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    Voices Beckon, Pt. 3: The Awakening
    Voices Beckon, Pt. 3: The Awakening
    Voices Beckon, Pt. 3: The Awakening
    Ebook152 pages1 hour

    Voices Beckon, Pt. 3: The Awakening

    By Linda Lee Graham

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    THIS NOVELLA IS THE THIRD OF THREE PARTS OF THE FULL LENGTH NOVEL, VOICES BECKON:

    The Constitutional Convention has done its work and the new republic, Philadelphia included, begins to prosper. David and Elisabeth slowly come to terms with their loss while Liam begins to forge his future.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLinda Lee Graham
    Release dateOct 29, 2011
    ISBN9781301275755
    Voices Beckon, Pt. 3: The Awakening
    Author

    Linda Lee Graham

    History and real-life narratives have always blended in Graham’s imagination when researching her family’s ancestors. Eventually the engaging voices of characters who might have lived emerged. Tracing paper trails quickly gave way to creating her own stories, and she hasn't looked back since.

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      Book preview

      Voices Beckon, Pt. 3 - Linda Lee Graham

      THIS NOVELLA IS THE THIRD OF THREE PARTS OF THE FULL LENGTH NOVEL, VOICES BECKON:

      The Constitutional Convention has done its work and the new republic, Philadelphia included, begins to prosper. David and Elisabeth slowly come to terms with their loss while Liam begins to forge his future.

      Set in the late eighteenth century, Voices Beckon (the full length novel) spans seven years in the lives of three young Britons who form an unwavering bond of friendship, love, and loyalty while on a life-changing voyage to a new nation. Richly evocative of time and place, this sweeping romance chronicles their coming of age against the vivid backdrop of the emerging United States of America.

      PART THREE

      62

      August 1788

      "WHY, MRS. HALE, what a surprise. Please, do come in. Liam made a bow and swept his hand inwards. I’m embarrassed. I canna offer ye anything in the way of tea or coffee, but I’m sure that’s no less than ye expected, having deigned to visit those of the lower sort."

      She walked into the room, her back straight, her head held high. Don’t take that tone with me, young man, I expect much better of you, you can be certain of that. I’ve come to speak to your guardian. If it’s not too much trouble, could you tell him I’m here?

      Abashed, Liam took her elbow and led her to the chairs in the front of the classroom. I apologize. Please sit. What can I do for ye, Mrs. Hale? Mr. Oliver is out for the morning. He took the chair across from her.

      Well then. She fingered her bag as if she were planning to get up and leave, then settled, her grey eyes soft as she looked at him. While I have you, perhaps you could tell me how David has been?

      His expression closed. How is David? Well, let me think how best to answer that, Mrs. Hale, he said, his voice hard as he rose to pace the room in front of her.

      Most of July was spent looking for the bottom of a bottle, then sporting for a fight from anyone willing. I’m glad to say that phase didna last longer ‘an a month. I found it quite tiring. Och, we’re still inta the whisky, mind ye, just not quite to that excess. And sporting women have replaced sporting for a fight. He stopped pacing and laid his forearm along the fireplace mantel, resting his forehead against it. He sighed, quiet for a moment, then turned to her, his face drawn, his eyes sad.

      Mr. Hall’s patience is wearing thin and I barely recognize my mate. The most I can do to help is to follow behind and pick up the pieces.

      It grieves me to hear that. David was . . . David is . . . He’s in my prayers nightly. He’s a good man.

      Aye, just no’ good enough apparently. He looked at Mrs. Hale and relented as he saw her face cloud with sorrow, her eyes glisten with unshed tears. I’m sorry, Mrs. Hale, I just keep looking for someone to blame, and I tend to take it out on the nearest. I don’t have it in me right now to ease your mind. Why are ye here, ma’am?

      I hesitate to ask a favor, Mr. Brock, but I must. You may or may not know I’ve just arrived back from Charleston with Elisabeth. I took her there for several weeks to visit one of my dear friends, hoping a change of location would do her good. It didn’t. I’m worried. The child is pining away right in front of me, and I can’t help her. It breaks my heart every time I look at her. Her classroom, will the children be returning?

      Aye, I’m to teach them until we find a replacement.

      Would Mr. Oliver consider asking her back, do you think? When I mentioned it, her eyes lit up, the first spark of life I’ve seen in her since this took place. But it was brief. She said you wouldn’t have her, then she went back to bed. Mr. Brock, she’s been in bed for the last two months. She barely eats or drinks. Frankly, even if Mr. Oliver agreed and she consented, I’m not sure she could come back, given the state of her health. But the possibility would give her something to look forward to. And I’ve been given to believe it wouldn’t be a one-sided proposition, that she has contributed some to the success of the Academy. Is she correct in assuming you wouldn’t have her back?

      I can speak for Mr. Oliver with regards to this. He would welcome her back on any terms. The children loved her. And I would see her return as well, when I give off wanting to wring her neck, that is. He held up his hands in surrender as Mrs. Hale’s lips tightened. Nay, I’ve explained I tend to look for someone to blame. But I can endeavor to behave rationally for her sake.

