Caroline pretended to be very interested in what he was saying. “Good,” she said. “And what about our vegetable garden? Can we have a couple of men to expand it so we can plant carrots and cabbage? I might even like a fruit tree or two planted.”
Laveau nodded, removing his hat and wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “I don’t see why not,” he said. Then, his gaze moved to Victory, who was still looking over at the gangs of men that had arrived. “Hey. Don’t you get no funny ideas, now.”
Victory looked at him, puzzled by his comment. “What do you mean?”
He grunted, waving her off as if it wasn’t worth the breath to repeat it. “Never you mind,” he said, taking a step onto the porch and, seeing coffee on a table next to his wife, picked up a cup and sipped at it. “You stay to the house, Victory. I don’t want you out and about with all of these men around. You hear me?”
Victory nodded, once again struck by the man’s cruel words. “I hear you,” she said. “I was just looking at how many of them there were. I haven’t seen that many people in one place in a long time.”
Laveau eyed his daughter. “And don’t go talking to them,” he said. “You’re the friendly type. Don’t talk to them at all.”
“I won’t.”
Laveau gulped down what was left of his wife’s coffee and went down off the porch, motioning to his henchmen as he went, that brigade of white men who always followed him around to do his bidding.
With her father off of the porch, Victory wandered back over to the pillar she had been standing by, now watching some of her father’s men separate the sharecroppers into groups. She could see that they were grouping the older men and then the younger, stronger men together, and then lining them all up. The front of the line was up near the plantation office while the end of it was closer to the house.
The end of the line that was closer to the house had younger colored men; she could see them in line, speaking with Laveau’s men who were keeping them in line like a string of prisoners. She was about to turn away from the sight when something caught her eye. Out of all of the men her father had brought home from the work camp, it seemed strange that one of them caught her eye but the more she looked at him, the more familiar he became. Like a vision from the past, she recognized one of those men as someone she had known very well, once.
It was Lewis.
Suddenly, the world rocked and Victory grasped the pillar to keep from falling. She could see Lewis near the very end of the line, standing long and tall and proud, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tattered overalls in a vain attempt to keep warm. He was poorly dressed against the weather and that was how she recognized him; he wasn’t bundled up like some of them. He looked just the way she remembered; tall and lithe yet muscular. And his handsomeness was without dispute. Yes, it was definitely Lewis.
Victory’s heart was pounding so forcefully that she could hear it in her ears. Oh, how she wanted to call out to him! She wanted to scream at him, to run to him and throw herself into his arms. The only man she had ever loved, the only man she ever would love, was standing a few dozen feet away. But she didn’t dare call out to him. She didn’t dare move. Yet she saw, very distinctly, when he turned in her direction.
Lewis wasn’t a sharecropper; he was a janitor. Yet something must have told him to come to Glory, knowing that it would be his one and only chance to see her. Risking both his life and her life, still he had come. Now, their eyes locked and, for a moment, Victory was floating, floating in sea of astonishment where time and space had no meaning. She couldn’t even breathe.
As she watched, a faint smile crept over Lewis’ lips. Very faintly, his head dipped. Victory smiled in return, knowing how horribly dangerous it was to do so but unable to help herself. That one smile, just for Lewis, was an acknowledgement that the love she had for him, the joy and respect, was still there. It had never left, nor would it ever.
It was that smile that suddenly gave her the will to live again.
“Victory?” Caroline was suddenly beside her, putting her hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Victory quickly looked away from Lewis, terrified her mother would see the expressions between them.
“I… I’m tired,” she said. “Will you help me inside, Mama? I don’t feel very well.”
Caroline put her arms around her daughter, bracing her up, and none the wiser to the fact that Victory was trying to get her off of the porch and into the house. She wanted her mother far away from Lewis just in case that simple southern woman could suddenly read minds.
“Shall I call Dr. Latling?” Caroline asked with concern as they made their way to the front door. “Maybe he needs to examine you.”
Victory shook her head, opening up the front door as her mother practically carried her through it.
“No, Mama,” she said. “I’ll be fine. Just let me go to my room and lie down. I just need to rest.”
It was a ploy, all of it. Caroline helped her daughter up to her room but when she offered to help her into bed, Victory insisted she was capable and chased her mother away. When the door to her bedroom shut and she was finally alone, she rushed to the front windows that overlooked the front of the yard. But her view also had the plantation office and the line of men that was still out on that lawn. Now, instead of the view bringing her horror, it brought her more peace than she could have ever imagined.
From the privacy of her bedroom, she watched Lewis until she could watch him no more, until he disappeared from her line of sight a short time later. But it didn’t matter, because that moment, that blissful gift from God where she was able see Lewis one last time, was her Dreaming Hour.
She would hold that moment in her heart for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Present
Sleeping in Mamaw’s bed hadn’t been the creepy experience Lucy thought it might have been.
In fact, it had been very comforting to sleep in the bed that Mamaw had last slept in. She could imagine Mamaw laying there, singing hymns in her soft voice or scolding Aunt Vivien because she put too much baking soda in the biscuits. She felt closer to Mamaw than she ever had, lying in the bed in the dark, remembering the woman with great fondness. When the sun started coming up, she was awakened by streams of light coming in between the blinds and the wall.
