Receive Me Falling (32 page)

           
Through the open window, Catherine
could hear James cough.
 
As if his cough
summoned her, Catherine lifted her candle and tread softly to his room.
 
The door was cracked and the faint flicker of
a dying candle danced across the walls.
 
Catherine pushed the door so it opened enough to give her access to the
room.
 

           
The pounding surf and night
creatures were silenced by the closed shutters.
 
James was sleeping in the bed.
 
His lips were parted and his chest rose and fell with deep, regular
breaths. The dark circles that had rimmed his eyes for weeks were disappearing,
and his forehead lost its furrow to sleep, leaving behind a peaceful and
youthful countenance.
 

           
Catherine’s heartbeat quickened as
she neared James, and nearly stopped when a floorboard creaked.
 
She stopped and held her breath as James
readjusted his position from his side to his back.
 
Catherine waited a few moments, and then continued
her trace-like progression toward the bed.
   
When she reached the side of the bed, she sat down on it and stared down
at James.
 
Without thinking she moved
forward until she was inches from his face.
 
Holding her long braid close to her nightclothes, Catherine leaned in
and kissed him.
 
She remained there a
moment and then pulled away, stood up, and crept back to her chambers.
 
As she closed the door, the sleeper turned and
smiled.

The
observing slaves tried to disappear into the shadows as Phinneas whipped
Abraham.
 
The glow of the fire
illuminated his fiendish face as the whip sliced through the flesh of the
helpless man.
 
He hung by his wrists and
tried to stifle his cries.
 

           
As Toby watched, his memories took
him back to Jamaica,
years earlier, where he had begun his life as a slave on a failing tobacco
plantation.
 
His master was a pure
demon—pitiless on the men and women who served him.
 
Toby recalled the night he was forced to
witness his father’s punishment for running away.
 
He shuddered at his memories and tried to
silence the agonizing cries echoing through his head.
 
He recalled that his father’s blood had
splattered on his own slight, adolescent body, and that he had thought his
father would be always with him because of it.

           
Fresh cries pierced the night, as
Phinneas panted fast and hard. When he had exhausted himself, Phinneas looked
at the dejected men before him.

           
“Does anyone else wish to challenge
me?” demanded Phinneas.
 
Mr. Sarponte
slunk around to face the whimpering mess before him.
 
“I know it is the middle of the night, and I
do not care.
 
You will work when I tell
you to work.
 
The rest of you better get
back to that cane unless you want to join him.”

           
The men dispersed like startled mice
to the cane fields illuminated by the eerie glow of the moon. Phinneas climbed
onto his horse, cut the strings holding Abraham, and spat on him as he rode
away to the fields.
 

           
After he was far away, strong hands
lifted Abraham and carried him to a hut.
 
He was eased to the ground on his stomach as he groaned in pain.
 
Dark hands wrung out the hot towel and handed
it to coarse hands that began to cleanse his wounds.
 

           
Rebecca entered the hut with her
infant son and gasped.

           
“He will be okay. His back was
scarred before,” said Esther.
 
“Tougher
surfaces can’t be as easily hurt.”
 

           
Rebecca knelt over Abraham and
kissed him.
 
She reached for his hand and
settled next to him.
 
Tears leaked from
his closed eyes and onto the dirt floor.
 
The baby began to cry, and Rebecca nursed him for comfort.
 
Esther rocked herself and continued humming
as Mary tended to the wounded man.

Deep
in the black jungle, Leah tried to control her shaking.
  
She hugged her swelling abdomen and wept on
the ground as she watched the grimy boots stride away from her.
 
Phinneas mounted his horse and was swallowed
by the shadows.
 

17

To
make use of her insomnia, Meg spent the remainder of the night searching the
archives of the Silwell Society.
 
James
and Albert Silwell left behind an impressive legacy in the campaign for human
rights.
 
Before Albert’s death in 1843,
he saw the end of slavery for the British Empire.
 
He had numerous writings on the subject—all
heartfelt and deeply personal.
 
His
letters to his fellow politicians, family members, and friends always ended
with a request for prayers for the end of slavery throughout the world.

           
Fewer letters and writings by James
survived, and his writings bore a much harsher tone than Albert’s.
 
While Albert concentrated on the gains in the
campaign, encouraging events and people helpful to the cause, James’ writings
detailed all that was left to be done, the corruption of the planters, the
stumbling blocks to success—his writings were angry and sparse.
 
Meg did see a note that a recent batch of his
letters were found and would be loaded onto the website soon, but for now, she
had few to work with.

           
Meg noticed the light in the room
and looked at the clock.

           
6:07
.

