The Sun Rises Over Seven Sisters

by M. L. Bullock

  I was and had always been a sensible woman. I had not come in tears, as I was sure my sister would have done if she had been in my shoes. And I had not come as a servant—I had come as a Beaumont, the last Beaumont, unless God saw fit to give me another child, which seemed unlikely considering my age. In my world, women who were twenty and five and had not had a child were considered old maids, barren, cast-off spinsters. They were whispered about and never invited to social events. Useless dried husks without value.

  I had a child, a girl-child, whom I had summarily given up to have the marriage alliance I preferred. I lied to her and told her that she belonged to my brother; it was better for her to believe that. Better for everyone. But Isaiah would not likely be willing to ignore the truth. Our daughter, Isla, had seduced her own uncle Jeremiah, and from that unholy union had come Karah. No, I doubted that Isaiah would be pleased at all.

  And I knew he would never let me forget my change of heart, especially now. Not when he heard the whole truth. But still I was here, despite my better judgment, and I had a purpose.

  Isaiah must make this right.

  The fool girl, our own daughter, convinced her uncle to sign a codicil that named only her children as his heirs. If she’d just left things alone! Claudette and I had arranged a settlement for Christine’s youngest daughter, Delilah, and God knew where poor Calpurnia was, probably at the bottom of the Mobile River. My personal investigation into the matter had revealed nothing. It was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the Earth. Everything had been perfectly arranged until Isla and her schemes interfered. Since there was no male heir between her and Jeremiah, and Karah’s parentage was being questioned by the courts—also thanks to Isla—the Cottonwood property, including the missing Beaumont fortune, would go to Jeremiah’s brother, Isaiah.

  All of it. The irony of the situation did not escape me. He would have what he had lost. But he would never have me.

  I had not seen my former lover in ages. For the first five years, he would send me the occasional vague letter asking again why I had rejected him. I never responded.

  In the first pleading correspondences, he shared the depth of his despair and pledged his undying love. “I shall never feel again what I felt with you, my darling. Oh, have mercy on me and let me hear you call me that once more. I could have any wife I choose, but my only desire is for you, my own Olivia.”

  I would admit this to no one, but I kept those letters. On the many nights when I was alone, I would unfold them and read them again and again, pretending that I would write him back. How could I explain to him why I did what I did? I could not, so I never picked up a pen.

  Lost in my silent reverie, I did not hear the dogs barking at first, but then I saw Isaiah approaching. He leaned on a silver-headed cane and wore a finely woven black suit that had obviously been made for his trim body. He wore no hat, and I could see that time had been kind to him. He had all his beautiful dark hair, now flecked with white. I did not ask why he used the cane. I still had my manners when I wanted them.

  Without a word, he sat down across the small table from me. Spotting the ants, he snapped his fingers and the dogs came running. He put the china dish on the ground, and the nearest hound devoured the food. Isaiah did not seem to care that his dog’s pawing and excited eating broke the fine dish.

  I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. With some swagger he leaned back in his chair and stared at me. I could see he was taking in every line, every change, every less than firm inch of my skin. He did not hide his amusement at my appearance or my situation. He had the advantage, and he enjoyed it.

  This was not going to be easy, I feared. It was he who spoke first.

  “This business with the codicil. Did you plan this, Olivia? Was that your plan all along? To use our daughter to seduce her uncle?”

  “What kind of woman do you think I am, Isaiah?”

  He spun his walking stick and said, “The kind of woman who leaves her intended at the altar while she runs off to marry another. The kind of woman who refuses to tell me where my child is or what’s become of her. That’s the kind of woman you are, dear Olivia.”

  “You can’t think that I…”

  “Can’t I?” He smiled at me, rubbing the silver horse head atop his cane.

  “To what end? I am not clever enough to dream up such a scenario. I can only assume it was Fate that caused these things to happen.”

  “Ah.” His eyes looked playful. “As do I. It was Fate that left me the inheritance, all the inheritance, Olivia. See, you should have married me, for it was always mine anyway. And I would have loved you without it. That is the truth. Now I will have the fortune without your love. Things change, my dear, and so have I. I found peace with my wife, Virginia, and she has given me many sons and even a daughter. So you see, it was the Hand of Providence that led you away from me to marry Calloway James Torrence, that well-known adulterer. How is life with the old man now? Is he even still alive? My wife tells me you have no children. Well, besides our child.”