Hair askew, she climbed out of bed and headed into Mamaw’s ancient bathroom, which had a separate shower built in. There was an old showerhead and an even older bar of soap. Since all of her clothes were back at the hotel, Lucy had borrowed a pair of soft knit pants and a knee-length sweater from her mother until she could collect her clothing. She’d slept in her bra and panties.
After a shower with the old soap that smelled like pine, she put her mother’s clothing on and opened up Mamaw’s bathroom drawers until she came across a comb. Running it through her hair, she braided it and tied it off with a big rubber band she’d found in the drawers.
The house was quiet at this time of the morning. A glance at her phone showed it to be around seven-thirty. Her parents didn’t seem to be up yet so she went downstairs to start the coffee. The kitchen wasn’t loaded down with Presbyterian chicken anymore, most of it having either been eaten or thrown out, so she hunted around for something for breakfast. She had just found a half a loaf of white bread when she caught a glimpse of something out of the kitchen windows. The blinds were down but she could see something moving around outside. Raising one of the blinds, she saw Beau’s black police unit parked next to the house.
A smile spread across her lips as she went to the back door, opening it just as Beau came up on the porch. He was dressed in street clothes today, in jeans and a collared shirt, and Lucy was pretty sure she’d never seen such a hot guy. Buying Glory and moving to Mississippi to restore it was looking better and better all the time.
“Good morning,” he said, grinning. “You’re up early.”
Lucy unlatched the screen and pushed it open for him. �
��It’s a good thing I am,” she said. “You would have woken the entire house up if you’d knocked on the door. My parents are still in bed.”
He came into the dark, cool house. “How’s the bump on your head?”
She put her fingers to the bump, which had gone down considerably. “It’s fine. I’ll live.”
“No nausea or anything?”
“No.”
“That’s good. How’s your dad doing after everything that happened yesterday?”
Her smile faded with the shift in subject. “I don’t really know,” she said. “He didn’t seem all that great last night when they went to bed. All he kept saying was that he turned away the baby that Mamaw had been searching for. He blames himself that Mamaw and Ruby never got to meet while Mamaw was still alive.”
Beau shook his head sadly. “I can’t even imagine his guilt,” he said. “But that’s actually why I’ve come. I got a call from Stephen Latling about a half hour ago.”
Lucy was interested. “Oh?” she said. “What did he have to say?”
Beau sighed faintly. “It seems that Ruby is holding a grudge from that first meeting with your dad,” he said. “She told Cora that she had no desire to see any of you, so she’s not coming to dinner tonight.”
Lucy’s heart sank. “Shit,” she cursed softly. “My dad said he was pretty rude to her the day he chased her away so I guess I don’t blame her. Did you tell Stephen that part of the story?”
Beau nodded. “I did,” he said. “He thought it would be best if your dad and Ruby hashed it out between them rather than go through intermediaries, so he’s given me Ruby’s address in Cleveland. Do you think your dad would be up to a trip over to her house?”
Lucy contemplated that action and quickly came to a conclusion. “No,” she said. “He’s really dealing with some heavy shit right now and getting verbally beaten up by a half-sister with a grudge isn’t something I think he could take.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“But I’m up to it.”
He looked at her, a faint twinkle in his blue eyes. “Somehow, I had a feeling you were going to say that.”
Lucy motioned him to follow her back into the kitchen. “I think I need to be the one to see if I can straighten this out,” she said. “My dad made a genuine mistake sending her away those years ago so maybe I can help her understand that. I’ve got to try, anyway. Can you take me over to the hotel so I can change? I hate to ask you, but my car is still over there.”
“Why do you think I came by so early?”
She chuckled. “Do you double as an Uber drive in that unit?”
He snorted. “Only on the special occasions,” he said, “and this is definitely that.”
Lucy pointed to the coffee pot, percolating away. “I just put the coffee on if you want some,” she said. “I’ll just be a minute. I need to grab my purse.”
He waved her off and she dashed out of the kitchen, scooting up the big back staircase and making her way swiftly and silently to Mamaw’s front bedroom. She still didn’t hear anything stirring in her parents’ bedroom so she quickly ducked into Mamaw’s bedroom and collected her possessions – her clothing from the day before, her scuffed Jimmy Choos, her briefcase, and her purse.
She was just about to skip out when she realized she’d left something very important behind. Dropping her stuff back on the bed, she went over to the old chifforobe and opened the top drawer, pulling out the old wooden box that contained the locket. She even looked inside to make sure it was there. Dropping it into her purse, she picked up all of her things and was nearing the door when a vision struck her.
On the table next to Mamaw’s bed were a few family photos, but one in particular was a picture of Mamaw when she had been young. It was one of those posed studio shots, probably some kind of graduation photo, but it was of a young Mamaw when her skin was like cream and her auburn hair stylishly curled. Something told her to take it, so Lucy grabbed that picture and quietly made her way back downstairs.
