Clement Station was just as he remembered it: a dirty community with people who took no care for it or one another. Perhaps his mood, or the beginnings of the spring thaw made it seem even worse, but it was muddy, chaotic and dark.
"Nice place." Matthew said.
"I told you." Daniel said. "If we head up that direction," He indicated to the left. "You'll see nothing but slave traders and auctions. The gambling houses are straight ahead, the market area is back down that-away." He pointed to the right. "There's not a thing here worth seeing."
"I suppose we ought to head towards the market, then." Tom said.
They turned up the street and began to work their way towards the stalls of merchants.
"Maybe we should split up." Matthew said. "We could cover more ground that way."
They separated agreeing to meet up again, in an hour. Daniel wandered between the stalls looking to see if he could spot any of the missing supplies. He found himself distracted, and eventually found himself walking amidst the slave traders. He stood, disgusted, watching an auction of three young girls. One of the girls was tiny and she wept as they called out their bids. She was blue-eyed and her hair was blond, but he could easily picture Rebecca standing in that very spot. He had asked her about this piece of her life, but she had found it difficult to speak of. Even now, decades later, it still pained her to remember those days. As their own daughters grew, he could picture her better, as a young girl, but could never manage to picture her as she had been then; utterly alone. The thought of her abandoned always filled him with rage, and a dull ache to somehow travel backwards in time and protect her even then.
She had asked him about Clement Station, and he had refused to bring her here explaining that it was unsafe. But truthfully, it was this that he never wanted her to see; humans for sale, young people turned over to a life of bondage to cover family debts, just as she had been. He wanted to protect her from it, as he had been unable to when she was just a girl. He stood contemplating all of it, and longing, longing to see her face once more again, when, he heard a voice say, "Pardon me, sir."
He looked down and was surprised to see a pair of nuns making their way through the crowd. He was standing in their way.
"I'm sorry." He said and stepped back. They nodded and continued on their way, but as they turned to go, one of them dropped a sheaf of papers. He bent to pick them up and handed them back to one of the nuns.
"Thank you, sir." She said.
"Are you alright, Sisters?" He asked perplexed as to why they would be walking amongst the slave traders.
"We are safe, sir." One of them said.
"Folks around here aren't trustworthy. Can I walk you somewhere safer?" He asked.
"Our work is here, amongst these lost souls." One of the nuns smiled up at him. "I appreciate your concern, however."
"Take care, then Sisters." He said realizing that he needed to get back to the rendezvous. He turned to go but at the last second, one of the nuns caught him by the elbow.
"As to lost souls," She said. "We are trying to find information about one of ours. Perhaps you can take this back to your people. You are clearly not from around here based on your good manners." She handed him a paper and turned and walked away. He watched the two go and something in their peaceful, kind demeanor made the darkness of the auctions brighten a little.
He glanced at the paper in his hand and then staggering fell to the ground in shock.
***DB***
Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see the same nuns.
"Sir, are you alright? You fell down as though you'd been struck." One of them said. He was sitting upright leaning against a barrel.
"Is she with you? Do you have Rebecca?" He asked his heart hammering in his chest.
"Who?" The nuns looks at each other.
"Tall, red hair, the bluest eyes you've ever seen . . ." He found it difficult to breathe.
"Grace." She said suddenly looking to the other nun. "You know who Grace is?"
"Grace? No her name is Rebecca." He felt dizzy. "Where is she? Is she safe?"
"We found a woman, they were auctioning her off, but she was ill and fainted. No one would take her, so we did. But she doesn't remember her name or who she is. We call her Grace." She looked at the tall man. "I am Sister Beatrice and this is Sister Elias. We care for the unwanted of this town."
"Auctioning her off? Who? Where is she?" He began to rise.
"She is safe with us, but she might not be the woman you are looking for. Who are you looking for?" Sister Beatrice asked him.
"Rebecca, my . . . my . . . my wife. She's been missing for over a month. Everyone says she must be dead, but this could be her." He gasped out.
"Describe your wife. Before you get your hopes too high, tell us about her." Sister Elias asked.
"She's tall, comes to about here." He indicated the space between his elbow and his shoulder. She's beautiful. You've never seen anyone so pretty. Her hair is red - even her eyebrows are red. She's so beautiful, but I already said that. But she's not just beautiful to look at - inside too. She's so kind and so loving to everyone." He swallowed, blinking back tears and embarrassed to reveal so much of himself to strangers. He could tell they were hesitant to trust a him. It was clear that they cared about her well being. He thought hard about what he could say to prove that he truly knew her. "She's got a mark just above her left hip," He said blushing. "It's shaped like a smile."
Sister Elias turned to Sister Beatrice with eyebrows raised. Sister Beatrice, who had cared for Becky in those first few hours of her illness, opened her eyes wide in surprise and said, "Sir, I think we have your wife."