by V. E. Ulett
Aloka burst into the apothecary’s shop.“Father! There you are at last. E hoa!”
Captain Blackwell turned with a blush and an indignant look at Aloka. Shaking his head dismally, he extended his hand to the old shopman and made his acknowledgements. He bowed and then allowed Aloka to lead him out of the shop.
“What is it, son? Pelting about like a mere squeaker.”
“I don’t feel like one,” Aloka said, a hand to his chest. “I ran up to your house, back down, all over town, looking for you. Fortunately, you are hard to miss, lumbering about Nu‘uanu avenue. Step out lively, Father, show a leg! A packet from England has come in.”
Captain Blackwell was not moved by the news, unless she had carboys full of laudanum aboard, nor could he understand Aloka’s high spirits. He did not protest on the run to the quay, because he could not spare breath to do so.
On the wharf the usual bustle of unloading and disembarkation was taking place, and Captain Blackwell reconciled himself to meeting the packet’s master. In his official capacity he would listen to the man’s requests and desires while in the port of Honolulu, and make sure port duties were paid.
Aloka took his arm in a strong grip and motioned in front of him.
A tall golden haired young man straightened from looking into one of a collection of chests grouped on the quay, and turned toward them.
“Oh my God!” Captain Blackwell cried. He started forward and embraced Edward.
Edward returned his embrace and his slaps upon his back, one for one, then stepped back and gazed directly at him for just a moment.
“How do you do, Father?”
Edward had the same Apollo good looks, his features aged of course. Somehow he was still more handsome.
“Edward! So much better now you are come. She will be beside herself, your Mama, so very pleased.”
He turned, still clasping Edward by one hand, and grinned upon Aloka too.
“Look what he brought with him,” Aloka said.
Edward bent down again and lifted the lid of the chest he’d been peering into. Inside was bottle after bottle of laudanum, carefully packed in lamb’s wool.
“Dr. Russ sent them.”
Captain Blackwell wiped the tears from his face, and murmured, “God bless the Doctor, and you too, Edward.” He cleared his throat, gazing with affection on his sons. “Aloka, be so good as to ask one of your men to run up a bottle to the house straight away. Momo is with her this morning. I shall follow immediately, but I ain’t so spry as I once was and you have already run me off my legs. If you have not alerted Emma, you had better take Edward to her at once, or I would not answer for the consequences. Then bring him to see his Mama.”
That would give time for Mercedes to have a comfortable dose of laudanum, so she might meet the great surprise of Edward’s coming in some level of comfort.
“Aye, aye, sir,” Aloka said. “But we have not done yet with surprises.”
He nodded to two gentlemen behind Captain Blackwell.
“Father, allow me to name my particular friend, John Wesley Park,” Edward said. “Doctor Park, m’father, Captain James Blackwell.”
They shook hands, the doctor’s grip firm and assured. The gentleman standing beside Edward’s friend needed no introduction. Captain Blackwell and his brother Francis were already embracing, and clapping one another heartily on the back.
Mercedes was in better spirits and looks than she’d been for many and many a day. She was even dressed, her hair washed and put up, and sitting in the main room of the house Blackwell had built of stone, Northwest coast timber, and native thatch. The pain was there, but it was underneath the drug, far below the surface. Not the all consuming nightmare it had been in these last days when she’d been unable to move from her bed. She caught the amazed glances of the people that were with her daily. Dear James, Saunders, Ana—they sometimes called her granddaughter Anita to distinguish the two—and Momo. Edward sat beside her holding her hand.
Edward had been with Mercedes some little time. She’d learned that, after the examiner had tipped his hat to Edward, he’d found the notoriety of being Senior Wrangler at Cambridge insupportable and packed his instruments for the Islands. She gazed on him fondly. He was unchanged aside from the more manly cast to his features. He’d always spoken freely with her and Emma, but he was more conversant now, easier somehow in his skin. Mercedes attributed it to love.
