Into the Bright Unknown (The Gold Seer Trilogy #3)(38)

Another group stands and clears out. The proprietor is giving us the side-eye. Maybe we’ve overstayed our welcome. Maybe he’s a spy for Hardwick after all, no matter what Jim thinks.

But there’s one more thing.

“Jim, I have to ask.” My voice is a deadly whisper now. I trust Jim, I do, but I can’t risk being overheard. “Did Daddy ever tell you anything about me? I mean . . . anything special that . . . I can do?”

His eyes sparkle. “You mean the way you can recite the presidents backward and forward?” he whispers back.

“Um, no. I mean—”

“Oh, I know. It’s the way you can hammer together a sluice in under twenty minutes.”

“Well, that too, but—”

“I’ve got it! Reuben once told me you could blow a spit wad through a piece of straw and hit something at four paces.”

“Six paces!” I glare at him, realizing he’s funning me. “So you do know.”

“Yep. Since before you could walk. It’s an amazing thing, Leah. An amazing thing.”

“It’s one reason Hiram chased me all the way across the continent.”

“I figured. He was the only person besides me who knew. If your mama had had her way, even I wouldn’t have known.”

“But the thing is . . .” I glance around. Lots of customers remain, and no doubt plenty of them understand English just fine. “Jim, do you have any idea where it came from? I mean, I know Mama left Boston in a hurry. She hated it whenever I said the word ‘witch’ or even just mentioned what I could do. She had a mighty fear. And I was wondering . . . did she have a gift too? Something special she could do?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “She did.”

“What?”

The proprietor turns, startled. My face flushes.

“What was it?” I repeat, back to a whisper.

“She could find lost things.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “I don’t remember anything like that. Not one single instance of . . .”

“She only used it once that I know of,” he says. “It was a few weeks after the Cherokee were forced out of Dahlonega by President Jackson. Old Man McCauley came bursting into the store, saying he couldn’t find his five-year-old boy.”

“You mean Jefferson!”

He nods. “Your daddy was with me that day. McCauley told us Jefferson had been missing for hours. He was afraid the boy had gone after his mama, who was halfway to Oklahoma Territory by then.”

I know this story. Well, part of it. Jefferson told me my daddy found him in a ditch by the road, several hours out of town.

“Daddy found him,” I said. “But you’re saying it was really Mama?”

Jim nods. “We looked for half a day. Finally Reuben went home to your mother, carrying Jefferson’s favorite blanket, and begged her to use her gift, just this once. And forgive me, Leah, I don’t know the details of how it all worked; your mama and daddy didn’t like to talk about that sort of thing, even with me. All I know is that blanket helped her somehow, and she sent Reuben off with specific directions on how to find the boy.”

“Well, I’ll be.” I knew. Somehow I had always known there was more to my mother than met the eye. Her final words make a lot more sense now. Trust someone. Not good to be alone as we’ve been. Your daddy and I were wrong. . . .

She wasn’t just talking about my gift; she was talking about hers, too. About feeling so alone with a certain bright, screaming knowledge you think you might die of it. About being so full of fear that you never dared trust anyone with that knowledge, not even your own daughter.

But I’ve dared. I’ve dared a lot. Even in my darkest days, hemmed in on all sides by awful people like Hiram and Hardwick, I’m surrounded by people I can trust.

That was Mama’s final wish for me.

I put my hand to her locket, dangling at my throat. I did it, Mama. Just like you hoped.

The proprietor clears his throat. It’s definitely time to go. I pull out some coins to pay for our meal, and Jim tells me when I’ve counted out enough. “Let’s go,” he says, rising from the table.

I squint at the light when we step from the building. The sky has cleared, and the air has warmed. Large and Larger are still keeping watch from across the street.

“It appears your caution in choosing our establishment for lunch was well founded,” I say.

“Friends of yours?” he asks.

“Friends of Hardwick. Or maybe just employees. I don’t think Hardwick has friends.”

“That’s as sure as heaven. Most of his friends would turn on him in a second if he couldn’t pay them. Let’s head to the waterfront.”

Eyes bore into my back as we amble along the shore. I know this part of the city better than any other. Ships on one side. Warehouses on the other. Streets turning into docks as they stretch out into the bay. We stroll down Battery as far as California Street, Large and Larger continuing to trail casually behind.

“Sorry to bring my troubles your way,” I say.

“What? Oh, you mean them. Negros are followed all the time, everywhere we go. White folks just assume we’re up to no good.”

How have I never noticed that before?

“You all right, Miss Leah?” he says. “That was an awful lot to take in back there.”