“In town,” Lucy said. Well, that one wasn’t quite a lie. “I just wanted to know if you knew of him.”
Bill shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t know him but I think that his daddy was all part of the Hembree – Meade corruption back in the day. It seems to me that he and my granddaddy were friends.”
Lucy lifted her eyebrows. “Well, whatever they were, Stephen Latling has a lot of hatred for our family,” she said. “He got all worked up when he found out who I was.”
Bill shrugged it off. “That’s too bad,” he said. “But we’re going to run into people like that around here. The older generation, especially.”
“Did you run into it a lot as a kid? That kind of prejudice, I mean.”
Bill shook his head. “No,” he said. “Remember that Laveau was still alive until I was about ten years of age. Nobody in their right mind would speak against him, not even when he was a very old man. After that, I think people just wanted to forget about him, so nobody ever really said much to me about him. There were a few, of course, but not many.” He looked at Beau. “Has Tommie talked about running into people who hate your family?”
Beau lifted his big shoulders. “There are always going to be those who remember the old prejudices,” he said. “It’s difficult to change a culture sometimes and that’s what we’re dealing with down here – a culture that will stay rooted in old hatreds and fears for as long as we’ll let it. In fact, I was just saying that to my father the other day – if we keep bringing up the past, people will never get over it. I….”
He was cut off when his radio crackled, a call that was evidently directed at him. He excused himself to go outside and talk to dispatch, leaving Lucy and her parents inside the kitchen. Once he was gone, Mary piped up.
“What’s going on with him, Lucy?” she asked. “Why is he driving you around? Where’s your car?”
Lucy could see her mother was nearly bursting to pump her for information on the sheriff. The woman held it together as much as she could, waiting for the right moment to jump down her daughter’s throat. Lucy grinned.
“He came to the call at the hotel after Clyde bushwhacked me,” she said. “Clyde took the only ambulance and I wasn’t about to ride with him, so the sheriff took me to the hospital in his car. Then I had the appointment with Mo right afterwards so he just took me over there. Now we’re here. Very simple.”
Mary gave her daughter a long look. “He’s a handsome, successful man.”
“So?”
“He’s just your type.”
“Mary, lay off,” Bill said quietly. “It’s her life. Leave her alone.”
Mary sighed heavily, unhappy that her husband had intervened. She knew how miserable Lucy had been since Kevin had left and if her daughter was finding attraction in Tommie Meade’s son, then she wanted to know. As she turned away, flustered, Lucy turned to her father, sorry her mother was upset but grateful for her father’s intervention.
“Seriously, Dad,” she said, changing the subject away from Beau Meade. “Something has to be done about Clyde. What I didn’t tell you was that when he first grabbed me, he was trying to drag me off into some trees. The man fits all of the signs of being a predator and it’s only a matter of time before he really hurts somebody, so I don’t care what his mother says or what anyone in the family says – I’m pressing all of the charges I can against him so that he gets the message. He can’t get away with shit like this.”
Bill was nodding firmly to what she was saying. “I’m behind you one hundred percent,” he said. “I still can’t believe he did that, though. I always thought he was a pest, but to attack you in broad daylight? The man is an idiot.”
Lucy was in full agreement. She started to reply but Beau suddenly came in through the back door, his focus right on her. He had a rather strange look in his eyes, something that Lucy found unnerving. He seemed… edgy.
“What’s up?” she asked him.
He crooked a finger at her. “Can I see you a minute?”
Concerned, Lucy followed him outside. Beau waited until they were over by his car, far enough away from the house and parental eavesdroppers, before speaking.
“That was dispatch,” he said quietly. “Apparently, Stephen Latling has called the station a couple of times looking for me. He finally spoke to my secretary and told her to tell me to get over to his house as soon as I can.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “Do you think he’s found something about the baby? Maybe he went looking after we left and….”
