Even so, there was still joy in the children of the neighborhood, riding their bikes or chasing each other around in their yards as the sun set behind a cloudy sky. Dogs barked, joining in the fun.
Beau was driving fairly slowly through the neighborhoods, getting a lot of attention as the police car rolled down the streets. From King Drive they headed on to Kennedy Street, and from there on to Garden Lane. He was looking at everything as a trained observer, a law enforcement official, while everyone else in the car was simply looking at the area curiously. But Ruby, sitting in the back seat behind Lucy, was looking at it a bit more clinically.
“Thirty-four percent of children in Mississippi live in poverty,” Ruby said, watching a group of children play on an old slide in someone’s front yard. “This isn’t even the worst of it here, what you see. The children in the rural areas suffer the most.”
Lucy was watching the kids play. “They seem so happy. Maybe they don’t even know they’re living in poverty, you know? To them, maybe this is just life and they make the best of it.”
“I think we could all learn lessons from them.”
The car turned onto Sunflower Drive. It wasn’t a pretty street like the name suggested. It was dirty and run down, with older houses dotting the lots. A couple of the houses were particularly old, maybe even built before the Great Depression, looking sad and sagging. In fact, everything about the area was sad and sagging.
Suddenly, Beau came to a halt.
“Look at that street sign,” he said.
Everyone looked to where he was pointing. Rose Cove was plain to see, the white letters against the dark green. Just for the hell of it, Beau turned down Rose Cove Street. There were only three houses on it and it was a dead end with the river beyond the edge of the cul-de-sac. Beau came to a halt, unable to drive any further, and parked the car by a large empty lot. Since it was sunset, they could see fireflies rising out of the moist earth.
Lucy opened the door and walked out onto the grass as the dots of light began to float about in the dusk. Ruby opened her door and followed, leaving Beau and Bill and Mary in the car.
“Should I go get them?” Bill asked.
Beau removed his sunglasses; he didn’t need them any longer. His gaze was on Lucy as she grabbed at a few fireflies.
“No,” he said. “I can keep an eye on them from here.”
Several feet away on the grass, Lucy was catching the fireflies and letting them go. Ruby was standing next to her, looking at the green, muddy river in the distance.
“The Yalobusha has been that ugly color since I can remember,” Ruby said. “It turns into the Yazoo River down where I live. Ugly, ugly river.”
Lucy wandered off, chasing another firefly. “Where I come from in California, it’s bone-dry all of the time. Wet grass like this and rivers like this, don’t exist.”
Ruby took her attention from the river to watch Lucy grasp a handful of fireflies midair. But beyond Lucy, she noticed a very old house with a leaning front porch. It looked as if it had been there forever. She could also see an old man sitting there, nearly hidden by the dim light, a pipe lit up because she could see the flare of the tobacco now and again.
Curious, she made her way towards the house, walking past Lucy as she went. Lucy saw the woman brush by her.
“Where are you going?” Lucy asked.
“That man on the porch up there,” she said. “I’m going to ask him if he knows who the Ragsdales are. He looks old enough that he might just know something.”
Lucy followed, still with the fireflies in her hand. Ruby made her way through the grass, coming onto a dirt driveway as she headed towards the sagging porch. She didn’t see anyone else around as she lifted her hand to the old African American gentleman, sitting alone.
“Hello,” she said. “May I ask you a question, sir? I’m looking for a family that may have lived around here a long time ago. Have you lived here your whole life?”
The old man was puffing on his pipe. He was evidently hard of hearing because he stood up and shuffled his way to the end of the porch, leaning against the wobbly banister.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I’m looking for a family that may have lived around here,” Ruby repeated, loudly. She came closer. “Have you lived around here your whole life?”
“Yes, ma’am. My whole life.”
“Then maybe you know the family. The name was Ragsdale.”
At that point, Lucy came up behind Ruby, getting a good look at the elderly gentleman. Before he could reply to Ruby’s question, Lucy spoke.
