With a nod, he started to leave but stopped. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant us to part for good, but I had to chase my dream. Think about letting me see Eliza. Her father’s a fool, but one who loves her. Think on it, Doll.”
Joseph Thomas walked out of my door, but this time he’d be back. In Grenada, maybe everywhere, Thomas had rights, rights that might exceed mine. I wouldn’t have another child taken, not like Catharina.
Mamaí came out of the stockroom. In her hands was one of Kitty’s masterpieces. A clay vessel that she’d fashioned like a green calabash, smooth and shiny and ripe.
“My sister has such talent.”
“She does. Kitty’s chosen a safe and beautiful world, or maybe it’s chosen her. You and I, Dolly, we live in the true world, one with consequences.” Mamaí took the papers from my fist. “Making peace can sometimes soften consequences.”
Or make them worse.
Didn’t know what the lesser evil was, pushing Thomas away ’cause I hated him or keeping him close because I feared he’d take our child.
Grenada 1790: My Store
Edward and I stood outside of my shop as men carried barrels from my storeroom and set them on my dray.
“Mama,” he said. “I’m checking the list.”
“Good, my boy. Use those fingers.”
My son looked dapper in pants of emerald green and a matching coat. I took extra effort to dress him well. I had to make sure that no one mistook my boy for someone to bother. Helping Governor Samuel with his party should further make sure that everyone knew this was my Edward, and we were no threat.
My fears for him had increased. My girls and Kitty stayed inside, but ten-year-old Edward wanted to be the man of the house.
“Good job, son.”
He smiled and flipped his paper, counting the tablecloths the governor’s secretary ordered to celebrate his second appointment to the position.
“Mama, I can go with Mr. Polk to deliver these goods. Simmons Street is not that far.”
It wasn’t.
Simmons was known as Government Street because the courts and councils gathered there. It was only a few blocks away. My son, my only son, had been doing better, not as sickly. Today was one of the first since moving to Grenada that he awoke with no wheezing.
“Can I, Mama? I want to make sure they don’t cheat you.”
I clasped his shoulder. “Promise not to overdo things? Then yes, my little man. We’re almost done.”
He coughed and smiled. Then I realized he’d been holding it for a chance to go. With a hug, I let him know he didn’t have to pretend. I wouldn’t stunt his dreams. “Tell Polk I said to drive slow and careful with you.”
Cells sent Polk to keep an eye on us. He’d been sending books and gifts to Edward and my little girls every two months.
I should send him thanks, but I let Charlotte’s be enough. The man rarely did anything without something in it for him. I had to keep remembering this, especially when Edward wore his black tricorn.
Sunshine bathed the street. My half sleeves even in cotton would stick to me. I glanced at my shop. The whitewashed brick building with its jet fish-scale-tiled roof was something to be proud of.
“Miss Dorothy.”
That voice. I hadn’t heard it since London. I spun to see my friend, Mrs. Kitty Clarke.
Arrayed in pink and white like the monkey apple flower, this fancy woman wrapped me in a big embrace. “When my husband said he’d visit your governor, I had to see you.”
“Come into my shop. I’m honored you stopped by.”
With a smile that only a kitten slurping milk could share, Mrs. Kitty wandered inside. Her expression went blank as she circled.
Her nose crested high as she poked decanters. Nothing gave her away. I hated and loved that about her.
“Happy with your choice, Dorothy?”
Wasn’t going to answer that heart question, instead I pointed to my shelves. “You can see I took back ideas from London. Now please, look and spend money.”
She laughed, and I savored an easier breath.
“This shop is magnificent. The china, even the Wedgwood, could be from a shop on Bond Street.”
Clapping my hands, I almost danced, but that would be undignified. “When they said other governors and their wives were coming, I hoped to see you. Hoped you’d stop by and offer your approval.”
“We talked about waiting for approval.”
“Fine, then I’m waiting for your money.”
