Journey

Monday, October 7, 1811

Natchez, Mississippi Territory

Ben

We awaken as the sky is lightening, the clouds tinged with the soft pink which comes right before dawn. Samuel is still in my arms. Even lying on the ground out here in our hidden grove, just north of the docks at Natchez Under-the-Hill, I think this single hour of sleep was the best rest I have had in weeks. It is him. He is what gives me the peace and solace I need.

“Good morning,” he greets me, smiling softly as he sits up. He leans over to give me a tender kiss. Far too soon, he pulls back. “I need to go, I will have patients lining up out the door if I don’t get there in time. I don’t want them to witness my walk of shame,” he adds wryly.

I chuckle and sit up. We don’t need to get dressed, as we napped in our clothing, comfortable in the blankets we found here when we arrived a couple of hours ago. “I’ll have to thank Gregor for these,” I say, running my hand over the bedding he left for us. “And ask for my job back, I guess.”

Samuel gets up and moves to the side of the grove, standing close to the edge of the river, to relieve himself. He says to me over his shoulder, “I don’t think you have anything to fear on that account. If he didn’t want you back he wouldn’t have loaned me his horse to find you. Or left us this gift, for that matter.”

It was a pleasant and perplexing surprise, the bundle we found here when we arrived after a day of traveling back down the Natchez Trace. A ground cover, a couple of blankets and pillows, even two drinking glasses. I pick them up and move to the little spring to fill with cool water, and hand one to Samuel when he finishes and comes back to me.

“I suppose so,” I shrug. “I wonder how he knew about our grove?”

Samuel sputters a little on his water. “You didn’t show him?”

“No, never. Mason found it on his own. I suppose Gregor must have too. Although, you never know with him, he always seems to know all sorts of things that don’t make any sense.”

“True,” he responds, finishing his water and moving towards the front of the grove, ready to walk towards town. “I’m glad. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have come to find you.”

I pull him in for one last embrace before letting him go. “Yeah. I have a lot to thank him for.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he says, sadly, hesitating before he goes. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to come back tonight. After being gone for days I’ll have to work late, then I am sure my uncles will expect to see me at the club for supper.” He wryly lifts his brows. “I suppose I will have to think of some excuse for why I was gone.”

I kiss his cheek. After two days without shaving he has just a little stubble, and it is endearing to me. “You were tending a patient, obviously.” I kiss his other cheek. “Me. You cured my broken heart.” I move to the middle to kiss his lips.

He nods. “And mine.”

I feel so preposterously lucky to be back with him.

He embraces me firmly, then asks, “Will you wait for a few minutes?”

I nod. We shouldn’t be seen coming into town at dawn from the riverbank together. We must keep our relationship a secret. It is not legal for us to share this love. Not acceptable to anybody. Save one.

Just Gregor.

Rosy

When I open my eyes my husband is already awake, of course, his dark eyes smiling at me from the pillow next to mine, his angular features full of contentment. “Good morning, darling,” he tells me.

“Good morning, Gregor,” I say, and cuddle up to him. His hand reaches around to hold me, the hand which was injured yesterday. I pull it up to inspect the palm, and see the red lines, where he was slashed by a blade less than a day ago, have faded even further. I peek under the covers, and see the horrible purple bruise on his ribs fading away.

It isn’t all I see down there. I duck under, mischievously, and begin kissing him in a line down his torso.

He groans deliciously.

Before we get too far, though, I pop my head back out from under the counterpane. “Sorry,” I tell him, “this will have to wait. I need to…”

“Of course,” he says, quickly getting out of bed and grabbing his clothing. He always knows. He leaves me alone to take care of business.

I have two or three months to go before the baby comes, and I am finding it makes me need to use the chamber pot far more frequently. My husband is always so understanding. Although I’m sorry to kick him out of bed while he is obviously so aroused and eager. Even after everything we did last night. He can never get enough, it seems. I am not sure I can either.

When I am finished taking care of my morning needs and dressing, I meet him downstairs in the parlor. Nadine and Moses have arrived and are starting their work. I move over to Gregor and whisper in his ear, “I will finish what I started tonight.”

