Chapter 24
After noon the next day, I was walking with Patrice when we saw Graham entering a grove of trees on the east side of the estate.
“I’m going to follow him. He seems to be alone. This is my chance.” I ran away from her and into the trees where I’d seen him go. It was farther than I thought, and I was out of breath when I reached him.
Graham sat quietly on his own near a shallow stream, throwing in rocks.
The memory of our first kiss all those years ago in Scotland was so vivid, it was almost tangible.
I sat down next to him and he looked at me.
Instead of seeing tears in his eyes like I had all those years ago, I only saw uncertainty.
At least it wasn’t a stone wall this time.
“Miss Findlay,” he greeted.
“Graham,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
His smile was more like a wince. “Since ye and Mr. Ashby have arrived, it has been strange to hear someone call me by that name with such familiarity.”
“It is as familiar to me as my own name,” I answered.
We took measure of one another. As familiar as I was with his name, this man beside me was a complete stranger. Slowly, he nodded. “So, have ye come to remind me of my identity?”
I turned to the stream and leaned back on my hands, trying to seem casual. “Not yet. I told you that we can become reacquainted first.”
“Truly?”
When I looked at him again, I noted the relief on his face.
It confused me, because at times he seemed to be genuinely interested in learning of his past, and other times he avoided it.
I sighed. “If I’m in earnest, no. I desperately want you to remember me.
” We frowned simultaneously. “But I cannot fathom what you are going through, not to remember an entire lifetime…so I’m here to find a way to understand.
Perhaps I can help, perhaps I cannot. Either way, I’m here for you. ”
Those words echoed again, from a past lifetime that only one of us could recall.
I simply want to be here for you. Of course, back then, those words had elicited a kiss.
This time, Graham’s frown deepened. From what I knew of his natural character, he must have felt disappointed that he couldn’t reciprocate my offer.
He had always thought in terms of give and take, that he needed to pay back what good will was given to him.
He never received anything for free. I knew Cam and my father had offered to help him when his father died, but Graham couldn’t become dependent on our family.
He would never have wished to become, in his eyes, a beggar.
“Mr. Ashby tells me that I have a mother, but no other family in Scotland?” Graham asked, breaking me out of my ponderings.
“Yes, your mother lives with relatives that you’ve never been close with. An uncle of hers, I believe, and his family. Because of your contributions, she has always lived quite comfortably and has never been a burden to them.” I repeated nearly verbatim what Graham had said to me before.
“Until recently, I suppose.” He sounded gruff. Was he…angry? He got to his feet and paced with irritation.
Interesting. Graham had never been one quick to anger. I’d certainly never seen him pace with such force before. I stood as well and got in his way. “What has you reacting so? Are you angry with me, or…?”
He looked away from me. “I wish I knew.”
That answer only confused me more. Was his mind not right? Did his emotions run out of his control? He had always been so composed. I placed a hand on his arm and he flinched away. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I only meant to comfort you.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s no need, Miss Findlay. But…thank ye.” He took off while I stood there, once again hearing echoes of the past. Graham, walking away from me as he went…elsewhere. He was always elsewhere. That hadn’t changed, though it was the only thing I wished had.
There was hope for a moment, wasn’t there? He seemed as if he wanted to try. My shoulders dropped. I felt defeated. Getting through to this new version of Graham seemed impossible. His emotions were unpredictable, as were his responses and questions.
But there was nothing to be done. I was here for him. Quite literally, I was in St. Kitts because of him. I groaned, then sat down roughly and pulled my knees up, holding them with my arms and resting my forehead atop them. I wouldn’t cry anymore. There were no more tears to shed.
But I could pout.
Closing my eyes, I took some time to feel sorry for myself.
Poor Elsie, crossed an ocean for the man she loved only to find that he didn’t remember her at all.
How lamentable! Surely there would be ballads written about such a pitiful tale!
To think I went through so much turmoil just to end up here.
The girl in the tower would either be proud of my bravery or mock my impulsivity.
But then I heard the stream and my mind quieted.
The ocean waves had been the only sound for months.
I’d thought I never wanted to hear or see water again.
But the sound of the stream was so lovely.
Perhaps it was possible to feel calm in such a situation, if one took some time to let the emotions settle.
I allowed my ears to notice the music around me.
The breeze in the trees, the buzzing of insects, the chirping of birds and an occasional splash of fish in the stream.
It was all familiar. It sounded like home.
When I lifted my face to the sky, a pleasant stillness came over me.
The sun shone through the trees in such a pretty way, all my thoughts were brushed aside as I let in that light.
I soaked it up beneath my skin and breathed in the fresh, warm air.
So this was the West Indies. I hadn’t taken the time to enjoy it yet.
It may have sounded like Scotland, but the air felt foreign.