Kitty pointed to a china teapot. “I will take that and the linen with the purple trim. It will look wonderful in our new home. We’ll be leaving Jamaica soon.”
“Back to England?”
“Canada. Clarke continues to be promoted. It’s my duty to support him.”
Waving his checklist, Edward ran to me. “Mama, Grandma says the governor has sent a note for more champagne. Do we extend credit to him? No money came.”
“You must, Dorothy,” my friend said. “A party without bubbly champagne is a dull one.”
She winked at me and I dipped my chin to her, then turned to Edward. “We’ll invoice him. Put the bottles in the dray, but make sure that his secretary signs the invoice for the addition.” I counted up her items. “That will be six pounds and four shillings. I’ll have these crated and taken to the governor’s.”
She fished into her bag, a silky, satin thing.
When I saw the clipping crinkle and spill onto her glove, I felt my cheeks heat.
That was one of those sketches the prince used to find me in Dominica.
“Where did you get it?”
“A friend in London sends me the oddities from home. It was in a magazine, then reprinted in a newspaper. This predates our boat ball. Sort of looks like you.”
“Might be with our mutual friend.”
Kitty’s gaze was warm and frank, but she said nothing about another chance with the prince or my choice to leave. She wasn’t one to judge other women’s decisions, even if I wanted her to say she understood.
Looking for approval was rotten business.
“Here.” I shoved an invoice to her hand. “Please print your name up top.”
She did and offered the invoice back, but in the exchange the old sketch dropped to the floor. A boot fell upon it.
A shaggy, dusty leather boot.
Thomas bent and picked up the paper. “I presume this is yours.”
Mrs. Clarke adjusted the feather in her bonnet. “Seems you have business, Dorothy.” She gave me a hug and took the paper from Thomas. “I should make this into a miniature to remember you.”
Thomas’s face reddened and her smile widened. “Keep in touch, Miss Dorothy. Promise?”
“Promise,” I said and waved good-bye.
“It’s true? You went with him?” His puffy cheeks glowed. “You left our daughter for him. Do you hate me that much?”
“It’s none of your business what I did. I went away and came back, the same as you’ve always done. The same as all men do.”
He rubbed the scruff of his neck. “If you don’t want my baby, give her to me. All I ever wanted was—”
“No. You think you want a family? You want your fhortún, your dreams. Don’t pretend differently.”
“That’s what you want too.”
“I’ll have it all, Thomas. I went away for me, but I returned for my family. Can you say the same?”
“You don’t think I would’ve come back? If I’d known—”
“We’re no second prize.” I moved to a shelf and straightened the display of bowls, the red and green ones Kitty sculpted. The dainty bottle with the lips and curves of a singer was one of her best.
When I turned, Thomas remained, frozen like the ice I’d sampled in London.
“Sir, what can I help you with? My shop has very fine goods. We can supply your household with servants, too.”
Thomas stepped closer. “You and Prince William. Are you still in love with him?”
&nb
sp; “None of your business. If there’s nothing to purchase—”
“Do you still care for him? For me?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does, for the prince is not here. I am.”
Taking a cloth from my pocket, I dusted a shelf. No green dust, no specks. “He’s in London. His whereabouts are well known.”
Thomas swore under his breath, and for a moment I felt powerful. “I wasn’t the one who forgot us. The bloated belly and swollen feet and the sadness so thick I was blinded by it—that was mine, mine alone.”
“Doll, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. A prince of the world chose me, and I chose him. Now I’m in Grenada for Charlotte.”
“You don’t leave much for a man. Do you, Doll? No room for him being wanted or missed. Or him wanting and missing you.”
“Thomas, you made a choice.”
“Let me see my daughter. I’ll love her and cherish her. Be the best father.”
Edward came into the shop. “Mama, all is ready. I checked and checked—Mr. Thomas!”
My son ran to him and Thomas scooped up my boy.
“You’ve come back,” Edward said, gulping air.
