Forbidden

by Beverly Jenkins

  The musicians were talented. They played favorites like “Jimmy Crack Corn,” “Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair,” “Listen to the Mockingbird,” and closed the concert with a rousing rendition of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” but throughout, Zeke had very little to say and offered even less interaction. Eddy was saddened by the indifference, but took full responsibility.

  When it was time to leave, his voice was cool. “Let’s get you home.”

  “That isn’t necessary. I can walk back alone.”

  “No.”

  Rather than argue she let him escort her out.

  The air between them was as chilly as a Denver winter. He didn’t offer his arm. Eddy saw no point in trying to draw him out, so she didn’t.

  After a few minutes of walking together silently, he finally looked her way and stopped. “Has he kissed you?” he asked quietly.

  She didn’t lie. “Yes.”

  Even though it was dark, she sensed his frustration, hurt, and disappointment. “I had hopes for us, Eddy.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She wanted to explain to him how muddled her feelings were about Rhine, and how hard she’d been trying to keep him at bay, and that she knew she had no future with him, but she didn’t know how to do it so Zeke would understand. Instead she said, “Let’s just keep walking, okay?”

  As they reached Sylvia’s, he held her eyes silently for a time. “I’m not going to compete with a White man for you, Eddy. I’d just lose. He’s got more money and can give you things I’ll never be able to afford, but he isn’t going to marry you. I hope you know that.”

  She didn’t reply.

  “Real sorry this didn’t work out. Take care of yourself.”

  She whispered, “You, too.”

  And he walked away.

  When Eddy entered the house, Sylvie came out of her office and asked cheerily, “How’d it go?” But she must’ve seen Eddy’s sadness. “What happened?”

  “I doubt I’ll be seeing him again. I’m going up. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “Eddy?”

  “Night, Sylvie.”

  Lying in bed, Eddy tried to convince herself that because she wouldn’t be staying in Virginia City there was no reason to be sad about the mess she’d made of the evening, but it was a lie. She’d enjoyed Zeke’s company and had had hopes for them as well. Now, all was lost, gone like autumn leaves in the wind, and there was no way to undo it.

  The following morning she sat with Sylvie in the kitchen and told her about everything, including Rhine’s kiss. “My life was so much easier when all I had to worry about was surviving.”

  “Men do tend to complicate things.”

  Eddy smiled ruefully. “Poor Zeke. I felt so guilty. And in the scheme of things, if I had to choose a beau he’d be a much better choice. He seems steady and even, whereas Rhine . . .” She looked at Sylvie, “How can I possibly want to be with someone I know is forbidden and will probably break my heart?”

  “I don’t know, honey.”

  Eddy didn’t either.

  Sylvie said sympathetically, “Maybe it will cool down over time.”

  “Or, I should have dinner with him and be done. Maybe that will be the cure I need.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “No,” Eddy said. “But it sounds good.”

  Sylvie chuckled. “Sorry I’m not more helpful but I can’t even figure out my own dilemma with Oliver, and that’s been ongoing for over a decade.”

  Eddy was just glad to have someone to talk to. “Did he say when he wants his dinner?”

  “No, but I almost fell over when he made that declaration.”

  “Maybe you two will work things out.”

  “We’ll see.”

  There was silence for a moment before Sylvie turned to her and said, “I want you to consider something for me.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I’m thinking of closing the dining room.”

  Eddy froze. “Why?”

  “Because your cooking’s bringing in way too many people and it’s putting a strain on the house and on me. I’m getting old.”

  “But—­”

  “Now wait. Let me finish.”

  Eddy nodded.

  “What I’d like to do is open a larger place and have you run it as part owner.”

  Surprise widened Eddy’s eyes.

  “This is something I’ve been considering since that Sunday the diners descended upon us like locusts. There’s profit to be made, honey, and you are the golden goose. We need to strike while the iron’s hot.”

  A dozen questions sprang to mind so quickly she wasn’t sure which one to ask first.

  Sylvia must have seen the wonder in her eyes. “I take it you like the idea.”

  “Yes, but I don’t have the funds to invest to be an owner.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll take care of the investors and give them a small share of the profits in exchange. All you need do is cook. I’ve watched you, Eddy. You’re knowledgeable, efficient, and talented. Truth be told, it’s also my selfish way of keeping you here.”

  Eddy smiled.

  “I enjoy your company,” Sylvia continued.

  “I enjoy you as well.”

  “Good. Think about my proposal and we’ll talk more soon.” Sylvie stood. “I’m going over to Janet’s to get my hair done, then out to Aretha’s to help with her anniversary preparations. The party’s next weekend. You’re still going to make the cake, correct?”

  “Correct.” Eddy looked up at Sylvie. “Thank you.” She’d gone from nearly dying in the desert to maybe having her dreams come true.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Sylvie went back inside and left Eddy alone to think over the earthshaking news.

