Chapter 23
Patrice had been with Lottie in the kitchen, helping her pack food that the staff must have been making for days.
I joined the group stacking dishes into crates that were being taken out the back door to be placed in carts attached to donkeys.
I asked Lottie where we were taking all of this; I had assumed the celebration would be at the big house.
“No, Miss, we’ll take these to the mission.” She piled my arms high with stacks of sweet-smelling breads wrapped in brown paper.
Once everything had been packed into the carts—I counted five total carts overflowing with food—all the house staff and crew members began walking toward the mission.
Patrice took my arm and we followed the caravan before us.
It was a high-spirited group, and we marveled as Lottie and her fellow staff members fell into rhythmic step with each other and called out phrases to which the others would answer.
It seemed to be more than a game—a way of communicating their happiness.
Their rhythm was so contagious, I found myself matching it.
In no time at all, we made it to the mission.
It was dusk, but there was still plenty of light to notice the structure of the village.
The homes were made of sturdy brick, the streets were made of well-packed dirt, and the chapel at the center of it all was large enough to hold several houses.
Just to the east of it was a large pavilion and a grassy field beyond, where the carts were being taken.
Torches were lit around the pavilion, and a large crowd had already gathered there.
As we approached, I saw people greeting the new bishop enthusiastically and Mrs. Bowers even more so.
She was clearly beloved by all. Patrice and I helped unload the carts, and everything was quickly placed on the tables that surrounded the grassy field.
Benches had been set out in rows facing each other.
In the center was a bonfire that had yet to be lit.
Everyone took seats on the benches and faced toward the pavilion. Patrice and I followed suit. Mr. Weiss stood up on the pavilion with his wife and Mrs. Bowers.
“Welcome, everyone, to our first official meeting since our new bishop arrived to this blessed mission,” Mrs. Bowers greeted.
“He had a difficult journey, but the Lord knew we needed him.” Everyone laughed, agreeing with her.
“I’m sure you’re all tired of hearing from me, though.
I’ll let Mr. Weiss lead our service today. ”
She stepped aside and Mr. Weiss stood before everyone with a wide smile.
“Greetings, my friends in Christ. I am extraordinarily blessed to be with you tonight. I would like to give my heartfelt thanks to the crew of the Maelstrom for keeping my wife and me safe on our journey here.” He clapped in the direction of the crew, who were seated together near the front of the field.
Captain Whitmore, standing at the end of the bench, lifted his glass of port to Mr. Weiss in acknowledgement.
Graham sat next to him, and Elizabeth sat next inside the row. I couldn’t see their facial expressions clearly, but I imagined they were smiling.
“We did lose men in that fight, however, and I wish to take a moment of silence in honor of their sacrifice.”
Heads bowed all around. Mr. Weiss ended the moment of silence as he prayed, blessing everyone in the world, it seemed.
When he continued, his sermon was very similar to those I’d heard at home in every church I attended.
The congregation began singing without missing a second, and it was a song I recognized, so I followed along.
After the familiar sermon and song, I heard new sounds.
The rhythm reminded me of the one we’d heard on our walk here, but a new melody followed and many stood, walking to the pavilion.
I looked up there and saw an elderly man and a woman pounding the wooden floor with long staffs, while a large group began walking to the beat in a counter-clockwise circle.
Someone began singing and everyone repeated or answered every line.
The effect was something I’d never seen or heard in my life, and I found that I started clapping along with everyone else.
It was beautiful and moving and brought a full, genuine smile to my face.
I watched Graham join Elizabeth in the circle, and tried not to feel jealous by the familiar way they moved together.
After a few songs, someone lit the bonfire and the circle dispersed while everyone began eating the food brought up from the big house.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to such a lively affair,” I told Patrice with a grin.
“Aye, I could get used to this,” she admitted. She seemed relaxed, and I was grateful to see it.
Captain Whitmore came up and handed us drinks. “You shouldn’t be standing here with nothing in your hands, ladies. There is much to eat and drink.” His smile was wide and welcoming. “What do you think of our celebration?”
“I am greatly enjoying it, Captain,” I responded honestly.
“Capital, capital. We do like a nice party here in the Caribbean,” he chuckled.
“I can see that.”
“Religion is fine, but I’m not much for believing in it, myself. But the way the people of the mission do it, I find I’m converted every time.” He suddenly took the drink from my hands that he’d given me himself. “If you’re not going to drink it, then I will,” he said before draining the cup.
I stood still, unsure how to react. He saw my shocked expression and howled a laugh. “Next time, drink what’s given to you, Miss Findlay, or someone will snatch it.” His laughter continued and I couldn’t help but smile at his strangeness.
“Captain, you’re needed at the pavilion,” Whisper said as he poked his head into our little circle. He surprised me again in his stealthy way.
“Thank you, Whisper.” Captain Whitmore bowed much lower than necessary. “Good evening, ladies.” He walked away in a giddy step, like he was overly pleased with how well he’d startled me.
“Your captain is…unique,” I said to Whisper.