Thomas set him down easy. “Yes. Grenada’s home for me.”
“Edward, go with Polk for the deliveries. Don’t forget to get the paperwork signed.”
“Yes, Mama. Mr. Thomas, you stop by the house. Grandma, Kitty, and Eliza would love to see you.”
“I want to, son.”
I willed my face not to respond, not to steal the joy Edward had from seeing this man. When my boy ran off to the cloakroom to join Polk, I waggled my finger at Thomas. “Don’t come without a proper invitation.”
“But you will let me in? There’s hope.”
He turned and powered through the door.
I let him go knowing I’d have to let Thomas visit to keep him from using his legal skills to steal Eliza.
Grenada 1790: My Family
Mamaí sat beside me on the sofa, as I sat on the floor of my town house holding out my arms to Eliza. I loved the way her chubby little face lit up when she made it to me. I scooped her up and held her close.
She didn’t hold it against me, leaving; Frances did.
The spunky four-year-old took more than a month to warm up to me again. Last night, sleeping in my big bed as we looked out my window at stars, she told me how much she had missed me. And that she liked me happy.
“Lizzy sent word through Polk.” Mamaí stitched the ruffle hem on her newest creation. “She and Coxall had another baby, a boy. That’s three children for their little family.”
My heart smiled. “That’s wonderful. Is she healthy and fine?”
“Yes, your daughter is good.” She put down her needle. “Dolly, Eliza should be baptized. We can do it at the end of service, while we still get use of the church.”
The Catholic oppression was getting worse. “I know. The government keeps making new rules. I have favor with the governor. We have to trust that protects us.”
My sister came into the room. She leaned on the door’s frame. “I miss outdoor church like in Montserrat or your dancing one in Roseau.”
The woods of Grenada had more bugs than anywhere. It was no wonder everyone flocked to my store for ointments. The old ways that Mamaí knew, passed down by her mother’s mother from Africa, were by far the best. The nut oil of the cashew cherries healed lesions. The crushed-up seeds of the fleshy custard apple killed lice.
Kitty sat beside me and put her arms about me. “I saw Mr. Thomas the other day.”
Mamaí didn’t look up from her blue threads.
“Yes. I see him and all the other captains. Business is booming among the settlers. Soon we’ll have as many housekeepers as I did in Roseau. You should make more bowls.” I touch the necklace she made me. “And more of these.”
“No, that was special for you.” She kissed my cheek. At least she’d forgiven my leaving.
Mamaí glanced at me over her stitches. “A baby needs a name to be baptized. Tell her, Kitty.”
She pulled her knees up to her chin. “Thomas asked about Eliza. He wants to see her. Seems her pa should.”
Kitty’s smile was sweet and true and picked my heart clean of looking for excuses.
“Did I ever tell you two I miss your pa sometimes?” Mamaí’s hummingbird voice blasted like a loud horn.
Wordless, Kitty and I spun to our mother.
“I do. Especially when you both are restless. That reminds me of him.”
“You want Pa back?” My tone sounded squeaky. I swallowed and tried again. “I could get Mr. Bates to reach out to him. But, Mamaí, you’re not old. If you want—”
“Girl, that’s not what I miss. But late at night, there are times I wish he were here.”
It was the most she’d ever said to us about caring for Pa. I had questions, but this was her truth to say.
Mine was that I’d been testing Thomas’s newfound devotion to prove he wasn’t going anywhere.
The past few weeks, he showed up in the evenings to walk me home.
“Thomas is Anglican,” Kitty said in a sad hushed tone. “He gets to worship inside without threats. He gets to walk around outside without papers.”
The harassment of us free coloreds kept tightening. A cousin to Charlotte’s husband was arrested and jailed for two weeks until she could prove her status. They kept targeting colored women to humble them and their men.
“You know he and Edward are boating again.” Mamaí nodded. “Your own son is sneaking around on you.”
