“Yes, you do. Maybe you should take care of that right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jax said dryly.
“Fine.” Grayson handed Charlie a sheet of paper. “I have copied the information from the records of the doctor who delivered you.”
Charlie took it and examined it. “The twenty-first. My father wasn’t certain of the date. Carly Marie Sinclair. My real name is actually Carly? I don’t remember ever being called that.”
“According to the neighbor, your father was out to sea during the entire pregnancy and birth. He didn’t care for the name and he started calling you Charlie. Everyone thought it was so cute they never called you anything else.”
Charlie nodded. “You talked to the neighbors…about the fire?”
Grayson handed her a yellowed newspaper clipping. “They really didn’t have much to add. It’s pretty much all in here.”
She hesitated before she took the clipping from him. She handed it to Jaxon without looking at it. She wasn’t sure if she could stand knowing what her father undoubtedly knew. “I’m not ready to read it yet.”
“I think it’s fairly common knowledge around Charleston that your father dressed you like a boy. The tailor’s assistant was especially embarrassed about it. He told me if your father had even once made an appointment, he would have feigned illness to avoid measuring you.”
Charlie chuckled nervously. “His ears used to turn crimson red. I think he and I were equally embarrassed.”
“There was a trust set up that I left in place. Since you didn’t mention it, I didn’t know if you knew about it. Your father keeps up the property.”
“He never mentioned it.”
“It’s a large garden with benches and paths for anyone to enjoy. He pays a pair of gardeners with the trust.”
Charlie met Grayson’s gaze. “I think I’ve been there. I didn’t realize that was where the house had been. We always went and sat on the benches when I was young.”
“He left this for you with his attorney.” Grayson held out a missive sealed with wax.
Charlie’s hand trembled as she took the letter. She debated whether to open it now or wait until she was alone, but decided she had no hope of enjoying the remainder of the reception knowing it was waiting on her. She unthinkingly reached for her waist, momentarily forgetting she was not wearing her knife.
Jaxon took the pen knife off his desk and handed it to her and she carefully sliced the thick outer page that protected the inner pages.
“Would you like us to leave you for a moment?” Jaxon asked.
“No, it’s fine.”
Charlie bowed her head and began reading.
1801
Dear Charlie,
I have been staring at these blank pages for an hour trying to figure out how to begin. As I write this, you are tucked away in the corner of my cabin in your hammock. You had one of your nightmares last night, but I’m glad to say you are sleeping peacefully tonight.
We will be in homeport tomorrow and Brody and I are to meet with the lawyers. We have accumulated a tidy sum and have decided that we each need a will. I don’t know if Brody plans to leave his share to you, as that is his business not mine, but he has hinted as much.
If I die before Brody and you do not want to keep the Arcadia, I want you to promise to sell our share to him at a low price. This ship is his home and he deserves to live here until the end of his days if that’s what he wants to do.
I have no doubt, if I left you nothing, you would be fine since you have never needed anything from me your whole life. Or maybe you just refused to ask. I never knew which. Do you remember when I made Brody examine your feet because you had been limping for days? He found blood around your toenails because you had outgrown your boots. I never understood why you wouldn’t tell me. The next time you outgrew your boots; you took your cabin boy wages and bought them yourself. You never asked for anything. Even when Zeb would hit you, you wouldn’t ask for help. You may not have been talking, but you could read and write. Yet, you took it upon yourself to end it.
I never knew a child before who didn’t need anyone. When I found you at the orphanage, I tried to embrace you, but you just stood there and wouldn’t hug me back. I wondered if you were angry at me for not being there when you and your mother needed me. Trust me when I say, I hate myself for not being there. And when the nightmares woke you, you’d get dressed and go on deck. Not once did you attempt to wake me for comfort.
I want you to know, because we have never spoken of such things, I am proud of you. You have accomplished more at fifteen than many men ever do.