“Wait a minute,” she said, peering at the elderly man curiously. “I think I’ve seen you before.”
The tall, rail-thin man came off of the stairs. He walked somewhat unsteadily, his pipe in his hand. He was looking more at Lucy than at Ruby.
“Yes, ma’am, you have. I saw you in town,” he said.
Lucy knew she recognized him but couldn’t quite place him. Familiar but not familiar. Suddenly, it occurred to her. “You’re the gentleman I saw outside of the funeral home the day we buried my grandmother. Now I remember – you were standing outside of the funeral home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lucy grinned, looking at Ruby. “Small world,” she told her. “He happened to be there just as the hearse was pulling out.”
“Not happened, ma’am,” he said.
Both Lucy and Ruby looked at him. “I’m sorry?” Lucy said, not understanding. “Not happened…?”
He took a step towards the woman. “I didn’t happen to be there, ma’am,” he said. “It’s where I needed to be.”
Lucy eyed him a moment because those words sounded very familiar to her. She remembered asking him, at the time, if he was lost and she seemed to remember those very words from him.
“That’s what you told me before,” she said. “You told me that you were just where you needed to be.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“At the funeral of Victory Bondurant?”
The man’s yellowed eyes lingered on her for a moment before turning to Ruby. “You’re looking for the Ragsdales, ma’am?”
He didn’t seem inclined to answer Lucy’s question, so Ruby replied to him. “I am. Do you know the family?”
“I am the family, ma’am.”
That drew a reaction from both Lucy and Ruby. “You are?” Lucy gasped. “Oh, my God… that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me that when we met?”
“Because it didn’t matter, ma’am. I’m nobody to you.”
“That’s not true,” Ruby insisted. “My name is Ruby Ransom, by the way. I don’t mean to be nosy, but are you related to a man named Lewis Ragsdale?”
The old man bobbed his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ruby was starting to show her excitement. “I’m so glad to hear that. You see, I’m trying to find out something about him. How are you related to him?”
The old man’s eyes glimmered, just a bit. “My name is Lewis.”
Lucy was unable to contain her shock. “You’re Lewis Ragsdale?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lucy and Ruby looked at each other, their astonishment wide open. A thousand silent words of surprise and curiosity flew between them, each one of them thinking essentially the same thing –
A son!
A nephew!
“The Lewis Ragsdale we’re looking for was born sometime in the early part of the last century,” Lucy said. “He would have been maybe eighteen years old around nineteen hundred and thirty-three. Maybe he was a little older; I really don’t know. Are you his son?”
The old man put his pipe in his mouth and gave it a puff. “I was born in nineteen hundred and fourteen,” he said. “I am Lewis Ragsdale.”
“No!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lucy’s hands flew to her mouth in shock. “Lewis… oh, my God… the Lewis Ragsdale?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Your brother was Aldridge?”
&
nbsp; That caused him to falter. “How do you know about my brother?”
There was suspicion there. Considering what had happened to Aldridge those years ago, Lucy didn’t blame him in the least. Not wanting him to run them off the property, the only thing she could think of at that moment was the locket around Ruby’s neck, the one Lewis had given Victory so long ago. It was hidden by Ruby’s blouse and Lucy had her pull it out and hold it up in the fading sunlight, hoping the old man could see what it was.
“Do you see this?” Lucy whispered, pointing to the locket. “You gave this locket to my grandmother. Her name was Victory Hembree. There are words inscribed on the back. Do you remember giving this to her?”
His old, yellowed eyes stared at it and, after a moment, a faint smile crept across his ancient lips. His suspicion faded. Reaching out, he fingered the locket, looking at it as if every lovely memory he’d ever had was filling his mind at that very moment. He turned it over and saw some kind of etching, but his eyesight was too poor to make it out. Still, he knew the words there.
He’d put them there, eighty-four years ago.
