The Rising of Glory Land

by Janie DeVos

  I felt like I’d been slapped. Narrowing my eyes, I said, “You know, it’s a funny thing about time; sometimes it causes people to drift apart from each other, instead of pulling them closer together.” I glared at him for a second or two. “Here’s your coat,” I said, pulling it from around my shoulders and thrusting it into his hands. “We’re leaving early, so I need to go. Merry Christmas,” I said as I started to walk away.

  Saying nothing more, Striker let me go.

  Chapter 42

  The Direction of the Heart

  “You sure you got everything you brought? Your Christmas gifts, too?” Mama asked as we headed out the front door the next morning just a little before eight. After I assured her for the third time that I did, we walked down the porch steps to Papa, who was waiting patiently in the yard with all three of our saddled horses.

  “You ladies ready?” he said, helping Mama secure one last thing to her horse, Gracie.

  “As we’ll ever be.” Mama smiled.

  All three of us mounted our horses and started walking west along the river. At the same time, the wind picked up. “Looks like we might get a shower or two,” Papa said, looking up at the heavy gray sky. “Wind’s comin’ from the north, too, and it’s got some chill to it. Y’all have enough warm things with you?”

  “Lord, Max, you sound like our mother!” Mama teased. “But we’re much obliged to you for keepin’ an eye out for us, aren’t we, Eliza?” Mama said, winking at me.

  I knew she was just trying to lighten my mood. I’d been quiet all morning. She knew it had something to do with Striker because when I’d returned to the dinner table after walking in the garden with him, I only stayed for a short while. I’d excused myself as soon as I could without being rude, saying I needed to get home to pack. They’d offered to leave with me, but I assured them I was fine, and that a little quiet would do me good. Mama had seen my light on when they got home, but I didn’t feel like talking any more then than I had when I’d returned from my walk in the garden. All I did say was that Striker seemed to be doing well, and had come to terms with his grief. I also added that the old humble Striker seemed to have been replaced by a much more arrogant Paul Strickland, and that he and I no longer saw eye to eye on things.

  “I see,” Mama said. Her expression looked a little doubtful; as if she wasn’t sure she really did see. Then she wished me a good night and left the room. For the remainder of the night, I watched the avocado tree shadows play across my ceiling.

  “Who’s meeting us at the halfway point?” Papa asked, but before I could answer, a sharp whistle broke the early morning quiet. It was the 8:05 train’s first signal for departing passengers to board.

  “Train’s fixin’ to leave,” Papa said matter-of-factly, though I saw his eyes cut over toward me.

  No one said another word until a moment later a second shrill whistle ripped the air, causing me to jump slightly. This whistle was the train’s second and last call for all to get onboard who were going.

  Mama was looking at me hard, and I noticed that nobody seemed to want to move.

  “Eliza!” Mama said sharply, almost as though she was reprimanding me. “You’re as pale as a sheet. Now, you listen to me! I’m gonna ask you one question, and it may be the most important question you ever answer in life, so you think hard: Does your heart belong to the man on that train?” She waited for a second or two before adding, “Don’t you dare lie to yourself!”

  I looked straight ahead toward the west, the direction we were riding in, and then I heard the train’s shrill whistle for the third time. It was a final farewell as the train slowly pulled away from the station to begin its trek north.

  Suddenly, all doubt was gone. Pulling Sundae’s reins sharply to the right, I spun her around and then dug my heels into her sides. The horse exploded forward, racing east along the river through people’s backyards, including my own, and then I steered her to the north and across the bridge that spanned the river just beyond my house. We ran past the Royal Palm Hotel, and I glanced over at the gardens where Striker and I had been just hours before. Next, we flew through downtown. Fortunately, it was still early, so the streets were quiet, with the exception of Mr. McNamara, who was sweeping the sidewalk outside of his tannery, and shouted for me to slow down. Leaving the main business district behind, we cut diagonally across a brand new area where both residential and commercial buildings were being built, and then we finally came to the railroad tracks. After crossing over them, I immediately pulled Sundae to the left so that we were running parallel to the rails. Fortunately, the train’s pace had been slow as it traveled through the more populated area, but it was nearly clear of it now and black steam poured from its stack as it was preparing to pick up speed. Urging Sundae to do the same, I leaned low on her to cut wind resistance and slapped her haunches smartly with the ends of my reins. Faithfully, my horse answered with magnificent effort and we made up some ground.

