Beloved Captive (36 page)

The other men joined in, each stating their opinion. Caleb lifted his hands to silence them.

“Are you saying one of you is pocketing items before they get to the warehouse?”

Josiah shook his head. “I’m not blaming anyone, least of all these men here. In the two years since I arrived on this island, I’ve never seen a dishonest man in the group.”

“Until now,” Micah said.

Again, the men began to murmur.

“If not one of them, then who?” Caleb asked.

“The fishermen wouldn’t have access.” Josiah glanced at Micah. “We think it might be someone spending time at the wharf. Possibly even someone with a vessel docked here.” He looked at Caleb. “My guess is it’s someone who is familiar with the process and has access to the items.”

Caleb stepped back feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Are you suggesting I might have something to do with this?”

“No,” Josiah quickly said.
 

Micah agreed, and so did many of the men.

“We just want the criminals caught,” Josiah continued. “And until they are, I’d like permission to organize our men into shifts to up the watches.”

“Of course,” Caleb said.

“One more thing,” Micah added. “Someone’s going to have to stand guard on the docks. Someone trustworthy.”

“I’ll leave that to you men,” Caleb said, “though I must tell you I’d thought to hire Micah away from the warehouse.”

Tate looked surprised.
 

“You see, I’ve just informed our schoolteacher that Fairweather Key will have a new schoolhouse paid for by government funds.” He reached to grasp the wrecker’s shoulder. “I’d like to offer Micah the job as foreman of the project.”

A cheer went up as Caleb lost the men to a jubilant celebration that included much cheering and backslapping. “Thank you, Judge,” Micah said when he broke away from the group. “I’ll do right by the job.”

“I know you will,” Caleb said, “but there’s another matter I’d like to discuss.”

“Certainly.”

“The place we’ve chosen is within sight of Emilie’s home. I’d be much obliged if, while you’re out there, you’d keep an eye on her for me.”

He nodded.

“Thank you,” Caleb said. “What with this recent crime spree and a few odd characters coming around, I’d not want to think harm could befall her.”

But as he walked away, Caleb had to wonder if Emilie needed more to guard her safety than a wrecker’s presence at a building site next door.

Chapter 38

October 17, 1836

By the time the mail boat arrived, construction had already begun in earnest on the schoolhouse. With Micah gone from the warehouse, Caleb found his attention divided between the work of his office and the tedious cataloguing that had to be done in his warehouse.

To hire another man to replace Micah was out of the question. Thus far, he’d found none he could trust. Thankfully, Fairweather Key was a quiet town with little to concern Caleb in the way of crime. The handful of men who’d graced his jail thus far were transients brought in with the tide and leaving in the same manner.

Perhaps the two characters who’d called him out as a Benning had done the same. When they did not return, he assumed they’d either met their match elsewhere or deemed him not the man they thought him to be. Either was fine as long as they kept away from his island.

He lifted the seal on a letter from his mother. She was happy, blissfully so, and had much to say in the way of recommending marital bliss. Caleb smiled, though he ignored her advice to find someone and settle down soon lest he miss the opportunity.

He read on as the handwriting changed from hers to Fletcher’s. In Caleb’s absence, the work of the plantation had gone on. With help from Fletcher, the men who worked the land had organized themselves into a cooperative that not only surpassed previous years’ crops but also found new ways to reduce cost. It was, Fletcher noted, a profitable agreement for all.

Caleb closed the letter without reading the rest. Likely more notes on domestic happiness. He could read those at length another time. Today, however, he had an appointment with Emilie Gayarre.

With the building taking shape, the schoolteacher had decided now was the time to begin discussing details of the interior. As Caleb rose and donned his hat, he felt his heart jump at the thought of spending time with Emilie.

For two weeks he’d only seen her across the crowded pews of the Fairweather Key church. Such was his life that any thought of time spent in any activity other than paperwork or cataloguing of items was unimaginable.

Now as he hurried up the lane to her home, he was stunned to find she did not wait for his arrival alone. He recognized two familiar faces among those on her porch and one he’d never seen.

