Beloved Captive (20 page)

Emilie watched the judge’s expression turn from shock to outrage. Even from her spot on the fringe of the crowd, she could see the old man’s face go from pale to red.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Josiah Carter edging toward her. “Looks like this will be interesting,” he said when he arrived at her side.

“Indeed,” she responded. “Do you happen to know what your father’s planning?”

Josiah shook his head. “Since when does my father tell me things like that?” He chuckled. “I know he’s a changed man, but that is one area where he hasn’t changed all that much.”
 

Hezekiah Carter sought Emilie out in the crowd and, when he found her, nodded. Emilie returned the gesture, then spied Viola Dumont, her childhood friend. Part of the escape from New Orleans two years ago, Vi had found a talent for nursing and a job practicing her career choice in the town doctor’s office. After greeting Viola, Emilie returned her attention to the antics on the veranda.

“And so, Judge Campbell,” Reverend Carter said, “the people of Fairweather Key wish to air our grievances on an issue near and dear to all of us. I’m sure you’ve guessed as the topic has been bandied about, lo, these many months. It’s the school our dear Emilie is running.”

The judge stepped back as if he’d been slapped. “What of this illegal school that’s being run by an amateur teacher with no credentials?”

A gasp went up, and several townsfolk standing near Emilie ex
pressed their disapproval. Someone on the other side of the group yelled a rebuttal while others joined in. Finally, Reverend Carter held up his hands and called for quiet.

“Uh-oh,” Josiah said.

“Oh no,” Emilie whispered.

“You see, Judge,” he continued when the racket died down, “it has come to my attention that this deadline you’ve set of the month of August is quite arbitrary and may not have any basis in fact or law. Thus, unless you know something I don’t about the laws of this country, and you very well might, your decision to put the responsibility for educating our children back on us just won’t do.”

A cheer went up.

This time it was the judge who called for quiet. “Hezekiah Carter, you might be the preacher in this town, but I’m of a mind to lock you up for inciting a riot.”

Reverend Carter had the audacity to laugh, which brought a moan from his son. “I wonder if I should fetch my mother now or wait until the judge sets bail for him.”

“Shhh,” Emilie said. “I want to hear what he’s saying.”

“Judge Campbell, I don’t see a riot here. What I see is a large and orderly group of people who are upset with how their government is being run.” He paused to point out into the crowd with his cane. “Any of you remember the story of the Boston Tea Party?”

A few called out, while others merely laughed.

“Don’t worry, Judge. None of us plan to pour anything into the bay, but we do not feel we are being heard. Am I right?”

The townspeople cheered while the judge fumed. “You’re trying to railroad me into something, Carter. Just come out and say what it is.”

He grinned. “On behalf of your constituents in Fairweather Key, we demand that a proper schoolhouse be built with municipal funds to house the children of our citizens. I’ve read up on the law, and nowhere does it say that you or anyone else has the ability to ship our children off to be educated elsewhere.”

The judge shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Carter.”

“Prove it, Campbell.”

“He’s done it now,” Josiah whispered.
 

Hezekiah Carter waved his hands to quiet the crowd. “I propose we allow the judge some time to collect evidence to support what he’s saying here.” He glanced at Judge Campbell. “What say you to another meeting in this very spot one week from today?”

The old judge crossed his hands over his chest and offered up a smile that seemed to hold no humor. “Now why would I want to do that?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do, dear,” Mrs. Campbell called from the back of the crowd. She held up a letter, then shook it. “I guess I forgot to mention it, but our dear Jane is coming for a visit next month. Would you really insist on sending our granddaughter to another island for her education when Emilie could teach her just as well if not better right here?”

The judge shook his head. “This is something best left for discussion at home, don’t you think?”

“And while I’m on the topic, you do know these poor children are practically sitting one atop the other in that small room.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “It pains my heart to know our Jane will be packed into that tiny room when the funds are surely there for a decent school-
house to be built.”

This time when the crowd cheered, there was no silencing them. Emilie caught the boardinghouse owner gazing in her direction and smiled. Mrs. Campbell returned the gesture, then winked.