  Just as I was about to reach the caboose, a few raindrops began to fall. Swirling winds whipped my hair across my face, but I kept riding hard. As I came upon the windows of one of the rear cars, passengers stared out at me as though I was playing some crazy game, while others waved at me as if I was giving them some grand escort out of town. Finally, I pulled alongside the next car, and saw a profile I knew and loved well. But then it was gone almost immediately and the train began to pull away from me.

  “Striker!” I desperately shouted. “Striker!” I knew he couldn’t hear me, but it was a cry from my heart, a shouting of my soul. I called his name again and again as the train pulled further away from me, but at that point, I knew I couldn’t ask any more of my loyal horse. Pulling the reins back, I brought her to a stop. Both of us were shaking hard, and as she heaved for air, I lowered my head and sobbed. I kept my head down, unable to watch the retreating train, but I couldn’t silence the sound of the torturous clacking as the wheels rotated faster and faster, taking Striker further and further from me.

  Suddenly, there was a terrible screeching and my head snapped up. Sparks flew from the wheels as they locked up and metal slid against metal as the train strained to slow down. At last, it came to a complete stop, and smoke hissed out of the top as if in protest to the deviation from its strictly adhered-to schedule. For a moment, nothing happened; then, suddenly, a man jumped from the train with a satchel in his hand. Standing there, staring at me was Striker.

  For a second or two, he seemed frozen in place, just as I was. Then we both moved at once. Dropping his satchel, he started to walk toward me, and then he began to run as I walked toward him on wobbly legs. As soon as he reached me, he placed his hands on either side of my face, then began to kiss every inch of it—over and over again. He pulled away slightly while still keeping my face cupped in his hands, and looked into my eyes as if to confirm that this was indeed what I wanted. To confirm that it was, I brought my mouth up to his. Then, at last, we experienced the familiar taste of each other again, deeply and urgently. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment. All sight and sound ceased to exist, including the chugging of the train as it slowly pulled away, leaving us to find our own way back home. But we already had.

  Epilogue

  March 1908

  I looked from one family member to another as they waved to us from the dock at the Royal Palm Hotel, and, for the hundredth time that day, I thought about how very blessed I was. How very blessed we were actually, for my family was officially Striker’s now, too, though we’d always felt like he belonged to us. Looking away from the dock and back at the man who had been my husband for all of two hours, I couldn’t help but think I had married a man who’d played different roles in my life depending on what we were doing, and what I needed at the time. On the one hand, he could be like a brother when we were competing against each other as to who could land the biggest fish. But he was also my best friend, as he had proven when we were hunting for my missing
parents in the Florida Keys. Now, we were on our way to Key Biscayne, specifically the Cape Florida lighthouse, where he would become my husband in every sense of the word. I was excited about that, but also a little nervous, though I knew that I would be fine in his hands. The bottom line was that Striker had played all of these roles in my life because he was my soul mate. And I was his. He’d said as much after he’d jumped off the train that morning Sundae and I had chased him down, and he’d sworn that neither of us would ever leave the other behind again.

  Early on, both of us had known our souls were intertwined, but it had taken a while for that understanding to go from our hearts to our heads. But once the connection had been made, Striker and I were finally free to move forward together. Our story wasn’t unlike that of my parents, who’d had to overcome their own obstacles in order to see what was right in front of them: each other. Now, looking back at my mother and father standing on the dock, I realized that I had never loved them more than at that very minute. Their understanding of what Striker and I truly meant to each other had helped me to finally see it clearly, as well.