           
She decided that she would work
until
6:30
, and then go
for a run.
 
She fixed herself a cup of
tea, stretched, and sat back down at the computer.

           
Thirteen
more pages of archived text.

           
Meg scanned James’ letters to his
brothers and sisters, hoping something would jump out at her.
 
His negativity was prevalent, but his deep
love for his family was apparent.
 
He
loved his nieces and nephews and inquired about them often.
 
He wrote a touching letter to his sister when
she lost her husband.
 
His sense of humor
was evident in his letters to his brothers.
 
But his sadness and anger surfaced frequently.

           
It was
6:30
and Meg was about to turn off the computer,
when something caught her eye.
 
In a
letter to his brother, a clergyman, dated several years after James had left
the island—in one of the last letters the Society had archived—Meg saw the word
Nevis
just below the date.
 
After reading the
letter, Meg called Brian and Drew and asked them to meet her at Eden at
7:30
.
        

18

Layers
of clouds hung low over the island, creating the illusion that those on land
were at the bottom of a tumultuous sea with waves breaking high overhead.
 
The turbulent and perilous waters of the Caribbean mirrored the sky, and the usually transparent,
aquamarine sea was murky with sand stirred up by violent waves.

           
James and Albert were at the
breakfast table that morning.
 
James was
looking nearly restored to his former self, and showed no sign of knowing about
Catherine’s kiss.
 
Catherine was quiet,
and Albert asked her if she was feeling well.
 
She assured him that she was just tired.
 

           
Catherine and James agreed that a
carriage ride in such threatening weather was not a good idea, and instead
settled on the rear veranda to watch the landscape respond to the steady gusts
of wind.
 
Catherine had a basket of peas
she was shelling, and James had a book.

         
“England is known for its frequent
rain showers, but I must say that its good weather is so divine that it erases
all memories of the bad,” said James.

           
“Rain does not daunt me,” said Catherine.
 
“I only keep myself away from the elements to
recline by my sickly companion.”

           
James laughed and returned to his
reading.

           
“As a matter of fact,” said
Catherine, “The moment you fall asleep—and you shall soon be asleep, for I see
you nodding—I am going to steal off to the slaves’ quarters to call on Mary.”

           
“I was trying to keep you from
noticing my fatigue.
 
It bothers me
considerably that I am so slow in recovering.”

           
“Your recovery has actually been
quite swift.
 
You forget that malaria
kills more than half of those who contract it.
 
You’re lucky.”

           
James was thoughtful for a
moment.
 
He watched the palms and flowers
thrashing in the winds, and observed a small monkey creep out of the shrubbery
before darting back into its shelter.

           
“I don’t have much time left on the
island,” he said, “and I’m usually much more diffident when it comes to women,
but I fear I’m running out of time.”

           
Catherine stopped her work and
looked at James.

           
“I don’t know how to flatter and
make long speeches, so I apologize for this awkwardness.”
 
James pulled himself up in his chair and
moved to the bench where Catherine was seated. He tried to take her hand, but
it was full of peas.
 
Both of them
laughed and Catherine threw them onto the ground and grasped James’ hands.
 

           
“I know you’ll think I’m mad, but
would you consider marrying me and returning to England with me as my wife?”

           
Catherine began to cry.

           
“Please don’t cry,” said James.
 
“I’m sorry to have upset you.
 
Of course you wouldn’t want to marry a
practical stranger.”

           
James moved to get up, but Catherine
pulled him back on the bench.
 

           
“You misunderstand me,” said
Catherine. “You and I are of the same heart.”

           
James smiled.
 
“That took far less convincing than I thought
it would.”

           
They laughed and Catherine wiped her
tears.

           
“Do you understand what I asked
you?” asked James.

           
“Of course I do. And my answer is
yes.”

           
“What about your father?” asked
James. “I would certainly extend the offer for him to accompany us home to England,
but somehow I fear that he would not want to quit this island.”

           
“I had not wanted to acknowledge
that, but I fear you are correct.
 
That,
however, is not our biggest obstacle.”

           
James looked at Catherine with a
question in his eyes.

           
“Edward asked me to marry him last
night,” said Catherine.
 
“He has my
father’s blessing.”

           
“I take it that you have not
answered him.”

           
“No.
 
My father and I are to dine there this evening.
 
I’m expected to have an answer then.”

           
James grew silent as he held Catherine’s
hands. She looked at him and then put her forehead to his.
 
A noise startled them and caused them to
stand up quickly.
 
Cecil came out onto
the veranda and made his way over to the pair.

           
“It looks as if it will storm,” said
Catherine.
 

           
“Perhaps,” said Cecil.
 