She looked up to wave. “Welcome, Judge Spencer,” she called. “Perhaps you remember these gentlemen?”

“
Bonjour
,” the little man said. Though he wore much more elegant clothing, as did his companions, none of them seemed quite accustomed to their finery.

Caleb stepped through the gate and glared at the Frenchman, then took note of the other two. The larger man refused to meet Caleb’s gaze, while the other, a fellow not much removed from his youth, stared slack-jawed.

“If you will excuse us, gentlemen, Miss Gayarre and I have business to discuss.” He walked past the trio to nod at Emilie then reach for her hand. Before she could comment, he raised her to her feet. “I’m sure you understand,” he added to the suspicious characters, “but we’ve a schedule to maintain.”

When no one moved or commented, Caleb chose the Frenchman to address. “Did you forget who is in charge in Fairweather Key?”

The little man rose slowly, deliberately, his teacup still in his hand. “
Non
,” he said. “It would be impossible to forget who you are, sir.” He set the cup on the tray and reached to take Emilie’s hand, but Caleb blocked the move. “Yes, well, I do thank you for your courtesy, Miss Gayarre,” he said, pointedly ignoring Caleb. “Perhaps on our next visit, you will allow me to bring—”

“There will be no next visit,” Caleb said.

“Really, Caleb, I must—”

He stopped her protest with a glare, then turned his attention to the men still loitering on her porch. “My office at four,” he said, this time allowing his gaze to rest on the other two before landing on the Frenchman. “Consider this a demand, and not a request.”

The man offered a smirk. “And what is the difference?”

“Ignoring a demand from the judge could land a man in jail,” he said.
 

A giggle erupted from the youngest of the trio. “So what’s a request get someone?”
 

Caleb cut him down with his glare, then casually allowed his free hand to graze his coat sufficiently to show his weapon strapped to his belt. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t make them.”

* * *

Emilie slipped from the judge’s grasp but held her silence. Once the trio was on its way, she turned on the puffed-up buffoon. “How dare you come to my home and behave that way?”

She intended to say more but, under his withering glare, elected not to.

A muscle in his jaw tensed. “Do you know those men?”

“Well, of course I do. I only made Ben’s acquaintance today. He’s the young man, but the other two I met in your office. They are quite well-mannered.” She paused for effect. “Unlike you.”

The comment seemed to miss its mark, as the judge was staring past her and paid it no heed. She swiveled to follow his gaze, then watched as the men disappeared around the bend on the path toward town.

“Come with me.” A demand, not a request. She followed as he took her to the site of the school building, the location of their planned meeting that had now gone so strangely wrong.

Caleb seemed oblivious to her presence as he walked to the edge of the bluff and stared out at the ocean. She moved to stand at his side, though he continued to ignore her.

A thought occurred, as did a possible explanation for his rude behavior. “Caleb, perhaps I owe you an apology.”

He gave her a sideways look, one brow raised. “Perhaps?”

Emilie nodded, though she needn’t have bothered, for he’d already returned his attention to the horizon. “Yes, well,” she began slowly, “I had only the best of intentions when I called the parent meeting that began the letter-writing campaign.”
 

She cast a glance up at him. A muscle worked in his jaw, but otherwise he stood stock still.
 

“So what I envisioned as a nice, quiet, yet firm way of circumventing what I and others felt was an authoritative position on the subject of the new school became a—”

“Emilie, please.” He moved to catch her wrist. “Do you think this is about a group of disgruntled citizens writing letters to Washington?”

“Yes, well, I. . .” Her breath caught when his grip tightened. “I suppose I did, and for my part in any trouble this may have caused you, I do apologize.”

He stared.

“I would ask that you unhand me, sir.” Emilie squared her shoulders and returned the glare. “And I would remind you that I have now asked your forgiveness for. . .” Again she paused. “For all of it.”

Caleb shook his head. “Were I to persist in holding the offense against you, I fear I would only harm myself.” Emilie lost him to the sea once more. “This I am still learning but endeavor to put into practice.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I, too, have difficulty in that area.”

