Chapter 9
Jasper
It seems cruelly fitting that it’s once again a Tuesday, nearly a year after I met Abraham, when everything breaks apart.
My feet drag tiredly as I walk the distance back home after my evening spent in Abraham’s company.
I’m in my own head, remembering the sweetness of his lips and the softness of his touch, not paying attention to my surroundings, when I notice candlelight coming from within my house.
My pulse stutters before beginning to race.
I hurry the remaining steps home, ready to climb through my open window when Catherine comes racing out the back door.
“Catherine, what—”
She clamps her hand over my mouth before I can utter another word, pulling me off to the side of the house where we’re hidden.
“They know,” she says at a whisper.
My stomach plummets toward the ground. “That I’ve gone? ”
She shakes her head quickly, dressed in her nightclothes, her hair in disarray. “About him .”
A lance of fear hits me square on. “No.”
“Yes,” she says urgently. “You were spotted, Jasper. By one of the men from the printer. He saw your face but not the Morris boy’s.”
Relief fills my lungs, allowing me to speak. “So Abraham is safe.”
Even in the dark, I can see Catherine’s agonized expression. “But you are not, sweet boy. Don’t you see? Word will spread. You can’t stay. It’s a death sentence.”
My breath is promptly knocked from my lungs, and I curl in on myself, grabbing my knees to remain upright. “Catherine.”
“I know, my boy. Your father is securing a horse. Your mother is packing clothes.”
I shake my head, feeling faint, her words not making any sense. “I don’t understand.”
Catherine’s hands pluck my face up, her touch grounding.
“Despite their hard countenances, neither your mother nor your father want to see you dead, Jasper. Your father will say you ran and he went on horseback after you. Your mother will deny knowing a thing. You will leave, and you will never return.”
I inhale deeply, my body starting to shake. “I can’t…”
“You must.”
“But Abraham…”
“Will watch you die if you do not run.”
Ah .
Catherine squeezes my shoulders as I work to steady myself. She’s right. Of course she’s right.
But oh mercy , how will I go ?
“Do you… love me less… now that you know?” I ask around my labored breaths, my throat constricting tightly.
“Oh, my sweet boy,” Catherine says, a waver in her voice. “Never.”
I nod again and again, trying to get my wits about me, looking around frantically as if I’ll find answers somewhere out here in the dark. “How long do I have?”
“Your father will return within the hour. No more than that. Be quick.”
“I have to say goodbye,” I choke out.
“I know. Go, Jasper. Do not be seen.”
Catherine tugs me in close, placing a trembling kiss on my cheek. I wrap her in my arms, realizing this is the last time I’ll be able to do this. If I never return…
The pain nearly causes me to crumple.
I kiss Catherine’s forehead before spinning and running back the way I came.
My feet take me toward Abraham faster than they ever have before.
I ignore the pain in my side and the way my shirt has lifted from my breeches and run.
A branch scrapes my cheek as I move through the woods toward his home, so I hold my arm out in front of me, stumbling over roots, my breathing much too loud.
When I see his house through the trees, I stop, pulling in air and watching for anyone who might be passing at this late hour.
The seconds tick painfully by, but, finally, I step out into the clearing and approach the small home.
The window is covered, but I pray Abraham hears me through the thin barrier.
“Abraham,” I call at a hiss .
I wait before attempting it again, raising my voice only slightly. Seconds later, the door opens, and Abraham’s wide eyes meet mine. “Jasper?”
“Come,” I say quickly, racing back toward the trees. I don’t check to confirm he’s following, knowing he will.
I stop only once I reach the safety of the creek, and then I work to catch my breath.
“Jasper.” Worry is heavy on Abraham’s face as he comes to a stop in front of me, his hands bracketing my cheeks, callused thumbs stroking over my skin. “What is it?”
I can’t find the words. I wrap my arms around him, my face pressed against his chest, and cry. Abraham shushes me gently, his hands rubbing soothing paths along my back. It feels like a lifetime before I’m able to speak, even though I know it’s only minutes. Minutes neither of us have.
“I came to say goodbye,” I manage.
Abraham stills, pulling me back from his chest to look at me in the dark. “Goodbye?”
“Abe,” I croak. “I’ve been found out.”
He stiffens further, his voice a harsh whisper. “Jasper.”
“I’m leaving. I must.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Another sob wracks my throat. “You can’t. Your mother.”
“I…”
This time, it’s me soothing Abraham. I run my palms along his neck, anchoring there, his skin warm and his pulse feathering against me.
His mother would not survive without him; we both know it to be true.
She hasn’t the means to do so. Nor can she travel.
I would never—could never—ask Abraham to choose me instead.
