“They prefer partial shade, so we could plant them against the wall.”
“Dogwoods are the showy white trees I’ve seen in the spring?”
“They can be pink, too,” his sister pointed out. “Pink for the girls and white for the boys! It’s perfect!” She grasped both her friend’s hands, gazing out at the garden. “I can see them, Tessa! Little Bean and all her brothers and sisters tending their trees, comparing their heights…”
“Andyourchildren will come and play with them.”
“Yes!” Hélène’s skirts bounced in her impatient joy.
“Oh, Ellie.” Tessa embraced her friend. Over Hélène’s shoulder, she caught Joseph’s gaze for only a moment before averting her eyes. “Everything will be all right now,” Tessa predicted softly. “I know it will.”
PART V
IN LIMBO
1837-1842
Charleston
It has pleased Divine Providence to permit us to be sorely afflicted. Our holy and our beautiful house…is burnt up with fire
and all our pleasant things are laid to waste.
— C. E. Gadsden, Rector of Saint Philip’s Episcopal Church,
after the 1835 Charleston fire
CHAPTER 27
Original sin [is] the sin we inherit from our first parents; and in which we were conceived and bornchildren of wrath…
—Bishop John England,Catechism of the Roman Catholic Faith(1826)
On the second anniversary of his Ordination, Joseph rose before dawn as he did every day. He prayed the morning Office, dressed, and unlocked the cathedral. Anthony, his young server, assisted him with his vestments in the sacristy, then preceded him to the altar, and they began the Mass.
While Joseph was offering Communion, he could not help but notice the negro who entered the back of the sanctuary. The man stood turning his hat in his hands, looking anxious but uncertain. He met Joseph’s eyes across the pews in a moment of silent entreaty, then dropped his gaze. The negro was well-dressed, but he’d missed one of his waistcoat buttons. Joseph thought he recognized the man, though he couldn’t recall the context.
He tried to concentrate on his solemn task: placing the Body of Christ onto the tongues of communicants. But a drama was playing out at the back of the sanctuary. The negro was whispering to oneof the parishioners, who glared at him but answered. Another man rose unhappily to close the door, which the negro had left ajar. Finally he hurried up the stairs into the gallery. Even there, the negro perched on his pew; he was clearly preparing to spring up again.
The last communicant left the rail. Joseph returned the ciborium to the Tabernacle. Anthony helped him to rinse his fingers and the chalice. Joseph gave the final blessing and offered the final prayers. He kissed the altar. Never before had these concluding rituals seemed to take so long.
At last he genuflected a final time and carried the chalice to the sacristy. In the corner of his vision, Joseph watched the negro approach. He came back without unvesting.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the negro began. “I didn’t mean to disturb your service.”
“It’s a matter of urgency?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then no apology is necessary. But did no one tell you Father Baker was at the seminary?”
“The mistress asked for you specifically, sir.” The negro saw that Joseph hadn’t yet recognized him. “My name is Elijah. I belong to Master Edward. He and Miss Teresa, they’re visiting the master’s father this week, at the plantation. But Miss Teresa, she started…bleeding. Our midwife thinks she’s losing her baby.”
In spite of his vestments, suddenly Joseph felt cold.
“Your father’s already gone to her,” Elijah assured him. “I’ve got to tell Mr. Conley next. Should I come back for you?”
“No, I-I remember the way. But I don’t think my father has ever?—”
