Chapter Thirty-Four
Goodbye
There were few dry eyes at The Angel when we had to bid our farewells three days later.
We’d made so many friends among the girls who worked there.
There was always some sort of drama going on between them, although any major disputes were settled by Miss June.
’Twas an entertaining environment for the most part.
And ’twas refreshing to be among folks who didn’t hold any moralizing principles o’er the pleasures of sex and the right to enjoy one’s body, even if these girls were forced by society to prioritize getting paid.
I knew ’twas a job like anything else. Aspects of it were enjoyable, and other parts were a drudgery.
At least, at Miss June’s well-run establishment, these women were spared the harsher aspects of their profession.
Even Trick seemed sad to be leaving in some ways, although she was excited to venture forth on a new path as Maggie, in a place that was hers and Cal’s to manage the way they liked, and where they didn’t have to be at the whim of strange men all the time.
Miss June thanked us again for coming all the way from Port Essington to help her and told us we’d always have a place at The Angel if we ever needed it—and that she’d miss us greatly.
“We’ll miss you, too,” I said, giving her a hug and a kiss. “Thanks for lookin’ after me—and after Oscar last fall. We might not have survived without your kindness.”
“I’m happy to put my skills to use, Jimmy,” she said, smiling. “I hope you’re able to make your journey home unscathed.”
“God willin’.”
Oscar made a sound. “You ain’t even a religious fella. Why you lookin’ to God to protect us?”
I gave him a look. “I ain’t never said I didn’t believe in God. I just don’t believe most pastors speak for him.”
“Hmph. I suppose that’s true. And I reckon we could use any protection that’s available.”
We said our goodbyes and set about loading up the mule with our supplies.
We’d thought about leaving Poke with Cal and the children, but Miss June assured us she would get a horse for them as soon as she could manage it.
They’d need a horse if they meant to farm the land, and the children wanted to keep riding.
We stopped by Cal and Maggie’s place on our way out.
The children, who were playing with the puppy in the field when we arrived, saw us and shouted cheerful greetings, before they noticed the packed mule behind me and Dixie.
Their expressions sobered, and they took their time walking to meet us by the house, Teddy running back and forth and yapping with excitement.
We dismounted and hitched the horses and the mule to a shrub, then turned to the children.
The only one of them with a smile on their face was Samuel, whom Peter was leading by the hand. When they got close, the little boy reached his arms out.
“Up!”
Oscar glanced my way and smiled. “Go on.”
I gave Oscar a rueful look then turned to the child. “You want up?”
He smiled even wider. “Up!”
I shrugged and reached down, and the child threw himself into me. I lifted him and held him in the crook of my arm, as he reached out to my chin, blinking his soft eyes contemplatively.
Oscar met my gaze, and he watched me and Samuel, his hands on his hips. “Well, ain’t that one of the sweetest things I ever did see,” he said in a soft voice, nodding. “Suits you.”
The child’s weight was practically nothing, and his fingers on my chin were gentle. I tried to think of something to say in response, but then Peter spoke.
“You’re goin’ then? Truly?”
Lizzie started crying, and Oscar knelt down to her level. “It’ll be all right, Lizzie darlin’.”
“But I won’t ever see you and Onis again,” she sniffed, throwing her arms around his neck. He shot me a desperate glance as he held her close and tried to soothe her.
“Well, that might not be true. Why, I’d love to come back and see you all, see how the farm’s goin’, how tall you and Peter and Sam have got.”
Peter blinked back his tears, although I could tell ’twas a struggle. He was still so young.
“We’ll miss you,” he said, looking at me out of eyes that knew more than they should at his age—more about cruelty and violence and death. Then again, he also knew love and caring and kindness, so there was that.
I put Samuel down and stepped toward him. “I’ll miss you as well, Peter Webster.”
Cal and Maggie had discussed giving the children Cal’s last name, or Maggie’s, but they’d decided ’twould be best to avoid any kind of suspicion regarding Albert’s disappearance by continuing to use his last name.
Besides, the children were used to it, and ’twas probably best to avoid further disruption to their young lives.