“And one more thing,” she called.

“Of course,” came the judge’s droll response. “There’s always one more thing.”

“I think our Emilie deserves our applause. Why, before she and her sister arrived on the island we had no school. Those who could read taught their young’uns, and those who didn’t passed on their ignorance. Now all the boys and girls have the opportunity that many of us never had. And,” she said as she paused to point toward Emilie, “we owe it all to Miss Emilie Gayarre.”

“That’s right,” someone called. “There’s no one better than Miss Emilie. Who knows what sort of character will teach them elsewhere? Why, for all we know, we may be sending our children to board with sinners and reprobates. Murderers and thieves, maybe.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” the judge said. “No one like that is fit to teach a child, and I’m certain that will never happen.”

A sick feeling began in the pit of Emilie’s stomach that had nothing to do with the excess of apple dessert she’d just consumed.
If only I hadn’t lost the gold from Papa. This is when I could have announced his donation.

She leaned toward Josiah. “I must go,” she said.

“You look unwell.” He seemed to examine her face. “Should I send Isabelle over to see to you?”

“No, she’s busy with the baby. Don’t bother her.” She paused to gather her wits. “I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow. Likely the exhaustion from the voyage has finally caught up to me.”

Josiah appeared skeptical but said nothing. Emilie was about to make good her escape when she heard her name called. She froze, then turned to see the entire town of Fairweather Key staring in her direction.

“Come on up here, Emilie,” Reverend Carter called.
 

She shook her head and waved away his protests, but he and other vocal citizens insisted. Before she realized what was happening, she’d been pressed onto the porch and stood between Judge Campbell and Reverend Carter.

When the applause died down, the preacher cleared his throat. “Many of you know that I consider this woman like a daughter. Her father and I are old friends. Why, if I told you how long I’ve known the Gayarre family, you’d never believe I was that old.”

A round of laughter peppered the air. Emilie allowed her gaze to bounce from familiar faces to those she did not know so well. It truly seemed as though all of Fairweather Key was in attendance.
 

“I want you to know that this woman loves your children so much that she undertook a difficult voyage in order to seek the funding of a school for them.”

Another wave of nausea hit Emilie, and her knees almost buckled. How would she explain the loss of funds her father had obviously mentioned to Reverend Carter?

“While that trip did not have the result she wished,” he continued, “I challenge all of you to see that it was not in vain. Either we need to find a way to build the school our judge requires, or the ruling must be changed to allow the current one to continue.”

The old pastor must have noticed her swaying, for he reached to grasp her elbow. “Are you unwell?” he whispered while the crowd cheered.

Emilie managed a nod.

“Then I shall endeavor to make this brief.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I would greatly appreciate that.”

“And so would I,” the judge said, glaring at Emilie.

Reverend Carter held up his cane to silence the crowd. “I’m afraid Miss Gayarre is quite overcome with your enthusiasm and not completely recovered from her voyage. On her behalf, I will ask that you allow her to retreat to her home for rest while we continue this meeting.”

Emilie thanked the reverend, then stepped with care off the veranda. The crowd parted, every eye on her as she held her head high and put one foot in front of the other to find her way home.

“Until next week, then,” Emilie heard the judge say just before she turned the corner. Her cottage beckoned, and despite her shaken condition, she began to run. By the time she threw open the door, she’d nearly exhausted the last of her strength.

She fell fully dressed onto the narrow cot that served as her bed and lay very still until the room stopped spinning. “Lord,” she whispered as she reached to extinguish the lamp, “will I ever be who I was before this awful nightmare began?”

As her eyes closed, she saw once again the miniature, the crumpled man, and the bloody letter. She knew the answer.

Chapter 21

June 15, 1836

Santa Lucida

Something heavy pressed on Caleb’s chest, rendering him unable to move. His chase down the heated and chilled corridors had ended with what felt like a tumble into a light so brilliant he could neither see his way nor find his wits.