He turned abruptly. “With me? Have I—”

“No,” she said. “It’s of a more personal nature.” She shrugged. What damage could the truth do with one who had no idea of the parties involved? “I struggle with an offense I have only recently become aware of.”

His silence this time begged her to continue.

“My father,” she added, “whom I share with Isabelle, favored me over her.” Another pause. “Favored my mother over hers. Isabelle has managed to live with the fact, though it caused her great personal sacrifice and pain. She has forgiven. I, knowing I did not deserve the favor, have not.” She lifted her gaze. “Why am I telling you this?”

He reached for her hand once more, this time entwining his fingers with hers. “There is some measure of safety in a shared past, Emilie.”

A shared past.
 

His fingers tightened around hers.
 

“ ‘The truth will set you free.’ ” He spoke the words so softly they were almost lost on the wind.

“I wish I believed that,” she said, “for I feel as though upon knowing the truth, I have become imprisoned by it.”

Caleb lifted her fingers to his lips and held them there. Emilie dared not move, even to slowing her breathing, lest he move away.

“A prison is something we construct around ourselves, Emilie,” he said, this time staring openly as if watching for her reaction.

“A strange statement coming from the man who holds the keys to the jail.”

He shook his head, even as he released her. “Say that again.”

She stared down at her fingers, still warm from his touch. “I said you hold the key to the jail, Caleb.”

“I do, don’t I?” A smile broke, one Emilie hadn’t seen since Langham Island. In a swift move, Caleb placed his hands around her waist and lifted her off the ground, circling as he let out a yelp more suited to a boy of ten than a man near thirty.

“Put. Me. Down.”

He did, and the earth continued to spin until her feet were once again airborne. This time Caleb lifted her into an embrace and, in a stunning turn of events, kissed her soundly.

When he placed her on her feet again, Emilie fully expected an apology for his ungentlemanly behavior. What she got was another smile that nearly had her asking for another kiss.

Rather, she elected to act the prim schoolteacher. An act she hoped she could maintain. “What on earth has gotten into you, Judge Spencer?” she managed as she repaired her hair with a shaking hand.

“The truth, Emilie,” he said, “is setting me free.”

She tried to think of a response, but none came. Perhaps it was because her head still spun.

“I am the Benning.”
 

“I know,” she whispered.
 

His curt nod put her in mind of the stern judge and not the man who’d just danced a jig in her field. “When my father died, I tried to become him.” Another pause. “It was my duty.”

This time she reached for his hand, and after a moment he curled his fingers around hers. “Duty is a difficult taskmaster.”

“Indeed.”
 

“How did he die?” she asked softly.

“Yellow fever,” Caleb said. “He came home to Santa Lucida to die. And to draft the son he rarely saw for the cause.”

She held his hand and waited, thinking of what it must have been like to sit at the bedside of a dying father at the age of ten. It had been hard enough at twenty-one.

Again the ocean had his attention. She thought of their first meeting, the tangling of frightened captive and blustering rescuer in the dark waters between two warring ships. Theirs had been a spectacular introduction, complete with cannon fire, grapeshot, and two bags of gold.

Emilie felt him move beside her and turned her attention to him. He did not smile, nor did he frown. Rather, he appeared to be either confused or surprised.

“I could love you quite easily, Emilie Gayarre.”

Chapter 39

There, he said it. The truth, all of it, was out.

Caleb stood on the edge of the cliff feeling as if the woman beside him held the power to hurl him off it. Emilie seemed as stunned as he at the admission.
 

“Perhaps I should have kept silent on this,” he finally said. “I can see I’ve caught you off guard.”

“Off guard?” She shook her head even as she pulled away. “That’s not it.”

Panic the likes of which he’d not felt even in battle rose. “Emilie, say something.”

It took far too long, but finally she met his stare. Still, she seemed disinclined to speak.
 

“I cannot require a response,” he paused to force a smile, “but I can request it.”