“May I present my particular friend, Mama, Doctor John Wesley Park.” After the introduction, he’d given the other man a look that spoke volumes. At least to Mercedes.
“How do you do, sir. Did you meet at Cambridge?”
“I’m a physician, Ma’am, not a doctor of philosophy or a scholar like Edward.”
“He attended Dr. Russ in his last illness. That is how I made Wesley’s acquaintance.”
“How sorry I am to hear of Dr. Russ’s death. Such a brilliant man.”
“Tio Severino, too, Mama,” Edward said, with something of his old bluntness.
She cried then, thinking of the man who’d been a father to her. Severino Martinez had been an unfailing constant in her life. The best of parents; kind, consistent, and direct. Edward turned his head away from her tears, though he held her hand tightly. Doctor Park told her about Mr. Martinez’s last days, attended by both he and Edward, and that was a consolation to her.
Mercedes sniffled. “He would say, ‘Don’t be a fool, girl. Stop crying, be grateful.’”
“I don’t see how dying of a wasting disease is anything to be grateful for,” Edward said, very low, so only she and Doctor Park heard him.
“No, so it isn’t either. But everyone dies.” She spoke softly too; James and Francis were conversing a short distance apart. “At least I am at home, with my family and people I love near me. I am only sorry for...”
She couldn’t speak that particular thought, looking across at James.
Emma came in the front door just then, followed by Aloka with a child on each arm. Ana and Tomi shrieked to be put down, and they ran to Mercedes and leaned into her lap, one on each side.
“How pretty you look, Mama,” Emma said, stooping to kiss her cheek.
“Grandma, you got out of bed!”
“It’s a special day, you know, because your Uncle Edward and Francis have come. And our new friend Doctor Park. Honolulu is in great need of medical men, sir, should you choose to practice. Though you must accustom yourself to being paid in pigs and poi.”
“Pigs and poi!” the little ones hooted.
Aloka came last and kissed Mercedes’ cheek. “How do you do, Mama? Shall I take these little brutes away?”
“Never in life, my love, don’t you dare.”
Mercedes gave Tomi and Ana a squeeze. They shot off together as though fired from a gun, careened into James’s legs, and ricocheted out the door into the back garden.
Aloka and Emma went to pay their duty to Captain Blackwell, and then sauntered hand in hand out of doors after the children.
“He calls you Mama, now,” Edward said. “Never would before.”
“Maybe because Kalani died. He and your father went to Kauai, to the village of Ata Gege, after the hurricane and...Aloka had another half-brother, you know, who was executed for treason.”
Edward gave her a skeptical look.
“Afterwords, he could not rest until he found out what happened to her. To bring her the news of George Kaumuarii’s death himself, like the honorable man he is. They found the village deserted, fallen into decay and three parts reclaimed by jungle and the sea. But Momo is from that village.” Mercedes nodded at a substantial woman passing by. “One of my many helpers. The surviving people moved up country, where your father and Aloka eventually found them. A few came here to Honolulu, like Momo.”
“What happened to them, if I may be so bold?” Doctor Park asked.
“The missionaries and the haole, what they call foreigners, happened to them, sir. The missionaries would insist they leave off head
-hunting. Not that that is a bad thing, but it destroyed their society. Their system of obligation and kinship bound them together, and with nothing to take its place the young men, the warriors, left to pursue warfare on a larger scale. Many of them led by George Kaumuarii, Kalani’s other son.”
“The one that was hanged?” Edward said.
Mercedes nodded. “In a manner of speaking. And then there was the ōku‘u sickness, probably cholera. Momo says Kalani died during the time of sickness, but hush, here are the children.”
When they’d dashed off again, she said, “Aren’t they the most darling little things?”
Edward looked after the darlings unmoved.“I should think we must be grateful they don’t have horns in the middle of their heads.”
“Edward!” she and Doctor Park cried out.
To his credit, Edward ducked his head with a conscious look.
