Receive Me Falling (30 page)

             
Catherine bolted upright in her
bed.
 
A gust of wind blew open the shutters
of her bedroom.
 
Catherine jumped from
her bed to close them, and sat down at her window sill to steady her
nerves.
 
She lit a candle in her room and
paced around the floor.
 
A muffled noise
reached her ear and she opened her door and peered out into the blackness.
 
Something caught her eye at the base of the
stairway.
 
She strained her eyes to see a
form hurrying out of the house.
 

           
Stepping out into the hall Catherine
thought she saw candlelight snuffed under her father’s bedroom door, but
realized it must have been her imagination.
 
She crept down the hall and peered into James’ room.
 
She heard his deep, regular breathing.
 
Catherine stole back to her room and crawled
back into bed, anxious for the morning’s arrival.

Catherine’s
days went from plantation management to patient management.
 
She spent all day at James’ bedside nursing
him back to health.
 
Every fourth day
James relapsed into violent chills and fever.
 
During the days in between he was bedridden with headaches and nausea.
Catherine did her best to keep him comfortable.
 
She fed him, forced him to ingest the quinine, read to him, played the
pianoforte for him, and conversed with him.
 
Esther and Albert changed and bathed the patient after his fevers, and
after two weeks James was regaining his color and strength.
 

           
Each evening Catherine talked with James
and Albert of politics, religion, literature, Nevis, and England as they played cards. They
spoke of their families and pasts, and grew in their intimacy with one another.
 
Catherine questioned the Silwells openly
about their abolitionist pursuits when she was sure Cecil was out of the house.
 

           
“There is a school that Alexander
Hamilton and the New York Manumission Society established for free and runaway
blacks,” said Albert.
 
“We spent some
time there last year, and were greatly moved by the students.
 
We established a relationship with an
instructor there who assists runaway slaves in transitioning safely into their
boarding house.”

           
“That sounds dangerous,” said
Catherine.

           
“It is, but it is easier than you
would think to change the identity of a slave,” said James.
 
“The average slave owner hasn’t the time,
money, or connections to pursue runaways once they’ve moved beyond their own
states.
 
Most slaves are caught, but
those who are able to cover enough ground are often able to make it.”

           
“But many slaves have distinguishing
marks or injuries,” said Catherine.
 
“The
body of a slave often tells a story of his past.”

           
“That is a problem they often
confront,” said James. “They do the best they can.”

           
Leah entered the room to clear the
dinner trays.
 
She moved quickly through
the room.
 
All eyes were on her until she
left.
 

           
“She’s angry with me,” said
Catherine.

           
“She does seem especially
melancholy.
 
What is it that angers her?”
asked James.

           
Catherine looked from James to
Albert.
 

           
“I am ashamed to admit that
something I did caused injury to Mami.”

           
“To Esther?” asked Albert.

           
“Yes.
 
I had asked Leah to summon me when Rebecca,
one of our field slaves, went into labor so that I could witness a birth.
 
I knew that Esther would not approve, but I
also knew that once I was there, she would not refuse my assistance.
 
Leah came to get me the night Rebecca was in
labor.
 
Esther was upset that I was
there, but just as I anticipated, she let me stay.
 
She did worry, however, that Phinneas would
find out that I was present at the birthing, and would punish them.
 
I was foolish enough to think that he
wouldn’t find out, but somehow he did.”

           
“And Esther was punished,” said
Albert.

           
Catherine nodded and looked down at
her hands.
 
The only sounds came from the
dying fire.

The
next morning, Catherine traveled down the stairs to the kitchen, hoping to
intercept Leah in bringing James’ breakfast tray.
 
She could smell ham baking as she passed
through the cool stone hall, and grabbed a piece from the plate as Esther
swatted at her hand.
 
Catherine smiled,
but it soon evaporated as Leah entered the doorway from the path outside.
 
The morning sun outlined her dark frame and
hid her face.
 

“I’ll take Mr. Silwell his breakfast tray this
morning,” said Catherine.

           
“It’s already been fixed,” said
Esther.
 