Beau held up a hand, cutting her off before she could continue. “My thoughts exactly,” he said. “Go tell your parents that I have to take you to the station to make a statement about Clyde. I’ll wait for you in the car.”
Lucy bolted off, rushing into the old kitchen to tell her parents exactly what Beau had told her to. When Bill wanted to come, she waved the man off and gave him a few excuses as to why he couldn’t come that probably made it look like she was rambling. If her parents didn’t think something was up with her and the sheriff before, they probably did now. But she couldn’t worry about that; collecting her purse and the briefcase, Lucy dashed out to the waiting police cruiser.
Beau hadn’t meant to burn rubber on the gravel, but that’s exactly what he did, spraying the side of Glory with a rooster tail of rocks and dirt.
The sense of urgency was palpable.
The second time around at Stephen Latling’s house, he was slightly more friendly. Not entirely, but a little. At least he hadn’t come charging out at them. He actually opened the door politely and invited them into his home.
Inside, it smelled like dust. The furnishings had probably only been freshened or moderately updated since the house was built because everything in it was exquisitely vintage. Antiques were everywhere. The carpet was thick wool, a very specific burgundy color with cream-colored roses strewn through it, a typically Victorian pattern.
In all, it looked like a time capsule and Lucy tried not to appear too interested in her surroundings, even though she was. But she kept her gaze on Latling, who seemed to be somewhat subdued.
It was strange, really, from a man who had been so all-fired up with hatred only hours earlier to the quiet man standing before them at that minute. Things were a bit awkward. In fact, so much so that Beau finally said something because Latling couldn’t seem to say anything at all.
“Thank you for inviting us back,” he said. “Your message said it was urgent.”
Latling nodded his head, eyeing both Beau and Lucy. “It may be, to you,” he said. “My wife told me to call you.”
He trailed off. Beau and Lucy were expecting a little more out of him but he just stood there, looking very uncomfortable. Lucy cast Beau a curious glance before speaking.
“Your gardens are really lovely,” she said. “I was noticing them earlier. And your house is positively exquisite. We have very few grand old dames like this out in California so it’s really a privilege to see inside one of these. Thank you for inviting us over.”
Latling looked up at the ceiling, around the walls, as if just noticing what she was talking about. “My great-granddaddy built the house,” he said. “Septimus Stephen Latling the First. My daddy was the third Septimus Stephen and I’m the fourth. The first S.S. Latling built this house with his wife, Nannie. It was Nannie who designed it and had all of the gingerbread outside commissioned.”
“It’s stunning,” Lucy said sincerely. Latling simply nodded without elaborating and Lucy was at a loss as to why he’d called them back. It certainly seemed strange. “You wanted to talk to us about something, Mr. Latling?”
Latling scratched his head. “It’s Dr. Latling,” he said, “and my wife wants to talk to you.”
No sooner did he mention the woman than they heard her voice, back over beyond the dining room. She was calling the man by name and he looked over his shoulder, calling back to her.
“They’re here,” he told her. “
Where do you want me to take them?”
“In here!”
Latling motioned them to follow. Passing curious and even wary glances between them, Beau and Lucy followed the man through the dining room, through a butler’s pantry, and into a kitchen that was in need of being updated.
It was a big kitchen with black and white flooring and fifty-year-old fixtures. On the far end they could see what looked like a breakfast nook. Mrs. Latling was sitting there along with the old housekeeper. Mrs. Latling stood up when she saw them, waving them all over.
“Hello,” she said, extending her hand to Lucy. “I’m Priscilla Latling.”
Lucy took the woman’s hand. “Hello,” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you. I was just telling your husband how beautiful this house is. What an amazing piece of history you live in.”
Priscilla nodded. An attractive woman with short blonde hair, she didn’t seem nearly as awkward as her husband did. “It really is,” she said. “I grew up around here and I remember walking to school every day past this house. Little did I know I’d end up marrying a Latling.”
Lucy smiled. “Lucky for you.”
