Darkness

April 1, 1812

Gregor

“Thanks again for the free hotel room,” Baker grins at me as they are getting ready to depart at dawn. He wants to get back down Under-the-Hill before the passengers arrive to begin boarding for the trip to New Orleans.

Vernon is still sleeping, but Rosalind has gotten up to bid them farewell also. “You are both always welcome here,” she tells them warmly.

“See you in two weeks, then,” Abigail smiles, and the women give each other fond hugs. “I’ll have the sky blue fabric for your vests when I return. I know just the ladies to help me shop for it!” She has shared with us the story of the Florian sisters in New Orleans and their friendship with Lydia.

Ben is arriving just as we are getting ready to walk to the docks. I had asked him to come early this morning since I knew I would be leaving at dawn. I give Rosalind a kiss, and murmur, “I’ll be home by about lunchtime, after the ship departs.”

Then I turn to Tiger, and tap my thigh, and say, “Come on, boy, you can help us see off the boat.” He’s entitled, it had been his home for months, and he considers Baker and Abigail to be part of his pack.

The crew is ready for work when we arrive, and the first passengers begin trickling in soon. The cargo has already been stowed in the hold. It seems that the process is growing a little smoother, now that we have a bit of experience. The passengers are directed onto the boat, their luggage carried, and last-minute tickets are sold without difficulty. Baker’s crew manages the onboard activities, including directing the passengers to their quarters.

I mostly try to stay out of the way, especially since I have the big Newfoundland dog with me who might intimidate some passengers if he got too close. And besides, I continue to feel that I am some sort of pariah in town now, half the people staring at me then averting their eyes when I look back at them. When is this unwelcome celebrity going to end? I am no different than I was before, it is only their perception of me that has been altered. I wish I knew how to switch it back.

Tiger stays faithfully by my side, and it is such a comfort to know that his friendship is unchanged by anything that happened, even by his being shot on my behalf. It is also somewhat amusing for me to see Tiger walking next to me on one side, while the shining wolf, invisible to everyone else, walks along the other. I rather like the feeling of being flanked by the two hounds.

After the steamboat departs, splashing and chugging and banging and puffing smoke, the passengers excitedly waving as they go, our crew gathers in the now empty waiting area in the terminal, as has become our habit. It is interesting to observe traditions beginning to develop.

“Well,” I tell them once they are all gathered, “how about we all take the rest of the day off, then get back to work on the boarding house construction tomorrow morning.”

It takes a while for them to clear out, chattering about their plans for the remainder of the day. They seem to be getting used to me again, I hope. At least they seem comfortable talking and laughing with each other as they depart in twos and threes to the taverns or back to the boarding house. I watch them all fondly, sitting on a bench, patting Tiger. When I stand to go, I realize that one crew member is remaining, apparently waiting to speak to me.

That’s different, and encouraging. I have had very few people try to initiate conversations with me since the incident, and it gives me hope that I am not all that unapproachable.

“Hey, Charley,” I smile at the lad. “How’s it going? Do you have plans for the afternoon?”

“Well,” he says, smiling and ducking his head, “I was wondering if I could come up and spend some time with Sarah?”

“Oh! Of course, I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.” It occurs to me that although his sister is at my house taking care of Vernon almost every day, Charley has never actually been inside. They never felt comfortable coming to the reading groups, back when they were still possible.

We walk up the hill together, and Charley seems relaxed enough with me, or at least isn’t treating me differently than he was two weeks ago. It feels the same with Sarah. She did not witness the incident, but he did, and I’m glad that it doesn’t seem to have left him with any fear of me.

“I believe that since they both saw you at Forks of the Road, and sensed the unease of the slave traders towards you, they do not find it surprising to see others react to you in unusual ways.”

That is what I was thinking too. Whatever the reason, I am glad of it.

When we walk through the front door, Rosalind and Sarah are in the parlor with Vernon. Charley steps in behind me with a smile, and Sarah greets him with such surprise and delight that I am astonished. I had no idea that she could express such exuberance.

She is thrilled to introduce him to Vernon. They crouch together on the floor, and he peers at the baby’s face with a smile. Then Charley smiles up at me and says, “He looks like you! He has your eyes!”

Rosalind and I glance at each other with astonishment. Any resemblance Charley might be imagining can be nothing but sheer coincidence. He cannot possibly have my eyes. But Rosalind immediately says, “You’re right, I think he looks just like Gregor.”

I don’t think I have ever heard more wonderful words in my life. I am deeply moved, and can only whisper, “Thank you.”