William by Claire Cray

brevity of this letter—I am ever
asking your Forgiveness—but it is difficult even to write you, as
the very act only sharpens your absence. I am a fool to have left
you. In the hope of seeing you within the week, I remain
    Your devoted friend,
    Silas

    I folded the letter up, put it in my pocket,
and glanced back through the open doors of the coffee shop. The
table where I’d left Theo was vacant now. I did not look for the
coffee-man.
    That was it.
    That was all.
    I was ready.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    And so it was that on Tuesday evening, the
day after I’d received Merrick’s letter, I set out for the
waterfront to bid my life goodbye. By my side, of course was
Jeremy, who insisted on seeing me off. The summer heat had eased
its soggy weight from the city that day, giving us the chance to
enjoy the clear sky and the salty air that flowed up all the
streets of lower Manhattan from the East River. But still we
dragged our feet, sauntering more slowly than we’d ever done,
silently making the most of our last moments together.
    Of course, Jeremy only feared that would be
the case. On the other hand, I knew for a fact that I would not see
him again; at least not as I was, and hopefully not as I was soon
to be. So when he spoke of my journey as if I would return, my
heart felt torn to rags and my eyes felt continually pricked by
tears. And he was making every effort to be lighthearted, setting
aside his own thoughts on the matter to send me off in good cheer.
God, I’d miss him.
    “I always thought we might go off together,”
Jeremy said. “When we were little. I thought we’d join a whaling
crew.”
    “I know,” I managed a laugh. “We talked about
it every day until, what? Last year?”
    “Not too late. I’m already sick of this dump
just at the thought of you leavin’ again. It’s so boring when
you’re not here, you can’t imagine it.”
    “It’s not so bad. Now that I’m on the way
out.” It was always our habit to complain about being trapped in
New York, having never been anywhere else but always surrounded by
foreigners and travelers of every class and breed. In truth we both
knew it was a grand place, and indeed, I’d never been so fond of it
as I was now that I was leaving.
    “It’ll be a whole new mess by the time you’re
back. The way they’re mucking up the ponds and what-have-you.”
    “Well, if it’s rotten then we’ll go West,” I
offered, my chest tight.
    “There’s an idea,” he said with an approving
nod. Then, seeing my expression, he let out a sigh and slung his
arm about my shoulders. I hung my arm around his in return, and we
walked that way like two unusually steady drunks.
    “You’ll look out for my mother,” I said. I
hardly needed to phrase it as a question. She’d been like a mother
to him, as well. “And if I should not return…”
    “I’ll send the Navy after you. Every ship in
the fleet.” His arm tightened around me. “You’ll be all right,
Lacy. But if you don’t return, I’ll look after everything you’d
want looked after.”
    “Yourself included.”
    “Goes without sayin’, doesn’t it?”
    We stopped on the corner of Fulton and Pearl,
almost within view of South Street and the port. Already we could
hear the shouts of the sailors and passengers, the loud commotion
of cargo being handled. But before we made a line for the ship that
would carry me away, there was one more goodbye to make.
    My mother was coming up Pearl Street just
then, walking beneath the shade of the trees that fronted the rows
of houses, smiling at us both. She was dressed in her favorite blue
dress and matching cap, which flattered her willowy figure and
brought out the warmest tones of her Seneca skin. No one in the
world had a lovelier mother than Annabelle Lacy, or a kinder one,
or stronger. I closed the distance between us and took her in my
arms.
    “Finally a great adventure,” she sighed, and
when she pulled away I saw her eyes were sparkling with happiness
despite the