“It’s over on the side table.”

           
As Catherine crossed the kitchen and
picked up the tray, she could feel Leah’s icy stare. Leah remained in the
doorway until Catherine exited the room.
 
As Catherine traveled down the hall she thought she could hear Esther
scold Leah, but was unable to make out what she was saying.

James was sitting up in bed that morning, looking
much healthier than he had the day before.
 
He opened his eyes and smiled when he saw Catherine enter the room.
 

“I have become quite spoiled by you,” he said.
 
“I will be a horrible nuisance when we return
home.”

“You’re a horrible nuisance now,” teased
Catherine.
 

She crossed the room and set down the tray on the
bedside table.

“I’ve spoken to Esther about a carriage ride for
you today, and she advises that we wait a few more days to ensure the fever
does not return.
 
I think that one more
day of bed rest should be sufficient.
 
You
have not had a fever for four days. If you do not get one today, you will surely
be ready to go outdoors again.”

“I feel better than I have in weeks,” said James.

“We don’t want to rush your recovery.
 
Your journey home is fast approaching, and
you need to be strong for the return voyage.

“I must say, on behalf of my father and myself,
that you will be heartily missed.”
 

“As will you,” said Catherine as she looked down
at her hands.

James’ hand moved from under his sheets and slid
something into her skirt pocket.
 
She
reached for it, but he grabbed her wrist and gave her a look to dissuade her
from investigating as Cecil entered the room to inquire after his health.
 
Catherine left Cecil and James, eager to see
what James had given her.
 
She went to
the parlor, sat at the piano where she would be shielded from anyone entering
the room, and reached into her pocket.

           
It was an abolitionist pamphlet with
radical quotes from Alexander Hamilton and Benjamin Franklin on slaves and
emancipation.
 
Catherine began reading
through the booklet, but boisterous laughter emanating from the hallway caused
her to shove it into her music book and slide it into the piano bench.
 
She stood quickly behind the piano as Edward
Ewing and Cecil entered the room.
 

“Good morning, Miss Dall,” said Edward.
 
“You are looking fresh and lovely as a
tropical flower this morning.”
 

“Mr. Ewing has come by to personally make sure
that we will be attending the Darrows’ gathering this evening” said Cecil.
 
“I have assured him of this fact.”

“Is that tonight?”

“Had you forgotten, Catherine?
 
Honestly, your mind is slipping.
 
You used to count down the minutes between
social outings.
 
You need to get more
rest.”

“I’ll try, Father.”

“Mr. Ewing has also brought over some lovely blossoms
for you,” said Cecil.

“How terribly unnecessary, since our home is
positively surrounded by them,” said Catherine.

Edward shifted awkwardly on his feet and addressed
Cecil to take his leave.

“Well, I must be off. I look forward to seeing you
all tonight.
 
Good day.”

Cecil led Edward to the front door and closed it
after him.

“Mr. Ewing is a fine gentleman,” said Cecil.

“I suppose so.”

“He and his father have amassed quite a fortune, and
the fact that they are neighbors is quite comforting.”

Catherine did not speak, but looped her arm
through his, and led him to the dining room for breakfast.
 
As Catherine was finishing, Leah passed
through the room carrying an empty laundry basket.
 
Catherine excused herself, and hurried after Leah.
  
She soon overtook Leah and pulled her into the
parlor.

“Leah, we need to talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“Then why are treating me this way?
 
I am sorry for what happened, but I am trying
to make it up to you and to Mami. I will never compromise your safety again for
my own personal adventures.”

Leah looked as if she wanted to reply, but
abruptly turned from Catherine and left her alone in the parlor.

15

Meg’s
shock left her speechless for several minutes.
 
Somewhere, in her wildest fantasies she had envisioned a scenario like
this, so it took some time for it to register with Meg that she was not
dreaming.
 
Once she regained her speech,
she was able to reassure Brian that she was elated that he came to Nevis.
 
She ran
inside to put on her bathing suit, and joined him in the pool, marveling at the
candles and the band.
   