  My own place! Even the idea of being part owner left her giddy. Her original plan for California had been to work herself to the bone until she saved up enough money to buy a place and then start small. She’d resigned herself to the fact that it might take years to be a success, but now? Now she could realize her dream here in the place she’d come to think of as home. She liked the small community of people here and they liked her. She wanted to jump up, throw her hands in the air, and run around the yard like a happy child. Sylvia Stewart was a godsend, and if the new place actually came to fruition, Eddy vowed to never make her regret taking her on.

  In the days that followed, Eddy continued her cooking, and whenever she and Sylvia got the chance, they talked and planned. How big would the diner be? How large a staff would be needed? Sylvie talked of apartments being built above the place, where Eddy would live, a notion that filled Eddy with even more glee. After living in tiny cramped boardinghouses most of her adult life, having her very own washroom was unimaginable. They also took a ride around the city and looked at available properties. One, they ruled out immediately due to its close proximity to Beech’s Shooting Gallery. The gallery was a combination saloon and shooting gallery. Miners could drink and practice their shooting on targets nailed on the walls. According to Sylvie, such establishments had been around since Virginia City’s birth. So far no one outside or inside had been killed, but everyone believed it would only be a matter of time, which was why the town council had been trying to outlaw the place for years. However, there was an open lot not too far from the boardinghouse that met their needs.

  “Do you own it?” Eddy asked once she got down from the wagon and looked around. It was located near a large Catholic church on the edge of town.

  “No, but I’m pretty sure this is one of Rhine’s. In fact, he owns most of the places we’ve looked at. I doubt the bank will let me buy new land without making me dance a jig and pay an extraordinary interest rate, so going with a plot he already owns might spare me the headache.”

  “Will he be one of the investors?”

&n
bsp; “Yes. No one else will back us the way he will.”

  “Have you spoken with him?”

  “I have. He likes the idea, and because he’ll be my largest investor, he’ll be on the deed as a part owner.”

  Eddy thought about how that might impact her future. Having him be a part owner meant the two of them would be dealing with each other often, and considering their volatile relationship, there was no telling what effect that would have on her new life in Virginia City.

  As if reading her mind, Sylvia continued, “I will say this about him. I’ve never known him to let personal issues get in the way of business.”

  Eddy decided to trust Sylvia on that and not let herself be overwhelmed by worries of what ifs.

  Sylvia said, “Now I don’t want you to be alarmed, but Zeke Reynolds will be our architect and builder. I’ve asked him to do some drawings for us to look at and approve.”

  “Lord, Sylvie.”

  She smiled understandingly. “I know, honey, but he’s the best man available and this, too, is only about business.”

  Eddy sighed. Zeke had stopped coming to the dining room, and his cousin August had been very cool and distant lately.

  “You’ll survive,” Sylvie promised. “We women always do.”

  Sylvia left the kitchen to attend to her duties, and Eddy went to the sink to start washing the breakfast dishes. She’d come to a decision. She was done doing the two-­step with Rhine. If he still wanted to have dinner with her, she would. As she’d told Sylvie, she hoped it would be the cure she needed to move on with her future, but more importantly, looking down the road of her life, she saw no opportunities for her to experience what it meant to be with a man who desired her. And he’d made it quite plain through both words and action that he did. She thought back on the fervent kiss they’d shared, the way he’d melted her at the market, the ways he’d been calling to her senses since the first time he carried her in his arms, and how vulnerable he’d appeared the night on the porch at the orphanage. Rhine was as layered as he was handsome. She’d been practical, levelheaded Eddy Carmichael her entire life, and for once she wanted to be reckless, throw caution to the wind and let him gift her with memories she might not otherwise have. Did the idea scare her? In some ways it did, but she set them aside. For one night she wouldn’t care about barriers, what was forbidden, or who he was, because heaven help her, she was in love with Rhine Fontaine.

  At breakfast over at the Union Saloon, Rhine told Jim, “Sylvie wants to build a new diner on a plot I’m going to sell her, and in exchange I’ll be an investor.”

  “So, when she woos away even more of our customers, where will that leave us besides headed straight to the poorhouse?”

  Rhine smiled. “We’ll be fine. The miners aren’t going to abandon this place and we both know it. Eddy’s cooking is drawing such crowds, Sylvie can’t feed them all.”

  Jim looked up from his plate. “And is Eddy going to be the cook?”

  “Yes. If the plan works, Sylvie will make money and I’ll plow my take back into the Union so you and I can make more money.”

  “Makes sense.” But he had a knowing look in his eye.

  “This has nothing to do with Eddy.”

  “I’ll believe it when roosters start laying eggs.”

  Rhine raised his cup of coffee. “Okay, I’ll admit it’ll be nice having her stay in town rather than moving to California.” And making her a part of his life permanently, if things could be worked out.

  Jim eyed him for a moment. “Having her around has been good for you.”

  “How so?”

  “She’s got you thinking about things you might not have considered otherwise.”

  “Such as?” he asked.

  “Who you want to be when you grow up.”

