Charon's Crossing

"Time," Kathryn said wryly, "and neglect."

The other woman nodded. "Neglect is the worst enemy. It gives the natural world the chance to reclaim what was taken from it. It's a special shame in this case, considerin' that Charon's Crossin' has been in the same family..." She smiled. "Your family, Kathryn, for almost two hundred years."

Kathryn looked at Olive with interest. "Is it really that old?"

"Oh my, yes."

"And why was it named Charon's Crossing? Do you know?"

&

nbsp; Olive's smile tilted. "I'm afraid I don't."

"Are you sure? I have this feeling I should know what the name means, but I just can't place it."

"Certainly, I'm sure."

Certainly, she wasn't. Kathryn knew she was getting the brush-off, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

"Now," Olive said briskly, "where was I? Oh yes. I was tellin' you the history of your house. Well, it was built in 1799 by Lord Arthur Russell." Olive smiled. "Your great-granddaddy, I suppose, several times removed."

"Why? I mean, what brought him all the way from England? Do you know?"

"George the Third sent him, to govern the island. And to make money growin' sugar and turnin' it into molasses and rum."

"You mean, Charon's Crossing was a distillery?"

Olive's laughter was soft and melodious. "It was a plantation, with its land planted in sugar cane." She walked to the other side of the terrace and pointed out over the deep green landscape. "You see there? Where those flamboyants are bloomin'? Well, back behind them, all grown over now, you can still find what's left of the kitchen and the bathrooms."

"But the house has a kitchen. And several bathrooms."

"Added on, all of them. The rest of the outbuildin's, what's left, anyway, are further back. The sugar mill, the stillhouse, the boilin' sheds, the slave quarters—"

"Slave quarters?"

"Sure. There was slavery everywhere in these islands."

Kathryn grimaced. "I'd forgotten that." She looked at Olive. "Was the island really important to the English?"

"Very, until they lost the War of 1812." A mischievous grin lit her face. "Well, they didn't really lose it but they surely stopped thinkin' of themselves as the sovereigns of the seas, and all thanks to you Americans."

Kathryn laughed. "I know that much, at least. Tell me more about this man who built Charon's Crossing."

"There's not much more to tell. Lord Russell was typical of his time, I suppose. Pompous, dictatorial..." Olive frowned. "You know," she said slowly, "I'd forgotten, but he had a daughter. Her name was Catherine, too. With a C instead of a K. Could it be you were named for her?"

"I guess. My name—spelled all different ways—has always been a family favorite."

Olive hesitated. "Do people refer to you as Kat, then?"

Kathryn felt a sudden tightness in her throat.

"No," she said, after a moment, "no, they don't. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I think that was what she was called, this Catherine. Cat, you know?"

"Are you sure? How can you know that?"

"Oh," Olive said with a wave of her hand, "it is how she is spoken of in all the..."