It grated on Ket that Shubert was somewhere on-island and free. And over the following weeks and months, she learned that support was slowly growing for the overseer, who had done little but “try and set the Bannings straight.” Now that Shubert kept to the other side of the island—he’d accepted the position of overseer of Camel Hill, owned by absentee-owner Lord Ellis—most thought the Bannings should allow everything that had happened to be forgotten.
It should not have surprised her, she thought. After all, the majority of whites on Nevis seemed to fear what Shubert preached—the potential rebellion of slaves, who outnumbered the whites nine to one. And there was little she could do. The judge was still not due back until spring, and most thought that Shubert—and Reynolds—had paid a steep price.
Gray and Philip had been approached to join the militia, something required of every white man on-island. They met monthly, and each planter was required to make certain that each of their white family members or employees were armed and ready to answer a call for help at any time. It was their intent to put down any slave rebellion that arose.
It was the dark side of this island life, Keturah thought. A sickness born out of fear, and in order to survive she simply could not dwell on it for too long. So they concentrated on their growing cane, on weeding and fertilizing, on producing a good portion of their food—which was drawing attention from other planters—and making the needed repairs to their mill and home. They watched each storm that arrived with fear, and greeted each morn they found their crops intact with relief.
The people of Tabletop and Teller’s Landing settled into a rhythm of work and rest, spending five of seven days each week in company. Most Saturdays, Keturah and Gray found a way to be together—riding high above their plantations, deep into the jungle, or attending a neighbor’s party, or simply swinging in hammocks down by the beach. And the women took to what they called a weekly “Sabbath double-dip,” first swimming in the sea, then heading up to the waterfall their father had favored for a true bath, with lavender soap and clear spring water.
When they’d first arrived at the waterfall pool two months prior, they chastised themselves for taking so long to explore. In the beginning, daily life had demanded everything in them simply to survive. But this place . . . the beauty of it made her wish she could go back to those first weeks and do as Bennabe had directed—visit the waterfall pool from the start.
Keturah leaned back against the mossy bank and looked up to Nevis Peak. To her right, a gentle, wide waterfall spilled three feet down over a ledge, into the pool that was lined with lava rock, lending it an inky color. The various shades of lush jungle green surrounded them, and the heady scent of blooming jasmine filled their nostrils, even though none was visible . . . it must be nearby. She looked for it but could not see the telltale blooms, but spied a family of monkeys chattering and jumping from branch to branch in a tree. Selah and Verity took turns, sudsing up their hair with lavender soap, then rinsing beneath the falls. Later, they played a game, seeing who could hold their breath the longest under the constant pounding stream of cold water, emerging red-faced and laughing.
Goose bumps covered Keturah’s flesh. It was not nearly as warm as the ocean. But it felt so good to be here, so good to get thoroughly clean and relax in this hidden paradise. She and her sisters were always reluctant to leave.
“Can you imagine Father here?” Verity asked, swimming across the onyx pool to her.
“Not at first,” Keturah said, “but more and more. With each passing month, ’tis as if I feel I know him better. By knowing the island, what it is to be Nevisian, I believe I understand him in a whole new way.”
“Yes,” she said, turning to lean against the bank beside Ket. “I think I’m coming to love it here. Brutus is quite content.” She glanced up to see the circling bird.
“I know I love it here,” Selah said, making her way toward them. “I cannot imagine returning to Hartwick now. It would feel most . . . staid.”
“Truly?” Ket frowned in surprise. “Ever?”
“Well, I’d like to return home someday, but this . . . well, this is feeling like home now too.” She rested against the bank on Ket’s other side.
For a time, the three of them just remained like that, staring up at the green peak while Brutus circled and listening to the waterfall’s gentle thrum like a welcome drumbeat.
“Ket, if it comes down to saving Hartwick or Tabletop,” Verity said, “we want you to save Tabletop.”
Keturah moved away from the bank and turned to face them both. “What’s this?”
“We know you’re trying to save Hartwick for us,” Selah said.
“For all of us,” Keturah corrected.
“But mostly for us,” Selah said. “As if you feel responsible for holding on to our childhood home.”
“But we’ve been studying the ledgers,” Verity said with a glance in Selah’s direction.
“You have?” Keturah said in surprise.
Selah nodded earnestly. “Yes.” Already her curls were beginning to recoil as her hair dried. They bobbed with her nod. “We do not wish for you to carry that burden alone any longer, Keturah.”
“We know you’ve invested a fair amount of your inheritance from Edward,” Verity added, “and that your funds are likely not stretching as far as you’d hoped. It’s quite expensive to run Tabletop.”
“Well, it appears you two have become quite the financiers,” Keturah said, crossing her arms.
“We want you to be reimbursed, once the harvest is in,” Selah said. “That is your money. Yours, Ket.”
