Beloved Captive (21 page)

“Children, may I borrow your teacher?” the red-haired man said, still using a voice that sounded very much like a duck.

While the children continued to laugh, Emilie rose and dusted off her skirts. “That’s enough,” she finally said. “Play quietly,” she told them, “and do not disturb the older children. I’ll just be in the hallway with Duckling Dave, I mean, Mr. Tate.”

She stepped into the hall just behind Micah. “I had no idea you possessed a talent as a duck impressionist, Mr. Tate.”

He grinned. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Mrs. Campbell stuck her head out of the kitchen and waved. “Hello there, Micah,” she said. “When you’re done talking to Emilie, do come visit me in the kitchen. I’ve got a fresh batch of sugar cookies and no one to test them out on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said before returning his attention to Emilie. “Actually, I’ve been working on the
Caroline
again and have ended up with a nice pile of lumber that’s still good. I thought maybe, if you’re agreeable, I could use it to make tables and benches for the schoolroom.”

Emilie glanced skyward.
Lord, that was fast
.
 

“That would be wonderful, Micah.” She paused. “But are you sure you want to do that? It sounds like an awful big job, and I’m sure you could sell the wood elsewhere and make a tidy profit.”

“
 
‘For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?’
 
” Micah shrugged, his cheeks reddening. “Sorry, I’ve been working on some memorization, and that verse came to mind. Don’t know why I blurted it out like that.”

His self-conscious demeanor took Emilie by surprise. Where was the serious widower she knew as Josiah Carter’s business partner and fellow wrecker?

“So,” he continued, “if you’ll just let me know what you’d like, I’ll build it.” He looked around the room. “Not much space here, is there?”

Emilie shook her head.

“You know, it’s a shame with all the money Judge Campbell puts into the bank from our wrecking that none of it’s going to the children.” His eyes narrowed. “I stopped counting how many wrecks we’ve worked this year, but I can tell you that with each one, the government gets a third of whatever the ship’s salvage nets at auction. That’s a pretty penny where I come from.”

Without a ready response, Emilie remained silent. While she could not see them from her vantage point, she could hear the younger children trying in vain to make the duck noises like their visitor.

“Yes, well, I suppose we’ll find out whether Reverend Carter has made any headway with the judge today.” His smile broadened. “I hope he sees the wisdom in doing something about this school situation that doesn’t involve closing you down.”

“As do I,” she said. Behind her, the quacking got louder. “I should get back to my class.” Emilie giggled. “Or rather, my ducklings.”

He looked beyond her to the children and the potential chaos that was about to break loose. “I can see what you mean. I wonder, though, if I might come back when it’s convenient and take some measurements so I know what size to make the tables and benches.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “I can make arrangements to arrive early or stay after class.” She paused. “Of course, the boardinghouse is always open. I’m sure Mrs. Campbell would be happy to let you into the schoolroom at your convenience.”

“Sorry, dear, but I’d rather you handle the affairs of the school,” Mrs. Campbell called from the kitchen.

So they’d been spied upon. Emilie grinned. “I suggest you not forget to stop in for your cookies, Micah. Likely she’ll chase you down should you make the attempt.”

“Come, dear, that would not be appropriate. I would send you instead.”

The quacking became louder, forcing Emilie to take action.
“Children,” she called, “mind your decorum, please. We have a guest.”

“Decorum.” Micah shook his head. “Do they know what that means?”

“Of course,” she said. “See for yourself.”

“I see.”

When his grin spread, Emilie turned to see the cause. In the corner where she’d left her little ones was a group of little ducklings flapping their wings and whispering barely audible quacks.

“Wonderful,” she said with a groan.
 

Micah affected a serious look. “I’m sorry. I must have misunderstood. I thought you said de-corum.” He paused as if studying the quiet chaos. “It looks like what you really said was duck-corum.”