“I certainly hope so,” he replies, reaching out to softly caress my hair.

Ben

I hover at the north end of the dock after Samuel leaves, waiting for the day to start, carrying the rucksack I brought with me when I thought I was leaving for good. I don’t want to go to the boarding house and see David yet. I’m too much of a coward. I made him so mad when I left three days ago, refusing to tell him why, insisting I didn’t want him to come with me. He was furious when I left, and I’m afraid he’ll be furious when he sees I have changed my mind. I’m sure he’ll want to know what all the fuss was about.

But of course I still can’t tell him. I can’t tell him how Samuel thought my love was false when he learned I had been lying to him about how we first met. I can’t tell David how it destroyed me not to be able to be with Samuel, how I could not bear to be so close to him without being able to touch him. So I decided to leave, go back to my old job working on flatboats. I didn’t let David come. My best friend is much better off here.

And then Samuel spoke to Gregor, who convinced him he was wrong about me, and even lent him a horse to come and find me. Samuel rode all day up the Trace searching for me.

And then, oh, and then. We spent the most glorious night together, half a mile off the road, before heading back down to Natchez.

And here I am, back Under-the-Hill, almost as though none of it ever happened. I lean against the wall outside a tavern, gazing around the docks and watching for Gregor. I want to talk to him first, thank him for everything, and beg for my job back. Since now I am staying in town, I’ll need to keep working.

It doesn’t take very long. I am pleased to see him walking down Silver Street from the town up on the hill. He’s earlier than usual. The rest of the crew hasn’t even left the boarding house. Good, here is my chance.

I quickly walk towards the south side of Under-the-Hill where the street from town ends, past all the taverns and brothels. We meet at his construction site, where we have been building the dock extension for the coming steamboat. He is walking along, hands in pockets, seeming for all the world like he is completely casual and unconcerned. Except for the huge smile on his face as he meets my eyes.

I find myself tongue-tied, my old problem resurfacing. I never can find the right words when I need them. “Er….” I try to start.

Thankfully, he takes over for me. “Welcome back, Ben,” he says with a grin. “I’m pleased to see you have returned to Natchez.”

I nod. “Er, thanks. For, uh, everything.”

He smiles and nods in return. I’m pretty sure he knows exactly what I am grateful for. I manage, “Um, Samuel found me, we came back with your horse. We took him to the stables. Thanks for that too.”

“Of course,” he says smoothly, in the unusual accent which has become so familiar to me. “I’m very glad it all worked out.” He glances around at the growing dock. “So,” he says, “want your job back?”

I huff with relief. He’s the easiest boss I’ve ever had. And quite possibly one of the best friends. All I can do is nod.

He claps me on the shoulder. “Great. Let’s get to work.”

David

Without Ben here, in the bed next to mine in our little room, I oversleep again. I guess he was always the one to make sure we got to where we were going on time. I didn’t even know he was doing it for me, didn’t even realize I was relying on it.

I think I am dimly aware of the sounds of the other men in the boarding house getting up, going to the dining room for breakfast, leaving for work, but those sounds incorporate themselves into my dreams. It is only when it starts to become quiet again as the last of them depart that I am awakened by the silence.

Oh, shit.

Late again.

I jump up in a panic. I really shouldn’t, Gregor is the most tolerant boss ever, but I am sure even he must have limits. This is the third morning in a row I am late. I toss my clothes on as fast as I can, shove my feet into shoes, and go rushing down the stairs.

I have no thought of trying to find breakfast, obviously I have already missed it.

But, as I rush past the dining room somebody steps out the door and gets in my way. I have to practically dive sideways to avoid colliding.

When I right myself, I look over indignantly, then am immediately abashed when I realize it is Polly. She is the maid here, the girl who cleans and helps serve at meals, who helps us out when we need linens or other supplies. And who is possibly the prettiest little lady I have ever seen. Ever since we got here I have admired her round apple cheeks, her little rose petal mouth, her golden brown eyes, her dark blond hair in a tidy bun, the strings of an apron tied around her tiny waist.

