Three days later Perry stood alone on the sandy beach with her one small trunk beside her. She guessed she was over the Virginia line into North Carolina as she watched the ship pass out of sight beyond the rocks. Only a few passengers had even been curious enough to come on deck when she'd left. That all had their own lives and destinations to think about.
Perry felt abandoned, even though the captain of the West Wind assured her this was the place Abram had instructed she be left. The captain explained how the dock must have been blown up to prevent Confederate shipments. Before the war, ships often stopped here to pick up cotton from the local plantations.
He'd set her ashore and rowed back to his ship without giving her another thought. A vacant road stretched ahead of her, a wooded area spilling toward the water, now behind her. As she stood alone, Perry wondered if something could have gone wrong and her grandfather hadn't been notified of her coming. What if he knew and did not want to see her?
Ignoring the ache in her side, Perry lifted her trunk with one hand and her skirt with the other. She moved onto the road. There was nothing to do but walk. According to the captain, her grandfather's farm was ten to fifteen miles due west. She could walk every step if she had to.
Before her slippers were even dirty, Perry lifted her head to see a buggy approaching far off in the distance. At first she was overjoyed, then she realized she knew neither of the elderly people moving toward her.
The old buggy stopped a few feet from her. An aging man slowly climbed down, unfolding his body with the care one might use opening yellowed paper. He was tall and thin, his white hair combed neatly back away from his tan face. "Are you Perry McLain, miss?" he asked, then laughed. "Well, of course you are. Who else would be standing out on this abandoned road?" His rich laughter spread to the lady in the buggy.
Perry nodded and found herself unable to speak as she stared into the old man's gray eyes. It was as though forty years had gone by and an aging Hunter stood before her.
"I'm John Williams, Miss Perry. I live a few miles northwest. My grandson, Hunter, sent me a message to get in touch with your grandfather. I'm sorry to say, my man reported that your grandfather is ill. My wife and I would be honored if you'd allow us to drive you to his home." His thin lips spread into a wide smile that couldn't have been anything but honest. He lifted her trunk into the buggy. Perry didn't miss the strength in his aging frame.
"This is my wife, Mary." John Williams winked at the small woman sitting in the buggy.
She was short and plump, with eyes that danced in her wrinkled face. Her voice was musical as she spoke. "Nice to meet you, Miss Perry. We don't see many pretty young ladies in the country. Now you climb right in beside me so we can talk."
Within an hour Perry felt she had known the Williamses for years. They were warm, friendly Southern people with the skill to make her feel at home. They were both in their late sixties and in good health. John attributed this totally to his wife's great cooking. John Williams had retired and sold most of his farmland three years before the war. Though they felt the war deeply, in their isolated home they had seen very little fighting.
Mary Williams asked, "Do you know our grandson well, Miss Perry?"
"No, ma'am," Perry lied. "Abram, his friend, probably sent you the message. I only met them a week ago."
"Abram. I remember Hunter writing of a man by that name. He's a self-educated black who lives with Hunter." As Perry nodded, Mary continued. "My dear, we may sound curious, but we are starved for news of our grandson. We haven't seen him since he was a boy, and very few letters have reached us during the war.''
Perry smiled. "I'll tell you what I know of him. He was a balloon surveyor in the Union Army, with Abram at his side. I understand there were only four such balloons in use."
John Williams interrupted and said, "Hunter always did like the adventurous life.
"You know, the South had one of them air balloons," John continued as he tapped his chin with his index finger. "We built a balloon out of ladies' old ball gowns, we did. I think it was named the Silk Dress. Never flew that I know of. It was on its way to the front line on the tugboat Teaser. The boat ran aground on a sandbar in the James River. That ironclad Monitor finished them off, as I remember.''
Mary Williams spoke up. "John, please, Miss Perry was telling us about Hunter." Turning to Perry, she said, "You'll have to excuse my John, he always remembers details. When Hunter was a boy with us, he and John had such fun playing games to see who could remember the most about this or that."
Perry wiped the perspiration from her forehead. "I guess a mind for detail would be an asset to a surveyor."
Mary's head bobbled up and down. "Right. See, John, Hunter inherited more than your gray eyes. Perry tell us what Hunter looks like now that he's full grown."
"He's tall and slim with blond curly hair, and you're right: He has the most wonderful gray eyes." Perry paused to look at John. She was about to say Hunter looked much like a younger John Williams. However, turning toward them, she realized they were both smiling at her.
Perry's face reddened. They must think her a silly, moonstruck schoolgirl.
Mary Williams patted Perry's hand softly. "It's all right, dear. Don't be embarrassed. There is nothing wrong with admiring a handsome man. I've been doing it for almost fifty years."
Perry glanced up in time to see her wink at John. She realized these two sweet old people were still very much in love, living in a special world of their own where all others were outsiders.
For the remainder of the drive she told them all the stories Hunter told her about ballooning. If they had heard the tales, they were both too polite to say so.
She fell silent for a few minutes, thinking of those few days with Hunter and his stories. She remembered one of their conversations, which had ended in laughter and waking Abram, who had looked at them as if they had both gone insane. Hunter had been telling her about the first big balloon ascent. A pair of brothers named Montgolfier were going to demonstrate their skill to King Louis XVII. They wanted to go up as passengers, but the king was violently opposed. The brothers had to pass the honor of becoming the first air travelers to a sheep, a rooster, and a duck.
Perry remembered Hunter's laughter as he speculated about which of those animals he was descended from. He had told her everyone thought him crazy with his love for balloons.
Glancing back at John and Mary, Wade Williams's name crossed her mind and she decided to ask about him. "I met a Captain Wade Williams once. Is he any kin to you?"
Mary's sunny smile dimmed slightly. She didn't answer. However, after a pause, John spoke. "Wade is my brother's son. My brother, Adam, remarried after his first wife died. All his children were grown and he wanted a companion. His second wife was twenty years younger than he was. So Adam became a father when he was almost fifty. Wade was raised like an only child and given everything. They even sent him North to the best schools. In his teens he was wild and caused my brother much heartache. But he matured. The army did much for him, even though joining the Union Army broke his father's heart. We received word yesterday that he'll be stationed in this area now, helping to get everything back in order.''
John paused in thought before adding, "He plans to stay with us some. His parents are both dead."
Perry decided not to ask about Hunter and Wade's relationship. She could tell the Williamses were too polite to say more than they already had, so Wade Williams was dropped from the conversation.
The miles passed rapidly and Perry enjoyed the company greatly. Finally John slowed the horses, and pointed to a huge plantation nestled among three old oaks. "There's your grandfather's place, Three Oaks. I've only been here a few times myself. Your grandfather likes to keep to himself. I believe a man has that right."