Receive Me Falling (35 page)

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Authors: Erika Robuck

BOOK: Receive Me Falling
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The images haunted her throughout the rest of the night,
and when morning came Catherine was worn, sore, and exhausted.

 

 

James
placed the last of his packed bags by the door and put on his jacket.
 
Albert gazed out of the window over the
glistening shrubbery of the garden below, and out to the cloud covered horizon.
 
James cleared his throat and Albert turned to
face his son.

           
“Are you sure I cannot persuade you
to stay on until Saturday.”

           
“Father, I have made my decision.”

           
Albert sighed.
 
“Are you going to turn your back on Catherine
entirely?
 
This decision could affect the
rest of your life.”

           
“It already has affected the rest of
my life, beyond repair.
 
The sooner I get
away from this hell the sooner I will be able to heal.”

           
“Is your love for her so fleeting?”

           
James stared at his father.

           
“I still love Catherine, but after
what has happened I don’t know what to do.”

“I believe there is more to this than what you say,”
said Albert. “You cannot forgive her for what you saw, can you?”

James shifted his gaze out the window.

“James, it is very important that you listen to
me.
 
It is possible, and highly probable
that Catherine did not push Leah.”

“I saw it happen with my own eyes.”

“Did you?
 
How were you able to clearly see through the storm and the night?
 
Perhaps Catherine slapped Leah.
 
Perhaps Leah lost her footing.
 
To accuse Catherine of murdering Leah—whom she
loved almost as herself—sounds preposterous.”

           
“You did not see what I saw.”

           
“James, you have been saying since
we first set foot on this island that slavery corrodes and corrupts all
involved—from slaves, to overseers, to masters.
 
What you believe is true, but you must be wrong in your assessment of
what happened to Leah.
 
I believe that
Catherine struck Leah, and that she fell. When Catherine struck Leah, it was
not the hand of a domineering mistress striking her disobedient slave—it was
the hand of a woman striking a friend who had affronted her.
 
I am not excusing Catherine’s violent and
childish behavior, but I am telling you that it was not abuse, and could not
have been murder.
 
The color of Leah’s
skin and her station in life had nothing to do with the liberty Catherine took
in slapping her.
 
I believe that Catherine’s
action was an unplanned and unpremeditated defense against what she took as an
assault.
 
The truth was too painful for
her to hear, so she struck out against it.
 
And Leah fell.
 
And Catherine’s
memories will punish her for it the rest of her life.
 
Don’t you think you owe it to her to at least
hear what she has to say on the matter?”

James listened to his father’s words and turned
them over in his heart.
 
A knock at the
door broke his spell, however, as the bellman arrived to take down his
bags.
 
James looked from his father to the
bellman.
 

“I must go.”

“I will not let you go alone,” said Albert. “If
you are unwilling to stay, I must gather my things and travel home with you
today.”

Albert quickly packed his trunk as the bellman
loaded James’ belongings into the carriage down the stairs.
 
Before the men set out for Charlestown, Albert penned several letters to
the contacts he had made on the island, apologizing for his hasty departure,
and assuring them of his continued correspondence.
 
One of his letters went to the poor farmer, Jonas
Dearing, making him an offer of employment at his Cornwall estate if his family needed to
relocate.
 
Albert also included a large
bank note.

The men made it to Charlestown in a short time and watched as
their belongings were loaded onto the ship.
 
They waited to board, wishing to keep their feet on land as long as
possible.

 

 

Thomas
had the carriage ready for Catherine promptly at ten o’clock the next morning,
but was full of warnings of rain as she met him in the foyer.

“Thomas, I know it may rain, but the carriage is
covered.
 
I am quite sure I will not
melt.”

Thomas loaded her bags onto the carriage with a
furrowed brow as Catherine went to look for her father.
 
When she found him, he was passed out on her
mother’s bed, snoring heavily.
 
Catherine
approached Cecil and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.

“Goodbye, Father,” she whispered.

She took a deep breath, stifled a sob, and hurried
down the stairs to the kitchen.
 
Esther
was not there, and Catherine did not have time to find her.
 
She crossed the foyer, looked up the great
staircase and into each of the rooms around her.
 
She left the house, boarded the carriage, and
did not look back at Eden
as the carriage moved down the road.

Rain started falling just after Catherine’s
departure.

“Shall we turn back, Miss Catherine?” asked
Thomas.

“No Thomas, keep moving please.”

“These roads are mighty muddy, Miss
Catherine.
 
The horses are struggling to
keep the wheels moving.”

“I know Thomas, but we must keep moving.
 
I have to get to Charlestown before
noon
.”

The horses struggled and heaved their way through
the deep muddy tracks on the road. They got stuck several times and Thomas
looked back at Catherine with concern. Catherine tried to ignore his pleading
eyes as she gazed around at her surroundings. She watched the familiar island
foliage as it passed her and disappeared from her view.
 
Memories pushed through her mind, threatening
to weaken her resolve and send her back to Eden.

Catherine thought of how she and Leah would run
through the rain showers at home as children until Aunt Elizabeth found them
and punished them.
 