I want to stop and talk to her, of course, to continue the long, ongoing conversation we have been having for months now, but I am in too much of a rush. I can’t rudely run out without greeting her, though, and I open my mouth, prepared to wish her a good morning.

However, she stops me. “Here!” she says, pushing a napkin wrapped around something into my hands. “I know you’re late. Go!” To emphasize her intent, she gives me a little push out the door, and I have to laugh as she sends me on my way.

I glance down at what I am holding. Wrapped up in the napkin is some warm toast, and a peeled hard-boiled egg. She didn’t want me to miss breakfast. I pause for a moment, look back at her as I am about to go out the front door of the boarding house, and hold up a piece of toast. “Thank you!” I mouth to her, then rush to work.

Gregor

“Well,” Wolk tells me, “David finally woke up. You win our bet, he slept even later than yesterday.”

I laugh internally and peer at my Guardian, in his usual form, the shining wolf alongside me wherever I go. “What do I win?” I think to him, amused.

“My eternal service and devotion, obviously,” he responds, and we share a laugh, silently, invisibly, just the two of us. Nobody else will ever know how much time I spend speaking silently with my Guardian. It often makes me feel sorry for all the rest of the humans, who can’t see their Guardians. I’m lucky to be able to see mine. So can little Ayola. I’m also lucky to have found her.

I look down the dock at the crew, cheerfully working, lining up planks across the piles we have finished driving into the silt of the river, creating the surface of the dock. Ben is here, working harder than ever, apparently trying to make up for lost time.

I was delighted when Wolk told me that Samuel had found Ben and they were on their way back, basking in their mutual love. I stopped him from sharing too many details. I try to respect the privacy of others.

Well, sometimes.

Wolk laughs at me.

“David is on his way here,” he tells me.

I try to think of what I should do to smooth the reunion with his best friend, then tell myself to knock it off. Why am I constantly interfering with other people? They are grown men, they will figure it out.

So I focus on my end of the plank I am helping to position before it gets nailed down. The crew has gotten used to the idea that the boss will happily work together with them. I usually do whatever they are doing. I would hate to only supervise from the side.

I try not to stare as David approaches. I am intensely curious, though, to see how this will go. I’m not the only one. This crew of men is unusually bonded, they all live together in the boarding house, and they are as involved in each other’s lives as brothers. They welcomed Ben back this morning with open arms after his three day unexplained absence, and I know they are watching as avidly as I am to see his best friend’s reaction to his return.

It is obvious the moment David notices who is working here. He stops walking for an instant. Then, entirely disregarding the fact that everybody is watching, he storms straight up to Ben who is kneeling at the edge of the newly-built portion of the dock, hammer in hand.

Is it a moving embrace they share?

Nope. David comes up behind Ben and grabs him by the shoulder. Ben swings around and stands, his face a touching combination of fondness and alarm. Ben, of course, cannot speak. David can.

“You asshole!” he shouts at Ben.

Ben’s eyes widen. “Er….” he tries.

Nobody is even pretending to work anymore. The hammers are still, planks are held halfway to their destination, all stare openly at the scene.

“You leave me alone for three days, with no explanation, you won’t let me come, I don’t know if I will ever see you again, and now you show up working like nothing happened!” David rushes through his diatribe, while Ben stands open-mouthed.

“Um….” he tries again.

“You fucking asshole!” David concludes, less eloquent than usual, and then overcome with emotion he reaches out and pushes Ben right in the chest.

Ben falls backwards into the water with a splash, then comes up shaking his head, drenched, standing waist-deep in the somewhat slimy edge of the river.

We all, to a man, are staring with our mouths hanging open, waiting to see what will happen next.

“Do you feel better?” Ben asks mildly, shaking water off of his hands and head, peering up at his friend standing over him.

David huffs. “Yes.”

“Great,” Ben says, holding up his hand. “Help me back up.”

We all burst into uproarious laughter and cheers as David leans over the edge of the dock, grasps Ben’s hand, and helps him clamber back out of the water. Even Wolk is laughing.

“Sorry,” Ben says meekly.

“Never do that again!”

“I won’t.”