  Standing next to Papa was Dylan, and next to him was Kathy Baker. In the late summer, she would be leaving her Aunt Halcyon’s home in Miami, and joining my brother as Mrs. Dylan Harjo, down at the Key West Light. He had finally found the person who could anchor him, and the place, as well. I asked him if he was still writing, and he said that he was. Of particular interest to him was the wild life he saw down in the Keys. My brother was a sensitive, gentle man, with the soul of a poet, and I knew he would make a fine husband to the gentle girl from the north.

  Beside Mama on the dock was Aunt Ivy, and Uncle Moses and Martha were there as well. Both Charlie and Isaac had had to work, but I was grateful the other three had come. Mama sorely missed Uncle James, and never more so than on this day, but Aunt Ivy’s presence helped lift that sadness. I wished that their oldest brother, Joseph, could have made the trip down with his family, but it was a long trip from New Orleans, where he still worked as the main engineer on one of the massive paddlewheel river boats.

  My eyes came to rest on Martha, and I couldn’t help but smile. The night before, my cousin and I had had the chance to talk well into the evening, and I learned that she and Paroh had grown very close over the months. In one of life’s sweet ironies, they planned to be married in the upcoming Green Corn Ceremony, just as my Aunt Ivy and Uncle Moses had done so many years before. I couldn’t have been happier for Paroh and Martha, and I would miss them both. I would miss everyone in Immokalee, but none more so than the children.

  Leaving my students had been the hardest part about returning to Miami, however, the good Lord saw to it to find a replacement for me. Rose had studied hard, and had excelled quickly; quickly enough that during the two months I remained there after Christmas to tie things up, Rose stepped into the new position of helping Martha and me as an assistant teacher. Once I was gone, her duties would increase, as would her responsibilities. It was a role she was ready for, and I couldn’t have been prouder of her. As I’d walked down the aisle toward Striker just hours before, I wore the beautiful blue sea glass bracelet that Rose had made for me to use as my “something new” and “something blue” in my wedding. Rose had become a good friend and I would carry that friendship close to my heart always.

  I gave one last wave to my family before turning back around and looking out over the bay as we made our way in our newly christened motorized sailboat, the Eliza Jane. It was one of Striker’s wedding surprises for me, and the other waited for me on Key Biscayne. I’d tried to pry it out of him, but he said I had to see it instead of hear about it. Now, as Key Biscayne began to grow bigger in the distance, the butterflies in my stomach flew around in a frenzy.

  “How long do we have permission to use the lighthouse?” I asked, coming up to stand next to Striker.

  “We can use it as long as we want,” he replied. “I figure we’ll stay a couple of days, and then head on over to the Bahamas. There’s a lot to show you there. I particularly want you to see Eleuthera. I think it’s one of the prettiest islands in the chain, and you’ll love diving the reefs. Speaking of which, is your father going to keep salvaging the Paso Rápido while we’re gone? Or is he going to wait ’til you’re back to continue?”

  “I told him to keep working it with Simon and Turtle. Finding that gold bar a few weeks ago is enough to keep me happy even if I never dive the wreck again.”

  “It was good the courts awarded your father the rights as wreck master.”

  “Well, we were pretty happy about it, too.” I smiled. “There’s still a lot to be found in and around that wreck. Papa said that whatever he salvages from the sea, he’s puttin’ back into the land now. He bought twenty-nine acres of land on Miami Beach, on some new road they put in called Collins Avenue. It’s kind of rough right now, he said, but he also said that any road that’s called an avenue is bound to be worth its weight in gold. I hope he’s right since I bought eight acres too from the money that gold bar brought in. We’re gonna use the rest of it to help you build that large marina.”

  “No, you’re not, Eliza. We already talked about this. That’s your money, to do with as you choose.”

  “The marina is what I choose,” I retorted. “Listen, Striker, if I’m going to be your partner in life, then you’ve got to let me help you when I can, with what I can.”

