over two years ago. In his will, he gave his farms to his sons. To me, he left this house and a small pension.”
“He must have valued your help.”
“Yes, my help.” She frowned. “And many other things besides.”
“When I first arrived, Violeta, you looked frightened. Why was that? Was it because I’m a man?”
“No, John. I thought the police had caught up with me.” She shook her head disconsolately. “A part of me has always hoped they’d catch me and punish me for all the evil I’ve done. I felt that very hope beating softly beneath my fear when I first saw you.”
“Violeta, you deserve so much more than you have.” I stood up and went to her, but she pushed me away. “You were forced into prostitution,” I pleaded. “You were violated and brutalized. Have you forgotten the way they sheared your hair?”
“Only because I told. If I had kept silent … It was my fault.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “I’ll not let you say such things about — ”
She reached up and slapped me with all that was left of her strength. “Get out!” she wailed. “Before it is too late, leave here! I do not want you here. Do you hear me? I’ve no place for you in my home!”
Knowing I would not leave her, she fell into my embrace, sobbing. I walked her up to her room. As we passed through her doorway, she asked, “Can someone contemptible earn the right to be happy — or to find peace?”
“You are not contemptible. Please don’t say that.”
She traced her fingertip across my cheek where she’d slapped me. “I am only speaking the truth.”
“The man you murdered might be one of the generous dead, like Daniel. Can’t you believe that’s possible?”
Her eyes opened wide. “John, he had two children. Would you forgive a woman who separated you from
In her room, I tucked her into bed. When she turned away from me on her side, I gathered up her hair to begin braiding it.
“No, don’t touch me. Just tell me a story.”
“Is that why you sent Daniel and me away that day in New Square? Did you regard yourself as unworthy of happiness?”
She made no reply. Perhaps because she was not looking at me, I found the courage to confess my betrayal at last. “Then I am unworthy too. Because I betrayed Daniel. I … I told him you might leave for America without him. The day we left you forever — the last day of his life. He became distraught. And he was drunk. He ran off to the river.” Violeta turned over to face me. “I tried to save him,” I moaned. “I’ve never tried so hard in my life to do anything. But I let him drown. I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Is that what you’ve thought all these years?” she asked, sitting up.
“Yes.”
“Oh, John, of all the people who loved Daniel, you did him the least harm. By the time you told him about my leaving for America, I’d already given him fair warning. He knew that I intended to go someday — with or without him.”
“But then why did he look so shocked when I told him?”
“Don’t you see? He must not have guessed that you knew. He must have felt that I’d betrayed him by telling you. It was my fault, not yours.”
“Then I didn’t push him into the river?”
“No, John, Daniel jumped. And there was nothing you could have done to save him. Only I … only I could have done that.”
I closed my eyes and shivered, feeling years of hidden shame leaving me. The world had changed; Daniel had not despised me before his death.
Gratitude for this made me more determined than ever to unburden Violeta of her remorse. “We all deserved so much better,” I whispered. “You, me, and Daniel. But we had so little choice back then. There was nothing you could do either — nothing.”
She kissed both my cheeks and said, “You’re kind, but I cannot go on speaking of the past. I am too tired. Forgive me.”
I slept fitfully and descended into a dark, shuddering nightmare in which I was locked in the Lookout Tower during a frantic rainstorm. Midnight was nowhere to be seen, but he was speaking in his clicking language from inside my head, as though we had become the same person. When I awoke, I realized that he seemed to be progressively disappearing — at least in body — from even my dreams.
Near five in the morning, I again spotted Violeta in her garden, but I did not go down to her; I did not wish to make parting more difficult for either of us.
At breakfast, I found that I could not eat a thing. I sipped cup after cup of tea and nibbled at some toast and jam simply to make Violeta happy. She tried to make light conversation about the cool weather and other trifling matters. My boat was to leave at the tolling of eleven o’clock. At ten, my agitation was such that I wished to shatter all the windows in the house. Instead, I stood up to take her leave.
“But I shall accompany you to the wharf,” she said anxiously, as though there were no question of her remaining behind.
Even her wretched white bonnet was dear to me now. “I could not bear to wave to you from aboard ship,” I confessed. “Please, let us say good-bye here.”
I held her close until she could smile when I tickled her chin. Her last words to me were: “John, my fondness for you is so deep that I shall save you from myself. You must not fall in love with me. And if you already are, then I beg you to use this voyage to turn your heart away from me.”
They say that suffering hardens us to life, but I felt then, looking into her jade eyes, that we had both been broken by it.
XXXVIII
We made sluggish sail and took five days to arrive in Alexandria. The town was more rustic than I’d expected, though it did boast many handsome residences and counting-houses. I had never seen such a concentration of black people before, and though many wore ragged clothing while working as shop assistants and laborers, several individuals I passed were smartly dressed. I believed this boded well for Midnight and was pleased to see such signs of prosperity.
I found lodging at Harper’s Boarding House, a wooden mansion on Fairfax Street, not far from the port.
My first destination after depositing my things was King Street, a busy main road running east-west through the city. According to the letters from Captain Morgan, it was here that the apothecary named Miller who had purchased Midnight maintained his shop prior to his death from yellow fever. I was hoping that a son, daughter, or wife might be able to give me some information.
On finding the address in question, I learned it was now Reading’s Estate Agency.
I sat by Mr. Reading’s desk and told him my story. Hoping that any added information I could give him might bring me closer to my goal, I mentioned that my friend might have been known in Alexandria as Tsamma, which had been his original name. “Tsamma is a kind of melon that grows in the desert,” I observed. “During the droughts, the people and animals of Africa drink its plentiful juice.”
Mr. Reading lit his cigar. From within a cloud of smoke, he raised his furry eyebrows and said, “A kind of melon?”
“Aye, that’s right.”
He fought to restrain his mirth, then, failing in this Herculean effort, laughed with such force that he nearly toppled from his chair.
Seeing my displeasure, Mr. Reading sat up straight and said with renewed seriousness, “I do apologize, Mr. Stewart. It’s just that a melon …” He cleared his throat. “Now, returning to your inquiry, I must tell you that the
