Beloved Castaway (38 page)

The morning of the auction, Josiah walked William to the
boarding house, as was their custom. Since Isabelle’s presence was no longer a distraction, Josiah joined the ladies for breakfast some mornings. Today, however, he elected to hurry William to the steps, then turn for home.

“Josiah,” William called, “I wonder if I might bid on something at the auction today.”

He leaned down to give his brother a hug. “You’re too young to bid. Besides, how do you know what’s down there? The judge hasn’t let anyone in to see what’s in the warehouse.”

William smiled. “Miss Emilie convinced the judge we could use the practice for our counting skills. Yesterday we tallied up the items, and I found one I must bid on.”

“Tell me what it is, and I shall place the bid.”

He looked downcast. “I wanted it to be a secret. Miss Emilie said she would place the bid for me.”

Josiah reached into his pocket and pulled out three coins. “If Miss Emilie can get the item for this much, so be it.”

“Wreck ashore!” the lookout called.

Josiah gave his brother a swift hug. “Off with you, now. I must go.”
 

He sprinted to the
Caroline
and waited for Micah to arrive.
 

Working in tandem, they headed the vessel toward the horizon, where a ship lay smoldering.

“That’s a nasty one,” Tate said. “I don’t like it when fire’s involved.”

Josiah thought back to his swift departure from New Orleans and nodded. As they reached the reef, Tate maneuvered the
Caroline
around and set her anchor near the other wreckers.
 

“Tate and Carter, board the vessel and help O’Mara and Simpson search for survivors,” the fellow in charge called.

The leap from the
Caroline
to the wreck was easy for Josiah, but Tate nearly missed. Josiah grabbed his arm and yanked him onto the slanting deck, then waited for instructions.

“Hey, thanks,” Tate said. “Looks like the others are heading for starboard, so let’s go aft. I’ll take everything on the right, and you look to the left.”

“Aye.” Josiah followed Micah Tate across the vessel, looking over and under any space capable of hiding a human. When he reached the rail, he signaled to Tate. “Nothing. You?”

The wrecker shook his head. “I’m going below. Why don’t you head over there to the passengers’ quarters? I know they’ve been searched, but it never hurts to make a second pass, seeing as how that’s where people usually are this early in the morning.”

Josiah did as he was told, searching three cabins and finding them empty. In the fourth, however, he spied a crumpled form in the corner behind an overturned stool. With the smoke thick in the cabin, he had to crawl across the floor to reach the man.

He rolled the man onto his back, then sat back on his heels, stunned. It was his father.

“Are you an angel?” The man’s eyes opened wider. “Josiah,” he whispered. “It’s you.”

“Aye,” Josiah said, “so I warrant your question as to whether this is an angel has been answered.”

He gave the man a yank and pulled him from the corner. “Tate, anyone! I’ve got someone in here,” he called. No one answered.

“Well, Father,” Josiah said before dissolving into a fit of coughing. “The great irony is I am about to save you.”

His father grabbed Josiah’s hands and held them. “William? Is he safe?”

“Aye, he’s quite safe.”

Nodding, he rested his head on the floor, then closed his eyes. “Father, it will go well for you if you’ll remain awake. Can you do that?”

“Thank you,” he said, “for standing up to me.”

Josiah shook his head. “Now I know I’ll be fetching you to the infirmary. You’re not a well man if you’re thanking me for taking your son away.”

Hezekiah smiled, and Josiah nearly dropped him in shock. “No, I’m thanking you for forcing me to see what I was doing to both of you. I’m an idiot. I’ve had time lying on this floor to contemplate that.”

“Would that I could give you more time to contemplate how wonderful I am, Father, but this vessel is about to burn to the waterline, and I doubt you’ll want to be aboard when that happens.”

Flames erupted on either side of him as Josiah dragged his father out of the cabin, then hoisted him over his shoulder. At the rail, Tate loped up to help load Hezekiah aboard the
Caroline
.

“Where did you find him?” Tate asked as he made to lift anchor.

“In cabin four.”
 

The anchor landed on deck with a thud, and the wind caught in the sails. With Tate at the wheel, they made quick time.

“Do you know who he is?” Tate asked as they neared the shore. “The doc always likes us to get a name just in case.”