Priscilla grinned in return. “Definitely,” she said. Then, she quickly sobered and indicated the housekeeper, sitting at the table. “This is Cora Ransom. She’s been with the family longer than my husband has been alive. Her mother was a housekeeper here, too, for many years with the first Dr. Latling’s family. Cora tells me that she spoke to you two.”
Upon closer inspection, it looked as if the old woman had been crying and Lucy was instantly alarmed. The old woman had seemed terrified earlier, trying to contact them without the Latlings seeing her, so she wondered if they’d gotten the woman in some kind of trouble. She really hoped not.
“It was very brief,” Lucy said, trying to ease whatever anger the Latlings might have about it. “In fact, I didn’t even know her name.”
Priscilla’s gaze lingered on the housekeeper. “I know,” she said. “She told me everything. I called you two back here because Cora has something she wants to tell you. You came to the house earlier for a reason and we all heard it. Cora has some information that may be helpful. Go ahead, Cora. Tell them what you told me. It’s okay.”
The old housekeeper fidgeted with the tissue in her hands, looking between Lucy and Beau. She seemed hesitant until Priscilla put her hand on her bony shoulder in a comforting gesture.
“You come askin’ about a baby,” Cora finally said.
Lucy’s heart began to race again, just as it did the first time Cora had spoken of the child. “Yes,” she said, trying not to sound too anxious. “You said you knew about a baby born that year, a baby that Dr. Latling had brought home from Glory, but you didn’t tell me anymore than that.”
Cora sniffled; it was clear that she was upset, emotional over memories of the past. She wiped at her eyes before speaking.
“If that’s the baby you want to know about, Ms. Latling gave it to my mama and told her to take it home,” she said. “My mama brought it back to our house but she was a-feared to keep it, bein’ that Laveau Hembree wanted the baby dead, so my mama gave it over to her sister to raise.”
Lucy could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her knees went weak and she found herself sinking into the chair next to the old woman. “The baby was biracial,” she breathed. “Her mother was white, her father black. Are we talking about the same baby?”
“Yes’m. A little girl.”
Lucy’s heart leapt right up into her throat. “Then the baby lived?” she breathed. “Laveau never got his hands on her?”
The old woman shook her head. “No, ma’am,” she said. “That baby was raised by my Aunt Florence. That’s what I wanted to tell you, ma’am.”
That was what Lucy had been hoping to hear, those sweet words that meant everything to her. A confirmation that had been eighty-three years in the making. A hand flew to her mouth but not before a gasp escaped, something like glee, excitement, joy all rolled into one. She tried to speak but she got all choked up, emotion rendering her unable to say a word.
Beau, standing behind her, could see how emotional she was. He, too, was shocked to hear what the old housekeeper had to say but he had more composure than Lucy did.
He crouched down beside Lucy, bringing himself down to Cora’s level. He was much less intimidating that way and now that the old woman was talking, he wanted to know everything. He’d been with Lucy since the beginning of this hunt two days ago and whether or not he liked it, he was nearly as emotionally entrenched in it as she was.
He had to know, too.
“So the baby lived,” he said, a sense of satisfaction in his voice. “Did she grow up to adulthood?”
The old housekeeper nodded. “She did, sir,” she said. “My aunt raised her with her own children. There were seven of them and she was somewhere in the middle.”
“And no one ever asked where she came from?”
The old woman shrugged. “They knew she done come from Dr. Latling,” she said, “but my aunt loved her like she was her very own. I think she was her favorite.”
Beau smiled faintly. “What became of her?”
“Became of her, sir?”
He nodded. “Did she have children of her own?” he asked. “Are they still alive?”
The old housekeeper cocked her head as if puzzled by the question. “She never had no children,” she said. “And Miss Ruby Ransom is still alive.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
~ The Bonds of Family ~
Caroline had the vapors again. Or, at least, that’s what she called them, a term she got from her mama, something that meant she felt faint and weak. Dr. Latling just called it nerves.
