Page 63 of The Orphan of Cemetery Hill
Tabby blinked, stunned, as Eli rushed on, uncharacteristically tripping over his words. “She’s plenty of room for the two of us to be comfortable. She says she doesn’t want me working anymore, not with my back the state that it is. Of course, I’ll make sure that you’re looked after and you’ll always be welcome and—”
Tabby stopped him, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. “I’m so happy for you. And just try to keep me away.”
Alice and Mary-Ruth had returned, the small room crowded with laughter and well-wishes. When they quieted down again, Mary-Ruth reached out and placed a hesitant hand on her leg. “Tabs, there’s something else you should know. Well, two somethings.”
“Just how long was I asleep for?” Tabby said, trying for a light tone. “It seems that the world has been quite busy.”
She expected that Mary-Ruth would smile at this, but her friend’s usually sparkling demeanor was dead serious.
“Caleb is back in the country. In Boston, in fact.”
Mary-Ruth looked like she had more to say, but Tabby was already scrambling upright, questions falling off her tongue as fast as her mind could form them.
“How? When?”
Caleb was back in the same city as her, under the same sky and walking the same streets. The last time she had seen him he had laughed at her, accused her of that which she had always been afraid. Some stubborn corner of her mind told her that he didn’t deserve a second chance. But something else, something deeper and centered in her heart, told her that she needed to see him one more time, to give him one more chance.
“He’s in prison, Tabby. He walked right up to the police station in an effort to find out where y—”
Mary-Ruth stopped herself, but Tabby knew what she was going to say. He had walked into the police station to try to find her. She sank back into the pillows, her elation evaporating. Stupid man, to come back here when he knew he would be thrown right back in jail. Yet she couldn’t be angry at him, not when he’d done it for her.
Dressed in her Sunday best, Tabby called on the prison the next day. Her best was still rather shabby, but when she thought of the beautiful blue gown that she had worn at Mr. Whitby’s demonstration, she was grateful for its familiar comfort. The worn heels of her boots softly clicked down the dreary prison corridor, the warden at her side.
They turned onto the corridor where Caleb was being held, and the damp walls, the stench, the shouts of men, all fell away as soon as her gaze landed on him.
His curly hair had grown shaggy and his face narrower, but he was still the beautiful, golden boy who had brought light with him into the cemetery all those years ago. He didn’t look older, but more poised, sober.
But what if he didn’t feel the same? Alice had told her that they’d met in Edinburgh, and that he had been working as a clerk in an architectural firm. He’d come back, yes, but now he was in prison; would he resent her?
His face slowly transformed when he met her gaze. “Tabby,” he said on the back of his breath. “You look...” he trailed off, but his eyes said everything that his words could not, and heat rushed to her cheeks as his gaze swept over her. He cleared his throat, looking as dazed as Tabby felt. “Mary-Ruth visited me, told me everything. I hope that you’re not hurt from your ordeal?”
Tabby shook her head. “Just a little tired. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
Why were her feet suddenly made out of lead? He was standing right up against the bars, his hands clasped tight around them. The warden was chatting with an officer a little way away, and the moment was as private as they were like to have, so why couldn’t she go to him? And why wasn’t he saying anything more than the barest pleasantries?
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said bluntly. “You did nothing wrong.” What little faith she’d had in the police and the rule of law was further shaken every time she saw Caleb sitting in his cell. “They’ve arrested Mr. Whitby and his accomplices. They must know you’re innocent.”
“Innocent of murder, perhaps, but I am still an escaped convict. I made the police look incompetent.” He gave her his old roguish smile. “I doubt that they’re eager to see me on the streets again.”
The straw rustled as a rat scurried across the cell, and Tabby took a deep breath, willing herself to be patient. “Surely your mother can speak on your behalf to the court?”
He shrugged.
“But Caleb,” she said, her voice rising, “you must at leasttry!”
He looked away, watching as the rat gnawed on something in the corner. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps I am right where I belong? That I deserve to be here?”
“What are you talking about?”
He gave a heavy sigh and kicked at some straw. “Do you know what gave me the will to survive my exile?”
She shook her head.
Exasperation edged his voice. “You, Tabby. The thought of you happy and in my arms.”
“Then let me petition the court,” she begged. “Let your mother rally her wealthy friends. There’s no need to sit here a moment longer. You have no shortage of resources to—”