Beau was leaning against the counter, sipping at a mug of very hot coffee when she came back in. The moment he saw her, however, he set the coffee down.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded. “Ready.”
Without another word, they headed out to his car and took off towards the hotel on the other side of town.
* * *
Hi. I’m Lucy Bondurant. My dad is the one who threw you off the property at Glory.
Hi. My name is Lucy Bondurant. My grandmother is your birth mother. Wait, Ruby – don’t you want to hear this before you bodily throw me off of your porch?
All of those crazy thoughts were rolling through Lucy’s head, ways to introduce herself to a woman who had made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with her biological family. Lucy sighed heavily.
“How do I even start this conversation?” she asked Beau. “The second Ruby sees me, she’s probably going to figure out who I am. How can I get all of this out before she sets her dog on me?”
They were about ten minutes out of Cleveland, Mississippi. Beau had put the address of Ruby Ransom in his car’s navigation and the car was talking to them every so often as they drew closer.
After returning to the hotel and quickly changing clothes and styling her hair so she didn’t look like a crazy bag lady, Beau and Lucy had taken off for the Ransom house. It was early in the morning, early enough that they were hoping to catch Ruby at home before she started her day.
But Lucy was nervous. As she put on lipstick and mascara in the car, she was wracking her brain for the right thing to say to Ruby when she first saw her. She knew the woman didn’t want to see her or her family, but this was something she had to do. This was what she’d been searching for, the moment she’d prayed would happen before she had to head back home to Los Angeles. It was odd; it had only been a matter of days but it felt as if she’d been looking for Ruby her entire life. This was such a pivotal time in her life. She was distressed that Ruby wouldn’t feel the same way.
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Beau said in answer to her question. “If you’d like me to talk to her first, I’ll do that. I’ll flash my badge and maybe that’ll help.”
Lucy looked at him. “Help what?” she asked. “You’ll throw her in jail if she doesn’t talk to me?”
“If you want me to.”
Lucy giggled, turning back to the compact she had in her hand and putting the last of her lipstick on. “I don’t think that would be good for your public relations,” she said. “But if you’re willing, I’m happy to stand behind you while you talk to her first. Maybe she won’t knee-jerk react to my presence if you’ve had a chance to soften her. Thank you for offering.”
He glanced at his in-car navigation to see that they were about to make a turn. “You’re welcome,” he said. “I’ve been trained in negotiation. That’s what this is – a negotiation.”
Lucy put the lipstick away and the compact back in her purse. “It is,” she agreed. “I only hope I can say what I need to say before she throws something at me.”
“She’s not going to throw anything at you.”
Lucy looked at him, hearing another one of those chivalrous declarations. This boy from the south was full of them, a southern gentleman like they didn’t make them anymore. She smiled faintly.
“Thank you for taking your time to drive me over here,” she said. “It just wouldn’t have seemed right reaching out to Ruby without you.”
He made a left turn, following the directions on the navigation. “I was off today. It wasn’t any trouble.”
“Where are your kids?”
“They spent the night at my parents’ house. They’re probably eating pancakes right now.”
Lucy’s gaze lingered on him a moment before facing forward, watching the residential streets come into view. “I wish I was,” she muttered. “Will your mom make some for me, too, when this is all over?”
He grinned, lopsided. “She’d cook for y
ou until you burst.”
“Will she make them with a shot of bourbon? Because that’s what I’m going to need when this is over.”
“She’ll make them with Xanax if you want her to.”
Lucy laughed as she put her purse aside. “My kind of woman,” she said, looking at the street signs. “What street are we looking for?”
“College,” he said. “Then to Tenth Street. She’s on Tenth.”
College Street came, a residential street for the most part, and then a short while later, he made the turn onto Tenth. Now they were in a typical middle class neighborhood. Lucy found herself sitting further and further back in the seat, her stomach in knots as they found the house number and Beau pulled over to the curb.
The home was a neat brick house with a pretty glass door. The yard was nicely kept and there was a stone bench seat near some camellia bushes. Beau turned off the car and looked at her.
“Well,” he said. “I’m going in.”
Lucy could only nod, not up to the usual repartee that they seemed to have. She was vastly nervous, her palms sweating and her stomach twisting. She sat in the car, even going so far as to push the sat back so she couldn’t be seen through the passenger window. She could, however, see from the back seat window, watching as Beau made his way up to the porch and rang the bell.
Lucy held her breath. After several seconds, no one answered the door so he rang it again and waited. He had to do it twice more and still no answer. He took to knocking on the glass door, but he received no answer.
Lucy’s heart sank. As nervous as she was, she didn’t want this to be a wasted trip. She very much wanted to see Ruby Ransom, to at least get a look at the woman. She knew the woman’s entire life story, and the story of her conception, so in a sense, she was an almost surreal character. A woman who had been the result of an illicit love affair, a woman who very nearly didn’t live to grow up. Lucy had been building her up so much in her mind that she realized she was very disappointed when no one answered the door.
In the Dreaming Hour Page 23