* * *

At precisely five, Emilie joined the crowd gathering in front of the courthouse. There seemed to be many more in attendance than the previous week, likely owing to the lively discussion around town as to what the judge might have to say. Isabelle and baby Joey had walked over with her, and they now stood near the edge of the crowd.
 

“It’s quite warm today,” Isabelle commented. “Josiah said it’s hurricane weather.”

“I hope he’s wrong.” Emilie took her gurgling nephew and moved to the shade to shield the infant’s tender skin. “It looks as though every business in town has shut down in anticipation of this occasion.”

Isabelle leaned toward Emilie. “What do you think the judge will say?”

“Honestly, I’ve been afraid to speculate.” She shifted the baby to her other shoulder and began rubbing his back. “I know what I would like to hear.”

“I think we all would,” Isabelle said. “I understand Micah Tate paid you a visit today.”

Emilie smiled. “He did. He offered to make tables and benches for the schoolroom. It was awfully nice of him.”

Before Isabelle could comment, the door to the judge’s chambers opened, and Judge Campbell walked out onto the veranda. At his side stood his wife.

“Where’s Reverend Carter?” Emilie asked.
 

“He’s here somewhere.” Isabelle looked around, then pointed to the far edge of the crowd. “Over there. He’s with Mary.”

Emilie followed her sister’s gaze and found the pastor and his wife in conversation with Micah Tate. All three looked up to find her staring and then waved. Emilie returned the gesture as the judge stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“As you all know, I was challenged on this very spot last week to justify my position on a topic that I’ve learned is near and dear to many hearts in Fairweather Key. The ruling I made regarding the children’s education was done with the best of intentions and with the best interest of your children foremost in my mind.”

He paused to look down at his wife. The pair exchanged a smile; then Mrs. Campbell squeezed his hand.

“Let me assure you that my edict regarding the school was both legal and binding, and it was made within the confines of the law as it stands in our part of the Florida Territory.”

A smattering of boos peppered the crowd until someone called for quiet.

“I understand your dislike of my decision,” he continued. “I have been separated from my children by distance, and it is unpleasant, to say the least. The fact that my granddaughter will finally be paying a visit has given me reason to think in more detail about the education issue.”

He paused, and for a moment it appeared the judge might not
continue. After another glance down at his wife, he let out a long breath.

“My wife and I have come to a decision. When Jane returns to her parents, we will accompany her. Thus, yesterday I posted a letter to the proper authorities announcing my retirement as your judge effective September 1, or on the first day after the arrival of the new judge.”

A cheer went up in the crowd. When the noise died down, Judge Campbell continued. “I will leave the question of the children’s education for the new judge to answer.”

Emilie exchanged smiles with her sister. “I had hoped he would change his mind, but at least we’ve got a reprieve.”

“Now we pray the new judge is favorable to our cause,” Isabelle said.

“Definitely,” Emilie replied as she watched the judge and his wife disappear inside the office. “I wonder where they’ll find his replacement.”

“Well, anyone would be better than Judge Campbell.” Isabelle shook her head. “I’ve never seen such opposition to something that benefits the town. I never understood it.”

“Nor did I.” Emilie loosened her bonnet strings and turned to face the sea breeze. “Is it unseasonably warm, or am I imagining it?”

“It’s not your imagination.”
 

Emilie whirled around to see Josiah walking toward them, Micah Tate at his side. Isabelle met her husband with a smile and a squeeze of his hand. “What is your take on this evening’s events, husband?”
 

“I think Fairweather Key may have trouble finding someone to replace Judge Campbell.” He looked to Micah for confirmation. “Unless a man’s wanting to get away from politics, he’d do better than to find employment so far south.”

Micah nodded. “Not much chance for moving up once you’ve moved down here.”

The men chuckled, while Isabelle and Emilie exchanged glances. The baby began to squirm, and Josiah reached for him. With a few funny faces and a silly sound, he had his son grinning.

“You have a way with babies, Josiah,” Emilie said.

“He’s a blessing.” Josiah gathered his wife to his side. “As is my Isabelle.”