“You cannot leave your mother,” I voice softly. “And I cannot stay. If they learn who you are, you’ll be killed. If I don’t go, I suffer the same. If we run together, we condemn your mother to death. There is but one choice here.”
Abraham looks as if he’s been gutted. “Oh, my heart.”
“You know I am right.”
He lays his forehead to mine, his whole body shaking. “There must be a way.”
“This is not a battle we win, my warrior.”
The sound he makes tears at me viciously. Tears run down my cheeks. Down Abraham’s. His voice is no more than a rasp. “I cannot watch you go.”
“Then you will not watch.”
Abraham rubs his jaw along my cheek, his breath stuttering, his tears hot on my skin. “Please don’t ask this of me, Jasper. How am I to let you walk away from me? How am I to live with it?”
“Abe,” I say roughly. “You must . You must live and live well. It will be my only consolation, my only salve, to know you are here, healthy and strong. I will not survive it otherwise. I do not wish to know a world that does not have you in it. Please. Please , live as happily as you can. For me.”
His lips find my temple, and my eyes slip shut. If I could prolong this moment, I would. I’d live in it forever. But I know I must go. I must run. And soon.
I could not bear it if Abraham had to watch me be put to death.
“Where are you to go?” The question seems to pain him, hoarsely spoken as it is.
“I do not know. Far away, I suspect.”
He pulls in a reedy breath, his chest shuddering against me. “Will… Will I ever see you again? ”
My swallow is harsh. “In this life? I am not certain. If there is a way for me to safely return to you, I will find it, Abraham. I promise you that.”
“Jasper.” He rocks me, his face buried in my hair. “My heart. My star. My love. Whoever it was that wove the fabric of my being did it with you in mind. I was made to love you. And I will do so no matter where on this earth you are. My love for you will never, ever flicker out.”
“Then I will look at the stars,” I say, voice catching, “and be reminded of it every day.”
Abraham holds me as the moon reflects gently off the surface of the creek. The stars fill the sky with their twinkling light, the sword high to the north, blade aimed as if ready to pierce a heart.
It feels as if it’s piercing mine.
“I must go,” I say at last.
Abraham doesn’t loosen his hold.
“Abe,” I say softly, pulling his face around. I kiss him in a gentle press, lips meeting, a greeting, a farewell, beauty and sorrow. I offer him my own promise. The only reassurance I can give. “I will love you no matter where. No matter when.”
He nods, even as a terrible sound leaves his throat.
“Turn around now,” I whisper. “And don’t look back. The next time you see me, it will be upon my return to you.”
His inhale is broken, but he doesn’t move. Perhaps he can’t. I pull his hands off of me slowly, one by one, squeezing each before letting them drop to his sides. With a small nudge on my part, Abraham turns stiltedly in place. Tears slip down my cheeks as I hear him crying.
His voice, when he speaks, is a fragment of itself. “Be it swiftly. ”
I take in a small, steadying breath, even as I break apart. Every piece of me. Every atom. “Be it swiftly.”
When I reach the top of the hill, I look over my shoulder. Abraham is standing beside our creek, his back to me, his arms around his stomach. He shimmers in place until I wipe the tears from my eyes.
I turn back around, keep walking, and don’t look back.
My house is a flurry of activity when I arrive. Catherine spares me a quick glance as I come through the door, packing a hunk of hard cheese into a sack already full. My mother spots me and hurries over, her eyes fluttering over me before her hands come to rest on my shoulders.
“You know,” I say before she can utter a word. I need not tell her of the conversation I had with Catherine. It would be clear in any case that something is greatly amiss.
“Jasper,” my mother says thickly. “ Others know. We must get you out.”
My breath shakes once more. “You do not hate me for it?”
She doesn’t answer, but her face falls.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, my tears back in full force. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hush now,” she says, leading me toward the front of the house. “There isn’t time for it. Your father is waiting.”
I let out a sudden gasp. “A moment,” I say, racing to my bedchamber. I find the bundle of letters I wrote for Abraham and tuck them into my waistcoat, unwilling to leave them behind.
Catherine hands me the sack at the front door. I swing it over my shoulder, feeling as if I’m floating along in a dream, none of this real. How is it real? Yet deep down, I know there’s no waking from this. This is it. I’m going, and I know not if I’ll ever return .
My mother urges me out the door. Catherine says a soft goodbye. I find my father a ways down from our house, out of sight, preparing the horse. With no words spoken between us, he helps me atop its back and follows.
We race out of town in the middle of the night, my memories of Abraham tucked against my heart, my chest so tight it feels as if I’m dying.
Heartbreak, that’s what they call this.
I only wish the last I saw of my beloved Abraham wasn’t his own heart broken to pieces because of me.