Steve Cash - The Meq

The Daphne Croft Foundation, as a “concept,” was still a mystery to me. Neither Willie nor Daphne ever mentioned it. The Daphne Croft “household,” however, I could easily understand. Every day the food was fresh and so was the linen. She found suitable clothing for Carolina and shared remedies and recipes with Opari. Geaxi and I helped Willie keep the firewood split and stacked and the constant smell of something baking filled the kitchen. Everyone helped take care of Caine. I’ve never seen more babysitters in one place than I saw at Caitlin’s Ruby. Each day felt like a found day, a gift, and was filled with stories and small chores, long walks, loud dinners, and quiet good nights. Any talk of anything beyond the next day’s needs was wasted. No one cared. It wasn’t necessary.

I did find out a few things indirectly when I asked Carolina about Captain Woodget and Isabelle. She said that Isabelle was sick for some time, but after she passed, Caleb Woodget only lasted a week. He died quietly in his sleep with a pencil in one hand and a partly drawn diagram of a new galley for the Little Clover in his lap. Carolina said it was a beautiful, slow funeral with two bands and attended by hundreds, even though few of them knew the captain and none could remember Isabelle. Owen Bramley had staged and paid for the entire event, then accompanied Jack back to St. Louis after they got word of Sailor’s message. The rest was a crazy voyage on a troop ship for Carolina, the first ship she could find sailing for England, and an anxious wait in St. Louis for Owen and her son. I had wondered where Owen was and why we hadn’t seen or heard from him. Now I knew.

There were other questions I never asked, as there were for everyone. There was a question Nova almost asked and didn’t, the same question I asked myself and couldn’t answer — where was Ray? There was a question Carolina could have asked and never did, the simplest one — why? I was afraid she would because the answer meant it wasn’t over, the Fleur-du-Mal was still alive and so was her grandson, so was Caine. And there was one other question even Geaxi dared not ask, the most obvious one — where was Sailor?

We didn’t see much of Tillman Fadle. He seemed to come and go on a different schedule to everyone else and yet I was always vaguely conscious of his presence, similar to that of the vulture he resembled. I was told he was a good man, a gentle man, a fisherman by trade who was self-educated with wide and varied interests. He and Daphne had, of course, known each other since childhood. His residence was separate and somewhat secret. It was his way. Daphne said that when she was alone after William had died and before she met the Meq, Tillman taught her a great deal about faith. “Though I rarely ever saw him,” she said, “I knew he was never far away.”

On New Year’s Eve, I finally got to talk with Tillman. The night was rare for many reasons as it turned out, but it started with Tillman Fadle and it was the last time I ever spoke to him. It was also the first time I heard the name Einstein.

We were watching the stars. It was the first clear night in weeks, and after a grand meal and two pieces of Daphne’s apricot pie, I wanted to walk and look at the sky. I made an offer that anyone was welcome to go with me, but only Geaxi took me up on it. She said she knew a good spot, a place she thought was made for sky-watching. I found Kepa’s telescope among my things and we set off along a path that Geaxi seemed to know well. The air was cold, but there was a new moon and even the wind was down. It was pitch-black and as my eyes adjusted to it the sky became a dancing diamond mine, a treasure ship spilling its jewels across a bottomless sea. I was startled by it. It reminded me of the sky in the desert and I was speechless.

“There’s a good spot, a better’n farther on, there is,” a voice said matter-of-factly from somewhere behind us. “But this is a good one too, it is.”

Geaxi and I turned to find Tillman Fadle leaning on a walking stick. He was wearing a huge black slicker and he looked seven feet tall. We weren’t listening for him, but neither Geaxi nor I was aware of him standing there. It was unusual.

“It is a big sky, it is,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” Geaxi said and waited.

He stared at the sky a full minute before he addressed us again. “The big sky, the big picture,” he said enigmatically. “Same thing, though. all of it. same thing.”

“Do you often come here?” I asked him.

“Oh, most certainly, sir, as often as I can.” He took a step or two toward us, and as he did, he turned his head and spat in the darkness. “You know, sir,” he said, “I think there’s a young fella took a snapshot of the big picture.”

“What do you mean ‘a snapshot’?” I asked.

“They’ll be provin’ it ’fore long.” He spat again in the dark and reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t recall who. “You wait and see,” he went on. “The ancients knew it, knew it, they did. Couldn’t prove it, though, couldn’t prove it. Won’t be long, sir, you wait and see,” he said. “This Einstein fella is on the track.”

“On the track of what?” Geaxi asked.

Tillman looked up in the direction of the constellation Orion, then tilted his head to the side and peered out of the corner of his eye. He held his thumb and forefinger in front of him and peered through the space between them. He spat one last time and I remembered who he reminded me of — PoPo.

“That,” he said. “He’s after that.”

“What?” I asked.

“What gets through the cracks,” he said.

“You mean the light?” Geaxi asked.

“I mean that what turns on the light,” Tillman said and I think he smiled, but it was too dark to be sure.

Just then, we heard the sound of a car in the distance. It was coming toward Caitlin’s Ruby and it was not one of Daphne’s vehicles, I could tell from the constant backfiring of the engine. I turned and raised Kepa’s telescope in the direction of the sound, but there was nothing to see, no headlights, nothing.

“That’d be Cap’n Uld,” Tillman said. “Norwegian man. owns a few boats in the Scillys. owns the Falcon. He won’t drive a motor car with headlights. same as at sea. won’t have ’em, won’t use ’em.”

“Is he coming here?” Geaxi asked.

“Yes, I’d say he was, yes.”

“Did you say the Falcon?” I asked him, remembering something Willie had said.

“Yes, the Falcon. in Penzance, it is.”

“Would Mowsel be with him?”

“Yes, most likely. Comes and goes that way, he does, with Cap’n Uld.”

Geaxi and I glanced at each other and knew in an instant there would almost certainly be another passenger, another boy who came and went that way — Sailor.

I closed the telescope and Geaxi said we’d better go, then I turned back to Tillman leaning on his walking stick in the dark.

“What was that fella’s name again?” I asked. “The one looking for what turns on the light?”

“Einstein,” he said. “Albert Einstein.”

“Where is he looking?”

“Up there,” he said and looked at the sky, but pointed his finger to his head. “Up there and in here,” he added and smiled again, I think.

“It was a pleasure talking to you, sir,” I told him.

“And you, sir,” Tillman Fadle said. “And you.”

Geaxi led the way back without a word and we were there in no time. She was as swift as I’d ever seen her and only paused when we reached the gravel drive. Coming from the direction of the house, we could both hear the strain of Daphne trying to sing, accompanied by an accordion. She was singing “Auld Lang Syne” and there wasn’t a cat within fifty yards of the house.