Emilie couldn’t help but notice that Micah looked away as if watching the happy couple was painful. It was a feeling she knew well. While he was likely thinking of the young wife and baby he had lost before coming to the key, her thoughts were on a sandy beach where she had her first kiss.

And the rowboat where she had her second. And last.

“We should head home,” Josiah said. “My old bones tell me a storm’s coming in.”

“Old bones?” Micah said. “Since when do you have old bones?”

The men continued their jovial bickering until Emilie parted company and headed toward her cottage. She’d almost reached the door when she heard Micah calling her name.

He trotted up the path, then stopped short when he saw her waiting. For a moment, he just stood there.

“Did you need something?” she finally said.
 

“I was wondering if I might meet you after school tomorrow to do some measuring for the classroom.”

“Yes, of course,” she said.
 

Micah nodded but made no move to leave. Rather, he stood awkwardly between the cottage and the street, the afternoon sun shadowing him and turning his hair the same color as its rays.

She looked to the horizon, then back at Micah. “Josiah says tonight’s to be a wet one. I should fetch my laundry off the line.”

“I could help,” he said.

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be proper.” She considered telling him exactly what items of apparel hung there but decided against it. The poor man was skittish enough already without serving up a dose of humiliation, too.

“Well, good evening, then,” Emilie finally said.
 

Her statement seemed to work, as he nodded and turned away. “Good evening, Miss Gayarre,” he said when he reached the road.

From the front parlor, Emilie watched the wrecker disappear down the road toward town. She let the curtain fall and headed for the kitchen, where cold chicken and a slice of Mrs. Campbell’s coconut pie awaited.

“Well, that was strange,” she said. “I wonder what’s wrong with Micah Tate.”

Chapter 22

July 5, 1836

Santa Lucida

The call of the orangequit and the whirl of wings as a flock took flight.

Laughter off in some distant place.
 

Wisps of lavender on a breeze that likely marked her comings and goings.
 

The scrape of a razor against his chin.

Caleb took note of each, trying to grasp the thought and hold it captive long enough for it to stick in the blank hall of his memories. Of late, he’d found moderate success in the venture, even recalling the words he’d overhead some indeterminable time ago.

Prayers. That’s what he now heard. The prayers of a woman.

His mother.

He tested his fingers and found them willing to move at his command. Slowly, Caleb grasped at whatever he could to discover whether they still held their function.

Then his stomach growled, and Caleb frowned. When had he last dined?
 

Havana. With Fletcher. He’d had the beef. The conversation had turned to Fletcher. Was his mother mentioned? Possibly. What else? Had he made a decision that day?
 

Yes, but what was it?

Something about a letter. And a boat.
 

The prayers had stopped, and the lavender scent announced his mother had drawn near. Perhaps she knew of this letter. He made to ask, but his mouth refused to form the words.

“Caleb? Can you hear me?”

Again he tried and failed to speak.
 

Someone touched his face. His mother, Caleb decided from the size and softness of the palm. “I know I saw his hands move, Fletcher.”

A deep rumble. Perhaps a man’s voice.

“I am not imagining things.” The palm lifted and was gone. “He’s in there trying to come out,” she continued. “A mother knows these things. We must continue to pray for his healing.”

Healing? Caleb tried to concentrate on what she meant, but as with the others, this idea took wings and flew away.

“I delivered you because I delighted in you
.”

The voice. The one that stayed when all others left him.

Delivered me from what?

* * *

July 6

Fairweather Key

So far July had been wet and warm, but thankfully, Josiah Carter had been wrong about the stormy weather. Other than a few nasty blows and one full week of nothing but drizzling rain, Fairweather Key escaped the foul weather it most feared: hurricanes.

True to his word, Micah had crafted long tables and benches
for Emilie’s classroom. Two weeks ago, however, the addition of Jane Campbell, granddaughter to the judge, brought the seating to maximum capacity. The next student to enroll would either be seated on the floor or share Emilie’s small desk.