“I’ve never met Logan, though?” he asked for confirmation.
“No, you left before Melody and Cameron married.”
“I see. I’m wondering…what exactly kept me away longer than expected?” He looked at me for answers I didn’t have, so I gestured to Mr. Ashby. “He would know that much better than I.”
Graham moved to walk beside Mr. Ashby. “Have ye not told her why we were gone for longer than a year?”
Mr. Ashby looked at me. “Not in detail, no. She never asked, and I never thought she wished to know. But I can explain.”
“I would like to hear,” I admitted.
So he went over their business dealings, and as he spoke I realized it was a fascinating topic. Whyhadn’tI been curious about it? Perhaps because I had a prejudice against business, it being the reason Graham hadn’t returned. That had made me dislike hearing anything about it. Somehow, though, Mr. Ashby made it sound like a challenge worth tackling. Would I have been more understanding if I’d been more open to discussing it?
“Once we purchased the second ship, we realized staying another year would be beneficial. The captain we hired was young, and we had reservations about leaving him to run the business without us, at least for a while.”
“Why would you hire an inexperienced captain?” I wondered aloud.
“Because we thought he would be excited to grow and learn alongside us. After a few months, however, we found he simply wanted to bark orders at others and didn’t have the talent we were looking for in a partner. Our other ship’s captain did exceptionally well, but he was elderly and we worried he’d soon retire. We realized our mistake in hiring the young man, and decided to fire him. He didn’t take it well and caused problems with our shipments. We changed our routes to avoid him, but then we came to St. Kitts and ran into CaptainCorsaire. That was the beginning of the end.” Mr. Ashby ended there, though I knew there was more to be said.
Graham had been listening intently, nodding along as he took in the information. “So what did I do in our partnership?”
“You were our strategist, our solicitor without a law degree, and my best friend,” Mr. Ashby told him. “We worked well together. I handled the finances and investments, and you worked with trade policies and shipping routes. We are both excellent at maintaining social harmony, so our employees were always treated well and there were few disagreements.”
“’Tis a shame it all went up in flames,” Graham said.
“Indeed. We were both ruined men by the time I left for Scotland.”
“I’ve been curious about that, too. Why did you go without me?” Graham’s question was slightly accusatory.
Mr. Ashby frowned an apology. I knew his guilt would always weigh on him. “You told me to. We had a few crates to sell, and you insisted that you knew someone who would give us a fair price, but we had to wait for him. I had to get back to Scotland to speak with our investors and try to cut a deal. We sent letters but never heard back, so we had to return and speak to them directly. There was a ship leaving Basseterre immediately, so since I was the one who’d formed the relationships, you sent me ahead. I assumed you’d catch the next ship and meet me there. But then Miss Findlay read your letter and I knew you’d gone after Captain Corsaire. And we know how that turned out.” Mr. Ashby sighed. “Ye impulsive eejit,” he said in a Scottish accent.
I smirked at his humor, and Graham chuckled.
“That explains a lot.” Graham put a hand to his scar, the one that must have caused his memory loss. “I wonder what I was thinking, going against those pirates. Whisper told me I had formed a gang ofmen, consisting of a U.S. Navy man and a few freed men who were ill-treated by the captain. It seems they were all killed. I feel guilty; I should have thought of others instead of my own vendetta.”
I frowned, saddened for him. “I’m certain you were seeking more than vengeance. You have a low tolerance for anything unjust or unfair.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re an honorable man.”
When he looked at me, I could have sworn I was seeing my Graham again. His eyes shone with gratitude and something like camaraderie. It was the closest thing to love I’d seen in his eyes since reuniting with him.
We arrived at the mission and went directly to the chapel. Mrs. Weiss was there with the children, already starting their project. “You came! Mrs. Bowers sent me a note early this morning, telling me you would. Children, here are our helpers!”
The ten or so children ran over to us with typical childlike excitement, wide eyes and bright smiles. “Slate!” many of them cheered, taking Graham’s hand and pulling him to the tables at the front of the chapel.
A few boys and girls came up to Mr. Ashby. He had spent time at the mission the other day, so they knew him. He greeted them with sweets from his pocket that I hadn’t realized he’d brought. It was just the kind of thing I’d expect from Mr. Ashby. He was extraordinarily thoughtful. He followed the children to the table, even though he was supposed to work on the ledgers.
Three little girls came up to me with curious eyes. “Who are you?” they asked.
I bent down. “My name is Elsie. And yours?”
“I’m Caroline,” one of them said. She was wearing a red dress and her hair was done up in little knots allover her head.
“I’m Alice,” another girl said. Her smile was wide and bright, like she was born to bring cheer to the world.
“My name is Rebecca,” the third girl said, taking my hand and holding it tightly. She looked up at me with large eyes, so deeply brown they were almost black. She wore a sky-blue kerchief around her hair.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” I said before they pulled me to the tables. We sat and Mrs. Weiss spread out the materials we’d need to create the hymnals. There were stacks and stacks of music sheets, glue, needles and thread, awls, boards, and pieces of leather for the covers. I had never bound books before, and I was interested to learn the process.
“Thank you for coming to help, everyone. Mr. Weiss and I ordered pages for the hymnals because the weight and cost was too great to have them bound before arriving. So we have gathered materials from the mission to make them ourselves. Now, do not fret about perfection. Mr. Weiss and I are both of the opinion that hand-making anything is a job for the soul and skill is secondary. God will be pleased with your work, no matter how flawed.” She laughed a little and the children smiled back at her.