“Aye,” Josiah said. “Micah Tate, meet my father.”

“Your. . .”

“Aye.” Josiah glanced over and saw his father motioning to him. “Excuse me.” He made his way to where Hezekiah lay. “What is it, Father? Some water, perhaps?”

“No, a word with you,” he said. “I must ask about Isabelle.”

“Isabelle?” Josiah’s guard went up, and he said nothing.

“Don’t waste my time, son,” Hezekiah said. “I know you took her, but I also know it wasn’t your idea.”

“How do you know this?”

He looked up at Josiah. “I know many things, son. For instance, I know more about your Isabelle than you do.”

“My Isabelle?”

Hezekiah nodded. “It’s hard to miss the look of a man in love, son. Although I must wonder if you know what sort of trouble you’re getting with that one.”

“I don’t want to talk about Isabelle.” He rose, but Hezekiah caught him by the wrist. “You’ll listen.” He paused, his defiant look turned pleading. “You’ll want to listen.”

“All right.” Josiah glanced up to gauge the distance to shore. “You’ve got five minutes. After that, we will have arrived at the docks.”

“Five minutes is plenty of time.” He leaned his head back and seemed to stare up into the sky for a moment. “Jean Gayarre has been my friend longer than Mary has been my wife, but there are many things he does—or rather did—which I neither agree with nor condone. While his was not a happy marriage, neither should he have taken her as a mistress.” Hezekiah rapped the deck with his fist. “I don’t care if it was the custom.
Is
the custom, actually. The Bible says it’s wrong.”

“Aye,” Josiah said. “As is slavery, yet many tolerate it.”

“Ownership of Isabelle was arranged at the time of her birth.” He shook his head. “No, that’s not right. She came into the world on the twelfth of December, if I recall, and he snatched her up from her mother’s deathbed on the fourteenth. I remember that because the Brits were at our doorsteps, and he was a fool for leaving his house.”

“Wait, what are you saying?”

Hezekiah shook his head again. “No, that’s not right. She was a Christmas Eve baby, Isabelle was. Her mama, Sylvie, well, she passed on three days later. Same day Jean’s wife was giving birth to Emilie.”

Josiah leaned against the rail and tried to make sense of the tale. “So you’re saying Isabelle was taken from her mother after she died?”

“Childbed fever, I was told. He gave the babe to Delilah, a house servant of his, to raise. Set them up in a nice little place outside of town. Plantation was owned by a widow woman who needed the money and didn’t ask any questions. It all worked out just fine. Isabelle was none the wiser until Emilie found out about her.”

He paused to take a breath, then dissolved into a fit of coughing. When he captured his breath, Hezekiah continued. “It was all arranged. Jean, he could hardly purchase his own slave. You see, he owned Sylvie, thus he owned Isabelle and the other, as well.”

“The other?”
 

“Sylvie had a son by him. Jean hired him out to a family in New Iberia by the name of Arnaud. Jean told me recently that the boy died at sea.”

Josiah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What was your part in all this, Father?”

“My part”—he offered a weak smile—“was to purchase Isabelle the same way I purchased her brother. Once she was mine, I would free her. It was a simple solution. Unfortunately, she disappeared before it could happen.”

Something was not setting well with Josiah. The solution was too easy, his father too unlike the kind man he saw now. “I don’t believe you.”

“The proof is in my pocket.” When his father couldn’t manage it, Josiah retrieved a paper from his coat pocket. “Read it,” Hezekiah said.

He scanned the page, holding it tight lest the wind take it flying. There in a masculine handwriting was the bill of sale for one Isabelle Marie Gayarre, born December 24, 1814. Freed April 10, 1834.”

“Freed?” Josiah folded the paper and attempted to return it to his father’s pocket, his mind reeling.

“Keep it,” Hezekiah said as the vessel bumped gently against the dock. “I’ve an idea you may yet need it.”

“You’re serious?” Josiah shook his head. “You helped your friend by doing this for him? By freeing Isabelle?”

“And her brother, rest his soul.”

It took a moment for Josiah to adjust his image of the venerable Hezekiah Carter. When he did, it rendered him speechless.

The doctor boarded the vessel, followed closely by Viola Dumont. His father recognized Viola immediately, and from the look on her face, Viola recognized his father.