“Gareth Whitmore is one of a kind,” he responded with a grin. “Excuse me.” He left as quickly as he’d appeared.
“Where exactly have we come?” Patrice asked, raising one side of her mouth in humor.
“I’m not exactly sure…” I looked all around us and was struck again by the pleasant atmosphere.
Could this place be a utopia? The weather was warm year-round, the people were lively and kind, and the food was delicious.
It seemed a place I could let my hair down, literally and figuratively.
If only Graham were himself again, I could imagine a life here.
As I thought it, however, I saw Graham with Elizabeth again and admitted that he seemed to have already found a life here, and I was just getting in the way.
No. I couldn’t think that way. He needed me.
No one wanted to live without knowing their past, their identity.
And I didn’t want to live in a world where Graham Anderson didn’t remember our love.
“I’m going to speak with Graham,” I told Patrice.
“I’ll find Mr. Ashby,” she responded as I left her there.
Elizabeth greeted me when I approached them. She handed me a drink from the table beside her. “Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked.
I glanced at Graham. “I am. You two seem…to be having a good time.” Could I sound more jealous? My face probably betrayed my thoughts louder than I could have shouted it. “I mean, I’m glad to see you so happy.” I raised my glass to Graham and then drank deeply.
“This place is a real home,” Graham responded. “Ye’ll see, the longer yer here, how easy it is to feel comfortable.”
“No, I do. I do see that.” Smiling felt like a lie, but my lips stretched out anyway.
We fell into a tense silence, and it lasted so long I couldn’t bear it.
I said goodbye and practically ran to find Patrice again.
When I found her, my heart beat wildly because next to her stood Mr. Ashby.
I had deliberately avoided him since we’d left the big house.
I knew she had gone to find him, but in my haste to leave that awkward situation with Graham, I’d forgotten.
“Yer back,” Patrice commented dryly. She raised an eyebrow.
I shook my head once, indicating I didn’t want to talk about it. “Have you tried any of the food yet?”
“Aye, take a bite of this.” She shoved a piece of sweet bread at me.
“Oh my heavens, it’s incredible!” I said after tasting it.
“And this, too,” Mr. Ashby offered me a slice of what I assumed must be fruit.
It was pink with green skin. When our eyes met, I swallowed.
He did not look at me any differently than usual.
It was his typical kind, accepting gaze.
He was simply offering me a slice of fruit, as if it had been any normal day.
I took it, biting the slice in the center. It was equally sweet and tart, and utterly unique. Of course, it had hints of other kinds of fruit—like citrus or pineapple—but it was wholly different. I met Mr. Ashby’s gaze with enthusiasm. “It’s delicious!” I said.
He grinned, nodding. “It is my favorite. I’m glad you like it.”
“What’s it called?”
“Guava.”
I repeated the word and found it enjoyable to say. “Guava. Guava.” Grinning, I took another bite and looked at Mr. Ashby. He was chuckling at me. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just good to see you happy.”
That answer was so like him. He always seemed to be concerned for my welfare and constantly found ways to put a smile on my face.
As we stared at each other, I found myself wanting to clear the air between us.
If we both knew that what had happened had been a mistake, we could put it behind us and continue being friends like before.
I didn’t want to lose his friendship because we’d both been caught up in a moment of vulnerability.
Besides, trying to avoid him seemed foolhardy.
“Can we talk for a moment?” I asked him, glancing at Patrice. She understood, so she excused herself before Mr. Ashby could reply.
He watched her go and then gave me his full attention. I took a step closer to him so we wouldn’t be overheard. “I know we agreed to not speak about this morning…”
He looked away, but I pulled his attention back by continuing. “But I needed to say just one thing.” His eyes connected with mine, and the stern look in them had my heart pounding. I swallowed to find the right words. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Mr. Ashby didn’t respond verbally, but his eyes softened as he seemed to truly hear me. He looked down, then nodded. “I don’t either. So let’s…” He met my eyes again. “Continue on how we were before.”
I smiled at him, clasping my hands in front of me. “Yes, that is just what I wished to say.”
He looked away and laughed lightly, nodding again. “Well, I do know you very well. You can trust that I will never abandon you. If you need me, I will always be here.”
“Always?” I raised one eyebrow.
His laugh was full. “Yes, always.”
We regarded each other fondly and I noticed how well he looked tonight.
He had shaven closely, and had even cut his hair shorter so it was styled differently.
Instead of tying it back, he had it down.
The length was just past his ears and it suited him quite well.
I almost said as much, but Patrice joined us again with another glass of something for me.
“Ye seem better friends now,” she commented.
I grinned at Mr. Ashby. “Yes, we’ve made up. Now, to never quarreling again.” I held up my glass and clinked his. I wouldn’t exactly call what we’d done quarreling, but we hadn’t parted as friends, certainly.
Things were back to how they ought to have been. I was friends with Mr. Ashby and devoted to Graham. Now to focus all my energy on that man whom I had been waiting on my entire life…