by Lila Felix
“It was perfect.”
“Then why did you need to know?”
I shrugged and confessed, “For my own well-being—nothing more.”
“Come eat with me. You look so tired.”
“If you insist.”
She was right. The laughter and boasting at my table was more fun than I’d had in a while, other than delighting in my new wife. I actually ate breakfast for the first time in a long time until I remembered that I had to break my promise to stay with Delilah for a week.
“Can we talk for a moment?” I asked her with my hand on her elbow.
“Yes. Can we go outside?”
“Sure.”
We walked outside to the porch, choosing rocking chairs next to each other. I reveled in the moment for a second, happy that finally someone was by my side.
“I have to leave tomorrow. Just for a day.”
I reached for her hand.
“I understand. You’ll be back tomorrow night?”
“I hope so. I will do my best.”
Delilah grew quiet beside me. I had disappointed her again. Everything she’d been through and I was abandoning her.
At the same time, I had to support her. She deserved this life—to be spoiled.
Out of nowhere she laughed a little and then covered her mouth.
“What is funny?”
“Your mother mentioned me learning to embroider like she does. I tried once. I sewed my skirt to the fabric I was working on. I was so proud of that little daisy until I realized it was sewn to me. That was my first and last lesson in embroidering.”
I wonder if she’d shared that story with anyone before. I doubted it.
“You could always help me.” My voice intonated as though I’d asked a question.
“You’d let me?”
“Of course. We’ll look over everything later. It will keep you busy that way you won’t have time to pine after me the entire day.”
I froze as Delilah turned on me, the look in her eyes burned my skin. “I don’t think anyone or anything could keep me from pining for you all day. I may as well just sleep the day through to save myself the torture.”
My breath was still held. It was a bold declaration, and so out of character.
And then she broke out in a fit of laughter.
“You were joking? That’s fine. I see how you feel.” I crossed my arms and looked in the opposite direction, willing my mouth not to smile.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Porter. I was just kidding.” She sighed and I let her stew a minute before turning to her with a broad smile on my face.
“You are horrible, Porter Jeansonne!”
“I didn’t know you were capable of such blatant sarcasm, Mrs. Jeansonne. Shame on you.”
She sobered, but stayed smiling, biting her lip. “I didn’t either.”
Chapter Eleven
Delilah
Most of the day came and went in a blur. Porter’s office was a mess. I’d straightened everything and organized some of his things. There was a wooden box stuffed into his drawer. It was so ornately designed that I removed it and placed it on his bookshelf, replacing the ghastly unshuffled papers. He had pens scattered in every cranny. For a man that had it all together, he was completely unorganized.
By the afternoon, I was tired of being cooped up. June and Eliza took a trip to town to get groceries and other things for the house and I’d opted to stay home. I didn’t want to run into my family without Porter.
I grabbed my long coat and went out toward the back. The sun threatened to come over the trees, but like any other day, it shied away from this place. Like there was an invisible border over Jeansonne Manor that halted its rise in the sky.
Drawing in a deep breath, I tromped down the stairs. My shoes squished into the damp grass from the prior day’s rain, but I was determined to get some fresh air. Jeansonne Manor sat in the middle of the swamp, like its own island. There was a bridge that led from the land to the road to the town. Porter had told me there was another bridge on the back of the property that led to the outside cities.
I followed the path of rocks to the pond and crept up on it, cautious of what lay beneath the still water. I hadn’t seen or heard anything since the day at the pond. I’d prayed day and night that the incident was the end of whatever torment the woman had to dole out.
“This is where she died.” A gravelly voice interrupted my stare. To my left was Rebel, dressed in pants and a grimy shirt with suspenders over it. His boots were worn over his pants and they were a tell-tale sign of his employment. He was too close to me. I could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him in waves.
“Who?”
He chuckled; the sound of it twisted my gut. I squirmed in place, off-put by his crassness.
“What a shame. A new wife that knows nothing about the manor she is mistress over. You’ve a lot to learn. I’m sure Porter has been teaching you many things.”
I was tangled in Rebel’s web. Porter had secrets. Rebel knew what they were. But the atmosphere soured when he was around. I didn’t wish to spend one more minute around him.
Anger consumed me at the audacity of this man. He claimed to know things but taunted me with them.
“Just tell me who died here.”
He shoved a hand into his shirt where he fondled something that hung around his neck. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he continued to ignore me.
“Delilah? Oh, there you are child. Come inside, we’ve got things to unpack.”
Eliza called to me from the house but I hadn’t gotten any information out of the man who made my skin crawl.
“Excuse me,” I said, wondering why I wasted manners on someone who obviously had none.
“Delilah, one thing.”
I turned with one fist pressed on my hip.
“Ask Porter about Marie.”
With a roll of my eyes, I stalked into the house, unfazed by his attempted meddling.
I helped June and Eliza put the groceries away. I didn’t understand the gall of that man—Rebel— butting into my business when all I’d wanted to do was stare blankly at the land and take a walk.
He was always around when Porter wasn’t.