“And Emma is a wonderful mother,” Mercedes declared.
“Of course she is, Mama. Look at the example she had.”
Later in the evening, when Mercedes had begun to think longingly of the amber colored liquid in the bottle beside her bed, Francis came and sat beside her.
“We have not yet had a chance to talk.” She smiled kindly on him. “Tell me all about how you came to be sent to the far side of the world.”
“Government was only too happy to have anyone by the name of Blackwell posted here, it pleases the chiefs inordinately, so they looked me up. As it happened, I was at loose ends. A man without a home or employment.”
“Oh, Francis! I am—”
“Never worry yourself, my dear. It is over, history, and I would not have you alarmed for my sake. I was not so fortunate or so wise in my choices as my brother, and must forego the rewards of constancy and devotion. I always thought, Mercedes, you would have made a wonderful diplomat’s wife.”
Mercedes grimaced. “Forgive me, Francis. I can’t tell you how happy I am you are here. It will be a great comfort and relief to James. I believe I must retire.”
After saying this Mercedes looked up. Many concerned faces were staring back at her. She extended her hand to Captain Blackwell, and he immediately came and helped her up, and escorted her on a round of good byes and goodnights.
Mercedes and Captain Blackwell were making their creeping way to the bed, after he’d helped her to the close stool.
“Call one of the ladies, James.”
He’d shaken his head no; and now they both spotted the man bowing to them just outside the double doors opened to the back garden.
“It’s Yeung, the China-man. I had forgot. I shall send him away.”
“No James, if you please.” Mercedes gave his arm a feeble squeeze. “I need it.”
He went quite pale. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“I am longing to consume that whole bottle over there.”
He took her to bed and helped her in.
“You will not join me. Only watch, so that you can help me do it another time.”
His heart was wrung, to see this immaculate woman so reduced, and of course he would refuse her nothing. He tried to smile at her, a weak attempt, and went to fetch in Mr. Yeung.
The older man set promptly about his business. He asked for an oil lamp, and bringing the accoutrement out of a neat leather case, and the opium from an inside pocket, he began to prepare the drug. As the sweet noxious scent filled the chamber, Blackwell’s courage failed.
“Mercedes, forgive me, I...I can’t do this. Shall I ask the young doctor to step in?”
“Bring Saunders, if you please.” She spoke through gritted teeth.
Saunders came back in with him, took in the situation, and went immediately and knelt beside Mercedes and Mr. Yeung. She passed her eye over the pipe, the flame, the thread of heated opium poised over the bowl and she nodded at the older man. Mr. Yeung filled the bowl and held the pipe to Mercedes’ lips.
Mercedes exhaled a luxurious cloud of smoke. They watched her sigh and relax in the bed, her eyelids fluttering.
“Now then, sir,” Saunders said, turning to Mr. Yeung, “show me the part I missed, if you please.”
Blackwell sat down in a chair near the bedside and put his head in his hands.
Mercedes felt a flood of cold relief that seemed to start in the hottest most painful part, deep in her insides, and radiate outward until she tingled all over. She imagined or dreamed she’d seen a man’s head taken off by a canon ball, and she was running, slipping on something slick underfoot, with terror in her heart. She ran on, frantically climbing one ladder and another, always upward, and emerged at last into dazzling light. On the deck of a ship a man in uniform gave her a quizzical, pained look. In the next moment she was inside a comfortable ship’s cabin being kissed by the same gentleman, and enclosed in protective and loving arms.
She opened her eyes in a dark room and lay there listening. All was quiet in the house, and beside her slumped in a chair was the man she’d been kissing. No longer in uniform, grey haired now, but he was still the same dashing officer in her eyes. With an effort she extended her hand and grasped his knee.
James woke, sat up straight, and rubbed his hands over his face. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“Drink.”
He brought her a tumbler of water, eased her upright, her head lolled against his shoulder like a doll’s, and held the glass while she drank.