“Edward? Is that what’s getting him worked up? That can’t be good for his health.”
“Daughter, please, that boy is smiling more than I’ve ever seen. More than a letter ever did.”
Cells kept writing our son, but Mamaí was right.
Kitty took Eliza from me. “Edward smiles a lot with Thomas. Naptime for you, little girl. Frances will be up soon.” With my youngest hugging her neck, my sister left the room.
She was a good second mother to my children.
“He’s back for weeks. No whoring around for him or you. And he walks you home every night.”
I offered Mamaí a frown. “He was always good when he was here.”
Having said my barb, I walked onto the small porch. Night had fallen. The stars above seemed to do a great deal of signaling, like the lanterns that guided boats to port.
Maybe I should listen to the stars and give a little to Thomas. What would it cost me, if I offered Joseph Thomas a bit of my life?
Grenada 1790: My Business
The busy morning in the shop succumbed to afternoon slumber. I found myself yawning as I dusted an upper shelf. The bell on the door made a merry jingle. I turned with my ready smile. “Good . . . afternoon.”
Thomas stood there, hat against his chest, hair combed and parted to the side. “Miss Doll.”
His voice was low, not sultry. He put his hat to his chest. “Miss Doll, I have come to be a patron today. Housekeeping services.”
“Housekeeping?”
“Yes, you remember I was never very good at picking up after myself.”
“This is true.”
“Well, everyone raves over your girls. The navy men can’t get enough.”
Pulling out my dust rag, I brushed at my clean counter. “The commanders of the reefers love good services.”
“I’ve heard.” His eyes became distant for a moment. Then he moved closer. His gait was slow, like it pained him to move. “I wish they’d take their boats and go away. They threaten to enact a blockade at any moment. That would hurt your business, would definitely impact mine.”
I went to my ledger book trying to think of which girl would be perfect. Probably someone old on the verge of stopping work to live in the hillside would be ideal.
“Make it a good girl, one with good hands.” He picked up one of my palms. “Strong but soft, given to tenderness, even when it’s not deserved.”
&
nbsp; I drew my fingers away. “Flirt. What happened to you?”
“Exploring the woods by Black Bay Beach. The black sands are silky. The woods they back into are thick.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“It is but for the bugs.”
He followed me to the shelves, wincing with each step. The man was in pain and since my dear family kept up with his whereabouts, I knew it wasn’t the clap or other whoring diseases.
“Thomas, how soon would you need a housekeeper?”
“As soon as possible. The discomfort grows knowing I can’t help myself.”
“I see. The girl I have in mind—”
“I want you . . . to arrange things as soon as possible. Won’t be able to walk you home tonight. Please leave soon and be safe.”
He took out a sovereign and left it on the counter, close to my ledger book. The fool knew it was too much, but that was to impress me or to tell me how much he suffered.
I felt sorry for Thomas. This was as close to begging as he’d come. He was prideful.
He went to the door. “I stay off Grand Etang Road, Number 12. Thank you, Doll. I love you . . . for doing this.”
His words were a whisper, but I’d heard them as if he’d shouted. He still loved me.
The man played dirty, trying to twist up those old feelings in my chest. It hadn’t been too steady lately, so it was easy to do.
Now he’d gotten his backside fouled up. Chiggers could tear up a man’s skin worse than anything, anything next to lashes.
Charlotte came into the shop. “Was that Mr. Thomas?”
“Yes, I believe it was.”
“Has he returned to stay?”
“You know I don’t know the mind of any man, especially not that one.” I closed up my ledger books. “How is your Mr. Fédon?”
“Wonderful. He’s wonderful. I love him so.”
Her voice trailed off and then vanished.
“What’s the matter, Charlotte?”
“Jean-Joseph and his brother keep getting worked up over perceived slights. They hate the British. Sometimes I think they’ll take up arms.”
She sighed and shook. “I wish we’d be away from here sometimes.”
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