When I was a child, I cried at all the time I’d had by myself with no one to confide in and no one to play with. And now as an adult, married and thrust into a life that would make anyone else faint with bliss—all I wanted in the world was a moment of peace.
Porter knew about the ghost. He knew what she’d done to me. She’d attacked me. If I’d let her, I would bet she would’ve dragged me down in the water with her.
“Delilah, maybe you should go rest or have some tea.”
I ticked my eyes over to Eliza. “Why?”
“Because we need those carrots.”
I’d been wringing the carrots together like they were a sopping washcloth. The poor things were nearly shredded.
“I’m sorry. I’m a little high strung today. I’m going to the library. Maybe a book would calm me down.”
They looked on me like I was a stranded puppy.
I may have been stranded, but I wasn’t pathetic.
Clumsily, I slid down to the floor in the library after shutting the door behind me. Concentrating on my breaths, I made an attempt at calming down. The library was quite possibly the most beautiful room in the house. It even beat the bedroom. There were cypress shelves that ran floor to ceiling. Even the floors beneath me were worn and weathered cypress. The whole room smelled like river water and book pages. I wanted to bottle it.
I took to wringing my hands instead of the poor carrots.
“This is ridiculous.” I said aloud.
I grabbed a book from behind me, not even looking at the title and opened it to the middle and decided to read the first passage, vowing to take the sentence as an omen.
“Every heart is haunted.”
I had to ask Porter about Marie. Maybe if I knew the story, I would be better equipped to handle her if she show
ed up again.
Then again, knowledge didn’t exactly serve as a shield for strangulation.
He asked that we have no secrets.
I trusted Porter.
I had to tell him.
Chapter Twelve
Porter
Benjamin was more cautious than usual as we crossed the bridge at the back of the property and even attempted not to make the last steps onto our land.
“Benjamin, come on boy. We are home.”
He didn’t want to move on, but he obeyed anyway. I passed by the cabin and found its door wide open along with the windows. Looking around the area, no one was near, but the whole thing felt like one of those wormy Rebel tricks.
I decided to leave the issue for later, wanting more than anything to get back to Delilah. The sun wasn’t my friend, fading more and more as I rode home. The land was mushy and waterlogged as we rode through it slowly. Benjamin didn’t like the mud and he faltered more than once. By the time we reached the house, the sun had completely failed me, hiding now behind the moon.
The meeting at my office hadn’t gone as long as I’d thought, so I made it a point to go to the bookstore and get Delilah more books. I intended to replace the dull ones on accounting and business with books for her, little by little.
I wanted her to feel like this was her home too.
It was her home.
After settling Benjamin into the stalls, I assessed the place. There was barely enough feed for the rest of the week and the conditions were deplorable at best. Rebel, again, wasn’t working up to snuff.
I cleaned up Benjamin’s stall myself and gave him enough food and water to last until I could get ahold of Rebel. His father was the same, never working up to our expectations.
Generations ago, my great-great-grandfather’s life was saved by a member of Rebel’s family. In a fit of shock, my ancestor promised Rebel’s family that they would always have a job at our estate if they needed one.
They had no idea that Rebel would one day come along.
After chucking my boots off on the front steps, I went into the house and wiped my forehead. There was sweat. Smiling to myself, I knew the reason for the anxiety. I was nervous as a school boy to see Delilah.
I’d been laughed at in the meeting for drifting into thought. The men in the room knew how it was to be in the honeymoon phase of a marriage. They’d razzed me for a half an hour before deciding they didn’t need me much after all, just my signature.
I had to see her. Even if she was asleep and unaware of my presence.
I twisted the knob to the bedroom as quietly as I could, making sure to push the door with a jerk to avoid the squeak.
Holding my breath, I approached the bed. The curtains around it were loose and it was freezing in the room. Willing my heartbeat to slow, I pulled one of the curtains open.
The bed was empty.
Perplexed, I stalked to the bathroom and searched the bathroom and in the closets for good measure. She wasn’t anywhere to be found.
I tromped downstairs and searched the usual places along with my library. There were several books on the chair and a blanket was draped over the chair. She’d been there at some point.
The more I look and didn’t find her, the more worried I became.
With so many unknowns about the things that had happened to her, my worst fears played in a horrific slideshow in my mind.
I went to the other end of the house and knocked on my mother’s bedroom. She snored like a bear and it took a few raps before she finally woke up and answered.
“Porter. What’s the matter? It’s the middle of the night.”
“I can’t find Delilah. She’s not in bed and I’ve looked everywhere.”
She tied the sash of her robe around her waist, cinching it tight. “After supper, she said she was going to bed. She had a heck of a day. The sadness was written clear across her face.”
“Can you help me look?”
“Of course.”
We scrambled through the house, June eventually joining us. We’d made enough commotion in the house to wake the dead. Though from the last week’s events, the dead were already alive and well. Room by room we checked.
“I’ll get my coat and start outside,” I barked at my mother who agreed.