      Would you come talk to her?

      He hesitated.

      She’d have to hear it from you.

      He exhaled, running a hand back through his hair. Aye.

      Soon, please. And Liam, I’m reluctant to ask this after imposing on your goodwill—

      Don’t worry, I’ll not come when Mr. Hale is likely to be at home. Would ten tomorrow be fine, ye think? I’ll use the servants’ entrance.

      I’m in your debt. She went to him, ignoring the hand he extended. Taking his face between her hands, she kissed his cheek. Thank you.

      HELLO, JOHN. Long time and all that, eh?

      Liam, come in. Young David, how’s he been? Let me take your hat there. John motioned him into the kitchen. Sit, have yourself some tea. It’s a hot one today, for sure. He placed a cup in front of him. I hear stories, ‘bout town. Don’t much sound like David. I don’t pay them much credence, I don’t, but I worry nonetheless.

      Believe them, John. Now, Mrs. Hale asked that I speak to Lisbeth. Perhaps I should just do that.

      Yes, suh, John answered, his face closing.

      Now, John, don’t ye ‘suh’ me, hear? Discussing David’s no’ something I’ll do in this house. I’d appreciate your help, though. He’s always valued your friendship and acceptance. If I can get him to wet a line Sunday, would ye be willing to join us?

      You white boys don’t know nothing bout that subject. You join me and ole Barney, we’ll show ye how it’s done. Third pier, six in the morning come Sunday.

      Liam, you’ve come!

      He turned at the sound of her voice, reminding himself of his promise to Mrs. Hale, telling himself once again it wasn’t her fault.

      Lisa—Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what have ye done to yourself?

      She started crying at his words, covering her face with her hands, though not before he saw the deep hollows and dark shadows that surrounded her eyes. Her beautiful, graceful hands . . . chapped and red, nails bitten to the quick, cuticles angry and ragged. And where in the hell had she found the garment she was wearing? It wasn’t more than a threadbare, shapeless cotton shift, and it hung without form from her thin, bony shoulders. Had the lass given over eating? Her hair was limp, dirty, and dull, and she had tied it back in the fashion of a man’s queue, a tangled bushel of wet straw.

      Beautiful, proper Elisabeth . . . looking the blowse. He turned back to John, his eyes wide and horrified. John gave him an indignant stare and waved the back of his hand, gesturing him toward her.

      Stap me, lass, I’m sorry. I havena seen ye in some time. Isna John here feeding ye? John cuffed him hard on the shoulders, pushing him. He looked back at him, helpless. John just canted his head, motioning him forward.

      He sucked in a long breath. Lisbeth? Come sit. Putting his arm around her, he led her to one of the chairs. She pulled away.

      Now, Miss Lisabeth, Liam didn’t mean no harm. You just—

      Stop it! Do you hear me? All of you, stop it! I don’t want to sit! And I don’t want to eat! I don’t want to! She stamped her foot and made a weak effort to throw the chair against the wall, sobbing in earnest when it landed only a foot away, her thin shoulders shaking. Liam went to her, and she pushed him away.

      "There’s only one thing I want. Does anybody even hear me? Liam? Do you hear me? There’s only one thing, I tell them, I tell them . . . I want him, Liam. I want him so, but nobody listens, I need . . . I need . . ." Her voice shook as she sobbed, and it was difficult to make sense of the words she choked out, but her meaning was clear.

      Aye, lass, aye, I hear ye, I ken, He held her tightly, pulling her head to his shoulder, refusing to relinquish his hold when she tried to push him away. He rocked her and murmured hollow words of consolation while she sobbed and pounded her fists against his shoulders. When her sobbing slowed, he realized she was speaking again, and he tried to make out the words.

      You . . . left me too Liam, I . . . I hate you . . . for that. I needed you . . . and you . . . left. I don’t know . . . you never came back . . . if he’s dead or alive. Did you think . . . did you think I didn’t care to know? Are you . . . punishing me?

      He pulled away to look at her face, and she panicked, throwing herself at him, clinging to him. No! I’m sorry. I don’t hate you. Please don’t hate me. Don’t leave, Liam, don’t, please.

      He cradled her and spoke softly, stroking her back. Lisbeth, shh, listen, stop crying, please. Shhh, I’m no’ leaving. And I could never hate ye, lass. I love you. Ye’re like a sister to me. I always tell Davey ye were my friend first. Irritates him a bit, I’ll grant ye, seeing how it’s only by minutes. And I’ll grant ye I’ve been a bad friend to you. I’m sorry for that, I am. Now, John here offered me a bite to eat, I’d like to take him up on it, if ye’d join me. We’ll talk over a meal, aye?

      She looked up at the mention of David’s name.

      No. I’m not hungry. Weren’t you listening? And don’t use that tone of voice with me, I’m not a simpleton. She

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