Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House(67)

“Ol’ Ernest here gon’ come close to you. He don’ mean you no harm. He jus’ gon’ keep you warm,” he says.

“But I stink!” I say.

“You stink, but it ain’t nothin’ that won’t come off with a good dose a water,” he says as he moves beside me.

He stays there all night, but I can’t sleep because his being nice to me makes me cry even more.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


May 1830


James


MY FEAR WAS that Mr. Cardon would be at the door before I was able to take my leave. The night of the fifth day, as Robert packed my trunk, I studied the map on which I had originally planned my excursion. I set it next to the one that Henry had given me. Though his was crudely drawn, they both directed me to the eastern shore of Virginia and then down south into North Carolina. On seeing this, I decided to follow my original plan, going first by boat to Norfolk, then by coach, traveling south from Virginia alongside the canal that ran down through the Great Dismal Swamp into North Carolina.

As a boy, I had read of the Great Dismal Swamp and dreamed of the exotic wildlife rumored to live there. Previously I had anticipated a visit, though now I cared nothing about my earlier plans and studied the map solely to locate the fastest way down to Pan.

Henry was at my door before sunup, wearing an optimistic smile and carrying the small black leather bag that looked as new as the day I had given it to him years before.

Robert was there to see us off. Though he was always youthful-looking, this early morning his face was lined and gray. We had spoken the night before and solidified our plans. I understood the burden I had left him with, but he assured me that all would be seen to and as soon as matters were taken care of, he would join me wherever I decided to settle.

“Godspeed,” Robert said as I turned to the carriage. I nodded, wishing mightily that he were coming with me.

Though it was before dawn when we left for the shipyards, I kept a sharp lookout for Mr. Cardon or one of his men, and when long lines and chaos met us at the docks, I pushed through to pay double the going rate so Henry and I could more quickly board the steamboat.

Once under way, the huge boat, pumping and puffing steam, moved swiftly through the Delaware, and in under three hours we arrived at the canal that cut through thirteen miles of land to meet the Chesapeake. Here we disembarked to climb aboard a lesser boat, where horses, hitched to the small craft, pulled us along a scenic path that I might have appreciated had I not been so anxious to put Philadelphia behind us. As I looked about nervously, Henry, unaware of the threat of Mr. Cardon, gave me a questioning glance more than once.

To my great relief, when we reached the Chesapeake River, another boat was already waiting to take us to Baltimore. On this we traveled for six more hours, but luck was with us, for no sooner had we disembarked in Baltimore than we were able to find passage on yet another steamboat—one that kept night hours and was bound for Norfolk.

I secured a small cabin for the two of us. When we were finally alone and well under way, Henry spoke his mind. “You got to settle down,” he said. “You actin’ like somebody on your tail.”

I was uncertain how much to tell him, for he knew nothing of Mr. Cardon. “I might have been in trouble if I had stayed back in Philadelphia,” I admitted.

“Might do, you tell me ’bout what you got goin’ on, so I knows what you lookin’ for.”

“I was with a woman and she became pregnant,” I began. “Her father found out about my . . . past . . . and threatened to kill me if I didn’t leave Philadelphia.”

“The girl white?” he asked. When I nodded, he blew air through his teeth. “Then it good you gettin’ outta town.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking to get involved with her. I knew better, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Yup. It like that for me first time I see Pan’s mama. She got hold a me and no talk was gonna get me out. Thing is, now she gone, she still got a hold on me.”

“Caroline died, too,” I said. It was the first time I had said those words, but they still had little meaning.

“She do? When?”

“Day before yesterday.”

“Uh,” he grunted as though I had kicked him.

“She was married,” I added, deciding to confess all.

He rubbed his face before his next question. “And what ’bout the husband? He lookin’ for you, too?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask her about him. I didn’t want to know. We didn’t even discuss what could happen if she had a child. She knew nothing about me—nothing about my past.”

“You ’fraid she find out, she walk away?”

I nodded. He had hit the mark.

“Mr. Burton, I got to sleep now. My head’s hurtin’ and I’s done in,” he said before he lay back on his bunk.

Though Henry soon slept, I couldn’t. When I had sat beside Caroline at Stonehill as she slept, I had imagined the two of us living a life together. It was so sweet a dream that now it would not quit me. Why hadn’t I planned it sooner? Would she be alive had I done so? And would the child be alive? I thought back to the black-edged note from Mrs. Cardon. How I wanted to believe that it had been a lie, but I had seen for myself how ill Caroline was. No. She was dead. The word now struck me like a hammer to my chest.