Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

The shop was busy. Most of the paintings were gone from the walls and there was a table with cookies and punch on it.

“Can I go, Papa? Can I have some cookies?”

“Of course. Don’t leave the shop without me. Don’t eat too much.”

With another squeeze of Trace’s hand, his son darted off, instantly immersing himself in with the other children. More of the black children, Trace noticed. He seemed to feel safer there.

Trace headed for the counter. A young woman was behind it, waiting on customers. He recognized her as they woman who had been there the day that he had left the island. He waited until there were no others up there before he approached.

She raised bright-green eyes to his and spoke. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Is your father in?” At her inquisitive glance, he continued, “Last time I was here you said that I needed to speak to your father to acquire the information that I required. Is he here?”

Recognition dawned. “You’re the one who was looking for Leona.” A pout crossed her features, followed by a resigned sigh. “Well, if you’re still looking for her then the chances you would want me are pretty much nonexistent.”

Trace began to stutter. “I-I… You are very pretty, it’s just that—”

“I know. Leona is something special. Don’t worry, I won’t get too upset.” She flashed a brilliant smile. “Wait here and I will get my father.”

The girl returned in moments with an older man in tow. “Daddy, this is the man who was looking for Leona.” She turned to Trace and said, “I hope you find what you are looking for.” With an impish grin she added, “If not, come back here and look me up.”

“Crystal. Get back to work, girl.” The man’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I am sorry about my daughter. She is…well, something else. My name is Wilson, Wilson Kent. My daughter’s name is Crystal Kent. Now, what is it you needed to ask me?”

“I’m looking for Leona. You know, the one who did all these paintings. Can you tell me where to find her?”

Wilson stroked his chin while he pondered the question. He cast a glance over the crowd in the store. “Perhaps we should go in the back to discuss this.” He opened the swinging door toward the back and waited for Trace to precede him.

“Just let me tell my boy.” Trace scanned the crowd for Garrett, who now went by Falcon, and, when he caught his eye, waved him over. “Son, I’m going in back to discuss something with this man. Will you be all right out here?”

“Of course, Papa. I stay inside and don’t eat too much.” With a wave, he ran off to return to his newfound friends.

Trace took that in stride and went into the back with Wilson. Trace was impatient as he sat in a chair and waited for Wilson to begin. “Well, can you help me?”

“When you were here before, you were on the other side in the war, correct? The side that wanted slaves, am I right? What do you want with Leona? I’m not about to tell you where she is if you want to use her like your kind uses your slaves.” The man’s voice became bitter and disgusted.

“No, you have it all wrong. I just need to talk to her. She saved my life and—”

“So leave her and Jackson alone. Repay her with that.”

“She and Jackson are still together?” His heart shattered into a thousand different pieces.

“And why not? He doesn’t believe in slavery.” There was no hiding the condemnation in his voice as he spoke the word ‘slavery’.

“Look, I don’t even own slaves. I don’t believe in slavery. I just want to find her.” Trace’s voice fell tired, full of emptiness. Regardless of how his voice sounded, for the first time he felt proud that he was able to say that he didn’t own any slaves.

“Very well, I shall tell you, although if I’m correct about you the answer won’t please you. She’s in England. She was commissioned, rather handsomely I hear, by a member of the peerage to go and paint their familial portrait. When you get to London, because I know you will be going, ask for Leona O’Neill. And before you ask, yes, that is also Jackson’s last name.”

Wilson rose and set down his cup. “I don’t know what you want her for but know this. If you hurt her in any way, there isn’t a person on this island who wouldn’t be more than happy to help hunt you down and kill you. Remember my words as you figure out what to do. Good luck in your quest.”

Wilson left quietly and Trace remained alone to face his demons. He sat there with his face buried in his hands. He started when a light touch landed on his arm. It was his son.

“What’s wrong, Papa?” He was so handsome it broke Trace’s heart.

“Nothing. It’s just that the one I was looking for isn’t here. I have no way of knowing where she is, except to go to London.”

“Are we going on the ship again?” Enthusiasm laced his entire body at the prospect of being on a ship again.

“Would you like to go?”

“Oh yes. I love the sea.” His eyes sparkled with his affirmation.

“England isn’t like the islands, you know. It is rainy and a lot colder. You will have to keep your shoes on your feet.”

Falcon colored at the mild admonishment from his father. He was forever losing his shoes. “I am ready. Remember, Papa, Flight of the Falcon.”

Nodding himself, Trace stood. “You’re right. Let’s find and secure ourselves passage to England.”

“I can help with that.” Wilson’s voice came to them both from the door. “There is a ship leaving in the morning. If you want to claim a room on it, I would leave now. There should be some room in the hotel. If not, come back here and I’ll be happy to put the two of you up for the night.”

As he shook the man’s hand, Trace spoke, “Thanks for all your help. I give you my word, I don’t want to hurt her. Come on, son, let’s go get to the docks.”

Trace purchased tickets for him and his son to England then headed for the nicest hotel in the town to retain a room for the night. He and Falcon had a nice dinner in the hotel before they headed for their room to get some sleep.

