“Of course I forgive you. I didn’t want anyone to die for me, least of all you.”
He took a step back and ran his fingers over her cheek. “I love you, Jenny Cobbs. Are you ready to see your mama? Isaac and Maribeth are outside the room. Can I invite them in?”
She nodded. “Stay with me.”
“Until the end,” Tobi whispered.
Hatchet opened the door, motioning for them to enter. His father walked to the far side of the bed, where he could still be seen in the mirror, just as they’d discussed earlier in the day. Maribeth took her place beside him.
“Jenny,” Isaac began, “Lord knows I don’t deserve your forgiveness for what I’ve done. I invited those monsters here, put your life in danger. I’m sure I’ll suffer an eternity in Hell for my actions, but for your own sake, and the sake of my children, I’m begging for your forgiveness. As master of Harmon Grove, I had a duty to protect everyone working under my family’s oversight. I’m so sorry I failed you. I was weak in the face of danger . . . ” His voice cracked and he looked away.
“Still, you deserved protection, a champion. I’ve relived that ghastly night over and over in my dreams, wishing I’d had the courage to make another choice. I cannot change the past, only the future. I’ve tried to become a better man.” He shook his head. “But this isn’t about me. More than anything, I want you to find peace. Please, forgive me so you can finally be with your family forever.”
The ghost stared at Isaac, her gaze unwavering. “I’ve hated you for what seems an eternity, and I don’t want to forgive you!” Heat flared in her eyes and she exhaled, slowly.
“Jenny,” Tobi said, softly.
She chewed on her bottom lip. “But Tobi loves me. He would never lie about the soldiers threatening your wife and daughter. How can I ignore that fact? Mary was always a sweet and kind girl. My father would’ve chosen to protect me. So, yes, I forgive you.”
“Thank you,” Isaac said, his eyes misty.
Maribeth smiled at the ghost as she raised her hands in the air. “You will be missed, my friend. May the peace of our Lord be with you. As you have shown mercy and forgiveness, so does the Lord. I pray that He heals your wounds and frees your soul to join Him in his kingdom, forever and ever. Amen.”
Within seconds, the cuts on Jenny’s lips sealed, and she grinned, probing delicately. Slowly, before their eyes, the bruises on her face faded, and the swelling around her eye receded. A halo of white light shimmered over her.
“Goodbye, my beautiful girl,” Tobi said, smiling.
“I love you . . . ” Jenny said as her image waned. She looked to the Heavens. “The gates, Tobi, they’re real and . . . “ But whatever she’d meant to share faded with her reflection, until nothing was left.
An incredible sense of peace filled Hatchet at his core, and he clasped his father on the shoulder. He wanted to stay locked in the moment, but there was no time left to speak with the workers, and Hope would arrive any minute.
“Tobi,” Hatchet said, “thank you for your help. Our family is indebted to you. But I’m afraid I need one more favor.”
The blacksmith nodded. “What do you need to end this nightmare for everyone?”
“Please find Pauline and meet us at the crossroads in front of the cottages. Just in case there is trouble. I can’t predict how the others will react when the ritual begins.”
Hopefully, the rest of the evening would go smoothly. But if it didn’t, everything he had worked toward would be for naught. Isaac’s biological children would still be cursed. His sister would call off her engagement, and Hatchet would sail for England, abandoning his plans for a future with Hope.
Chapter Thirty-One
An amber sun hovered over the horizon as the carriage turned onto the tree-lined lane toward Harmon Grove. Hope closed her eyes, breathing deep. Dusk would be upon them in an hour, and she would arrive at Lucetta’s plantation in mere minutes.
She wiped her sweaty palms with a handkerchief and concentrated on the ritual to come. What if Kalfu refused to speak with her tonight? He was one of the most feared and powerful of the loa. Please, Loco, please let him come.
The carriage rolled to a stop in the circle drive, and Hope peered out the window. Hatchet . . . No, she mustn’t call him that anymore. Charles hobbled toward her, aided by a cane, while his family waited on the front porch of the grand mansion. A footman opened the door, and Charles held out his hand. His fingers enveloped hers, and she reveled in the warmth of his touch as she stepped down from the carriage.