  He was right. One of the reasons Rhine had crossed the color line was his envy of men of power, because as a slave he’d had none. Men like his father, Carson Fontaine, and the other slave owners had the ability to alter lives, the freedom to come and go as they pleased, and the wealth to command respect. Viewing their way of life from the outside, he’d wanted that, craved it even, and was determined to be thought of in those terms instead of the insulting and degrading Constitutional designation as three-­fifths of a man. For the past five years he’d achieved that status. Now? He was rethinking who he wanted to be, and yes, Eddy was the primary reason. He glanced at his very wise partner and friend. “Eat, King Solomon.”

  Jim smiled and nodded. “Eating.”

  Later that evening Rhine drove over to Sylvie’s with the legal papers needing her signature for the property sale, but he found only Eddy. She was in the kitchen.

  “Sylvie and Doc Randolph left here about an hour ago,” she informed him. “They’ve gone to help Mrs. Singleton. Her baby’s on its way a month and a half early.”

  Rhine knew the Singleton family. “I hope the babe will be okay.”

  “I do, too.” She was seasoning chicken parts and placing them in a large roaster. It wasn’t an alluring task but he found her beautiful nonetheless. “Do you mind if we talk about the new diner for a few moments?”

  She didn’t look up from working. “No. Sit if you want. What happened with the twins?” she asked, pausing to wait for his reply.

  “Mary said the visit with the couple went well. She’s going to start the adoption process.”

  “And how are you feeling?”

  Appreciating her concern, he sat and shrugged. “I’ve resigned myself to the situation. As we discussed, this is what’s best for them and I want them to be happy.”

  She nodded understandingly.

  Not wanting to dwell on the heaviness still clouding his heart, he asked, “Any idea what kind of appliances you want for the diner? I’ll be doing the purchasing so I need to know your preferences.”

  They began talking about stoves. She wanted a flat top that would allow her to cook with varying temperatures, and they discussed size and dimensions. They then moved onto cold boxes and china, flatware, pots and pans, and all the rest. He had to admit the longer he was with her the more he desired her, but he kept it in check so she wouldn’t toss him out on his ear. “Did you enjoy the concert Friday night?”

  “I did.”

  There was a tightness in her tone that gave him pause, so he asked, “Did Zeke do something to upset you?”

  She replied quietly, “No. He was the perfect gentleman. I—­I just won’t be seeing him anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  He watched her hesitate. When she finally looked him in the eyes she said simply, “Because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Zeke senses there’s something going on between us and asked me flat out if you’d kissed me.”

  “And you told him the truth.”

  “Yes, because I didn’t think lying was any way to start things between us.”

  He thought about the lie he’d been living, though he’d be changing that soon.

  She continued, “And I’d hoped he’d appreciate my honesty.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t respond but he could tell she’d been hurt by the encounter. He wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her, but he knew better.

  She continued, “And now I have you investing in the diner, and him drawing up the plans. What a mess.”

  He smiled.

  “It isn’t funny.”

  He agreed softly. “No, it isn’t, darlin’, but you just look so put out.”

  She shot him a glare.

  “And I love it when you do that.”

  “What?”

  “Glare at me. I remember the very first time. It was the night you tried to stand in that cocoon you made out of my blanket.”

  �
��You weren’t very helpful.”

  “As if you wanted help. I’d yet to meet a more stubborn woman.”

  “Determined.”

  “Stubborn.” And he was stubborn enough to want her in his arms and ultimately in his life. Knowing she’d probably chop him up and season him like the chicken she was still working on, he asked anyway. “Have dinner with me.”

  “Fine.”

  He almost fell off the chair. “You’re saying yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know what it means to be desired.”

  Eyeing her wondrously he paused. “Say that again.”

  “You heard me the first time. I want to know what it means to be desired.”

  He was admittedly speechless. Still filled with wonder, he scanned her slowly. The thought of fulfilling her wish made his groin tighten with appreciative anticipation.

  She shot him a shy smile. “Am I too bold?”

  “No. Not at all.” Still studying her, he crossed his arms to keep himself seated because he wanted to pick her up, carry her home, and take his time showing her just what being desired meant.

  “You look pleased,” she said.

  “I’m more than pleased.”

  “It’ll only be one dinner though. One.”

  If he got her alone in his rooms again, she might not surface until Christmas, but he kept that to himself. “So when is this momentous occasion going to take place?”

  “You choose.”

  “Now.”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “You told me to choose.”

  “I’m up to my elbows in chicken parts. Choose another day.”

  “What about tomorrow?”

  “The diner’s open tomorrow so can you wait until Friday evening?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Don’t pout,” she said, walking to the sink to rinse her hands.

  He chuckled and walked over to join her. “Is there anyone else here?”

  She shook her head, picked up a nearby towel, and dried her hands. “Why?”

  He leaned in and gently brushed his lips across hers. “Because I’m desiring you, and I want to give you a taste of how much . . .”