Toronto
"Welcome home, darling." Leslie walked up behind Owen, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed the nape of his neck.
"Oh, I've been missing you all day, Leslie," Owen said.
Leslie murmured, "I can't believe that you had to work so late again."
Owen said, "Well, I have a lot of work ahead of me before I leave for the States."
Owen was deep into writing his travel book on the cave explorer Floyd Collins. Owen already compiled hundreds of pages of notes, research, correspondence, and interview transcripts on Collins' adventures. In just a few weeks, he planned to join Collins down south for Collins' exploration of Mammoth Cave in Kentucky.
God willing, Owen would have his cave book finished before he ran out of money again.
But first, he wanted to enjoy this night alone with Leslie.
Owen fully planned on deeply missing Leslie during his trip to Kentucky. Heck, he missed her now, on all those nights that he had to work late.
"Leslie, darling, I love what you did with your hair. Is that a new style?"
"Aye. I saw this in one of Mr. Gibson's sketches in Harper's."
"Why, my wife has turned into a Gibson Girl."
"I got you a going-away gift, darling."
Owen opened the envelope that Leslie handed to him.
"Why, Leslie, what is this?"
Leslie said, "Owen, dear. I've been salty about Charles Dickens ever since dear my father - God rest his soul - told me that Mr. Dickens said that Halifax was too small for him. Mr. Dickens never did make it to our island. It grates me even more that he didn't even say anything nice about the Maritimes. I know how much you love his books, though. So, I booked you a night at the American Hotel - in the same room where Mr. Dickens slept when he visited Toronto!"
"Leslie, how do you know which room Mr. Dickens used? The hotel doesn't advertise this."
"Owen, Mrs. Charles Stuart belongs to my book club. Her husband now owns the hotel. She told me all about the hotel's records of Mr. Dickens' stay in Toronto."
Owen said, "The hotel still has its records from 1842?"
Leslie said, "Apparently so. I've already planned for both of us to be away from Kenneth and Persis for this trip. I hope that you won't mind a companion. I couldn't pass up the chance to share a bed with you in the same hotel room in Toronto where Mr. Dickens shared a bed with his own wife."
Owen grinned.
"I promise to love the Dickens out of you, Leslie."
Leslie continued, "But I understand if you also plan to write in that room. After all, Mr. Dickens wrote part of The Christmas Carol in that room."
One week later . . .
The American Hotel in Toronto stood at the corner of Front and Younge. Owen Selwyn Ford made love to Leslie West Ford in the same hotel room where Charles Dickens wrote part of The Christmas Carol. Dickens possibly loved his own wife, Catherine, in that same room.
Owen awoke to the dark of the very early morning. Leslie snored.
"Well," Owen thought, "I simply must write in the same room where Dickens wrote. Leslie won't mind. She even told me that I should write here."
Owen donned his dressing gown and sat the mahogany desk. He was Owen Ford, author of the Great Canadian Novel. He was writing part of his book now in a room where Charles Dickens also wrote part of a book.
Dickens toured North America twice for speaking engagements, but he only visited Toronto that one time, on the 1842 tour.
In 1867, when Dickens returned to this continent, he snubbed Toronto.
Well, Owen thought, if it's any consolation to us, Dickens also snubbed Chicago in 1867.
Chicago didn't expect to be snubbed in 1867. Charles Dickens own brother, Augustus Dickens, had lived and died penniless in Chicago. His bones remained in Chicago. In fact, the people of Chicago paid to put a marker on Augustus Dickens' grave that said "Brother of Charles Dickens" specifically to ensure that Charles Dickens would visit their city. But, in 1867 Charles Dickens skipped seeing his own brother's North American grave.
Poor Augustus Dickens, buried under a marker bragging of his brother's success.
When Hugh Ford died, perhaps Owen would bury him under a grave marker that read "Son of Owen Ford." Yeah, that would serve old Hugh right.
Owen wrote until the sun rose and Leslie stirred.
Owen said, "Leslie, thank you. I had a wonderful night."
Leslie said, "It was my pleasure, Owen."
Owen continued, "I just wrote my best work ever, here in this hotel room. And I have you to thank for it, Leslie. Well, you and Mr. Dickens."
One week later . . .
Persis said to Owen, "Papa, I can't believe that you are going to be so far away from us. What if we never see you again?"
Kenneth said, "Don't be a baby, Persis. You act as if Papa is sailing away to Europe or something. He's just taking a train to the States."
Persis said, "Hush, Kenneth! Papa is going far away from us. Mama said that Kentucky is much further south than Boston and New York."
Owen smiled at his children. He set a map on his desk. He pulled Persis onto his lap.
"See this dot here, Persis? That's Toronto. Now, see that square over there? That's Kentucky. And that dot right there is Mammoth Cave."
"Oh, Kentucky. Papa, is Savannah in Kentucky?"
"Er, not quite. Savannah is in Georgia. That's even further south than Kentucky. Hold on a minute, Persis. Where did you hear about Savannah?"
"Madam Dubois said that grandfather helped a rich man from Savannah escape from the Yankees. She said that grandfather didn't have a pot to piss in before he did that."
"Persis!" Leslie seldom raised her voice the way that she raised it now. "Don't talk like that."
"Mama, I don't understand. Do we have a pot to piss in?"
"Persis Leigh Ford! Do you want me to wash your mouth out with soap?"
Owen said, "Persis, Kenneth, play outside now."
The children ran outside.
Owen said "Leslie, darling. Let's not make too big a deal about this around the children."
Leslie said, "Apparently folks still talk about this. And around the children."
Owen said, "It's okay, Leslie. It's okay. This is father's business, not ours. Besides, we're in Toronto. Even old Hugh is safe here."
As this writer already stated, the Ford family of Toronto had a talent for ending up on the losing side of American disputes. In the 1860's, Hugh Ford came into the acquaintance Andrew Low II. Low immigrated from Scotland to America as a teenager. He toiled at his uncle's cotton brokerage. He inherited the brokerage. He became the richest man in Savannah. Low's children married into Savannah's most distinguished families. In the 1860's, Low supported the Confederate States of America. He served as a Captain under Confederate General Robert E. Lee. He supported the Confederacy financially. During this war, the United States Navy maintained a naval blockade around the Atlantic coast of the American South. Low travelled overland to Canada with his wife Mary. The Lows sailed out of Canada to Great Britain. Low attempted to persuade the British government to join the Confederacy in war against the United States. The Lows sailed back to Canada. They travelled back into the United States. United States law enforcement detained the Lows in Baltimore. The American authorities permitted Mary Low to return to her parents in Georgia. The authorities arrested Low, questioned him, and eventually paroled him. Low returned to Savannah. After the Confederacy lost the war, Low returned to Scotland.
This part of the story ended up in newspapers during and after the American war. To Owen Ford's knowledge, one very important piece of the story never ended up in any paper. This was the piece of the story in which Hugh Ford assisted Andrew Low II during Low's travels into and out of Canada.
Someday - in the very distant future, after Hugh Ford was buried under that marker that read "Son of Owen Ford," Owen himself intended to write this missing story. But not yet. Hugh Ford's past was not yet distant enough for Owen to write about it. Even in Toronto, the Ford family wasn't yet safe from Hugh Ford's past.
Even Owen admitted that Hugh's real Life-Book made a more gripping story than any Dickens novel.
