Beloved Captive by Kathleen Y'Barbo Page A

think of their staid coworker. Glancing down at the golden tan on his arms and calluses on his palms, he knew they’d likely not even recognize him. He rarely recognized his own image in the mirror.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb saw Fletcher fold the letter. “Well?”
    “A moment,” Fletcher said.  
    Caleb nodded and studied a trio of waiters who seemed to be racing one another to a table filled with men in uniform. The soldiers appeared to be in the midst of some great debate, and their rapid-fire chatter rose and fell with the sounds of the guitar.
    “Aide to the secretary of the navy. Impressive. So.” Fletcher leaned back in his chair and gave Caleb a direct look. “What are you going to do?”
    “I am going to listen to your sage advice,” he said, “and then I shall make my decision.”
    Fletcher handed the letter back to Caleb. “How well do you know this man?”
    “The attorney general?” Caleb shook his head. “Well enough, I suppose, although he was Father’s friend, not mine.”
    “I see.” He seemed to be considering something. “And do you think this move is wise?”
    “It’s a surprising one, most certainly. When I left, I was told the next opening as aide to the AG was mine.” He pointed to the letter. “And now this.”
    Fletcher’s eyes narrowed. “What do you make of it?”
    “Well, that’s the question of the moment, isn’t it?”
    “No, lad,” Fletcher said slowly. “The question of the moment is whether you’ll accept the promotion.”
    “Indeed it is.” He toyed with his mug, then lifted his gaze to meet Fletcher’s stare. “It appears I must accept it or leave. According to the letter, my job will be filled in my absence.”
    “Which was the plan all along, correct?”
    Caleb inclined his head. “The plan was that my job would be filled when I received the promotion. I certainly never expected the promotion would be into the department of the navy.”
    “But?”
    “I’ve been trained as a lawyer, Fletcher, and always expected I would follow my father in service to the attorney general. I never considered anything else.”
    Again he lifted one brow. “Until now.”
    A statement, not a question.
    “Yes, actually,” Caleb said slowly. “Until now.”
    “Then it’s settled.” Fletcher pushed back from the table and rose, leaning on his cane while he waited for Caleb to join him. “Welcome to the naval department, lad.”
    As they walked, he tried on his new title. Lieutenant Spencer. Indeed it seemed to fit.
    “Did you mention this to your mother?” Fletcher asked.
    “No.” He paused. “Yet she’s sent us on this mission to post mail in Havana.”
    Fletcher grinned. “Do you think perhaps your mother wanted you out to sea when you spoke to the Lord? It would be a fitting place for a naval officer with promise to spend time with his Creator.”
    Caleb laughed. “I hesitate to believe a gentlewoman such as my mother might actually contrive to do such a thing. Yet. . .”
    “Well, whatever the reason, it was a fine meal we had and a fine sail to get here.” He gestured to the bay where the Cormorant lay at anchor amongst the countless others under the moon’s pale glow. “And tomorrow we’ll test her sails and head back to Santa Lucida, eh?”
    “But not before I draft a letter accepting the promotion.” He stopped short. “Wait, Fletcher. My job is not done in Santa Lucida. How can I leave my mother when she has no one to look after her welfare or the workings of the plantation?”
    Fletcher’s face was half-hidden in shadows, but what Caleb saw of it held an expression of concern. “I had hoped to have this conversation at a later date,” he said. “I’m put in mind of our earlier conversation.” He paused. “With your permission, I would like to see to the care of Benning Plantation in your absence.”
    “And to the care of my mother?”
    Fletcher jammed the pipe into his mouth and set off walking. Up ahead, the moon glinted off