“In The Dreaming Hour,” he murmured. “Yes, ma’am, I remember putting those words there. You said Ms. Victory is your grandma?”
Lucy nodded, hardly believing that the man before her was the man that Mamaw had fallen in love with over eighty years ago. Lewis Ragsdale, in the flesh. Truthfully, she might not have believed it except for the fact that he’d known the words on the locket immediately. No hesitation at all. After a moment, she put her arm around Ruby’s shoulders.
“Yes, she was my grandmother,” she said, her voice so tight with emotion she could hardly speak. “And this is my Aunt Ruby – my grandmother gave birth to her in nineteen hundred and thirty-three. Ruby’s biological father was a man named Lewis Ragsdale – you.”
He stopped fingering the locket. Then, he looked at Ruby closely, maybe too closely because his eyesight was bad, but after a moment, he drew back and the yellow eyes were glistening with unshed tears. His mouth worked as if there was a great deal he wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to make the words come forth. All of that movement and no sound. Finally, he seemed to find his tongue.
“You have her eyes.”
It was a simple statement, but one of great truth. The moment was as powerful and poignant as it could possibly be.
“Yes, I think I do,” Ruby said, her eyes filling with tears. Then, she broke down. “I… I can’t believe it’s really you. We didn’t expect to find you. We’d only hoped to find people who knew of you or, hopefully, even family members. I can’t believe we really found you!”
Lewis sniffled, pulling an old handkerchief out of his pocked and wiping at his nose. “I’ve been here all the time,” he said. “I never left.”
The impact from those words was undeniable. I never left. So he’d been here all of this time? Lucy had so many questions she could hardly single out one. Living history was in front of her and she was overwhelmed. All she could think to say was the first thing that came to mind – answering his question about his brother.
“We know what happened to Aldridge,” she said. “We know that Laveau Hembree killed him, thinking he was the father of Victory’s baby. I also know that Mamaw loved you so much that she went to her grave loving you. She left a note when she died, telling the tale of Ruby’s birth and she mentioned you by name. And that poem you wrote her – In the Dreaming Hour – she kept that all of these years, too. We’ve all read it. It’s the most beautiful poem I’ve ever read.”
Lewis had his head down, overwhelmed with this shocking encounter just as Lucy and Ruby were.
“That was all a very long time ago, ma’am. A very long time.”
“Maybe so, but you never forgot about her,” Lucy said gently. “You came to the funeral to pay your respects to her. Why didn’t you just come in? You know she would have wanted you there. Lewis, do you have any idea what finding you means to our family? Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine we’d find you alive.”
Lewis was wiping at his eyes. “My ma’ama lived until she was a hundred and six and so did my pappy. People in my family live a very long time, but I’ve lived too long. As for going to Victory’s funeral… like I said, I was where I needed to be. I needed to see her off.”
Lucy could sense great sorrow in that statement. “I’m sure she knew you were there,” she said. “I’m glad you came. But what about your own children and grandchildren? You must have your own family around, right?”
He shook his head. “I never married.”
That statement was like a dagger through Lucy’s heart, a bittersweet realization that was painful to hear. “Why not?”
Lewis didn’t look at her. “I gave my heart once. It wasn’t mine to give again.”
It sounded like his poetry. That little statement proved to her almost more than the identification of the locket that this polite old man was, indeed, Lewis Ragsdale. His deep voice, his distinct way of speaking… she could imagine him reading poetry to Mamaw those years ago, mesmerizing her with that voice. The whole story of Victory and Lewis’ relationship came back to her in a rush and she could see it with blinding clarity – an isolated white girl and a gentle black man.
It was a love story for the ages.
But as Lucy stood there, something else occurred to her – she was intruding on an incredibly private moment between Ruby and the man who fathered her. Other than the fact that Victory was her grandmother, she really had no business being there.
Now, this moment was between Ruby and Lewis, two elderly people who, in the twilight of life, happened to find each other. It was the most unbelievable thing Lucy had ever witnessed much less heard of. Looking at the two of them, she knew she had to leave them alone together. The two people Victory loved most in the world.