The heat and humidity complimented each other so well, it was like being in a fresh bath. Cozy, comfortable.
Then I felt a sting on my arm and slapped at it, watching a bump form on my skin.
Mosquitoes. The bump itched immediately.
After I was bit several more times while sitting still, I decided I could no longer stay.
Peace was often fleeting; at some point, a mosquito would ruin it.
Perhaps there was an ointment that would relieve the itching at the house.
I found Mr. Ashby waiting as I left the trees and came to the clearing in view of the house. I furrowed my brow at him. “Were you here the whole time?” I asked him.
He pulled up a shoulder. “I thought you could use a friend.”
I looked around. “Where’s Patrice?”
“She went back to the house. I followed you, but I saw Graham and hung back.”
“But you stayed,” I observed. Mr. Ashby didn’t respond, just looked at me with sincerity. Whatever that sincerity meant, I couldn’t say for sure. So I changed the subject.
“Did you meet some new friends as I did?” I held up my arms to show him my bites.
A laugh crinkled his eyes when he realized what I meant. Finally, his blue eyes sparkled again. “They’re determined little things. I even got bitten through my trousers.”
“Sneaky devils,” I said, laughing.
We began the walk back, falling in step beside each other. A quick glance at Mr. Ashby told me he had a lot on his mind. I wouldn’t ask him about it, for I imagined they were the same things on my own mind.
“How did it go with him?” His voice was quiet.
I shrugged and attempted an unconcerned tone. “As well as it could go with someone I once loved who’s forgotten my very existence.”
“It will get better.”
I opted for no response. Instead, I looked around us. The farm was thriving, at least from what I could tell from our moderately high vantage point. Every field seemed to be producing something, and there were many people farming the land.
As we reached the porch, Patrice came around the corner with Lottie.
They were laughing and Patrice looked more herself than I’d seen her in weeks.
I smiled softly, glad to see my lady’s maid-turned-friend happy.
Was it because she was working at a big house again?
I hadn’t realized she truly missed the work, but I supposed it made sense.
She had been happy at Edleroy. Remembering this filled me with guilt.
I shouldn’t have brought her…but what would I have done without her?
Having Patrice near, with her support and comfort, allowed me to be brave.
“What are you thinking?” Mr. Ashby asked.
I looked at him briefly. “Nothing, really.”
“Do you worry about Miss Patrice?” He bent his head to catch my eye, as if he needed to see them to understand my thoughts better.
Lifting my head, I allowed him to meet my gaze.
“Fine. Yes. Afterall, I was the one who took her from her home, where she felt most comfortable and happy. It seems my entire notion of traveling across the seas was foolhardy.” The words came out in a rush, and I fell heavily onto a bench that sat against the side of the house.
I avoided looking at Mr. Ashby. How could I face him after coming to such a realization? It was humiliating. It was ultimately my fault he’d had such a difficult time as well. If he hadn’t been worried about my safety, perhaps things would have gone differently.
He sat down on the bench, too, which didn’t surprise me.
Mr. Ashby had always seemed undaunted by my emotions.
If I was distressed, he waited next to me until I was ready to speak about it.
His patience seemed never-ending. Somehow, without even watching me directly, he could sense if I needed a handkerchief, a kind word, or a cup of tea.
Perhaps even, rarely, a comforting touch on my back or my arm.
Even more rare, holding my hand tightly to ward off more harmful emotions that might otherwise rip me apart. Like when Tallow died. Or Simon.
There would be no hand-holding today, though. Or, I suspected, ever again. We had to be more careful around one another. The time we’d spent aboard the Katarina had come to an end, and our relationship would need to shift into something less personal. The garden was proof enough of that.
Rather than focusing on confusing feelings, I took a deep breath and looked at him with what I hoped was a lighthearted expression.
“Whether you are honest or not makes no difference, but I need you to acknowledge that this journey was a disaster. I should never have come; I should have stayed in Scotland and never gone looking for Graham.”
His face transformed into pure tenderness as his gaze softened and a faint smile played on his lips.
It made my heart flutter despite myself.
He turned his body fully toward me. “I would never attempt to lie to you, Miss Findlay. Of course I wish you had been spared the sorrow of everything that’s happened.
But I…” He left the sentence unfinished briefly as he took a long breath.
“I cannot wish you never decided to make the journey.” His eyes were a darker shade of blue than usual, perhaps because his pupils were larger.
I could see my reflection in them so clearly.
Too clearly. I didn’t want to be looking at him like that.
He glanced at my lips and I could feel my pulse quicken.
I turned away, laughing awkwardly. “Since I told you it didn’t matter whether you were honest or not, I suppose I should discount everything you say.” I stood and barely glanced at him before making my way back up to my room. It was only when I lay down in bed that my bites began itching again.