Mamaí walked me to the docks. The sun was high, the waves calm on the deep blue water. The breeze couldn’t separate us. My fingers were locked with hers.
My heart wasn’t right. “I don’t want us to split up. I promised—”
“It has to be done, Dolly. You’re only going for a month or two this time.”
Holding her a little longer, I looked over her shoulder at my poor Charlotte sitting alone in the Mary. Running away was hard.
“Kitty’s mad at me. She doesn’t want me to leave. She’s fearful.”
“I’ll be with her. She’s my daughter. You take care of yours.”
Mamaí’s voice wasn’t harsh. The hummingbird was sweet in her rebuke, but I’d never be comfortable with my swallow being sad or hurting. The safe world Kitty built couldn’t be unraveled because of Grenada. It couldn’t.
“Thomas is coming. He must have the paperwork.”
My husband couldn’t get the approvals for all of us to quit the colony, only a few. The excuse of a quick trip for business would have to be our lie.
My mother’s face had her treasured smile, small and perfect. “Dolly, it’s for the best. Kitty and I will keep the girls safe.”
“Polk says that Captain Owen lives in Bridgetown, Barbados. He was a good friend once. He could vouch for our story and make Charlotte a Foden, not a Fédon.”
Her smile dropped away. If it fell to the ground, someone would step on it as if it were a millipede, the two-leggers in her garden. “You’re going to trust the man who never checked on his child?”
Owen knew the truth. Frances was not his. It might be folly, but I was desperate. Hiding Charlotte in a world needing paperwork for coloreds . . . to quit a colony, to walk, to breathe. Making Charlotte a Foden was our only hope.
“Frances will keep the accounts with the housekeeping. There’s more invoices to come.”
Thomas pulled the dray near, the horse trotting across the shore, flinging sand against the high-walled wagon.
My numbers girl, Frances, sat alongside him, with the boys, Josephy and Harry, fidgeting and bouncing about the dray’s flat back. The closer they came, the more her guilty smile grew. That meant Thomas had let her hold the reins again. Beautiful girl. Olive brown, nose beginning to sharpen, shadowing a perfect oval face with a tiny cleft in her chin that a quill tickled when she counted and adjusted ledger entries.
Mamaí released my arm. “Go on now. We’ll be fine.”
Thomas gave Frances a kiss and defiantly gave her the reins as he tipped his hat to me. Then he went to the rear and collected Josephy and Harry. They swung from his arms like climbing iguanas.
“Doll, I have the paperwork. We can leave for Barbados. Charlotte Foden is ready to travel.”
He eased the boys to the ground. “Get in the Mary, fellows.”
They scrambled into the sloop, sitting next to Charlotte. My husband turned and helped Mamaí up into the dray.
I went to Frances’s side. “I trust you to manage things and be a help to my mother, especially with Ann and Eliza.”
She saluted me. “Of course, Mama. Ann already follows me around, mimicking my ways.”
“Girl, give your proud ma a kiss.”
She offered a toothy smile, then bent and put her lips to my cheek. “Proud of you. Take care of dear Charlotte.”
Her eyes locked with mine. Not sure if she understood all that was at stake, but this old soul would manage well in my absence. Without even pretending to let Mamaí drive, she started the dray back into St. George’s.
“Garraway will watch out for them until we return.” Thomas’s voice sounded confident. Wished I was as certain.
With a sigh, I let him help me into the Mary. I sank next to Charlotte. Her widow’s weave of indigo and black was the only thing I could get her to wear, once I coaxed her from the bloodied clothes.
My grieving child wanted everyone to know the truth, that her warrior and baby had died.
“Sit down, boys. We are about to cast off.” Thomas’s command made them freeze in midair. Harry and Josephy settled close to the tiller.
I’d never seen the boys grin more.
Yet between them I saw a death mask, a shadow of Edward. Goodness, how he loved sailing with Thomas.
Charlotte probably saw one too. Her gaze stayed pinned on Mount Qua Qua.
Thomas untied the thick jute holding the Mary. He stopped before undoing the knot and stood up straight. Like he’d become a shield, he stepped in front of the soldiers rushing toward us. Scarlet uniforms filled the deck. These men had their long guns drawn. We were at the mercy of the colonial government.