I’d just reached for my boots when I heard June talking behind me. “She’s in your room, Porter. Bless her heart.”
I backtracked, going back upstairs without a second look to June or my mother. I had heard her giggle as I passed, but I no longer cared.
If a man was desperate about anything, it should be getting to his wife.
And that’s all I wanted.
The door to my room was shut. In my search, I’d overlooked it, thinking that she’d never go in there. There was no reason to. I was wrong.
As I opened the door, I was hit with a vision from a dream. Delilah was laying on her side, facing the door, her arms wrapped around my pillow for dear life. I let out a breath I’d been holding since I’d seen her bed empty and closed the door behind me.
The girl who not long ago was a withered flower with torn petals and too many thorns had come back to life. In just a week’s time she had changed into a beauty among women. Her cheeks had filled out a bit. Though she was covered with a blanket, I could see the change in her shape. What once was a thinning body that mirrored a skeleton more than a lady was now taking the shape of a vixen. Her raven hair spilled onto the white pillow below her head like ink blotted on paper.
And I knew behind those peaceful eyelids were a pair of iridescent blue eyes that sunk me with every blink.
I grabbed my night clothes and intended to sneak out of the room when a voice so tender and true stopped me cold. “Porter?”
“It’s late, love. I’m going to sleep in another room. Everything is fine.”
“Don’t leave me.” Those three words, whispered in the darkness, ended any chances I had of keeping my promise of leaving her alone intact.
I sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand.
Please don’t be enough. Please want more from me. Please want me to hold you.
“Are you okay?”
She replaced the pillow in its spot and leaned on her elbow, scooting closer to me. “I am now.”
“Did something happen?”
“No. I—I missed you terribly.”
She looked down as if missing me was something to be ashamed of.
“I did too—so much.”
“Can you stay with me tonight?”
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear those words until she’d spoken them. They went straight to my heart. Not because of the promise of something more, but her simple request of my presence was enough.
“Of course. Let me go change into my pajamas.”
After I’d changed into my pajama pants, I sat down on the bed again. I wanted to be sure she wanted me with her.
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
Moving the covers, I laid next to her close enough to feel her warmth but far enough away to give her space.
“How was your trip?”
Her hand found mine under the blanket. I turned to face her and mimicked her pose, resting on my elbow.
“It was fine. I brought you something.”
“You’ve got to stop this, Porter. I don’t want things.”
Reaching out to touch her hair, I pressed the issue. “What do you want?”
“I want joy and peace.”
“You don’t have that?”
“I’m getting there.” She released my hand and touched my chest. “What do you want, Porter?”
“I just want your love.”
She gasped and a lone tear dropped from the cliff of her eye. “You have it.”
My heart beat double-time. It was so loud, I was sure everyone in the house could hear it pounding. We lay in silence for a few moments, drinking each other in by the light of the bayou moon.
I yawned and Delilah
giggled. “Let’s go to sleep.”
“It’s going to be a task with you over there.”
She moved closer, lining her body up flush with mine and then rested her cheek on my chest. “Sleep, Porter.”
“Goodnight, Delilah.”
I woke but kept my eyes shut. The absence of her feather weight and delicate smell was noticed immediately. I shot up to a sitting position only to have my fear quelled by the sight of Delilah sitting by the window.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning to you. It’s late, but you looked so tired. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Come here.”
She got up, adjusting the robe to assure her modesty and then climbed back into bed, kneeling beside me. Her hair was long and straight. The ends of it tickled my stomach.
“I didn’t want to leave the room. I’m afraid of your mother seeing me here.”
“She already knows, Delilah. Besides, we’re married. It’s okay to sleep with your husband.”
Her hands flew to her face and she leaned over to lay across my chest. “That’s the first time you’ve called yourself my husband.”
“If it makes you blush and throw yourself at me, then I’ll have to say it more often.”
“Porter!” She moved, nudging me in jest. Her hair was all around me, over my stomach, on my sides, and spilling like water over her shoulders.
I didn’t think I’d known true happiness until that moment, having her so close.
Who knew so much could change with one night spent next to someone you loved.
“Anyway, it was my mother who found you here. We’d been looking for…it felt like for hours and then she found you. I was about to go insane with worry.”
Slowly she turned. She ran her hands through my hair and down the scruff I’d grown from being away until the morning. “One time when I was about fourteen, I decided to run away. My mom had blamed me for something—I don’t even remember what. So, I ran out and to the land by the small pond at the north of the village. Do you know which one I’m talking about?”
“Sable’s pond.” I added and sat up so that I could see her better.
“I went there and spent two nights without a fire. I don’t know how to build a fire. My parents didn’t want me handling the firewood. They were afraid I was going to throw them into it or something. After two nights of freezing almost to death, I went home. My mother accused me of trying to get a job at The Plots. She went on and on for months about how she didn’t blame them for turning down someone like me.” Her voice waivered with the last word. She’d hidden the pain of how her parents treated her for too long with no one to give it to. I would take it all from her—take it upon myself to ease her burden.