently had she realized the limited extent of her education. The more she learned, the more questions popped into her head.

"You possess more knowledge than you realize." Samantha opened the door to the bedroom, and Emily gently laid the baby in his nest of blankets. "Nobody can learn everything, especially not in fewer than three decades."

"All the more reason to have started sooner." Emily pulled a chair closer to the cradle, recalling to mind the stack of crates in the corner of the nursery across the hall. The shipment of baby furniture and clothing her father obtained from India had been a godsend, or so she thought at the time. "I wonder how many more vermin are in those crates delivered recently."

"We should have them removed, to be certain." Samantha sat down in the rocking chair. "When you go down, perhaps you can send one of the slaves up to haul them out of here."

"I will. And thank you again for being such a good friend," Emily said. "I'm fortunate to have met you at the market last year. Your friendship has been a blessing."

Samantha smiled at her, a touch of sadness hovering in the corners of her mouth. "We'll see if you still feel the same way after I investigate why your mother and sister actually died."

Emily stared at her friend, conflicting emotions warring within. "Indeed."

Chapter 11

The sun had finally burned away the fog when Frank managed to tear himself from the printing press later in the afternoon. Solomon had arrived earlier to request him to call on Miss Emily as soon as possible, but he needed to complete his work before he could answer her summons. Perhaps he should have left sooner, but he trusted Emily to handle the matter until he finished this urgent task. His back ached from leaning over the channels to align the type precisely. Tomorrow the paper must be printed, including the secret message intended for General Greene. He had spent hours laying out the new edition, ensuring the coded message appeared in the upper right corner of the specific page as required. To a casual reader, the advertisement for doeskin ladies gloves was innocuous. Only if one knew the decryption method could one read the information about the enemy troop locations and numbers.

As the day marched toward evening, he longed to see Emily. To hear her voice and breathe her scent. Cleaning his ink-stained hands on a rag, Frank sent Sawyer home. As he left, he paused and scanned the area, Sawyer's tan-clad bulk with dapper tricorne retreating down the busy street. Puffy clouds drifted across the pale blue sky, a light wind cooling Frank's cheeks. The afternoon lingered in its infancy, and for many folks closing shop this early would be considered scandalous. Men labored along the wharfs, the strike of hammers pounding wooden lathes into barrels echoing against the buildings facing the harbor. Free from the confines of the shop, he inhaled the bracing sea air. He'd kept Emily waiting too long already. He strode down the dirty avenue, his steps decisive.

He hoped any nosy neighbors would say he was a wise man for not wasting another minute in the little ink-scented shop. The general had ordered him to return to Charles Town as a loyalist to obtain the necessary intelligence to protect the town's interests. Appearing to be a turncoat went against his basic beliefs, but the general's personal promise of assistance to travel abroad after the war sweetened the deal.

Memories of his time at Oxford floated in his head, sparking the longing stoked by the war. Sketches and engravings of the Coliseum in Italy and of the Great Wall of China teased his imagination. He wanted, no,
needed
to see those vistas in person. He craved the feeling of the majesty of the Himalayas or the beauty of the Orkney Islands. His thirst for adventures yielding insight and understanding about other cultures, other ways of life, remained unquenched. One day he would be free to travel to places denied him because of the war. For now, another mission lay before him. See Emily.

His pace quickened as he neared Emily's house. General Greene's plan led him home to her. For practicality's sake, he had married Elizabeth and given Tommy a father. Enough children became orphaned as a result of the fighting, and to his mind Tommy need not be one of them. His plans failed on that count, given the child still had no mother. Emily tried to hide her feelings about her nephew, but he saw in her eyes the truth. Trapped like him. But he had a plan to fix that, free her from the responsibilities motherhood brought. Then perhaps she'd laugh more, return to the cheerful, loving woman he knew. If he could convince her of his feelings. Now, though, a somberness clung to her like a second skin, weighing down her buoyant nature.

Before entering Emily's home, his temporary one if his other plans panned out, he scanned the street, searching for anything unexpected. A couple of boys ran by, calling to a mate down the road. A watchful pair of older brothers herded a group of young girls down the street. Late afternoon sun lengthened the shadows of the now five-year-old trees, planted as a sign of the hopeful future of the town, lining the road. Several sparrows hopped and fluttered along the side of the road, searching for their afternoon repast.

The door creaked behind him, and he turned to find Jasmine grinning at him. "Captain Thomson, what you doing standing out here? Come in. You don't need to knock."

"Is Miss Emily home?"

"Yes, sir. I expect you'll want to see Tommy, after all he's been through this afternoon. Poor boy." Jasmine shook her head slowly and opened the door wider to allow him to enter.