The Deepest Waters, A Novel (22 page)

John had seen many fine sunsets out on the water these past many weeks, but none to rival the one he saw now. It wasn’t the dazzling array of colors that spread across the sky. Its most remarkable feature was the dark silhouettes that ran along the base of the scene.

Buildings and steeples, ship masts and trees, low rolling dunes.

It was Norfolk. He was seeing
land
.

Seeing it now brought fresh thoughts of glory and gratitude to God, for John had firmly concluded he would never see land again. But here it was, drawing nearer each moment. Within the hour they would dock.

He would step onshore, sharing the same body of land as Laura, separated only by hours and minutes of travel, not by the veil of eternity.

It felt so strange, walking the earth.

Micah had been on that ship so long, almost forgot what it felt like. For the first few blocks, he’d keep looking back, sure someone was coming after him. Till he finally realized what it was. This was the first time he been by hisself on land when he wasn’t running away or being chased. But Cap’n said he could find Mrs. Foster, if he could get back before the ship sailed tomorrow.

And Micah would keep his word.

But he talked to the Lord each time the feeling come to break that word. It be strong. And it came many times already, ’fore he even got three blocks from the ship.

He didn’t have a plan to find her. Just stop and ask the colored folk he met along the way, hoping somebody knew something. So far no one did. He came to this one street, called Broadway. Biggest street he ever saw. It was already getting dark, but this street had lampposts, all up and down. Bright little lights flickering behind glass.

He thought about Crabby and that sad look she give him as he left her tied up on deck. She got that look as if he never coming back. She all sad and whining. But he had to tie her up. All the men coming back and forth, no one paying her any mind. She’d take her first chance, come flying down that gangway, pick up his scent. She run out one of these roads, smack-dab into one of these carriages. Then where would he be?

Up ahead, he saw a shoeshine boy. That’s what they called ’em, even though this boy looked as old as he was. He weren’t shinin’ no one’s shoes presently. “’Scuse me, suh.”

The man looked at him. “You call me sir? No one call me sir. The name’s Obadiah. Sounds like you from down South.”

“That’s right, but mostly I’m out on a ship these days. The name’s Micah.”

Obadiah looked up and down the street. “Seems like everyone’s shoes shiny enough for another day.” He smiled real big when he said that, then sat down on his shoe-shining chair like he sitting on a throne.

“Can you help me?” Micah asked.

“I’m fixin’ to call it a day.”

“I don’t mean for you to do my shoes, just need help findin’ someone.”

“They lost?”

“Not exactly. You heard about that big ship sunk a few days ago?”

“All my customers, that’s all they talkin’ about these last two days.”

“Well, I’m from the ship that rescued them.”

“You don’t say. Now that’s a wonderful thing.”

“Thank you. See there was this lady, a fine Christian woman. And she left a note on board, the last words her husband wrote to her. I’m tryin’ to get this note to her, but I don’t know where she live. Well, where her family live.”

“What’s the name?”

“Foster. Her name is Laura Foster.”

Obadiah thought a moment. “Ain’t never heard of no Laura Foster, but a Mr. Foster’s one of my best customers. Has some big company just down the road a ways. He get his shoes shined ’bout every other day.”

“Really? You know where he live?”

“Not right where, but I can get you close. If it’s the same one. I’ve heard Mr. Foster talk about a place called Gramercy Park. Never been to his home, mind you. But I been by that neighborhood a time or two. Big fancy homes, bigger’n you ever seen.”

“Sounds about right. Had a feelin’ they be plenty rich.”

“The Fosters been good to our people too. He say his wife hiring runaway slaves to work at their house, get their rich friends to do the same. At church, we got people who can help. That is, if you lookin’ to get away. You a slave, right?”

Micah nodded.

“I could get you to meet up with some folks who happy to help. Do it all the time.”

“You a slave?” Micah asked.

“Me? No, sir, I’m a free man. I start the day when I want, and I end the day when I want. I get money for what I do, and I keeps all of it. Don’t have to give any of it to no white man. You could be free if you want.”

Oh Lord, Micah thought. He almost said out loud, “Get behind me, Satan,” like one of them old preachers, but he knew it wouldn’t make any sense. “Thank you, but I best be on my way. You know how I can get to this . . . Grammasee Park?”

“Just keep headin’ the way you goin’. Got a long way to go from here, but with the sun goin’ down, shouldn’t be too hot. Gotta stay on this street here all the way till it come to this big square, call it Union Square. Just a few blocks away then. Ask any colored folk you see there. They probably know just where the Fosters live.”