“Josiah, do you have a name for this man?”

“Aye,” Josiah finally said. “This is Hezekiah Carter. My father.” He paused. “Take good care of him, Doc.”

Josiah looked up to see Judge Campbell racing toward him. “About time I found you, Carter.”

The idea of being arrested again held no appeal, especially when it could happen in front of his father. “What did I do this time, Judge?”

Hezekiah looked up sharply. “Are you the judge who incarcerated my son on trumped-up charges?”

The judge looked down at Hezekiah and shrugged. “Guilty. Although I’m here to make it up to him. That rascal who paid his bail isn’t around to fetch the money back, so I figured it ought to go to him.”

Josiah shook his head. “No, it should go to Emilie.”

“What would she want with it?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Josiah said. “I believe she mentioned something about a proper school for the town.” He smiled. “You know, that would really get you some positive attention, what with you being responsible for a new school being built here.”

The judge grinned and shook Josiah’s hand, then turned to Hezekiah. “You’ve got a smart boy here, Mr. Carter.”

“That’s Reverend Carter,” he said, “and yes, I do.”

The doctor returned. “We’ve got to take you to the infirmary now, sir,” he said to Hezekiah.

“Just a moment more,” Josiah said.
 

“Only that,” Dr. Hill responded.

“Father,” Josiah said when the doctor had moved on to the next patient. “I must ask what’s happened to cause such a change in you. I know I haven’t been the easiest son to love, but, well. . .”

“I haven’t been the easiest father to love, either.” He chuckled. “To say the least. As for what happened, that would be a combination of things. First, your mother made me see the error of my ways and sent me on the journey that would end out there on the rocks. Then there’s the matter of finally telling someone the truth.” Hezekiah paused to draw in a ragged breath. “Never underestimate the power of telling the truth.”

“Aye,” Josiah said. “ ’Tis a powerful weapon.”

“As is fear.” He pointed to the burning vessel out on the horizon. “Before you snatched me out of the fire, I was lying on the cabin floor, knowing I was about to die and meet Jesus face-to-face. I don’t mind telling you I was terrified.”

Josiah tried to imagine his father fearing anyone or anything and found it impossible.
 

“I’m an old fool, but not so old or so foolish that I don’t know when I’m wrong.” He tightened his grasp. “Forgive me, Josiah?”

“Aye,” he said as the doctor arrived to pry his father from him.
 

He helped Doc Hill haul his father onto the back of the same wagon that had carried Andre Gayarre to the undertaker, then followed them to the infirmary. Viola had gone ahead and met them at the door.
 

“His bed is ready, Doctor,” she said. “A word with you, Josiah,” she added.

Josiah stepped aside to allow his father’s transport into the room where Isabelle had so recently recuperated. He remained on the other side of the velvet curtains until Viola emerged and bade him follow her.

“All right,” she said when they were outside on the front steps, “explain yourself.”

Josiah shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Is that not the man you took your brother from?”

“It is.” He tipped his hat to Mrs. Campbell, then returned his attention to Viola. “He has reformed, it seems. He also told me a most interesting story about Isabelle.”

“Oh?”
 

“Aye.” He looked around to be certain they were alone. “It seems as though Isabelle’s father made arrangements with my father to purchase Isabelle and free her. It was done, but she disappeared before she could be told.”

“Really?” Somehow Viola did not seem surprised at the news. “You must go and find Isabelle. She needs to know this.”

“I doubt it would make any difference.” Josiah looked away.
 

“You don’t understand. It would make all the difference.” She bit her lip and seemed to consider whether to continue. “She loves you, Josiah, enough to let you go.”

“I don’t understand.”

Viola shrugged. “In the eyes of the law, Isabelle is an escaped slave. What life would you have together?” She paused. “That’s the only issue keeping you apart, and with the story you told me, it is no longer an issue.”

“Still, I can’t go, Viola.”

“Why?” She shook her head. “Emilie can certainly look after William for the few days it would take you to catch up with her in Cuba, and I will be sure your father stays right here.”

He lifted a brow, skeptical. “How can you do that?”

She smiled. “Laudanum, Josiah. It’s good for keeping a patient right where you want them.”