When her feet met the ground, he pulled her closer, kissing the top of her hand. “I would’ve liked to lift you out and enjoy the feel of your body sliding down mine. Sadly, I haven’t the strength for that. Yet.”
Her lips trembled. “Charles—”
“Please, don’t call me that.” He squeezed her fingers. “My friends call me Hatchet.”
She nodded. They could be friends, but nothing more. “Very well. You’re looking much better, and in another week or two, your full strength will return.” Her gaze moved beyond his shoulder, to the porch where his family stood. “So this is Harmon Grove.”
A smile broke out on his face. “Welcome,” he said, turning and gesturing to the house. “Let me escort you to the porch and introduce you to Mary. You’ll like her. James must be tolerated. At least he is always on his best behavior around our sister.”
Hope arched an eyebrow, suppressing a snort of laughter. Oh, how she missed Hatchet’s droll humor. She knew enough of James from their one encounter years ago to agree with the assessment. He must be tolerated. But Mary . . .
Our sister.
How odd that she and Hatchet shared a half-brother and half-sister. Though, truth be told, she had never truly thought of Isaac’s legitimate children as her siblings. “Your mother is handling this quite well,” Hope whispered, offering the woman a smile at a distance. “I’ve grown accustomed to her perpetual scowl. I never dreamed she would smile on my first visit to Harmon Grove.”
“You’re far too kind.” Hatchet leaned closer. “I rather thought it more a grimace.”
“Don’t be rude,” she chided, though her lips twitched. “She loves her children dearly, and I appreciate her effort. In freeing them of the curse, she must also free me. Something I’m sure she would rather not do.”
He gripped the head of his cane with both hands and shook his head. “On that count, you’re wrong, I assure you. She loves me. And I love you. My mother doesn’t care to risk my life once again.”
This would not do. She looked away, striking his words from her memory.
“Your life is no longer in jeopardy,” she said, starting toward the porch. “Even if I can break the curse, we cannot build a future together, and with that knowledge comes your freedom. I release all claims to your heart.”
“Well, I don’t bloody care,” he growled under his breath. He stopped and grabbed her wrist, twisting her around to face him. His possessive stare heated her blood. “I’m not releasing my claim to your heart. You are the only woman for me, and I’ll love you until my dying day. Somehow. Someway. We’ll overcome the obstacles. Please, don’t give up on me, on us.”
Her throat constricted, choking off her protests. A life with Hatchet was only a dream. He would never call her wife. Their children might bear his name if he claimed them in the eyes of the law, but with black blood in their veins, they could never inherit their father’s wealth. Society would still shun her, and her children. The days of placées were over. But even if they weren’t, she wanted more for Hatchet, more for herself than a left-handed marriage.
She wanted to be her partner’s equal.
“We will talk after the ritual,” she said, placing her hand over his, unable to meet his gaze.
Where he envisioned a bright tomorrow, she saw dark despair. There was nowhere to meet in the middle. Only black . . . and white. Her world . . . and his.
“Promise me you’ll keep an open mind when we talk,” he sa
id, lifting her chin.
The man was as stubborn as a mule. Likely a trait he inherited from his mother. “I’ll try, but enough for now. Dusk will be upon us soon.”
“That’s my girl.” He winked, and with that, they walked the last twenty feet to greet the others.
Isaac rushed to her side and hugged her. “Welcome, daughter.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Lucetta curtseyed and gestured to her children. “Welcome to Harmon Grove, Hydropia. My son, James, tells me you’ve met, but this is my daughter, Mary.”
The initial introductions were awkward, though better than Hope could’ve imagined. Undoubtedly, Lucetta was trained well as a gracious hostess and played her part without fault. Her calm grace was to be admired under the circumstances. Between Mary’s genuine smile, her father’s attentiveness, and Hatchet’s warm glances, Hope felt welcomed.
Isaac looped his wife’s arm through his and cleared his throat. “Well, shall we head in the direction of the crossroads?”