The very people she’d risked her life for.
So Lucy stepped away, heading back to the police cruiser just as the mercury vapor streetlights started to come on. Night was falling, gentle and still. As she neared the cruiser, the door opened and Beau stepped out.
“Who is that man?” he asked. “Does Ruby know him?”
Lucy looked up at him, a man she’d known only a few days but a man, she decided, she was going to know very well for the rest of her life. Already, it seemed as if they’d lived a few lifetimes together, considering what all they’d been through. She came around the side of the car to where he was standing and looped her arm through his, her hand sliding easily into his palm. It was a sweet touch yet a powerful one. She squeezed his hand tightly.
“You could say that,” she said. “You’re not going to believe who that is.”
“Who?”
“Lewis Ragsdale.”
Beau’s eyes widened. “What?” he said, astonished. “Who is he? A son of Lewis’?”
Lucy shook her head. “No,” she said. “The Lewis Ragsdale. He was born in nineteen hundred and fourteen. That’s the man Mamaw went to her grave loving.”
Bill and Mary, still inside the car, had heard her. Bill threw open the rear passenger door, utter astonishment on his face as he stumbled out. “That’s him?” he asked. “Oh, God… are you serious?”
Lucy turned to look at Ruby and Lewis, illuminated only by the distant street lights. “That’s really him,” she said. “I can hardly believe it even as I say it, but it is.”
Bill leaned against the car, looking at the pair and not oblivious to the fact that they were holding hands. “Lewis was here all this time?” He shook his head in wonder. “He never reached out to her? Never tried to see her? I don’t understand… he’s been living two miles away from her the whole time?”
That fact baffled Lucy, too, but she figured maybe that was too personal a question to ask the old man. He had his reasons, she was sure, and given that his life had been threatened by his love for a white woman, maybe he just felt it was better to leave well enough alone. For both their sakes, it was a necessity.
“Maybe
we’re not meant to know that,” she said. “I’m sure he had his reasons. Maybe it’s all part of the old prejudices down here, the ones we keep hoping will fade away. He’s still entrenched in them; he and everyone else of that generation. Dad… do you remember at Mamaw’s funeral when Pop stood up next to her casket and said ‘I hope you find him’?”
Bill nodded at the memory. “I do.”
“I think I know what he meant.”
Bill suddenly looked to Ruby and Lewis in the distance. “I think I do, too.”
Lucy smiled at her father, and then at Beau, before returning her gaze to Ruby and Lewis as the pair began to head in their direction. Ruby had her arm looped in Lewis’, a gesture that was deeply poignant. Father and daughter, together the way it was always meant to be. Together, the way Victory would have wanted.
Lucy’s heart was so full at the moment that she could hardly describe it, but she knew it had to do with life coming full circle. Finally, everything had come full circle and hope was on the horizon again. Laying her cheek on Beau’s big bicep, all she could see was a bright future.
The Dreaming Hour had come for them all.
The End
About Kathryn Le Veque
Medieval Just Got Real.
KATHRYN LE VEQUE is a USA TODAY Bestselling author, an Amazon All-Star author, and a #1 bestselling, award-winning, multi-published author in Medieval Historical Romance and Historical Fiction. She has been featured in the NEW YORK TIMES and on USA TODAY’s HEA blog. In March 2015, Kathryn was the featured cover story for the March issue of InD’Tale Magazine, the premier Indie author magazine. She was also a quadruple nominee (a record!) for the prestigious RONE awards for 2015.
Kathryn’s Medieval Romance novels have been called ‘detailed’, ‘highly romantic’, and ‘character-rich’. She crafts great adventures of love, battles, passion, and romance in the High Middle Ages. More than that, she writes for both women AND men – an unusual crossover for a romance author – and Kathryn has many male readers who enjoy her stories because of the male perspective, the action, and the adventure.
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