“We all shall. Our hours are not measured for us to know.”
From then on, my life seemed full of the business of itself, though every stone of it was mortared with thoughts of Cullah and Brendan returning. I taught my children such schooling as I knew in English, which was little indeed. As I tried to explain things to them, at times I found it difficult to find other than French words. I cared for my sister, who seemed to regain some health in the following weeks. I called upon Amelia Spencer, finding in her the mother I had missed so often. I embroidered a linen for her table and presented it to her and I sewed slippers for her swollen and sore feet, padding them well with carded wool with the oil left in, to soothe her gout. It seemed I had a mother and a sister again. And, much as I longed to be held and coddled and doted upon, they needed me to do for them. Thus did I find myself mother and sister to them.
Jacob had been able to find his way around the barn and do the milking by guiding his hand along the walls. I sent Gwyneth to milk now, and sometimes heard Jacob scolding her for it, which she bore with much grace. It was Gwenny who thought to take Jacob’s hand and lead him to the cows and goats. She who held their heads while he milked. She whom he came to lean upon. In my heart, every bird cry, every wolf howl, every bleat of lamb and sputter of hen called for Cullah. I who according to my daughter knew nothing of the human heart, felt it break many times each day.
Then came a day at the end of June when I heard another birdcall, familiar only to a family who had known the birds of Jamaica. I asked Jacob to go to the back door and hold up a bucket, the signal that all was well and August could come to the house. “Patey?” I called. “Wake up, Patience. Our brother is home.”
“Brother? Do you mean your husband?”
“August Talbot. Our brother. Let me help you to a chair.”
August came in looking sore of heart and soul. He took my hand and kissed it before he sat, placing his hat upon his knee. “Have you anything on the fire, Ressie? I am famished. Is your man about?”
“I will get you a plate. Cullah is not home, but there is one here you must see.”
He stood, his eyes flashing for a moment as if I had betrayed him. “Someone here?” Then his face softened. “Sorry. I am too easily startled. You have had another child?”
I laughed. It had been far too long since Cullah and Brendan left home. “No. Do you remember a promise you made long ago? You said you would ‘go around and return’ for us? For Patey and me.”
“It was not possible. You know that. A boy’s promise truly meant. Patience—”
“Is here.” I stepped aside. Patience raised her head.
August flew to her and knelt before her tiny, bent frame, leaning toward him as she tried to rise from her chair, though she sank back in it. For a moment, he cocked his head this way and that. She remained silent as he observed her. At last, convinced of whom he saw, he held out his hands. Patience laid her hands in his. Hers had grown softer in the months at my house, and paleness had replaced her swarthy and freckled arms. He dwarfed her in size. Scarred and browned, tall and rugged, a man capable of ruthless revenge, this hard man burst into tears, pressing her fingers to his eyes. “Oh, my sister. My sister,” he sobbed. “Forgive me, Patey. Please forgive me. Oh God, how I have paid for leaving you. Can you not scorn me? I deserted you. Can you let me care for you now? Patey, forgive me.”
Patience’s eyes filled with tears, too, and with one hand she motioned for me to join them. I sat upon the floor beside my brother. The three of us together after so many years. So many miles. So many tears. After a great deal of weeping, which started all the children and even dear old Jacob sobbing, too, Patey said, “August, you did what you had to do. I am the only one who must be forgiven. I left, too. I deserted Resolute, still barely a child, not a mile from this very spot, when I should have cared for her. Look around you at what she has done.” Patience lifted her head and looked about her.
They both turned their eyes to me as if I held some magic in my being. “I am not holy, nor always good,” I said. “I have sinned. I have buried babies. The wonder is that we have each other at last.”
“She is a gentle mother,” Patey said. “Strong and merciful.”
“Ressie has acted a mother to me for years,” August said. “Ah. A-hah.” He sputtered and wiped his face, as if he were surprised at his own weeping. “There’s a good man for you. Blubbering in your lap. I should be happy, not like this.”