“A fine idea,” Hope said, glancing down the lane. “We must begin the ritual at dusk. Can you have the footman retrieve my carpetbag? I’ve brought supplies we’ll need for the ceremony.”
“Victor will see to it.” Hatchet nodded in the direction of the French doors, to a parlor where Victor leaned casually against the wall. “He’ll join us while Mercy and Maribeth stay behind in the big house.”
Perspiration beaded on Hatchet’s forehead, and he shifted his stance, adjusting his grip on the cane. His white cotton shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, exposing his pale skin. He’d been cooped up in the house for weeks since becoming ill.
Hope pulled him aside. “Are you sure you have the strength for this? You don’t have to witness the ritual. I’ll be fine if you stay here and rest.”
“I’m coming,” he said, piercing her with his steely gray eyes. “You’re going to need me, and I’m not as helpless as I seem.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.”
And she did, the moment they rounded the big house. A crowd of men and women gathered at the crossroads, forming an unbreakable line. The plantation workers, some of them former slaves, their gazes steady, their scowls fierce.
Her belly fluttered with unease. “What do they want?”
“To stop the ritual.” He advanced with determined strides. “Jenny may have forgiven our family, but it appears our former slaves have not. And they’ve rallied many of the other workers behind them, those who weren’t here for the rape.”
Oh, Loco, give me strength.
• • •
A pit the size of a peach weighed in Hatchet’s stomach. Few situations in life truly scared him, but facing an angry mob with the woman he loved by his side counted among them. Some of the men and women standing united against them had witnessed the brutal rape of Jenny Cobbs at the crossroads. And by the fierce scowls marring their faces, they hadn’t forgotten. Gaining their cooperation to proceed with the ritual could prove difficult.
Hatchet’s gaze moved beyond the crowd to the treetops of the mighty oaks surrounding the shacks, where the crew of The Savior awaited his command, out of sight. A means of protection, should the need arise. He didn’t anticipate violence, but he couldn’t predict the outcome of their encounter and refused to place his family in jeopardy.
As their party drew closer, the line of workers closed in, forming a loose circle around them. Not a good sign. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Keep calm. Cool head. No need to escalate the situation through a hasty decision.
The foreman of the sugar mill met them in the center of the crossroads. Benjamin Mills had tree trunks for legs and muscles bulging from the neckline of his shirt. He was of an age with Hatchet and had taken over running the mill when his father passed a few years back.
“Good evening, Benjamin,” Hatchet said, holding out his hand. “Is there a problem?”
Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, the foreman tilted his head to the side. “Well, that depends. Rumor has it you asked Pauline to brew a few bottles of Kiman, and a special order of red apples arrived last night from town. Seems you’re planning a voodoo ritual tonight for Kalfu.” Benjamin’s gaze raked over Hope. “Or is there another reason you’ve invited a mambo to Harmon Grove?”
Hatchet assumed the same casual stance and shrugged. “You’ve missed your calling. The chief of police would welcome you as a detective. In answer to your question, yes, we’ve planned a ceremony in honor of Kalfu.”
“To reverse the curse Marie Euchariste placed on your family,” Benjamin said as two men flanked him. “We cannot allow that; balance must be maintained. Marie set right that which was wrong.”
Hatchet shook his head. “Jenny has forgiven us, so we ask that you do, too.”
The foreman growled and lunged forward, pulling Hope into his grasp with lightning speed. Before Hatchet could even react, the sharp edge of a blade was thrust against her neck.
Hope’s mouth gaped open, but she stood very still, her eyes wide with fear. Her breathing quickened, and Hatchet followed the rise and fall of her chest. Panic gripped his gut. He wanted to tell her everything would be all right. But that would be a falsehood given all the angry faces surrounding them, outnumbering them.
“Jenny Cobbs is dead!” Benjamin roared. “I stood on this very ground and watched as ten men raped and beat her.” He squeezed Hope’s cheeks with his free hand. “I saw the blood spew from her lips when their knuckles cracked against her jaw. And the way her eye swelled shut. Do not dare to tell me who I must forgive. You want to reverse the curse? Then one of Isaac’s daughters will pay the price. An eye for an eye. Which one will it be?”