Caroline was a nervous woman in the best of times but since the circumstances involving her daughter, she’d become more nervous than usual over the past several months. It wasn’t her fault entirely, the way Laveau treated her. Even the strongest woman would have broken under that kind of strain, as was evidenced by Victory herself. The strong, vivacious daughter of Laveau and Caroline was a pale wraith these days. It was truly sad to see.
As a misty evening enveloped the land, Dr. Latling had come to Glory to see to Caroline. Her maid said she’d had a fainting spell for no reason at all but then let it slip that Mr. Laveau had yelled at her prior to her spell, so Dr. Latling was coming to think that the woman was just overwrought. Once he examined her, he was sure there was nothing physically wrong with her. Ms. Caroline’s problem was all in her mind.
So he prescribed Dr. Greene’s Brain and Nerve tonic, something he often prescribed for women who were convinced they had something wrong with them. He used a big word to diagnose their troubles – neurasthenia – and wrote out the prescription for the tonic, which was really nothing more than alcohol and bitters. He knew that, as did most physicians, but when the situation called for a hypochondriac to have a diagnosis, that’s what he usually prescribed. Often times, it was enough to do the trick.
So he assured Caroline she’d be fine if she took her tonic twice a day and rested, and she was very grateful for his visit. He checked on Victory while he was there, finding the young woman sitting in her bedroom where she spent so much time, reading a book on poetry. In fact, Dr. Latling had noticed she had a lot of poetry books. For a vital young woman who spent so much time alone, those books were her door to the world outside.
He had stopped by to see Victory about once a week since the child had been born, just to check up on her health and make sure she was recovering. Her smile would light up when she saw him and he could tell, every time he came to see her, that she wanted to press him about the baby. He knew she had so many things on her mind but, to her credit, she never asked. She must have remembered his request for her to never ask about it in case someone overheard, so she stayed true to his request. She never questioned him. But he knew it must have killed her not to.
After visiting with Victory for a few minutes and telling her she needed to eat more r
ed meat to build up her blood, he closed up his medical bag and headed downstairs with Lillian right behind him. She was his escort through the house since he’d come to see the woman. Just as he was heading to the front door of Glory, he heard Laveau call to him from the front parlor.
“Latling,” he said. “Come on over here.”
Dr. Latling turned to see Laveau sitting in the parlor surrounded by his usual henchmen, including Terhune. Meade was there and so was Lane Haltom, who had become a henchman as of late.
Ever since Laveau arranged the death of the man’s wife and son, Haltom had been more than willing to do Laveau’s bidding in order to protect his other three children. It was probably the same reason that Terhune stuck with him, or at least that’s what Dr. Latling suspected. Terhune had four children and wanted to see them grow up. As Dr. Latling entered the parlor, Laveau gestured to him.
“Have a drink, Doc,” he said. “I’ve got the finest bourbon north of New Orleans.”
Dr. Latling shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said. “I got to be getting home. Besides, Mrs. Latling doesn’t tolerate drinking.”
Laveau grunted. “A member of the Temperance League, eh?”
“Definitely.”
Laveau stood up. “Women,” he grunted unhappily. “They don’t let us have no fun at ’tall. Speaking of women, how’s my wife?”
Dr. Latling nodded. “She’s going to be fine,” he said. “She’d be better if things weren’t so stressful around here. She needs rest.”
Laveau came towards him, his brow furrowed. “Things ain’t stressful around here,” he insisted. “She doesn’t have a lot of work to do. Why does she need rest?”
Dr. Latling almost spit it out – because you smother everything you touch, you nasty bastard! But he kept his mouth shut, instead, trying to tactfully couch his meaning.
“She’s a tired woman,” he said. “Some women just aren’t strong, Laveau. They need to be treated a little more gently than others. That’s all there is to it.”
In the Dreaming Hour Page 19