  He said nothing more, but just smiled at me, and I could see the love and gratitude in his eyes.

  We slowed way down as we approached the beach on Key Biscayne. “Okay, toss it over now,” Striker instructed, and I heaved the anchor off the bow. Once Striker was certain it had caught bottom, I discarded my canvas pants and shirt, and stripped down to my diving outfit, while Striker stripped down to his denim shorts.

  When I’d changed out of my wedding dress and into my shirt and pants following the reception at the hotel, the minister’s wife looked shocked. “I do declare, Eliza,” the woman had said, aghast. “You’re the first bride I’ve ever seen who looks like she’s headed for a day of scrubbin’ instead of a night of lovin’!” Everyone had laughed, including me.

  “I can assure you, Mrs. Granger,” Striker said, overhearing her comment, “the last thing she’ll be doing is cleaning tonight.” Everyone laughed again, while I blushed profusely.

  Striker and I began unloading the few things we were bringing ashore. Holding everything high over our heads, we waded through waist-deep water to the beach and then we continued up to the keeper’s quarters, which was a small cottage next to the lighthouse. Striker found a loose stone in the walkway, and lifting it slightly, removed the key that was hidden there.

  “How’d you know that was there?” I asked.

  “Keepers know how to get into most every lighthouse within a hundred mile radius. We move around so much, we have to know.”

  Instead of being musty-smelling and cobweb-covered, the cottage had been spotlessly cleaned, and was cozy and bright. Fresh flowers awaited us on the table, along with a large basket of food, courtesy of the Royal Palm Hotel Management. And the current caretaker of the lighthouse, Mr. Pullam, had kindly left a bottle of wine for us on the small kitchen table.

  “Okay, before we get too settled in, I want to show you something.”

  Striker grabbed the bottle of wine, glasses, and an opener, and we left the cottage. We walked about a quarter mile down the beach until we came to the place where we’d boiled crabs on the shore and shared our first kiss. A fire had been laid and was ready to light, and sitting next to it was a large bucket of live crabs, as well as a blanket with a loaf of fresh bread, butter, cheese, and fruit.

  “Who left this?” I asked, amazed. It had to have been done shortly before we arrived.

  “Simon and Turtle,” Striker replied. “Didn’t you notice how quickly they left the reception?”

  We’d not eaten much, so we were hungry. We got
the fire started to boil the crabs, and then opened the wine. Thirty minutes later, we dined on a fine feast.

  “Eliza,” Striker said, taking a sip of his wine. “Look to your left. You see that point, where the land juts out about a hundred yards down?” I told him I did. “Now, look to your right. You see that sea grape tree drooping down? It’s got a bright red ribbon tied to it.” I confirmed that I did. “From that point to the other, is yours. This is your beach now.”

  I was too stunned to say anything for a moment. My head swiveled back and forth, looking from one end to the other. “It’s ours? Truly?” was all I could manage after a moment.

  “It is. Listen, Eliza, Miami is growing fast, and once roads are built, allowing folks to travel down here by automobile, this place is going to explode. We’re going to have a hell of a tourist industry, and not just made up of wealthy people. Folks who have less to spend, but as much desire for a taste of the tropics are gonna come down here in droves. The way I figure it, the more land we invest in, the better. But, even more important than that, I want us to have a place where we can bring our children that’s a little quieter than a city; a special place that’s all ours, where we can show them how to catch crabs and cook ’em on the beach. The more land the developers scoop up, the less there’ll be to do those kind of things. We’ll still keep our home on the river, but I think we should build a small cottage on this piece of land, too. At least that’s the way I see it. But what about you?”

  “What I think is that I’m very glad I married you. Before we leave for the Bahamas,” I said, gently pushing him back onto the blanket, and looking down into his warm brown eyes, “we’re going to figure out exactly where we’re gonna put that cottage.” I leaned down and kissed his mouth, and just as I did, I felt the first rain drops land on my nearly bare back.