“No,” Hope whispered, struggling in Benjamin’s grasp.
Hatchet lunged. He would not stand by and let this happen, could not let this monster hurt Hope. But the thugs flanking Benjamin leaped in front of him, pummeling Hatchet. His head slammed against the ground, and the air expelled from his lungs. An explosive pain burst from his groin as one of the men’s knees connected with Hatchet’s ballocks. Bile hurled up his throat, and he turned his head to the side, retching. When his stomach was empty, they dragged him to his feet. Within seconds, every member of his family was held captive, with knives pressed to their jugulars.
“Tell your men if they come any closer, we’ll kill him,” Benjamin said with an icy glare leveled on Victor.
“Do not come any closer, Bilge!” Victor shouted. “Everyone stay away, or they’ll kill Hatchet. Do not move any closer.”
“Benjamin, please don’t do this,” Mary pleaded. “What happened was terrible beyond imagination. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Enough!” the foreman said, cutting her off. “Begging will get you nowhere. Jenny begged for mercy and pleaded for her life. She was my cousin!” He gestured to his comrades with a flick of his chin, and they brought Isaac to the front of the line. “So which is it to be? Ten of us rape your daughter as you watch helplessly in the front row, or she leaves without lifting the curse? Should I give him a choice?” he shouted to the crowd.
“Jenny didn’t have a choice!” one woman yelled back.
“Kill me,” Isaac pleaded, falling to his knees. “Beat me. Torture me. Anything, but let her go.”
“And let your suffering come to an end,” Benjamin said. “Never.”
“Rape, rape, rape!” the crowd chanted, pushing in closer.
“Any last words, old man?” the foreman taunted with a sneer. “Because the people have spoken. Rape, it is.”
Hope howled and kicked. A surge of adrenaline bolted through Hatchet, and he slammed his head back, cracking one of his captors in the forehead. The second the man’s grip loosened on his arm, Hatchet elbowed the other man in the gut. He tucked and rolled toward the crowd, jumping to his feet before a middle-aged woman. Yanking her into the center of the circle, Hatchet placed his own blade against her throat and faced the foreman.
“Let Hope go!” he bellow
ed. “The curse stays . . . and everyone walks away.”
“I’d rather die than walk away,” the woman in his grip said. “This ain’t no way to live. Slaving over them fields. Living in a goddamned hovel. Not enough food in our bellies. No money to buy what we need or to get the hell off this plantation.”
“You’re sure about this, Charity?” Benjamin asked, his frown deepening.
She nodded and turned her head, offering up her throat to Hatchet’s knife. His eyes met Hope’s. He couldn’t fight an entire mob.
Oh, God. I can’t save her.
Her gaze flickered to his knife then met his gaze again. He knew the thoughts passing through her mind, because they passed through his own. He could lodge his knife in Hope’s heart with one flick of the wrist, save her from a fate worse than death.
No. No. No.
Benjamin ripped the front of Hope’s bodice, exposing her corset.
Hope nodded frantically, a silent plea for Hatchet to end her misery.
His vision blurred. “Stop this madness! Jenny would never condone this! Look into your hearts and tell me that isn’t true. She had a gentle spirit and a beautiful soul. That’s why we all loved her so much. Do not dishonor her memory this way.”
“Shut up!” Benjamin growled, groping Hope’s breast. “Angus, you first.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she mouthed, “Please, my love.”
“Jenny is with her Maker,” Hatchet said, searching for anything to get through to them. “I swear on my honor.”
With a growl to rival a feral beast, Angus slapped Hope and then faced Hatchet, slowly opening the falls of his pants. “Your family has no honor!”
They wouldn’t listen. He could beg and plead until his voice was hoarse, but they wouldn’t listen. His eyes met Hope’s.
“Please,” she whispered.
Where the fuck was Tobi? He and his mother could reason with the crowd. Had they turned on his family, too? Hatchet’s entire body shook. If he was going to end Hope’s nightmare, he must do it now, while he had a clear path. He gripped the handle of his knife tighter. Measured the distance between them.
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