She clawed at the pit that was swallowing her. Above Roger, Maman’s portrait smiled placidly at the terrible scene unfolding below. She would never have agreed to this manipulation. You have my wits, Maman had often told her, and your papa’s compassion. What to do?
She tried to breathe, but the strictures of both garments and circumstance made it difficult to draw in enough air. Papa’s halting words on his deathbed echoed in her mind. Forgive me for losing what was yours. Now she knew what he meant.
“So you can see,” Roger was saying, “Mr. Kirby has presented a most opportune offer. I suggest you accept.”
He had left her no escape. Her head spun, and spots danced before her eyes.
“Are you unwell?” Roger rose.
She shook her head rather than admit weakness. Several short breaths restored her vision, though her stomach still quaked.
He moved toward her, a glint in his eye, and brought to mind a shadowy memory from childhood. A stranger, dark as tea, had cast her the same look when he passed her in the hallway en route to Papa’s study. Papa had closed the door behind them, but she’d crouched outside to listen. Murmuring voices grew heated, and then the door burst open. The dark stranger’s victorious smile, like that of a king, claimed her imagination. He swept past, carrying a strongbox, and rode off on a black steed like an avenging knight.
She peppered her father with questions, but he would tell her nothing, only that it did not concern her.
But perhaps it did. What if this dark stranger had come from Maman’s glorious plantation? What if contact had not been cut off forever? His glance toward her had not borne malice. No, it seemed to say that she belonged with him.
The study door opened.
“Excuse me, Miss Catherine, Mr. Haynes.” The housekeeper dipped into a slight curtsey. “Mrs. Durning has arrived, and she says that Mr. Kirby will be here shortly.”
“Good,” Roger said. “Tell Mr. Kirby to join me in the study. We have business to discuss while Catherine entertains Mrs. Durning.”
The housekeeper bustled off.
Roger drew again on the pipe. The set of his jaw meant the decision had been made. With or without her permission, Roger would give his consent to Eustace Kirby’s suit. He believed he had trapped her.
Well, Roger could give all the blessings he wished. He was not her only family, and Mrs. Durning could very well give her the escape she desperately needed.
She stood, reinvigorated. “I request the annual sum due me.”
He set down the pipe with a thud. “What?”
“The fifty pounds specified in Papa’s will.”
“You will waste it on the tenants?” he sneered.
She could no longer help them. Unless . . . “And an additional ten pounds per tenant family.”
He guffawed. Then paused, surprised that she didn’t waver before him. “You are jesting.”
“I am not.”
“It’s not in the terms of the will.”
“I propose new terms. In exchange for the ten pounds per tenant, I will waive all future annual payments.”
“You will anyway, once you marry.” The smirk was back.
She drew in a deep breath, never more certain. “I do not intend to marry. I am rejoining my mother’s family in America.”
He stared, struck silent for the moment, but soon she saw the gleam of self-interest as he calculated the benefits of her plan. This would spare him not only the continued fifty pounds per year but also the five hundred upon her marriage, for she would have difficulty claiming it from America.
She assumed all the risk, leaving dull security for the unknown. Surely her mother’s family would welcome her. Surely Maman’s sin did not extend to the next generation.
Note to the Reader
I hope you enjoyed reading about this unique place and time in history as much as I enjoyed researching and writing about it. Though all the events and characters in this story are fictional, Fort Zachary Taylor and the marine hospital did exist. The hospital was built in 1844 and operated until its closure in 1943. Today the remodeled building is the site of private condominiums, but the exterior of the structure looks very much like it did when still a hospital.
The fort also stretches back to 1844 when the site was chosen. Construction began in 1845, but progress was wiped out in the hurricane of 1846. As was the case with the town, the Army Corps simply got back to work under the direction of Capt. George Dutton. Since he was such a key figure in the building of the fort, I wanted to keep his name in my story. His vision and energy pushed the project forward despite setbacks from weather, supply and labor shortages, funding issues, and disease. After he finished his eight-year tour of duty, a succession of commanders followed. Work on the fort and towers continued through the Civil War. By 1866, advances in armament had made brick-and-mortar forts obsolete, and work was ordered to cease. Before the war with Spain in 1898, the top two tiers were removed, so the structure you can visit today looks very different from what was so diligently built 150 years ago. One of the most obvious changes is that it is no longer out in the water. Filling and natural changes in the shoreline have landlocked the structure, which is the centerpiece of Fort Zachary Taylor Historic State Park.
Both are worth seeing if you visit Key West. You can also find many digital images online in the Monroe County Public Library’s Keys History photo collections.
Acknowledgments
My deepest gratitude goes to the Lord, the Creator of all things, who grants me the privilege of writing down these stories. I am honored and humbled.
How privileged I am to work with the amazing team at Revell. Andrea Doering and Jessica English make the story clearer and so much better. Your discerning eye is so very much appreciated. I am hugely indebted to Michele Misiak and the entire marketing team. Cheryl Van Andel and the visual communications department create the most wonderful covers. Of course, everyone in sales and publicity is priceless. I am so blessed to work with you.
Once again I have to give a shout-out to Tom Hambright, the historian at the Monroe County Public Library’s Florida History Department in Key West. Your knowledge is truly amazing! Stop by the library website (www.keyslibraries.org) for a fascinating glimpse into Keys history.
Kathy and Jenna, you’re the best writing friends a gal could have.
To my husband, who puts up with the long hours and less-than-gourmet meals—thank you!
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
ChristineElizabethJohnson.com
Chrstine Johnson Author
ChristineJWrite
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