Forever, For Love

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  The weeping woman refused to be quieted. “Think of the talk, Horace. Why, everyone in Galveston will be whispering about us behind our backs.”

  “Is that all you care about—what people say?” Jacob asked in a cold voice. “I should think you’d be more concerned about Angelica’s well-being.”

  Tabitha took a deep whiff of her smelling salts before she answered Jacob in a shrill, offended voice. “Of course I’m concerned about her. I’m her mother. No one could care more for her. But to send her so far away…”

  “Mother’s right, I think,” Horace agreed. “Our little girl shouldn’t be all alone now. Surely, the hospital here is adequate. No one will be the wiser that way. There’ll be no gossip about her ailment. She’ll be better off here, Jacob.”

  Horace Shewood rose and lit a cigar, signalling an end to the discussion.

  Jacob sighed and looked at Ward. Both men had hoped they wouldn’t have to resort to this, but there seemed no other way. The Sherwoods were being even more unreasonable than they had anticipated.

  “Horace,” Ward began, “I think you and I need to have a few words privately.”

  The older man turned a scowl on Ward. “Anything that’s to be discussed concerning my daughter will be said in my wife’s presence.”

  “Very well.” Ward drew in a deep breath, dreading what he had to say. “There’s still the matter of Angelica’s crime, sir.”

  “Crime! What crime?” Tabitha was truly hysterical now. “You can’t possibly suspect her of starting that fire on purpose. Why, she might have been killed!”

  “And so might my daughter,” Pandora reminded her aunt gently. “Arson is not the charge, Aunt Tabitha.”

  “What then?” Horace demanded.

  “Angelica took our daughter, sir,” Ward replied, avoiding the use of the ugly word kidnapping.

  “Since when is it a crime for a relative to take a child for a stroll?” Tabitha demanded, trembling with outrage. “You should be grateful to my daughter for helping with the care of your children, Pandora, instead of accusing her this way.”

  Pandora bit her lower lip to stay her tongue. These two people had been like her own parents for most of her life. She did not want to cause them pain. But she would not have her own children threatened.

  Ward, sensing her discomfort, quickly came to Pandora’s rescue. “We know for a fact, Mrs. Sherwood, that Angelica planned to take our daughter away from Galveston, perhaps even out of the state. Jacob found train tickets to Houston hidden inside her bodice. Where she meant to take Meraiah from there, we have no idea. But had she not been caught in that fire, she would have left with our baby.”

  Tabitha Sherwood squirmed uneasily on the settee. “Wel-l-l,” she whined defensively, “everyone knows that Angelica can’t be blamed because of her problem.”

  “Exactly my point!” Jacob said. “Angelica does have a very serious problem. One we can’t handle here. She needs the best professional care, care that she can get only in the proper institution. I’m doing this for her good, Mother Sherwood. For the good of everyone concerned, believe me.”

  “This is blackmail!” Horace blustered. “You dare come into my home and threaten to prosecute my daughter unless we agree to have her committed?”

  “I don’t need your agreement or even your approval, sir,” Jacob reminded his father-in-law. “I am her husband. But I did hope that you would both understand that this is the only way. There’s no telling what Angelica might do next. Why, in her present state of depression, she might even try to harm herself.”

  The evening ended badly. But then, no one had expected it to be a family picnic. Pandora, Ward, and Jacob left Tabitha Sherwood in hysterics with her husband hovering over her, unable to help.

  On that very night, Tabitha took to her bed with a migraine, never to rise from her feather mattress again. A month after Jacob turned Angelica over to the Ursalines in New Orleans, Mrs. Sherwood died of an acute attack of apoplexy. Before his daughter returned home, Horace would join his wife in the family plot after suffering a severe stroke.

  Far away, across the Gulf, Angelica whiled away her days and nights in a white cell with the lyrical sounds of the French Market wafting in through her barred window. The “good gray sisters,” as the Ursalines were called, were kind and gentle with their lovely, silver-haired, silent patient. But there seemed nothing they could do to draw the sad young woman out of herself. Sometimes in the night, they heard her scream out in terror or pain. Even those garbled, meaningless sounds gave them hope.