           
“I can’t tell you how much this
means to me,” said Meg, wrapping herself around Brian.

           
“I’m relieved you think so.
 
I was worried that I would be
unwelcome.”
 

           
“It’s my fault for making you feel
that way.
 
You are always welcome.”

           
“Just in case, I got a room for
myself at Sunshine’s.”

           
“Cancel it.”

           
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about
something.”

           
The music ended and one of the
players cleared his throat.
 

           
“Excuse me,” said Brian as he jumped
out of the pool and spoke with the musicians while they began to pack away
their instruments.
 
Brian said something
that caused the band leader to laugh, and shook his hand.
 
He was back in a few moments.

           
“They’ve got to go, but I hope we’ll
see them again soon,” he said.

           
“They were a nice touch.”

           
“Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you, I
brought some information I found for you on James and Albert Silwell.
 
You mentioned that their names had been
nagging you.”

           
“You’ve been doing research for me?”

           
“The college is on winter break, and
with you gone, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
 
Anyway, you may have heard of the Silwells
because they were instrumental in seeing slavery ended in the British
Colonies.
 
They worked closely with
Thomas Clarkson on behalf of William Wilberforce, and saw The Slavery Abolition
Act of 1833 through Parliament.
 
There is
a lot of information out there on the Silwells.
 
I wrote down the websites for you.
 
 
There is also a museum at one of
their former residences in Cornwall
with a catalogue of archives on the website.
 
You would have to pay a fee to join the Silwell Society and get access
to the archives.
 
I didn’t sign up.
 
I thought I’d leave that up to you.”

           
“What a great new lead,” said Meg.
 
“I was at an impasse with my research, but
you’ve given me a new direction.
 
Drew
will be very excited.”

           
“The man from the museum?”

           
“Yes. I’m afraid I’ve pulled him
into this, too.
 
For some reason, I just
can’t let this rest.”

           
“You’ve got us all involved,” said Brian.
 
“I looked through your artifacts on the
table before you arrived.
 
I’m hooked.”

           
Meg and Brian began to shiver, so
they decided to get out of the pool.
 
After dressing, Meg made two
Caribbean
Romances
and joined Brian on the back porch.

           
“You started to tell me something
that sounded serious before we were interrupted by the band leader,” said Meg.

           
Brian’s face was shadowed, so she
was unable to read him.

           
“Meghan, I’ve made some phone calls
about getting married on the island.”

           
For the second time that evening,
Meg was rendered speechless.
 
A thousand
thoughts raced through her head, and within moments she realized that it would
be the ideal time and place to get married.
 
Her parents were gone.
 
She no
longer wanted a big wedding.
 
And she had
fallen in love with the island.
 

But there was the matter of Brian’s parents.

           
“I’ve already spoken to them about
it.
 
They support our getting married
alone on this island.
 
They just made me
promise that they could throw a big party for us the next time we visit.”

           
Brian looked at Meg, searching for a
reaction.

           
“There are a few legal formalities,
but it’s very simple.
 
Father Joe at St.
Theresa’s is free.
 
We can be married on
Friday.”

           
“And why don’t you want to cancel
your villa?”

           
“I’d like to be a bit old fashioned
about all this,” said Brian.
 
“I don’t
want to ride in your jeep with you to our wedding ceremony.
 
Besides, I have all my wedding planning
papers at my room.
 
They’d get all
jumbled up with your historical research if I were to stay here. ”

           
“By the way, how did you get
here?
 
I didn’t see a car.”

           
“I took a taxi-van.
 
Great guy.
 
We made a lot of stops along the way to chat with the locals, and nearly
killed a family of goats strolling down the road, but I made it in time.”

           
Meg stood up from her rocker and
climbed into the hammock with Brian.
    

           
“Is there anything you didn’t take
care of?” she asked.

           
“I’ve no idea what you’ll wear.
 
You’ll have to work that out.”

Meg
and Brian would be married on Friday at Saint Theresa’s with a reception
following at Sunshine’s on the beach.
 
They booked the steel drum band, and invited David, Gwen, and the
Edmeads.
 