So he closed his eyes and listened to the voices: his mother’s, Fletcher’s, and others he did not recognize. On occasion, another voice quite unlike the others spoke. The words were gentle, soft, familiar:
“I will deliver you for I delight in you.”

Even when the others failed to be heard, this one never left.

* * *

June 18

Fairweather Key

Hunger sent Emilie out to Ivan’s Mercantile when exhaustion preferred to keep her home. After paying for her items and dodging the attention of other customers, she covered the basket and began the stroll home. As she passed the doctor’s office, she heard someone call her name and turned to see her old friend Viola Dumont.

“I’ve been hoping to see you,” Vi said. “Isabelle told me you’d returned from New Orleans.” Her expression seemed calm; her eyes, however, held a worried look. “And you saw your father.” A statement, not a question.

“I did,” she said.
 

“Did he mention. . . ?” She looked away, unable or unwilling to continue.

Emilie linked arms with the nurse and patted her hand. “No,” she said gently, “he did not mention you or your family, nor did I see them. Perhaps Reverend Carter might have news of them.”

For a moment, Vi seemed as if she might respond. Then she shrugged, and they continued their walk until the path heading toward Emilie’s cottage loomed ahead. “Would you like to come in for a visit?”

“I would like that very much,” Vi said, “but I’m off on an errand to check on the baby who was delivered last night. The doctor’s got some concerns, but he’s busy setting a fracture that the Gibbons boy sustained.”

“Oh my,” Emilie said. “Do come and visit when you can.”

Vi smiled. “Of course.” She squeezed Emilie’s hand, then took a step back. “I’m sure we will find plenty to talk about.”

Plenty to talk about?

Curiosity and concern mingled as Emilie tried to decipher Vi’s statement. Would she ever stop wondering whether people knew her secrets?

* * *

June 20

“You’ve been awfully quiet all week.” Mrs. Campbell rolled out dough for Judge Campbell’s favorite coconut pie, yet she managed to keep her attention focused on Emilie.

For a moment, Emilie debated telling the older woman the truth. What good would it serve to tell the town judge’s wife that she couldn’t seem to shake her nightmares of the man she shot? Even an admission of sleep deprivation would require an explanation, which brought her back to the same point.

“I wonder if your mind’s been on this evening’s town meeting,” Mrs. Campbell said.
 

Emilie traced the embroidered pattern on the edge of the table-cloth, then rested her palms on the table. “I am a bit curious what will happen.”

Mrs. Campbell set her rolling pin aside and reached for the corner of her apron to wipe the flour off her hands. “Curiosity is fine, but don’t let yourself be concerned about the outcome. The Lord’s got it all in His hands.”

Emilie nodded. “He does, doesn’t He?”
 

The kitchen smelled of good food and sunshine, and Emilie felt inclined to stay a bit longer. Unfortunately, from her post by the window, she could see the children coming up the street for their afternoon lessons.

Quickly, Emilie packed away the remains of her lunch and stowed it in her bag. That complete, she looked up to find the judge’s wife staring at her in disapproval.

“You don’t eat enough to feed a bird,” Mrs. Campbell said.
 

Her laughter followed Emilie into the tiny, makeshift classroom where several dozen children awaited her. True to form, William Carter was already helping a classmate with a particularly vexing arithmetic problem.
 

It was difficult for Emilie to look around the room and not see what was missing. A proper classroom would have tables and chairs for the students and something resembling a desk for her. The children would have slates or, failing that, at least a book or two of their own.
 

Lord, might You find a way to provide these? Or, dare I hope, that You might gift us with a real school? This time I promise I won’t ruin the work You’ve done
.

She ushered the smaller children away from the others and sat them in a circle for story time. Lacking a storybook, she’d been making up stories. Today’s installment of
The Tale of Duckling Dave
was almost over when one of the children pointed to a spot behind Emilie and giggled.

When she turned around to see the cause of the commotion, she found Josiah Carter’s friend Micah Tate standing in the doorway doing a fairly decent imitation of a duck. “What sort of nonsense is this?” she said in her most chiding tone before falling into giggles.