  The beautiful Gabriel twins, with their thick chestnut curls and bright turquoise eyes, grew and prospered over the next months. On their first birthday, in April of 1899, their father bought them matched snow-white ponies. Pandora—her mother’s instincts inflamed—protested to her husband.

  “They’re only babies, Ward. They can’t ride ponies yet.”

  He laughed at his wife’s fears and stole a kiss before he answered her. “And how old were you before you had a pony of your own, my love?”

  Pandora blushed. She should never have told him. “My father gave me one at birth.”

  “Ah, and our poor, deprived little girls have had to go a whole year without ponies of their very own. A disgrace!”

  “Very well,” Pandora conceded. “But I hope you don’t expect them to learn to ride yet. I didn’t mount that pony until I was four.”

  “Come look, my darling.” He took Pandora’s hand and led her to the side garden where a shiny red cart upholstered in green leather stood in the shade of a tall palm. “We’ll hitch those ponies to this fine carriage, and when their mother goes out for her morning drive, the girls can follow along with Cassie in proper equipage. The Gabriel ladies will be the talk of all Galveston.”

  Life was good at Pandora’s castle. She had never been happier, more content, or better loved. Ward saw to all that. At least once a month, never telling her in advance, Ward would hurry home from his office early and hustle his blushing wife off through the streets of Galveston to the beach cottage for a night of unimaginable delights.

  On one such evening in the late fall of 1899, as they lay naked in each other’s arms before the driftwood fire, Pandora kissed Ward deeply, then said, “You know, darling, all Galveston is whispering about us. About how we run off to our own private love nest whenever we please.”

  Ward leaned up on one elbow and stared down into his wife’s eyes—dancing and bright with the pleasure of having been well and thoroughly loved. “They’re doing more than talking about us, my sweet. They’re copying us. Three of my friends—Lowe, Swaggart, and Henning—have recently purchased small places here on the beach. They all claim that their love lives have never been better.”

  Pandora frowned. “How odd. I haven’t heard any such things from their wives.”

  Ward roared, throwing his head back and laughing until he fell on his back. “I never said they bought the cottages for their wives, darling!”

  “Oh, you.” She gave him a shove. “That’s a terrible thing to tell me. You’ll have me acting guilty now whenever I see those women. I’d better not find out that you’ve bought a second beach house!”

  Suddenly, Ward’s face turned serious. He leaned down over Pandora, forcing her shoulders to the soft, fur rug beneath them. “Why on earth would I ever need a mistress when I’m married to the most wanton and seductive woman in the world? I could spend the rest of my life making love to you every day—twice, three times a day. You’re all I want, Pandora.” His hands slipped down her body, caressing her skillfully, arousing her anew. “All I’ll ever need!”

  Meraiah and Miriam had just passed their second birthday when Pandora’s calm waters began to stir with the threat of a storm. Ward was in Mexico, his annual tour of the silver mine. She felt desperately alone without him. Once again, although she hadn’t dared mention it to Ward, she was having dreams and visions of Jean Laffite. Isabel also came to her in the most disturb
ing nightmares. Having seen the horrible visions of the Spanish woman and the Indians on the night of the fire, Pandora now feared some evil from the past more than ever before.

  Nettie turned up on her doorstep one day in May of 1900. The woman looked weary and ill.

  “Nettie, what’s wrong?” Pandora asked.

  The old woman shook her head and a tear dribbled down her cheek. “It’s that Dan’l. I tell you, that damn old man’s got no feelings for anyone ’sides hisself.”

  “What’s he done now, Nettie?”

  “Nothing yet, but he swears he’s fixing to up and die on me. Won’t eat, won’t sleep, won’t even talk to me no more. T’other day, he just took it into his head that his time had come. You got to talk to him, Miss Pan. Tell him what’s what. He’d always listen to his mistress, good and proper like. You’re the only one that can help.”

