“Goodnight,” he said.
He carried the pamphlet and the envelope over to his makeshift bed on the couch and lay down. Before he started the letter, he reread the pamphlet, this time paying more attention. But Fiona was right. It didn’t really have a lot of answers.
He unfolded the envelope, hoping it would tell him more. Inside were several sheets of paper that had obviously been handled many times. He started from the top, first reading the stamp that had been imprinted on the page above the letter, then the letter itself.
When he was done, he read it again.
And when he finished that time, he read it once more.
THIS IS A TRANSCRIPT FROM
THE TROUBLE FAMILY ARCHIVES
DOCUMENT LEVEL A TOP SECRET
***FOR FAMILY MEMBERS’ EYES ONLY***
Original Document Located in Archives Vault
May 29, 1780
My dear son Edward,
Forgive me for waiting until after my death to reveal the things I’m about to tell you. I worried that if you were told too soon you would not believe me. You needed to get some experience first, and see some of the things that I have seen before you would be open to the truth.
As I write this, you are only fourteen, but over the past year you have already joined me on several of what you call my “adventures” so I know that even now, you have seen things no other man has ever seen. By the time you read this, it is my hope that you will have completed several adventures of your own and, because of this, will be more open to believing.
As you know, your direction in life has been chosen for you, as it will be for your son, and his son, and his son’s son. Perhaps at this moment of reading you don’t even have a son, but you will. It is your destiny.
And all of this is my fault as much as it is anyone’s.
I’ve talked about the great shipping company I inherited from my father when I still lived in England. But the story I have told to you and to others — that in 1762 I decided to sell my ships and make a new life in what was then the colony of Massachusetts — is not the complete truth. It was a decision forced on me by an event that changed my life and put the Leatherwood family on the path you now find yourself.
In that fateful year, I sailed on one of my ships to the colonies, but my intent was only to conduct some business in Boston then return as soon as possible to London.
The trip was not an easy one. We encountered storm after storm, and I worried at times that we might never make it. Mostly, my ships carried items to sell in the colonies but, as usual, there were also a few passengers onboard.
One gentleman, an older man of perhaps fifty who was traveling alone, took an interest in me. He would often look for me so that we could pass the time in conversation. When we were only halfway across the ocean, I realized that he had an illness that would eventually take his life, and it was apparent the storms were not helping his condition.
One night, several days before we reached Boston, he knocked on my door. It being late, I did not want to let him in, but he insisted he needed to talk to me so I relented. We sat at my small private dining table, and when I asked him what he wanted, he said, “Mr. Leatherwood, we did not meet by chance on this voyage. I have been sent to you.”
I am not exaggerating when I say he seemed to get weaker and weaker as he spoke. Many times, he was stopped by a coughing attack or by the need for a moment or two of rest. When he did talk, what he said was unbelievable and troubling.
He told me that he had undertaken the voyage to pass a tremendous responsibility on to me. When I asked what this responsibility was, he said, “One that you cannot avoid.”
He said our family had been chosen to make up for crimes we had committed. When I told him I knew of no crimes and that our family was well respected, he laughed. Then, in some detail, he spoke of smuggling and bribes and price increases after deals had already been agreed on. This all happened when my father and his father before him had run the business. All things I knew about but had thus far avoided committing myself.
“But your biggest crime was one of inaction.” Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “The Noretta.”
There was no need for him to add anything more. I knew the story.
Fifty years earlier, The Noretta, owned by a rival trading company, had smashed into a tiny rock island during a storm. One of our ships was nearby and witnessed the accident. The tale, as it was passed down to me, was that my grandfather had been captaining our vessel and refused to look for survivors so as to keep on schedule. No one from The Noretta was ever seen again.
My grandfather never felt any shame from this, nor had my father. “Business is business,” he’d said to me. “You will understand when you are in charge one day.”
But I had always felt shame. And when the old man mentioned The Noretta, I could not keep that shame from my face.
“Yes,” he said. “I see you are aware of this stain on your family. But I also know, Thomas, that you are a good man. Unfortunately for you, just being good is not enough to atone for these crimes. The responsibility I am giving you will give your family the chance to do just that.”
“Understand, this is not just some idle task, or even a request. This is a curse. A true and powerful curse. You can either wear it as a heavy chain around your neck, or embrace it and let it transform your family’s destiny.”
He told me there was an evil power that walked the earth, destroying lives and claiming those who weren’t theirs. It would be my job to fight this force and stop it wherever I could.
“They are not people like you and me, but you will see them as people. You must not let that fool you. You must stop them, for to stop them is to keep them from growing in power.”
Finally, he told me I was to sell my business and make a home in the colonies, never to return to England again.
While I had listened carefully to all he said, I was now beginning to think him mad, perhaps even an escaped lunatic. Stay in the colonies and not return to England? I had no intention of doing that. But to keep him from knowing what I really thought, I told him, “I will consider your words but, as I’m sure you’ll understand, it would be unwise for me to say more at this point.”
I stood up, thinking doing so would encourage him to leave. But he continued to sit.
“My friend,” I said, “it is late. Perhaps we can talk more in the morning.”
I thought for a moment that he had fallen asleep. He did look so terribly ill and weak. But then he laughed, and stood very, very slowly.
“I know you do not believe me,” he said. “But what you do not understand is that you have no choice. Hear me. You do not have to do anything. Those needing your help will come to you. Children, for the most part, who need you to save them from these forces of trouble. That is your true responsibility, to keep this evil from taking the children. That’s the only way the evil can expand, but you’ll learn that in time.”
“Children, of course,” I said. “I’m always happy to help children.”