Meg and Brian sat with Drew at
the museum and Meg asked Drew if he would give her away.
 
He was touched and his voice trembled when he
agreed.

           
“I don’t know if Meg told you,” said
Drew, “but our son died fifteen years ago on the property at Eden.”

           
“She did,” said Brian.
 
“I’m sorry for your loss.”

           
“It’s still painful after all these
years.
 
I don’t imagine you ever get over
losing a child.
 
But I feel like I have a
daughter now.”

           
“And since my father is no longer
here,” said Meg, “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have walk me down the
aisle.
 
I feel like I was supposed to
meet you, Drew.”

           
“Me too.”

           
While they discussed the plans,
Roland Pinney, Drew’s nephew, arrived to talk about Meg’s land.
 
Meg was pleased to learn that the land could
be subdivided and parceled out to investors and locals for residential or
commercial uses.
 
He said that he had a
group of local investors looking to start a Nevis-owned hotel, and were ready
to make someone an offer once the right land was found.
 
Roland thought they could begin the zoning
and subdividing processes within days.
 

           
“I’m so relieved about this,” said
Meg.
 
“I was feeling very uneasy about
selling to Grand Star Resorts for it to build yet another ‘Plantation Inn.’”

           
“It really is a double edged sword,”
said Roland.
 
“Grand Star could put up a
nice hotel and pay nice wages, but it is better to give the local people a
chance to reap the benefits of tourism entirely.
 
I don’t hate the people who’ve made the
Plantation Inns.
 
It’s just a higher
lever of sensitivity and a good business move for us to start something all on
our own.”

           
“My only concern is that I need to
move as quickly as possible on this,” said Meg as she looked down and started
wringing her hands.
 
Brian reached over
to her and slid his hand between hers.
 
She smiled at him and turned back to Roland.
 
“To be completely frank, my family’s estate
is facing a huge lawsuit because of my late father’s business practices.”

           
“And this will move quickly,” said
Roland.
 
“This investor group has been
searching the island for perfect land for over a year.
 
They are ready to move.
 
And this is a small island.
 
Everyone knows someone who can help the
process along.”

           
“I’m supposed to be returning home
in less than a week.
 
Will I be able to
do this from the States?”

           
“Certainly, though you may need to
give someone power of attorney to sign documents if you are unable to return
yourself.”

           
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” said
Meg.

           
The group spent the afternoon
discussing the zoning and possible buyers.
 
When Roland left, Meg felt much better about selling the land.
 
She called Desmond Foxwell, but he didn’t
answer.
 
She was relieved to be able to
leave the bad news on his voicemail.
 

           
David and Gwen joined Brian and Meg
that night for dinner at Sunshine’s.
 
They ate lobster and drank Killer Bees—the rum drink for which
Sunshine’s was famous.

           
“Are you ready for our appraisal of
the mural?” asked David.

           
“I think so,” said Meg, feeling the
butterflies beginning in her stomach.

           
“I feel confident that the mural is
a West.
 
I’ve detailed my findings, used
the best research manuals around, and consulted with several of my colleagues
over the phone.
 
I was also able to send
photos of the mural on email.
 
After
researching and consulting with several auctioneers, I found that an oil of
West’s sold in 2000 for $800,000.
 
A pair
of West studies sold for $140,000 in 2003.
 
Both sales were of works significantly smaller than the mural.
 
The context of the mural itself would
probably add major value to it, in addition to the fact that it has been
previously unknown.
 
We think you could
get at least two million for it.”

           
Meg closed her eyes and smiled.
 
“Is there no end to the good news today?”

           
“But who would buy it?” asked Brian.
 
“You can’t remove the wall from the
house.”
 

           
“Oh, there would be plenty of
private art collectors willing to buy such a treasure.
 
Of course, they may need to buy the house and
land with it.
 
There is where you could
run into some trouble.”

           
“And there is an end to the good
news,” said Gwen.
 
“Have you watched the
weather report lately?
 
There is a big
hurricane coming up the Caribbean.
 
It’s supposed to hit the island on Saturday
or Sunday.”