She thought of the
day that she and James were forced to seek refuge from the rain in the cave by
the beach.
 
She thought of the horrible
night Leah had lost her life as the rain poured down on the island.
   

Was the rain a baptism?
 
Was she cleansed of her sins?
 
Was God weeping over them with each rainfall
as her childhood myths would suggest?
 

In spite of the odds, the carriage made it to Charlestown.
 
Catherine urged Thomas toward the city dock
and looked at the vessels as they lifted and fell in the current.
 
Two ships were parked at the dock.
 
One was empty, and the other had only a few
deckhands on board.
  
Neither of the
boats looked ready to depart and her heartbeat slowed with relief as she
realized that she must be early.
 
She
directed Thomas to pull under an overhang out of the rain and strained her eyes
in the direction of the Bath Hotel in expectation of seeing James arrive.
 
Catherine did not have any idea what she
would say to him, and had even less of an idea what she would do if he rejected
her, but she sat on, waiting.

After some time had passed Catherine grew
nervous.
 
Perhaps she was mistaken on the
time or date of departure.
 
She was about
to call to a deckhand nearby when her eyes met with those of the boy she had
danced with at the pub that night with James.
 
He was coming off the pier with a large rope on his arm.

“You, there,” she called.

He saw Catherine and turned crimson when he
recognized her face.

“What time is the ship sailing for England
due to leave?”

“It’s gone, miss,” said the boy.

           
“But I thought it was to depart at
noon today?”

           
“The ship and its cargo were ready
early.
 
They made for England just before eleven.”

           
Catherine sat in stunned silence as
she scanned the horizon.
 
She could see a
ship far off, and became numb.

           

 

James
strained his eyes to catch a final glimpse of the great mountain peak of Nevis, and when it disappeared, buried
his face in his hands.
 
Some impossible
hope had overtaken him as he had traveled to the ship from the hotel that
morning, and dared to suggest that Catherine would meet him at the city
dock.
 
He surveyed the crowds for her that
morning, but was disappointed.
 
Even as
he boarded the great vessel he scanned the faces for a glimpse of her face.
 
He watched the island until it disappeared
from view, and only then would he accept that he was going home without her.

 
 
 
 
 

21

 
 
 
 

After
Meg read the letter to Brian and Drew, they all walked out to the cliff and
stared at the ocean far below.
 
None of
them could think of much to say, but finally Meg spoke.
 

           
“You said every slave story is a
ghost story, Drew, so who’s the ghost?
 
Catherine died shortly after Leah.
 
Who’s the more tortured soul?
 
The
murderer or the victim?”

           
“I would say Catherine.”

           
“Why do you think that?”

           
“Beethoven’s
Sonata
” he said.

           
“I thought that was you?” said Meg.

           
“I don’t play in the middle of the
night.”

           
Meg shivered and turned back to
stare at the Great House.
 
She thought
she never again wanted to set foot inside that place.
 
She regretted finding out as much as she had.
 

           
“Let’s get out of here,” said Meg.

           
She and Brian turned to go, but Drew
didn’t move.

           
“I think I’ll stay here for a
bit.
 
Pay my respects.”

           
Meg looked at him for a moment.
 
She walked over and kissed his cheek.

           
“See you tomorrow at the wedding?”

           
“Yes, tomorrow.”

           
Brian wanted to see the beach on the
property, so Meg walked him down one last time.
 
She told him about Hamilton,
and wished that he would appear as he had so frequently when her quest
began.
 
Meg told Brian about the
manchineel tree, and showed him the cave.
 
They walked up the overgrown path to the
lagoon and admired the waterfall.
 

           
“It’s a shame you have to get rid of
all this,” said Brian.

           
“I thought that before, but knowing
what I know now, I feel as if it is all tainted.”

           
They walked along the banks of the
lagoon, until Brian pointed out a path that Meg had not yet discovered.
 
It was covered in vines, but was clearly
defined on the ground.
 
Brian pushed away
the vines and began moving down the path.
 

           
“Up for some adventure?” he called.

           
Meg followed him through the tangled
foliage.
 
The path twisted and turned and
seemed endless.
 

           
“It looks as if there’s a clearing
ahead a bit,” said Brian.
 
“I can see the
light.
 
Do you want to keep going or turn
back?”

           
“We might as well keep going now.
 
I’m curious to see where it leads.”

           
They moved forward and were panting
by the time they reached the end of the path.
 
They spilled out into an open lawn where the trees were sparse and the
vegetation was neatly trimmed.
 
Stone
statues stood every few feet with plaques at their bases.
 
Angels, tablets, trees, and crosses were
arranged in rows through the clearing.

           
“It’s a cemetery,” said Meg.

           
She and Brian walked around the
grave sites reading the names.
 

           
“It’s relatively recent,” he said.
 
“I can’t find a stone older than 1950.
 
I was hoping to find the Dalls.”

           
“They were probably buried at one of
the churches in town.
 
I can’t believe I
never thought to look.”

           
A noise caused Meg and Brian to
turn.
 
Drew cleared his throat from
behind them.

           
“Drew!”

           
He smiled and pointed to an angel
nearby.
 
