Chapter 22 Letters #4
I thank you for adhering to my request. I know this may come as a shock, but I wish to check in on your behalf.
Catherine brought home a suitor last week, and he had the bluest eyes…
and yet somehow, they were not nearly as blue as your own.
I felt a stab of guilt within my breast and was compelled to reach out to ensure you are all right.
I hope you can forgive how cold I’ve been toward you.
This is by no means an invitation to correspond regularly, but I do give you permission to write me just this once.
Reluctantly Yours,
Clara
[Hidden correspondence]
Although I am genuinely interested in learning of your condition, I must confess this is the true reason I am writing.
Although I care little for your cause, my heart froze once I heard talk of 8,000 British troops embarking at Whitestone in Queens with the aim of Newport, Rhode Island.
Meanwhile, Admiral Graves, with 11 ships, has already been sailing there to thwart a French fleet.
I feel this is something your commander should know about.
Although I’m unsure you can win this war, I at the very least wish to give you a fighting chance. You and your friends deserve to live, Ben. Pass this along as soon as you can.
-CB
25 September 1780
Dear Apollo,
Your failure to respond has me concerned. While you were once so desperate for my letters, you are now content to ignore them? Although I can understand, seeing how your heart must surely be bruised, I implore you to write a small word or two stating you are well.
Yours,
Clara
[Hidden correspondence]
Seeing how the British plan was upended, I am going to assume you received my letter and passed it along. Nevertheless, I’m relieved the matter with the French fleet didn’t end poorly.
This is, however, my final correspondence.
That turncoat, General Benedict Arnold, has entered New York City, and is having suspected blackguards (patriots) arrested for espionage.
A tailor named Hercules Mulligan was among those arrested.
Do you know him? Regardless, I pray Arnold’s search doesn’t extend to other areas.
I fear for my family and for you, which is why I will no longer write beyond this message.
I’d hate for our correspondence to fall into his hands.
-CB
1 October 1780
Dear Miss Boyd,
Forgive me this letter, but I must entreat you most humbly on behalf of my son.
Benjamin is unwell. He’s fallen into some sort of despairing stupor, and I believe you are the only one who can help.
Please, if you have any affection for us at all, will you not return to us?
I believe the very sight of you, no matter how brief, will restore him to the vitality he once possessed.
He is so pale and weak and miserable… I can barely get him to eat.
I feel selfish asking this of you, and most especially when you have your own family to concern yourself with, but Benjamin is all I have. Will you not help me save his life?
Your Most Humble and Admiring Friend,
Rev. Josiah Hoskin
One week later
Benjamin jerked awake, gasping as a cold sweat overtook his entire frame.
He’d been like this for several months, and the severity of his symptoms depended upon how much laudanum he ingested.
And Clara… He closed his eyes. His addiction became worse once she’d written him off, and despite her recent correspondence, he had been far too disoriented to properly respond. She surely hated him anyway…
A shiver tore through Benjamin and he gnashed his teeth, his mouth dry as he beheld his father sleeping fitfully at his side. In one hand was an open Bible, and the other was curled beseechingly around his wrist.
Retracting himself from Josiah’s grip, Benjamin cleared his throat. “Father?” he croaked. “Are you awake?”
Josiah stirred, then opened his bleary eyes. “Benjamin?”
“Please…” Benjamin swallowed, that all-too familiar panic settling within his bones. “My laudanum…”
“Is gone,” Josiah replied sternly. “I threw it out this morning.”
“W-what?” Chest heaving in alarm, Benjamin’s breath grew shallow as a rope of terror squeezed around his lungs. “I…I need that for my condition,” he rasped. “It helps me.”
“How is this—” Josiah gestured to his son “—a blessing of any true merit? You are unwell, Benjamin, and I wish I’d realized the cause far sooner.”
His dread turned to rage, and curling his upper lip, Benjamin smashed his fist against the nightstand. The washbowl on top rattled in warning. “I need my medicine, goddamn you!” he hissed. “I need it! I need it! Give it to me!”
“I told you, it is gone,” Josiah replied, his tone even despite the tears in his eyes.
“No…” Frantic, Benjamin shook his head. “No, no, I had enough to last me another sennight! Please…” He reached out a despairing hand. “You must send for Dr. Wagner.”
Josiah’s eyes narrowed. “I am never allowing that infernal man into my house again. From here on out, we are going to look to God for guidance, we are going to pray, and we will finally get you well again.”
“I am well!” Benjamin screamed, a low sob catching in his throat.
“Can’t you see that it’s you who is making me this way?
” Manic, he tore at his bedding until he’d thrown the blankets to the floor, his body overcome by the agonizing, ever-present restlessness that accompanied his need.
“Give me my laudanum! Please, I know you have it somewhere!”
“Benjamin, you must calm yourself!” Leaping up to still his son’s desperate thrashing, Josiah clasped Benjamin’s wildly jerking arms while shouting above the din, “‘I can do everything through Him who gives me strength!’”
“God did nothing for me,” Benjamin sobbed. “Nothing! He allowed this to happen!”
“‘No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man,’” Josiah recited. With tears spilling freely down his cheeks, Josiah pleadingly squeezed his son’s hands. “You will vanquish this demon, Benjamin. You will. There is always a way out.”
Benjamin’s face crumpled and he bit back another sob. “You hate me,” he accused. “You wish me to fail!”
“Benjamin…”
A thick, suffocating quiet overcame the room, and bewildered, he beheld his father’s face, which was ash-white as he gaped toward the foot of his bed.
Following Josiah’s shocked gaze, Benjamin’s heart leapt once he spotted his left foot. His toes were slightly elevated. They had arched. Quivering, he dared to wiggle them once more, testing the uncomfortable, numbing stretch. The sensation was akin to pins-and-needles.
“My God,” Josiah whispered, his voice choking up with tears. “Benjamin…you moved.”