Miss Katie's Rosewood (16 page)

I
T WAS SHORTLY AFTER LUNCH WHEN THE KNOCKER
sounded on the front door of 37 Bingham Court, Philadelphia.

Nelda Fairchild rose, left her niece in the sitting room, and went to answer it. There stood a tall, good-looking young man in his early-to mid-twenties. His request surprised her.

She returned to the sitting room.

“It seems, Kathleen,” she said, “that it's for you.”

Katie glanced up from the magazine she had absently been trying to concentrate on, a look of confusion on her face, then stood and followed her aunt to the open front door. The sight that met her eyes stunned her nearly into speechlessness.

“Rob!” she gasped.

Suddenly, without realizing what she was doing, she rushed forward, breaking into tears, and embraced him. Instantly she found her tongue.

“I didn't know what to do!” she said. “I couldn't think of anyone who could help but you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to come all this way. But I'm so worried about Mayme, and—”

As suddenly as she had rushed forward to greet him, Katie now realized what she had done. Abruptly she stepped back.
Her face turned bright red and her hand went to her mouth.

“I'm . . . I'm sorry,” she said. “I wasn't thinking. I was just so surprised and happy to see you, that . . . I forgot myself.”

“It's all right,” smiled Rob. “I am happy to see you too. I have been looking forward to it for a long time. Though I was concerned that after my letter you might not even want to see me.—You did get my letter?”

“Yes,” replied Katie. “But why would that make me not want to see you?”

“I don't know,” said Rob. “I wasn't certain how you would respond. I divulged more of myself than I ever have to anyone. I don't know, I suppose I just didn't know what you would think.”

“I think it is a wonderful letter,” said Katie. “I've read the whole thing four times. I cry every time. But . . . what am I thinking to keep you standing there.—Come in! I can't believe you came all this way just from my telegram.”

“You sounded desperate,” said Rob, following Katie through the door.

“I suppose I am,” said Katie, leading him inside. Aunt Nelda was waiting in the sitting room.

“Aunt Nelda, this is my friend Robert Paxton, whom we sent the telegraph to.—Rob, this is my aunt, Nelda Fairchild,” said Katie.

“Hello, Mrs. Fairchild,” said Rob, smiling and offering his hand.

“I am happy to meet you, Mr. Paxton,” said Nelda. “Kathleen has told me about you. But your telegram of reply yesterday said only that you would make inquiries and see what you could learn. You said nothing about following your telegram here. You almost might have delivered it yourself!”

Robert smiled. “I suppose I could have at that!” he said. “I took this morning's train from Baltimore. Katie and I have been writing and have talked about seeing one another when
she came to visit you. So I thought I might as well come and hear about Mayme's disappearance firsthand.”

“Well, I am certain Katie is greatly relieved to have you here. We have had no idea what to do.—Have you had anything to eat? Would you like some lunch?”

“Actually, that sounds very good, thank you,” replied Rob. “I confess, I am a little hungry.”

“Good. We just finished, but the lunch things are still out. Would you care for tea? We will join you in that.”

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Fairchild. That will be perfect. In a sheriff's office all I usually get is coffee. But I do enjoy a good cup of tea.”

“I'll go get started in the kitchen,” said Nelda, “while you two young people visit.”

When she was gone, Rob looked at Katie and smiled. It is so wonderful to actually see you again. I'm sorry it is under these conditions. It has been far too long. You are looking very well . . . older, a little worried . . . but very well.”

Katie smiled. “It is good to see you too,” she said. “You look different too, in a way. Maybe it's just that you're older too. It's been two or three years since we saw one another. After reading your letter, I feel I know you much more than I did before.”

Rob grinned. “Maybe you can write me a thirty-page letter sometime and tell me
your
life story!”

“I'm afraid it wouldn't be as interesting as yours.”

“I doubt that very much. What you and Mayme did—now
that's
an exciting story!”

“I suppose so,” smiled Katie. “I'm so used to it by now that I forget. And it seems like such a long time ago.”

“Speaking of Mayme,” said Rob, “why don't you tell me what happened.”

A Q
UIET
T
ALK AT
D
USK

25

R
OBERT
P
AXTON AND KATHLEEN CLAIRBORNE WERE
walking together in the dewy dusk of a Philadelphia evening. They had spent most of the afternoon together since Rob's arrival, though much of it in the company of Katie's aunt in trips back and forth to the telegraph office. Sheriff Heyes and Rob had sent several communications back and forth, with some interesting results. Rob was planning to leave Philadelphia in the morning, and to meet Heyes at Hanover, then ride together to the Virginia coast.

“Do you really think you and Sheriff Heyes will find them?” asked Katie.

“The leads are thin,” replied Rob, “but we have to try. There have been numerous reports of kidnapped Negroes being sold as slaves. These slave traders never really slowed down even during the war—they just went underground.”

“I still cannot believe it. The thought of it is too horrible!”

“I know, but true. Federal authorities have been after these slave traffickers for more than a year. But they never get word until after the fact, when it's too late. There have been rumors about a place called Wolf Cove on the coast of Virginia. But this is the first time they've learned about a potential kidnapping beforehand. I mean, not before the
kidnapping itself but before the people are shipped away. If I hadn't heard from you, no one might have found out about this one either until it was too late. Sheriff Heyes has contacted the authorities in Washington. They're already on their way to West Point on the York River.”