I held out my hand, and Peter took it to shake, giving me a shy smile. But I pulled him to me for a hug, because boys needed comfort as much as girls, no matter how old they were. He wrapped his arms around my neck and hugged me back.
“I promise we’ll do our best to come back and visit you. Port Essington ain’t that far. Why, Oscar and I’ve traveled more’n twice that distance.”
Peter nodded against my chest.
“Maybe you’d even be able to come to Port Essington someday, when you’re older. We’d always have a spot for you to stay, I reckon.”
“Can I come to Port Essington, too?” Lizzie said, sniffling back her tears and petting Onyx’s broad black neck while the horse tore fresh grass and chewed it, snorting at the flies.
“Of course, you can,” I said, “when you’re bigger and can ride well. You keep practicin’, now, once Miss June gets you a horse.”
“I will. I promise.” She stepped even closer to Oscar’s black mare and pressed her forehead against Onyx’s neck. Now she was missing a tooth, she had a bit of a lisp, which made her version of Onyx’s name sound even sweeter. “Onis, I’m gonna miss you…so much.”
I glanced at Oscar. He frowned and shrugged, the tension in his face showing his reaction to Lizzie’s sorrow at losing her sweet friend. ’Twas useless to try to keep an emotional distance from these children. I reckoned we’d stopped trying.
“We ain’t leavin’ yet,” Oscar said, his voice rough. “We gotta go say goodbye to Cal and Maggie.”
“Can I please stay here with Onis until you need to go?” Lizzie asked in a quiet voice.
“Sure,” Oscar said, looking anywhere but at them. “I know she’ll appreciate the company.”
“Come on,” I said, nudging him toward the house.
Peter followed, with Samuel. “Momma, Jimmy and Oscar are here to say good—goodbye.”
Cal was crouched before the open hatch of the stove, stirring the wood so the flames kept their heat.
She was wearing a dark blue skirt and a linen blouse with tiny yellow flowers all o’er it, her hair up in the braids again.
She stood and placed the poker in its stand, before turning toward us.
She wrung her hands together and opened her mouth a couple of times, as if she didn’t know quite what to say.
Then we all started talking at once.
“It’s all right, Cal—” I said, as Oscar said, “Now, don’t worry about—” and Cal herself said, “I can’t possibly thank you enough.”
Oscar frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Oh, yeah, you can.” He almost sounded angry, and I reckoned the emotion of this moment was getting to him.
Cal blinked, waiting for him to continue.
“You can thank us by lookin’ after these young ’uns, and yourself, so when we come back to visit, we find you in a much better situation than we did a month ago.”
Cal nodded, swallowing hard, and smiled at Oscar. “I will. And you look after that fetchin’ fella of yours.” She glanced my way. “Jimmy acts tough, but he needs coddling and sweet handlin’ as much as you and I do.”
“I know it. And you don’t gotta worry about that.” We exchanged a glance and, though I was embarrassed, I saw such love and care in Oscar’s gaze that it didn’t matter.
Oscar and I had told Miss June we could be reached through the General Store in Port Essington if she ever needed us again and to not hesitate to write to us.
Hell, e’en if she didn’t need us, we wanted to hear from her.
We’d want reassurance that our friends at The Angel were all right, and that Cal and the children and Maggie were getting on well.
After lots of hugs and kisses and promises to keep in touch, I glanced at Oscar.
“Well, we’d best be gettin’ on,” I said. “Maggie, you’d best come out with us. Lizzie’s gonna need someone to help her let go of that horse—or hold her back from comin’ with us.”
There was a tug on my sleeve, and when I turned, Oscar pointed out of the window, where Lizzie stood close to Onyx.
The little girl, in her pink frock, black stockings and black leather boots, had her hands cupped to the horse’s ear as if she was saying a private goodbye.
Then she threw her arms around Onyx’s neck and shook with sobs, as the brown-and-white sheepdog pup wandered nearby.
“Jimmy,” Oscar said, in a strange voice, “I don’t know if I can bear it.”