It was a male angel—young,
graying, pre-Raphaelite.
 
Moss grew up
around its base.

           
“My son.”

           
Meg gave Drew a hug, and walked with
him to the stone.
 
The light shifted
through the trees and over the gravesite.
 
The fresh flowers in the vase before it trembled in the wind.
 

           
“My God,” she said.

           
Hamilton
Edmead.

 

 

“May
I fix you a drink?” asked Brian.

           
Meg shook her head.

           
“I’ll take one,” said Drew.

           
The wind was strong outside behind
Havilla.
 
Brian, amused by Meg’s little
drink matching game, made two
Hurricane
Leah’s.

           
“I know it’s early, but there’s
juice in it,” said Brian.

           
“I’ll drink to that,” said Drew, as
he lifted his glass.

           
Meg still had not regained the color
she lost upon reading Drew’s son’s name.

           
“It could be a coincidence,” said Brian.

           
“I know of no other Hamiltons on the island,”
said Drew, “But it is a possibility.”

           
“There’s only one way to solve
this,” said Brian.

           
Drew nodded and reached into his
pocket.
 
He pulled out a brown leather
wallet that looked as if it was as old as Drew.
  
He picked through a pile of small papers and
felt into the pocket inside the wallet.
 
Drew passed the worn photograph to Meg.

           
She knew it was him before the
picture was before her, and began to cry once it was confirmed.
 
Hamilton
smiled at her through those shining white teeth.
 
He had his hands on his hips.
 
He wore a collared white shirt, and looked as
if he was on his way to school.
 
The
picture looked well worn.
 
The edges were
frayed from a thousand handlings.

           
Meg began to cry and covered her
face with her hands.

           
“I must be going crazy,” she said.

           
Brian walked over to where she was
sitting and placed his hands on her shoulders.
 

           
Drew put his hand over hers on the
table.

           
“This is not a bad thing, Meghan,”
he said.

           
“I’m seeing ghosts, Drew.”

           
“Remember where you are.
 
That’s not so strange to me.
 
I only wish I could see him.”

           
“Did you ever see a picture of him
before, Meg?” asked Brian.
 
“Perhaps Drew
has a picture on his desk at the Museum. You could have seen it, and could be
confusing the image with the boy you truly saw.”

           
“I have no picture of Hamilton at work,” said
Drew.
 
“You don’t have to explain this
away.”

           
“I’m not trying to,” said Brian.
 
“I’m just trying to make everyone feel
better.”

           
“I feel just fine,” said Drew.
 
“Meg, when was the last time you saw him?”

           
Meg thought back to their time on
the beach when he had warned her about the manchineel tree.
 
She thought of them looking on the rocks for
sea life.
 
She remembered how he had
disappeared before she could take his picture, and told Drew all of these
things.
 
Drew sat for a moment and stared
at the picture on the table.
 
He reached
out and put it back in his wallet, which he folded and put back into his
pocket.

           
“I’d better be going.
 
I have a lot to tell Dorothy.”

           
Meg stood and wiped her face.
 
Drew turned to leave, but stopped and went
back to Meg.
 
He hugged her, and then walked
toward the door.
 
He turned before he
left.

           
“Hamilton played the piano.”

 

 

Meg
was quiet that night at dinner.
 
They ate
early with David and Gwen, and they asked Meg if everything was alright.
 
She and Brian had spoken earlier, and Meg
asked that Brian not mention what had happened with Hamilton to David and Gwen.
 
They were nice friends, but new friends, and
Meg didn’t want them to think she was crazy.
 
As the night wore on, Meg allowed herself to relax and get excited about
the night dive, and the next day’s nuptials.
 

           
In Brian’s research, he had found a
company who did night dives on Nevis.
 
He and Meg were good divers, and found out
that David and Gwen were also advanced.
 
They said that most people on the Florida coast were avid
divers and had plenty of locations to pursue their passion.
 
Meg was looking forward to the dive, but was
a little nervous about going at night, which she had never before experienced.
 
She thought the dive would be called off due
to the coming storm, but the water looked strangely calm.

           
Scuba Safaris dive shack was located
at Oualie Beach. They boarded the Island Hopper
“Over Exposure” and were greeted by a charming man named Alex, his son, Saul,
and an assistant named Matthew.
 
Two
other groups joined Meg’s group, and they all introduced themselves as they
boarded the boat.
 
Alex discussed the
dive and procedures with the groups as he pulled out into the harbor toward the
setting sun.
 

           
They were on their way to Monkey
Shoal, a two square mile reef that went to depths of 100 feet and offered the
largest variety of marine life.
 
Their
instructor told them to look for hawksbill turtles, angel fish, octopus,
lobster, parrot fish, eels, starfish, barracuda, and sharks.
 
Meg was less excited about the prospect of
swimming with barracuda and sharks than with angel fish, but thought the dive
to be well worth the risk.
 
The most
exciting possibility was of seeing the humpback whales and bottlenose dolphins.
 
The whales and dolphins were often seen
during the early part of the year, and each of the divers secured a listening device
to use to hear their sounds.

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