“Any money I have invested was hard-won,” Keturah allowed. “But it does my heart good to think that anything I gained from him could be used to build something like this for us. ’Tis a way of redeeming it, really.”
Both were silent for a bit. Then Verity climbed out of the pool, moved over to her towel, dried off and pulled on a clean shift. She set to combing out her hair as Selah and Ket did the same. “I simply cannot envision it, Ket. Even if Tabletop manages to bring in a bountiful harvest, it shan’t be until next year. And the expenses of Hartwick . . .”
“What are you saying?” Ket asked, tugging her own shift down over sticky-wet skin.
“We want you to be free to sell it,” they said together.
“If we cannot save both Tabletop and Hartwick, Hartwick must go,” Verity said.
Keturah sat down hard. “S-sell it?”
Both were nodding.
“’Tis a tether to our old life,” Verity said. She gave a little shrug. “We find we like who we are here. Who knows where God will lead us next?”
“Not that I can ever imagine leaving,” Selah put in. “Whatever would the slaves do without us? And we certainly cannot sell them to another. I could not . . . bear it.”
“For me,” Verity said, “it feels like a stepping-stone. I may return to England. I may go elsewhere.”
Ket’s eyes narrowed. “Is this because of a certain sea captain?”
“No!” Verity replied. But they both knew it was too vociferous of a response.
“What? Do you see yourself taking to the sea with him?” Ket asked carefully. As much as the thought terrified her, Ket knew she wanted it to be Verity’s decision alone. Whom she loved. Where she went. But, oh, how she hoped her sister would not go far . . .
“I do not know. Perhaps. If he is the right man for me.” She reached out and grabbed her sister’s hand. “But watching you and Gray, Ket . . . you’ve made me realize that I want to be open to how God leads. To whomever He might guide my heart, whether it be Duncan or some other man. Because watching you . . . heal? Blossom in the shelter of Gray’s love?” She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “That has been the best blessing of all since arriving here.”
Selah took Ket’s other hand again and nodded, silently agreeing with everything Verity said.
Keturah felt her defenses soften a bit in light of their tenderness. “You called Hartwick a tether. And I understand the negative connotations of that. But ’tis also a tether to Mother and Father. To our childhood. Our friends. Our kin . . .” She paused and drew a deep breath. “For me, it was a lifeline. I wanted it to be the same for you two. No matter where life takes you, what you suffer, you know you have a shelter in that storm.”
“Oh, Ket,” Selah said, “you and Verity are my lifelines. God is my shelter. I need no place when I have the three of you.”
“Agreed,” Verity said. “If it came down to Tabletop or Hartwick, Ket, which would you choose?”
She was reluctant to answer. Was it true? Had this place, this island, so thoroughly stolen her heart? All of their hearts? After all she had put them through?
“Hartwick is less costly to run but generates far less income, especially since Father sold off that piece of land to the Covingtons,” Verity said. “The opportunity is here. The opportunity is still in sugar. Just look at how our cane is growing! ’Tis the talk of the island! Why, ’tis nearly reached Red Rock’s height, and theirs was planted three months prior.”
“And a hurricane could still sweep through and take it all. Or blight. Or rot,” Ket said.
“Or it shan’t and this shall be the finest harvest in some time,” Selah said reprovingly. “Perhaps with the first harvest we could enter a different, more consistent business. Use the proceeds to invest in a mercantile. Or an inn. Those in such businesses seem to do nearly as well as some planters.”
“We could sell Hartwick and buy a tidy apartment in London,” Verity said. “Someplace we all knew would be there.”
“For a tenth of the cost to run it,” added Selah.
Keturah let out a breathy laugh of wonder. “How long have you been scheming together?” she asked in wonder. It was a surprise, these revelations, but also a welcome relief. She did not have to figure out a way to forge ahead alone. They were together in it. All in all, it made her feel less . . . trapped. Less like it was all her responsibility. Less likely to end in disaster.
She reached out and took each of their hands. “I am so grateful, sisters, that you came with me. That this was not my journey alone.”
“As are we, Ket,” Verity said softly. “But we want you to be free to journey where you wish—with us or without—and not let our future tie you down. You have taught us well. You have shown us how to let go of the past and embrace the present . . . and trust our future to God’s hands.”
Keturah smiled as they began walking home, each of them lost in her own thoughts.
“You could not return to England anyway,” Selah said after they passed the cut-off. “Not while Gray is here.”
“’Tis true,” she admitted.
“We wanted to speak to you about Gray as well,” Verity said. “Beyond teasing.”
Keturah warily glanced back at her sisters. What was this now?
“He loves you, Ket,” Selah said.
“He wants to marry you,” Verity said.
“I . . . I think I know that too.”
“Then why not make a way for him?” Selah began.
And then, the rest of the way home, they told Ket what she should do.