“Of course the clouds just blow over
sometimes.”

           
“An unlikely scenario in this case,”
remarked Edward as he appeared on the veranda. Catherine stood next to James
and felt the color rise to her face.
 
Edward’s
jaw clenched as he regarded the scene before him.

           
“I trust you are feeling better, Mr.
Silwell,” said Edward.

           
“Yes, thank you for asking,” replied
James.

           
“The Silwells appear quite at home
at Eden, Mr. Dall,” said Edward.
 
“It is
a pity they are leaving so soon.”

           
“A pity indeed,” remarked
Cecil.
 

           
“We would like to extend a dinner
invitation to you all this evening. Of course you and your father are welcome,
Mr. Silwell, if you feel strong enough.”

           
“I am quite certain we will be in
attendance,” said James.
 

           
“It is settled then.
 
We will see you all this evening.”
 
Edward met Catherine’s gaze and bowed his
head.
 
“Good day.”

After
escorting James up to his room to rest, Catherine set off across the back lawn
to the slaves’ quarters.
 
She carried a
basket of plants with her that she intended upon leaving with Mary.
 
The winds lashed at her face and blew her
hair into her eyes, but she marched on, undaunted.
 

           
A sharp gust lifted Catherine’s
basket and scattered her plants about the ground as she approached the forest
path.
 
She stopped to pick them up, but
stood quickly when she saw Phinneas’ boots approaching.

“Allow me,” he said as he gathered the fallen
plants.
 
Despite Catherine’s protests,
Phinneas collected them all and pressed them into Catherine’s hands.
  

“May I carry your basket for you?” he asked.

“No.
 
Thank
you.
 
I must be on my way.”

Catherine hurried off along the path that passed
the lagoon.
 
It was dark and strange by
the water. The air had an unusual chill.
 
She thought she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye, but when she
looked it disappeared in the mist of the waterfall.
 
Catherine shivered, and was grateful when she
emerged from the path onto the slaves’ lane.
 
Catherine made her way to Mary’s hut and smiled as soon as the old woman
came into view.

           
“Good afternoon,” said Mary.
 

           
Catherine kissed Mary and sat at her
feet.
 

           
“I have brought you some plants for
your collection.”

           
“Thank you.
 
My supply was short.”

           
Catherine began sorting the piles of
leaves.
 
Mary sat and listened to the
rustle of the silk stalks as they slid apart.
 
She heard the soft pat of the plants on one another as Catherine
separated them.
 
Children coming up the
path were quarrelling.
 

           
“Why are you quiet?” asked Mary.

           
Catherine looked into Mary’s clouded
eyes.

           
“You are leaving us,” said Mary.

           
“I am.”

           
“It is how it should be.”

           
A slave girl and her younger brother
came walking up the lane burdened by a bucket of water.
 
It splashed out of the basket over her legs
and made a muddy path behind her.
 
She
heaved it down near a hut, and said something through the door flap.
 
Two smaller children came out of the hut
rubbing the sleep from their eyes.
 
The
older girl used a crude wooden ladle and the children drank from it.
 

           
Catherine stood and pulled a napkin
of pastries and meats out of her pocket.
 
She walked over to the children and set it down on a rock.
 
Three more children appeared and the hungry
pack devoured the food.
 
Catherine picked
up the bucket of water and moved it into the hut for the small girl, who looked
at her with gratitude through large, tired eyes.
 
She smiled at the child and returned to Mary.

           
“What will become of Father?” asked
Catherine.

           
“His fate will not change whether
you are here or not.”

           
“But there will be no one to take
care of him if I go.”

           
“There will be no one to take care
of you if you stay,” said Mary.
 
“Your father
will be looked after by the people who have always looked after him.”

           
“He does not know of my plans.
 
I am going to tell him when I leave you, and
then Mami as soon as I can.”

           
Catherine stood and fetched the hemp
string.
 
She sat with Mary wrapping the
plants in bundles.
 
They worked in
silence, and Catherine thought back to a day from her youth, just after
Phinneas was hired, when she had helped Mary with her plants.
 
Mary had stopped every so often to rub her
eyes.
 
Mary’s vision was going, but Catherine
knew she could see Phinneas approach on his horse.
 

           
“It is exceptionally kind of you to
assist the beasts, Miss Dall, but do you not think that a lady belongs in the
house.
 
Your aunt would have been
flustered to see you dirtying your hands.”

           
“The beasts are down in the stable,
Mr. Sarponte. I was not aware that father had hired you as a governess.”

           
Such exchanges were characteristic
of their relationship.
 
Catherine had
never feared Phinneas until she realized that her father would not always be
around to protect her.