“Is that where you're going too?”

Rob nodded. “I take the train back to Hanover in the morning, then the sheriff and I will ride the rest of the way by horseback. We have to hurry—it's a race against time.”

They walked on awhile in silence.

“When will I see you again?” asked Katie softly.

“Believe me, if . . . I mean when we find Mayme, I will bring her to you personally!”

“Good . . . I feel better already just knowing that you are involved . . . knowing that
something
is finally being done. I can hardly stand not knowing where she is!”

Later that afternoon as she and Rob were talking, Katie said, “I was really moved by your letter.”

“Why . . . in what way?” said Rob.

“I was telling Mayme about it before we got separated on our way here . . . I think it was how you make God so much a part of everything in your life. That seems like a very unusual thing.”

“Even for a minister's son?”

“I don't know,” Katie said, smiling. “I've never known a minister's son before.”

“Actually, it might be
more
unusual for a minister's son,” said Rob.

“Why would that be?”

“It's easy to get too used to the words of spirituality, too comfortable with the churchiness. It can become stale when you've never known anything else. I suppose that's what the experience with Damon Teague did—I realized that so much
of my faith had been nothing but words. It forced me to turn those words into reality.”

“From your letter, it didn't sound like it put everything to rest.”

“Very perceptive,” said Rob with a smile. “And you're right. I still struggle with much of what happened. I wonder about the ministry, if I made the right decision. I know I disappointed my father, yet at the same time I think he understands.”

“I thought you said your parents didn't understand.”

“They understand the reasons for my decision on the level of wanting to bring God to people out in the world. They respect that. What they never could understand, and still don't, are the theological questions the whole experience raised in my mind and heart.”

“How do you mean,
theological questions
?” asked Katie.

“That after watching Damon Teague die, I knew I could never again preach what I would call a traditional gospel message—the oft-heard,
Repent or God will banish you to hell for eternity
. What God will or will not do in the way of unrepentant sinners, I do not know. But that message, which has been the mainstay of the church for so long, is not one I could preach any longer. When I realized that, I realized at the same time that I was not prepared to give my heart to the ministry.”

“So you changed your mind about the ministry when you watched Mr. Teague die?”

“It was the entire experience—losing Jane, the hatred I recognized within me, then the conversations with Teague. But mostly it was that moment in his cell when I knew the hate had been taken out of my heart. When I looked into Teague's eyes, and God stabbed me with such love for him that I was able to truly forgive him . . . I tell you, Katie, I was forever changed. And I could never get past the overwhelming truth that I forgave him
before
he repented. It was not a conditional forgiveness. I truly felt forgiveness come alive
within me, and it would have remained alive within me even had he never repented. That is the astonishing thing. Love, a divine change of attitude I can't take credit for, brought me to forgive Teague, whether he knew and accepted it or not. The rest is up to God.”

“I think I see,” said Katie slowly. “The fact that you were able to forgive him, no matter what he said or did, is a small picture of God's love and forgiveness.”

“Exactly! God's forgiveness is infinitely more than mine could ever be. . . . And truly understanding how far God's love reaches is what I fear my mother and father just aren't able to grasp.”

“It seems so simple. How could anyone not see it?”

“You underestimate the power of doctrine to hold people tight,” said Rob. “When the fabric of a church, and the belief system of that church, is all a person knows, they cannot see beyond it. They
fear
looking beyond it. Had I not had the experience I did inside the cell of a condemned man, perhaps I would never have seen beyond it either.”

“I can hardly believe that, Rob,” said Katie. “You seem like the kind of man who would have seen it eventually.”

“I hope I would have. But very few people have the opportunity to look into the eyes of one who has killed someone close to them . . . and love them. That is a—”

Rob stopped and looked away. After a few seconds Katie realized he was crying. She reached out and gently touched his arm.

“Rob . . . Rob, what is it?” she asked.

He turned and she reached out her arms to comfort him.

“Oh, Katie,” he said, weeping, “it was so awful . . . the moment he fell! It still haunts me!”

They stood for several long peaceful moments until Rob's emotions calmed and he stepped away.

“Now it's my turn to apologize!” he said, trying to laugh
as he steadied himself. “But I don't really want to. It feels good to have you in my arms.”

Katie did not reply. She thought she was in heaven.

“Do you really have to go so soon?” she whispered.

“We have to find Mayme.”

“Could I go with you?”

“What if it's dangerous? And we need you here in case Mayme shows up, or tries to contact you. I think it best that you are here.”

Katie sighed. “I'm sure you're right. But it's been so long since I've seen you, and now you're leaving again.”

Rob gently stepped back, holding Katie's shoulders by his two hands. “Don't forget, it's been just as long since I've seen you.”

He looked intently into her eyes and opened his mouth to say something more. He drew in a breath, then paused for a second. Finally he let it out, as if deciding what he had to say would best be left until another time. At last he smiled.

“Well,” he said, “I should be on my way to my hotel.” They turned and began walking back toward the house. They went about half the distance in silence.

“I'm really so sorry about Mayme,” said Rob after some time. “I wish we had been able to see one another under different circumstances. I've wanted to see you for a long time. But I just didn't know exactly . . . I mean . . . we were so far away, I couldn't just show up for a visit and say”—he continued in a pretended southern accent—
“Hi, I'm here to visit Miss Clairborne.”