Freedom's Price
Page 28
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I trust you to handle everything. I must leave here as soon as possible and bring Angel, Gibson, and Hunter to freedom.”
“We will.” Tom rubbed the oldest boy’s head. “We’ll go to Key West. How would you like to be a deckhand, Gibson?”
The boy squared his shoulders. “I wanna be captain.”
The men chuckled. Catherine blinked back tears, but it was useless. They came.
“Why you cry, Miz Cattrin?” little Angel asked.
Catherine couldn’t answer while struggling to stop the sobs.
“Here comes the carriage,” the judge announced.
Tom handed Catherine a handkerchief, and she wiped her eyes as the carriage pulled to a stop beside them.
“A total loss,” Captain O’Malley said. “There wasn’t anything we could do.”
“Survivors?” Catherine whispered.
He shook his head. “Just the field workers. They were trying to put out the blaze, but a few buckets of water didn’t make one bit of difference. I had them douse the kitchen and worker quarters so they have a place to live and something to eat for the time being, but arrangements will need to be made.”
“I’ll see to that,” the judge offered. “I’ll send for Henry Lafreniere in the morning.” He nodded to Catherine. “If he agrees to your terms—and I suspect he will once he learns that he’s not the legal owner and that a warrant was issued to search the house for evidence of trafficking slaves—I’ll have the necessary paperwork ready for you to sign. We would like to have you as our guests tonight—you, the children, and Mr. Worthington. I’m sorry we can’t house your entire crew, Captain.”
“My ship is nearby. We have berths there.”
Now that everything was falling into place, Catherine’s strength ebbed. “Thank you for your kindness,” she managed to whisper before the ground began to heave and the landscape to swirl.
“Sit her down.”
“Bring her to the carriage.”
She heard the voices but couldn’t distinguish who said what. She swayed. Then strong arms lifted her. She nestled her head against his shoulder. Tom. She knew his touch, the scent of him, anywhere. He kissed her forehead, and she drew a deep breath.
He set her on a seat.
“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded.
“I’ll be back once I get the children into the carriage.”
She was willing to let him go for that long. “Return at once.”
He laughed. “You can count on that. I don’t plan to leave your side any longer than I need to.” His voice sobered. “Ever.”
The word washed over her as the cooler night air settled around them. Soon this would all be over. But Tom would remain. That was more than enough.
Cool sea breezes ruffled Catherine’s hair two weeks later. As expected, cousin Henry had agreed to her terms at once. Their meeting in New Orleans was short and businesslike. Black Oak was no longer hers, and she didn’t regret it. Days of sorrow and anguish had finally given way to expectation for the future. The sun shone. The breezes blew steadily, and the James Patrick made excellent time. How good it felt to let her hair flow free of any encumbrance.
Tom approached from the stern and met her at the forecastle.
“I’m never wearing a bonnet again.”
“Never?” He joined her at the rail. “Not even to church?”
“Perhaps to church. You attend?”
“Every Sunday that I’m in port. Rourke taught me how important faith is, but I didn’t really understand that until I met you.”
Her heart swelled. “You’re only saying that to win my affection.”
“Did it work?”
She laughed. How good it felt. Here on the James Patrick she was surrounded by love.
The children had wept when she told them their mother had died. The boys soon wiped their eyes and feigned stony resolution, but Angel could not be consoled until Catherine repeated over and over that this is what her mother wanted, that she and her brothers make a new life with her in Key West.
“You will be free there,” Catherine had told them, but they didn’t understand what that meant. Aurelia had believed DeMornay would soon sell the boys. Angel’s fate—given what had happened to her mother—would have been far worse. It was all too much for her to think about.
Better to hold on to the future that Tom promised.
She leaned close to him. “You caught my attention the very first day on the Justinian. That confident grin of yours was a challenge.”
“Which you attempted to best, if I remember correctly.”
“Naturally. You needed a little smoothing out around the edges.”
“Isn’t that like a woman,” Tom said to Rourke, who had come on deck to peer at a passing island. “Always trying to change us.”
“Successfully, if we are willing, and for the better.” Rourke tapped a finger on his spyglass. “Take my advice. It’ll go better for you if you submit to a little renovation.”
Catherine laughed, but Tom looked chagrined.
She threaded an arm around his. “Don’t fear. It will be practically painless.”
“Practically?”
“Easier than raising three boisterous children.”
He glanced at Gibson, who had taken his duty of ringing the watch very seriously, and the two younger ones, who followed on their oldest brother’s heels. “I would look forward to raising them with you.”
Catherine teasingly shook her finger at him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“The differences of culture?”
How witless could a man be? She huffed and moved away.
“What, then?”
She faced him, hands on her hips. “Don’t act so dull-minded. You know exactly what I mean.”