Micah smiled. God already helping him. Both finding Mrs. Foster and saying no to the devil.

The ride south on Broadway to the Metropolitan Hotel was two miles. Allison talked almost the entire time. Joel hardly said a thing. He wasn’t lost in thought. For the first time in a long time, he had no thoughts at all. The logical, rational world that had been so large and so clear just one day ago had shrunk to the confines of this little box, the ornamental walls of this carriage.

Here there existed only the excited, nervous chatter of his sister. And the task of convincing this woman he had never met to come home and stay with a family that just one day ago would have renounced her outright before she’d opened her mouth to say hello.

“There it is, Joel. We’re almost there. It’s so beautiful at night.”

Allison was sticking her head out the window like a child. Joel tapped on the little door to alert the driver.

“Yes, Mr. Foster.”

“After you drop us off at the main entrance, there’s a section for guest carriages around the corner. You can wait for us there. Honestly, I have no idea how long this will take, but I suspect no more than fifteen to twenty minutes.”

“Very good, sir.”

They pulled up and went inside. It wasn’t a bad place at all, Joel thought. A bit overrated from what he’d read in the papers. He stepped up to the counter, Allison right behind him. “My good man, my name is Joel Foster. I believe we have a relation, one of the
Vandervere
survivors, a Mrs. Laura Foster, staying at your establishment. Would you be so kind to tell her that her brother-in-law and sister-in-law are here and wish to speak with her?”

“Is she expecting you, sir?”

“No, she is not. We’ve just learned she is here a few hours ago. We’d like to . . . to welcome her, see if there’s anything we can do for her.”

“Very good, Mr. Foster.” He looked down at his register, then at the wall behind him. “We do have a Mrs. Laura Foster staying here, and I believe she is up in her room. We can send someone up with a message. Would you like to wait in one of our receiving rooms?” He pointed to the interior of the hotel. “See that large fireplace? There is a nice room just beyond it on the left. If you’d like, you could wait in there.”

“That would be fine.” Joel stepped back as the man began to write a note.

“Please, sir,” said Allison, “tell her we can’t wait to see her.”

“Come, Allison,” Joel said.

Laura was just about to change into her nightclothes but stood for a moment looking at herself in the mirror. She remembered on evenings she would see John, how nervous she’d get on her last look in the mirror.
Is this the right dress? Will he like it? Do the shoes match? What hat should I wear? Am I pretty enough?
Now she must return once again to dressing without any purpose or anticipation.

At least she felt clean. And she had a warm bed, a real bed to sleep in tonight.

A knock at the door. Who could it be? Had Melissa left something in her room? She looked around as she walked to the door. “Who is it?”

“A message for you, ma’am, from the front desk. I’ll just slip it under the door. Sorry to bother you.”

She reached down to pick it up.

Mrs. Foster,

Two relatives of yours are waiting downstairs to see you. Your brother-in-law and sister-in-law. They wish to welcome you and offer their assistance. I’ve directed them to wait in the receiving room just beyond the grand fireplace on the left as you come down the stairs.

Charles

The front desk

Her hands began to tremble. How was this possible? This had to be a mistake. She looked down at the note. It
was
addressed to her. But how could anyone in John’s family be downstairs? She wasn’t ready to see them; she didn’t want to see anyone.

What if she just ignored the note? If she waited long enough they would go away. At first, they might think her rude, but then they would likely consider she must be tired from such a trying day and had already gone to sleep. No, that wouldn’t work. They’d go to the front desk. The messenger would confirm that she spoke to him through the door.

She sat in an upholstered chair and sighed. She would have to go down. But she wasn’t ready. What would she say? She didn’t have the energy for polite pretenses.

John hadn’t told them about her.

He was afraid to.

Why must she face this now? But she must.

She took another look at herself in the mirror, which didn’t help. She picked up the new shawl she’d bought and wrapped it around her shoulders. She reached for the knob and took one more look at the note.

They wish to welcome you and offer their assistance.

This was promising. They wanted to welcome her. And the second part . . . she could simply say, “No, thank you, I have everything I need,” and make the visit short and polite.

She locked the door behind her and started the painful journey down the flight of stairs. On the way up she’d wondered why a hotel would put the nicest rooms up so high. It was more like a punishment than a luxury. She supposed it was because of the view. Little good it did her at night.

She finally made it down to the lobby and was surprised to still see so many people walking about. She looked up at a large clock on the far wall and realized it was only 8:00 p.m. Across the lobby was the big fireplace, beyond that . . . the room.

Go, she thought. Just walk right in and get it over with.