  Totally confused, but wanting to do what she could, Pandora hurried to the shack near the ruins of Maison Rouge with Nettie. They found Daniel lying on his cot, staring into space. Suddenly, looking down into the wizened old black face, it struck Pandora that she had not seen Daniel since she was a very young child. Nettie always talked about him so that Pandora felt as if she and the old man had never lost touch. But this was the first time in her adult life that she had actually seen Daniel in the flesh.

  He turned his head when the two women entered, staring straight at Pandora. Slowly, a smile crept over his blank face. Twin tears oozed from the crinkled corners of his rheumy eyes. His withered, arthritic hand began to rise toward her.

  “Go ahead, Miss Pan, tell this old fool he can’t die on us,” Nettie prompted.

  Pandora looked from one to the other of them, then knelt down and took his gnarled hands in hers. “Hang on, Daniel. Don’t let go. What would Nettie and I do without you?”

  Daniel smiled and said in a weak voice, “If it wasn’t for you, I’d of been dead a long time ago. I’s tired now, ma’am but if you say I got to stay, I reckon I ain’t got no other choice. You saved me once and now you come to save me again. Bless you!”

  Pandora found herself cradling the old man’s head and weeping. Daniel’s words made little sense to her, but at least he had spoken. For whatever reason, it seemed important to her that old Daniel survive a little longer.

  Only one thing bothered her as she headed home after seeing Daniel up and about again. Just before she left the shack, Nettie had pulled her aside and whispered a disturbing warning into her ear. Whatever could the woman have meant?

  She was still wondering, when she returned to the house. Jacob Saenger, looking unusually grave, awaited her.

  She hurried to him, still feeling the emotional impact of her visit with Daniel and Nettie’s odd warning. “Jacob, what’s happened? Is it Angelica?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, no!”

  Jacob took her hand. “You have it all wrong, Pandora. It’s good news. Angelica is being released. She’s coming home to Galveston.” He paused and searched her face with pleading eyes. “That is, if you and Ward will allow her to return.”

  “Allow her to? Jacob, whatever are you talking about? Now that she’s well, we’ll be delighted to have her back. When is she coming?”

  Jacob was smiling now. He’d been nervous about breaking the news to Pandora. As always, she had set him at ease. “I’m not sure. I have to go to New Orleans to bring her home. A week. Maybe two.”

  Pandora hugged him. “That’s wonderful news, Jacob. I’m so happy for both of you.”

  After Jacob left, Nettie’s words again began to prey on Pandora’s mind. Over and over she heard the old woman saying, “You watch yourself, Missy. The snake ain’t dead yet. It can still strike till its head’s been lopped clean off!”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Galveston was a busy place that summer and fall of 1900. Ships from all over clogged the harbor, handling more cotton than any other port in the whole United States. Real estate was booming, a sellers’ market. Money seemed almost to wash up on the sunny shores of the Gulf.

  “This city’s jingling with more gold than Laffite and his pirates ever dreamed of,” Ward told Pandora one bustling Saturday afternoon as they drove down the crowded Strand in their spanking new buggy.

  “Just see all the people! Looks like all forty thousand of Galveston’s citizens have turned out to take the air this afternoon,” Ward said, waving his arm expansively. “Dressed to the nines, the lot of them, and with bankrolls in their pockets big enough to choke their fine horses. I tell you, Pan, Galveston is finally on the map. Nothing can stop us now. Yes sir, we’ve come a long way from back before the war when those scruffy drifters from Maine came down here with nothing more than dreams.”

  Pandora smiled under the wide brim of her latest Paris hat and nodded at her beaming husband, thinking, We’ve come even farther from the days of Laffite and Nicolette. She didn’t share her thought with Ward; even now, as secure as she felt with her husband and her marriage, she hesitated to mention their former life on Galveston Island to Ward, the unbeliever.

  They were on their way to meet Jacob and Angelica for a late lunch at the Tremont Hotel. Angelica had been back in Galveston for nearly two months. She seemed fine, better than she had been in years. She seldom ventured out in company, claiming her right to remain at home and mourn her parents in her own private way. However, Pandora had prevailed upon her cousin to come to lunch today since it was her birthday, the first of September.