With her mouth thus unglued, she said, “Thank you, darling, you’ve always been so kind to me.”
He eased her back amid her pillows, and she kissed his neck twice as he did. Tears came into his eyes, and he sank heavily into his chair.
“You will have given your chamber to Edward and Doctor Park, and Francis has mine?”
James nodded. Mercedes lived on the ground floor of the house, in what used to be a pleasant sitting room, to make it easier to bring in water for her baths and because she could no longer manage the stairs.
“You must take off your clothes and come to bed with me.”
He gave her a doubtful look. She had not invited him to her bed for a very long while. On top of everything else, Mercedes fancied she did not smell nice. She who had once perfumed her skin with creams and washed her hair with scented water. Mercedes thought she would cry if he refused her.
James never let her down. He stripped off his clothes and settled carefully beside her, seeking her hand under the bedclothes. Mercedes leaned her head against his shoulder.
“It’s all the small things,” she said. “Going to the bathing pools, walking to the shore and Emma’s house, cruising on your ship, those things I miss. It’s been so long since I’ve made you a meal, or been a real wife to you.”
“I wish you did not think I love you for what you can do for me, sweetheart. I know it is my fault for the way I behaved when we first met—”
“I was just dreaming of the way I behaved when we first met. What has happened to Francis?”
The pain was at a distance, she felt almost normal, and Francis’s odd speech came to mind.
“She threw him over, your friend Zahraa, for a much younger man. A man barely older than Farrokh, and to cover her transgressions Zahraa accused Francis of having to do with Miriam.”
Mercedes gasped. Farrokh and Miriam were Zahraa’s children by the Dey of Oran. They’d all lived together once in a seraglio, before Francis and Zahraa had become entangled.
“Pobre hombre. He spoke of constancy and devotion, and how much more fortunate you’d been than he in that regard. It made me feel such a hypocrite.”
He turned his head and looked at her, astonished.
She held his eye. “You never pretended anything with Aloka, I should not have done with Emma. I was inconstant. You know she isn’t yours?”
To her unutterable relief he squeezed her hand. “Sure I’m not the sharpest weapon in the arms chest, sweetheart, but I can count. Either she was a seven month’s wonder, or...I once told you any child you bore would be yours and mine and most heartily welc
ome. Do you remember?”
She shook her head, eyes filled with tears.
“I meant it, I mean all the things I say to you. You are the light of my life, and I cannot even remember a time when I was not in love with you. Life must not have been worth living back then.”
“Oh James! I love you too. And how I wish I could make love to you.”
“Listen now, sweetheart.” He moved closer against her, put his arms round her and whispered, “If you hurt at all, tell me, and I shall fetch you a draught or call the doctor. You give me too much credit, and I hardly think—”
“I think it. You are still a healthy man. Why should that part of your life be over because—”
“Hush, Mercy, please.”
She lay there thinking how odd it was, with his being a professional man of war and ten years older, that she should die first. He must have thought so too, Mercedes heard him sniffling.
“At my advanced age, you know,” he said, clearing his throat, “desire has more to do with phantasy and imagination. Shall we pretend?”
“With all my heart.”
“Then let’s pretend I just gave you a tumble, a right good rogering.” She actually giggled at that. “We’re happy and content, lying here together, and everything’s right with the world. You would say something like, ‘Jim, that was the best I ever had. In bed you’re like a...like a—”
“Like a hero, darling, my own one.”
Epilogue
“Tomi, get off your sister this moment or I shall fetch you such a swipe!”
The little boy stopped in mid-throttle and looked over at her. Emma and Edward were seated together on the veranda of a house that had arrived in pieces, brought by a ship from the Pacific Northwest.
Emma rose from her chair, taking off her slipper to menace her son, and to show she was in earnest. Tomi immediately sheered off and ran out of the yard and away in the direction of shore. Ana sprang up, her hair all ahoo, and pelted after him.