She turned the corner, and there they were, sitting on the edge of two matching rose-colored chairs. A finely dressed man instantly rose to his feet and looked at her. She was stunned at the resemblance. Clearly, John’s brother. Her heart was immediately warmed by the visual reminder. He took a step toward her, but the young woman—must be Allison—leapt from her chair and rushed past him. She was blonde, pretty, full of smiles.

“Laura, you must be Laura.” She seemed ready to embrace Laura, as though they were long-lost friends, but stopped short, as if held back by a sudden impression of etiquette. She held out her hand politely. “I am Allison, John’s sister. I could not be happier to meet you.”

Laura didn’t see as much of a visual resemblance in her but felt John’s warmth in her tone and countenance. “Allison, nice to meet you too. John has spoken of you often.”

“He has?” Quickly tears formed in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said as she pulled away and sat back in her seat.

“My name is Joel. I’m John’s older brother.” They shook hands. “Not sure how much John spoke of me. I suppose the fewer words the better.”

Laura simply smiled and said, “Nice to meet you, Joel.”

He backed up to the chair. “Please . . . Laura, may I call you Laura?”

“Please do.”

“You must be tired. Please have a seat.” Across from the two rose-colored chairs were two additional chairs, similar but beige. Between them, a white oval table with a glass top. Joel sat in the rose chair after she sat in the beige one.

Laura looked over at Allison, the poor thing. She seemed to be regaining her composure. Joel looked at her, reached over, and patted her wrist. “My sister and I are here, really sent from our mother—”

“But we would have come eagerly on our own,” Allison added.

“Yes. And we, well, we just learned about you a few hours ago.”

“We didn’t know John was married,” Allison said.

“Please accept our apologies,” said Joel. “Had we known, we would have welcomed you at the dock. I was actually there this morning, when the steamship company gave the news . . . well, that’s not important.”

“Please, it’s all right,” said Laura. “I understand. I’m not sure I was ready to meet anyone this morning. I had just read this note from John that said he hadn’t told you about us.” Laura fought back a rush of tears.

“We know about the note,” said Allison.

“Well, we haven’t read it,” Joel said. “We were told something about it by a young man who came by our home. His name is Tom. I forget his last name.”

Now it made sense, Laura thought. When Tom had returned this afternoon, he seemed rather nervous. Laura had just assumed it was because he had been unable to locate John’s note.

Perhaps seeing her expression change, Joel said, “Please don’t think ill of him. He was greatly conflicted about coming to see us. He even said he wouldn’t mention it to you, in case . . . in case we decided not to respond.”

“But as soon as our mother heard the news,” said Allison, “she instantly asked us to come and meet you. You simply must come and stay with us. She desperately wants to meet you.”

This was totally unexpected. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“Please say you’ll come. We have so much to talk about.”

Laura had no energy for conversation; all she wanted was to sleep.

“We won’t talk tonight,” Joel said. “But we would like to invite you to stay in our family home.”

“When?” Laura asked.

“Tonight, if possible,” said Joel.

Laura hesitated, and Allison leaned forward. “Say you’ll come, Laura. If John loved you, then I want to know you.”

Laura was relieved at the warmth of their words and the strength of their desire to see her, but she could hardly imagine finding the reserves to leave now, at this moment. “My things are upstairs,” she said.

“I could get them for you,” said Allison. “I’m sure you must be exhausted. But I don’t mind going up the stairs. I’ve just been sitting around all day.”

Laura loved listening to Allison talk. She reminded her so much of John, and she was so eager to please. Laura just didn’t have the heart to tell her no. “Okay, then. I’ll come.”

“Thank you,” Allison said, leaping out of her seat. She bent down and gave Laura a hug.

Laura stood up and handed her the key.

“Do you have any luggage?” Joel asked. “I could send a bellhop up to get them.”

“No luggage,” said Laura. Just then she remembered . . . all her wedding gifts. This was a moment she had so looked forward to: meeting Allison, showing her all the presents, spending time talking over each one. She could fight the tears no more. She sat back down, covering her face.

“I’m so sorry,” Allison said, bending down beside her.

They cried together a few moments. Joel stood patiently, not saying a word.

After, she stood. “I’m sorry,” she said to Joel.

“No apologies needed.”

“As I said, I don’t have any luggage. But there are two shopping bags on the bed.” She leaned toward Allison and said quietly, “There is also a black pouch full of gold on the dresser by the mirror.”

“Allison,” Joel said, stepping closer, “please be discreet. Keep the pouch out of sight on your way back down. You never know who might be watching.”

“I’ll be careful,” she said.