* * * *

“Come on! Come on! Let’s go!” She pulled anxiously on his arm. His arm was strong and yet it still trembled under her weaker grasp.

“Why the rush? What’s so important for you to need to go so fast?”

“There’s a baby. I want to see the baby. Maybe there are two.” Excitement and awe colored her tone.

She was a joy to watch when she was excited. Her eyes glowed with golden fire and she was positively radiant. “I can’t seem to tell you no. Lead on, kitten.”

Just being in her presence was fulfilling to him, her joy contagious. Her love shone for all to see.

As they moved swiftly but silently toward the new fawns, Trace found himself staring at her more and more. She was watching the deer and fawns as if trying to commit them to memory, every single detail.

As Leona etched the deer into her memory, Trace was etching her to his. This young woman was intoxicating. Some day she would be his. Someday soon.

Suddenly the dream shifted. His brother Steven came into the picture and was beating Leona. David, the eldest brother, was holding Trace back so he couldn’t help her. As her blood flowed the more demonic, Steven appeared to become.

“Leona! Leona!” He screamed until he was hoarse, but the beating didn’t stop.

“Papa! Papa. Wake up, Papa.”

The childlike voice penetrated his nightmare and Trace sat up in his bed, sweat pouring down his face. His son was by his head, fear in his eyes, but he stood tall.

“Who is Leona, Papa? You were calling her name over and over. I couldn’t wake you up for a long time and I was getting scared.”

As his heartbeat slowly returned to normal, Trace lifted his son up on the bed with him. “Leona is the person I am trying to find.”

“Why do you want to find her?”

“She saved my life when I was in the army and I want to thank her.”

“Do you think she will like me?”

He smiled down at him. “Of course she will. She is a very nice person.”

“People said that about Mama, but she didn’t like me.”

“Leona is nothing like your mother. I will never let someone hurt you like that again.”

“What is she like?”

“You know what your mother is like.” Talking about Bethany was just not something he wanted to do.

“No, not Mama. Leona. Tell me about her.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Where did you meet her? What is she like? Is she pretty?”

“I’ve known her since I was younger than you. We grew up together at Hawk’s Cove. She was my best friend, the one I told all my secrets to.”

“What about Uncle Steven? Did he know her as well?”

“Yes, but not in the same way.” Never in the same way, no matter what he claimed. “She loved to paint and draw. Those pictures that were in the store, she did those.”

“All of those animal ones? Those are just like real animals.”

“She came up to my chin. She had black hair and tawny eyes. Her eyes would glow like gold when she was happy. She has a smile that would light up the darkest night—”

“Papa,” his son interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Are you feeling all right? Your voice changed and got all deep.”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Trace was going to have to be careful about that. He shifted to try to get his body into a more comfortable position without revealing his current state to his son.

“I never saw anyone named Leona around the house. Why did she leave Hawk’s Cove?”

After lighting a lamp and taking his son’s hands in his own, Trace cleared his throat. Now was the time to figure out what his son thought of slavery. “She was a slave, son.”

“So were you hidden inside a house like I was?”

“No, we met in secret. After my dad found out about us, she was whipped then she and her mother left the plantation. I never saw her again.”

“You stood there and let her get whipped?” The horrified question spilled from his son’s lips.

“No, Uncle Steven and Uncle David had me tied up in the closet. I would have traded my life for hers that day. Does that bother you, that I was friends with someone who looked different?”

“Why would it?” His question was direct and honestly confused.

“Son, we owned slaves. Many people feel that they are inferior. What do you think?”

For the first time he had seen, his son’s eyes glowed with a fierce fire, bringing out gold flecks. “I know this. The people that have been nice to me were darker. The lighter the person, the meaner they were. I don’t get it, Papa. They do all the work and live in nothing.”

He scrunched up his face and he clearly thought about his words before continuing. “When I was hidden, I saw Uncle Steven beat them for not saying where I was. He even killed two of them, but they never told where I was. They had very little food and they still gave me some. Over and over they would tell me to hang on until you came home. Mr. Ben would try to slip me extra food. If I was spotted in the house, Mama or Uncle Steven would usually beat me. They wanted me to stay on the back porch, under the steps. The dogs had more to eat than I did.”

Trace wanted to kill his brother, but forced himself to stay still.

“I think that they have more…I don’t know what the word is, but it is deep within them. More than most of the ones who look like we do that I know. Are you disappointed in me?” Falcon’s voice dropped, as if he expected a sound thrashing from his father for that revelation.

“Not at all. In fact, I am very proud of you. Skin color doesn’t make the man, or woman, just remember that. Judge a person by what’s inside them, not what’s on the outside.”

“Okay, Papa. Is Leona pretty?”

“I think that she is the most beautiful woman in the whole world.” Even though he hadn’t seen her as an adult, ever, his voice rang with promise as he spoke those words.

“Me too then.”

The easy acceptance and belief brought tears to Trace’s eyes as he pulled his son into his arms and they settled back down for the rest of the night, leaving the light on to ward off the bad dreams.