He leaned on the rail. “I suppose we would have to be married to raise children.”
She gasped and spun away from the cad. “If that’s what you consider a proposal—”
He caught her in a flash and stopped her protest with the sweetest kiss ever. The passion warmed her clear to her toes.
“Oh my,” she gasped when his lips left hers.
“Is that a start?” His grin shone brighter than the tropical sun.
“A beginning.”
“I have more persuasion where that came from.” He leaned close.
This time she stopped him with a hand to his lips. “Aren’t you being a bit forward? We aren’t even courting.”
He stepped back and bowed. “I have been courting you, my lady, from the moment I first saw you.”
Normally she would have laughed at such silliness, but he wasn’t jesting. When he rose from the bow, mirth didn’t twinkle in his eyes. Neither were his lips curved with delight. This declaration was serious.
She drew in her breath. Was he . . . ?
“I haven’t a ring to offer as a pledge, only my heart.”
“You already gave up what was dearest to you for my sake—your father’s ship. I still can’t believe you didn’t want to claim it.”
He shook his head. “Not once I learned the purpose for which it had been used.”
“Smuggling slaves,” she breathed out.
“From Cuba. I could never sail such a ship.”
“But what will become of the ship now that DeMornay is gone?” His charred body had been found alongside Aurelia’s, still locked in mortal combat.
“Judge Graham promised to sell it and add the proceeds to your quest to reunite families that DeMornay had torn apart. At last Pa’s ship can serve a noble purpose.”
Tears rose in her eyes. “Thanks to the generosity of an honorable man.” She squeezed his hand. “I wish to continue helping families.” She glanced at the three children seated in a circle on the deck. “Not just Aurelia’s children but any others God leads into our path.”
“Our?” That grin resurfaced. “Then you will consider my suit?”
Though she wanted to cry yes at once, she could not res
ist a little fun. “No, I couldn’t possibly.”
His joy evaporated. “I’m sorry. I should never have presumed.”
She let out a laugh before he tumbled into despair. “I’m not interested in a long courtship, Mr. Worthington. I am seeking a partnership of the highest sort.”
Slowly, the grin returned. “Marriage? You will marry me?”
“If you ask properly. A woman does expect that much, even from a wrecker.”
“Especially from a wrecker.” He got down on one knee and looked up at her, his brown eyes twinkling. “My dearest Catherine, from the moment I first saw you, I knew you were the woman I wanted to spend my life loving. You are more beautiful than the most expensive jewel, more intelligent than most men, and so engaging that I cannot sleep at night without thinking of your laughter. Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”
She could no longer tease, not after such a declaration.
“I will. Yes, I will.”
He leapt up and swept her into his arms. Then he gave her a kiss that made her forget everything that had happened and all that was going on around them. A sailor’s whistle and laughter drew her back.
“Well done, Worthington,” the men said.
Even Rourke was grinning.
Tom paid them no attention. He focused only on her. “From what you’ve told me of your mother, she would be pleased.”
“She would. Love always came first to her. She would have adored you, Tom.”
“And my father would have loved you.” His grin was infectious. “Best of all, we love each other.”
“That we do,” she managed before he smothered the words with another kiss.
She let herself get lost in it.
A cry from above brought her back to the present. “Land ahoy!”
Tom ended the kiss, shot to the rail, and tugged open his spyglass. “Key West. Home.”
Home. Her heart thrilled as she joined him, Angel at her side. At last she had found home.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, all glory goes to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who is the Author of everything perfect and true. Thank You for letting me write these humble stories.
My deepest gratitude to editors Andrea Doering and Jessica English, who bring clarity to every story. You are the best! Thanks also to the wonderful marketing, publicity, and sales teams at Revell. Your work behind the scenes brings every book into the spotlight. Special thanks to Cheryl Van Andel and the whole team that creates such beautiful covers. I’m always thrilled to see your efforts.
Thanks too to my agent, Nalini Akolekar, who has been so supportive and encouraging every step of the way.
What would I do without my critique partners, Jenna Mindel and Kathleen Irene Paterka? Your keen eye and gift for story bless me richly. I’m so grateful that you are in my life.
And to you, dear readers, I owe the deepest gratitude. Thank you for joining me on this journey to Key West. I love to hear from you. You can contact me through my website, http://christineelizabethjohnson.com.
Christine Johnson is the author of several books for Steeple Hill and Love Inspired, in addition to her books with Revell. When not writing, she enjoys quilting and loves to hike, kayak, and explore God’s majestic creation. These days, she and her husband, a Great Lakes ship pilot, split their time between northern Michigan and the Florida Keys.
Books by Christine Johnson
KEYS OF PROMISE
Love’s Rescue
Honor Redeemed
Freedom’s Price
ChristineElizabethJohnson.com
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