  “I hope Angelica likes her gift,” Pandora said.

  “Lord, she certainly should! That silver and onyx brooch is the finest piece of jewelry designed by my Italian craftsmen in years. I was hoping you’d keep it for yourself, darling.”

  Pandora squeezed her husband’s hand and smiled up into his eyes. “Thank you for the thought, Ward. I’m just as happy with my new silver locket.” She touched the small, delicately engraved heart at her throat. “Besides I wanted something special for Angelica after all she’s been through.”

  All heads turned as the Gabriels walked into the dining room of the Tremont. Pandora was reminded of another time when she had entered such a place on Ward’s arm, greeted by admiring stares from all sides. How long ago that seemed.

  The headwaiter fell over his feet in his rush to greet them. “Dr. and Mrs. Saenger are here already, Mr. Gabriel. I put them at our best table and served champagne immediately as you instructed.”

  “That’s fine, John.” Ward nodded to the man and pressed a bill into his waiting palm.

  As they walked toward the other couple, Pandora appraised her cousin thoroughly. Angelica was dressed in a fine black silk gown embroidered with jet beads. Her silvery-blond hair was pulled back severely from her face under her wide-brimmed hat. She looked thinner and much older than her twenty-three years. Her emotional problems had left permanent scars. Most of all, Pandora realized, Angelica’s pale eyes looked old. Pandora felt a sudden twinge of sympathy for her cousin. Nothing in life seemed to go right for her.

  Jacob rose as they approached, smiling a bit nervously. “Well, there you are. We thought we might have to drink all this champagne ourselves.”

  “I’m sorry we’re late,” Pandora apologized, giving Angelica an especially warm gaze. “Ward got held up on a business call, something to do with the Emporium, I believe.”

  They took their seats and Jacob leaned toward Ward. “I’ve been meaning to thank you. If you hadn’t agreed to help run things, I don’t know what we’d have done. Angelica has no head for business and I’m simply too busy these days with my practice.”

  Angelica said nothing. All three of the others at the table began to grow uneasy. She simply sat there, her gaze focused on the locket around Pandora’s neck.

  To break the silence, Pandora lifted the silver heart and asked, “Do you like it, Angelica? Ward gave it to me for our anniversary.” She clicked the hidden clasp and the locket sprang open. “I’ve been meaning to put loc
ks of the girls’ hair inside.” She shrugged. “One of these days I’ll get around to it.”

  Angelica’s voice, when she finally spoke, was clear and wistful. “I’ve always wanted a locket like that.”

  Pandora felt deflated. Now, she was sure, their gift for Angelica would be a disappointment to her.

  “Happy birthday, Angelica!” Pandora handed her cousin the beautifully wrapped package. “I hope you like it.”

  They all watched closely as she unwrapped her gift. For the barest instant, a small smile curved her pale lips. “It’s lovely. Thank you both.”

  Jacob’s eyes filled with tender emotion as he reached over to take his wife’s hand in his. “What I have to give you, Angel, I couldn’t wrap but I hope you’ll like my surprise. I’ve had the old mansion on Broadway completely redecorated for you. I’m going to sell the house on 13th. We’ll start moving back home this very afternoon.”

  Ward and Pandora smiled at each other. They knew this was what Angelica had wanted all along. Now, surely, she would be completely happy.

  “Thank you, Jacob,” Angelica said softly with tears in her eyes. “You can’t know how much this means to me. But I have one request.”

  “You have only to name it,” he assured her.

  “I don’t want you to sell the other house,” she said emphatically.

  Jacob looked puzzled, but agreed. “Whatever you wish, Angel.”

  The Gabriels and the Saengers shared a pleasant birthday lunch. By no means could it be termed a gay occasion, but at least it was a start, Pandora told herself. Angelica had hugged her with genuine warmth before they parted. Soon they would all grow comfortable with each other again, she was sure. Perhaps someday she would even come to trust Angelica around her daughters again; that would take time. Pandora still awoke occasionally in a cold sweat, crying Meraiah’s name.