  “You have no right to speak so personally to me! I am not a child anymore, Isaiah.” I stood, ready to leave immediately. “You have not changed at all. You are a small man, ruled by your pride and ambition, and obviously I cannot reason with you. Do the right thing, Isaiah. You must set this codicil aside and leave Christine and Jeremiah’s original will to stand.”

  “Too hasty, my dear. You always end things too hastily. I am sure you want to hear me out on this. I have something to say to you, Olivia. Or rather, I have someone you should see.”

  He rang a little silver bell on the table, and to my utter surprise our daughter walked down the leaf-covered path to our outdoor dining space. She mocked me with a curtsy and sat next to Isaiah in an outfit that was obviously intended for the stage. She showed far too much cleavage, and I kept my face a mask as she leaned forward and kissed her father on the mouth like a wanton.

  “Isla, I told you to stay home! What are you doing here?”

  “Imagine my surprise, Aunt Olivia, to learn that this man, Isaiah Cottonwood, is my own father. Imagine my great surprise! For I am truly surprised! And an even greater surprise, Aunt Olivia, is that you are my mother! Can you imagine how surprised I was to learn this? You tricked me, Mother! What can that mean for my daughter, Karah? That her father was also her great-uncle? We are one big happy family now, aren’t we?” Isla walked toward me with a rare, serious look on her face. “And I want what belongs to me. I will not let this go. You should know that by now.”

  She got in my face and smiled. “You left me with the general, and he took his liberties with me, Mother. His hands were all over my body. When he got bored with violating and hurting me himself, he invited his friends to do the same. I learned many tricks from the general. Cruel to the last was he, but in the end, I took care of him. One last time. And there were others too, all except my sweet Captain. And even he failed me like all the rest. But now I have my own father!” She walked over to stand beside him, her hand on his shoulder. “He will make sure I get what I deserve. Won’t you, Father?”

  She slapped the table and yelled at me, “I told you that you would never take Seven Sisters away from me! That it was mine. That it belonged to me. Now we know why, don’t we? I will live there until the day I die. Then my daughter…”

  “No, you are coming home with me. I have left you too long in this world.” I masked my shock, regret and revulsion. I would deal with those later.

  “You cannot command me, Mother,” she said in a mocking voice.

  “Maybe not, but I have legal custody of you until your next court appearance. You will go where I command you.”

  “She can’t, can she, Father?” Her sickeningly sweet voice was too much to bear. I left the two of them at the table, her giggles in my ears. Isaiah did not call after me, nor did I wish him to. I left his estate at Park Hill and headed back to Seven Sisters. This was too heartbreaking. I decided I would retrieve my ill-begotten daughter tomorrow and
go home. That would be that. I would tell my husband the truth about our fortune and let him do what he could to solve the problem. He might even abandon me, as would be his right. I had failed to deliver a fortune or a child. I was doubly cursed.

  As I finished dinner alone, Stokes came in. I could tell by the way the old man shuffled his feet that he wanted to announce someone. “Who is it, Stokes?”

  “It’s Isaiah Cottonwood.”

  “I see. Well, let him in, please.”

  Twice in one day. Apparently, Isaiah had thought of something else to hurt me with. What would he do now, bring Karah before me?

  “I am sorry to call on you so late. I realize this is most inopportune of me.”

  I did not rise. I wiped my hands on a thick linen napkin and waited for him to get to the matter at hand. “Why have you come, Isaiah?”

  “I come because—I wanted to tell you—she’s not…”

  “Ah, Isla,” I said, smiling at him sadly.

  “I do not know how it happened, but it did happen. I was asleep, and the next thing I remember was her naked body on top of mine. I hardly know how to say this to a lady, but when I woke up, we were… she was….” He shuddered, and I could see he was overcome with disgust and shame. “Once I knew it was not some sort of bizarre dream, I threw her off of me. She laughed at me, her own father! Our daughter is mad, Olivia! Mad and dangerous! I threw her out of the house, and I do not know where she has gone. Perhaps to this captain she speaks of.”

  “He is dead, Isaiah. She shot him. In Roanoke. He has been dead for three years now.”

  “That’s impossible, for I saw him earlier at my home. He stood outside the door waiting for her. She went to him when she left me. I locked the door behind her.”

  I took a sip of the dark claret. “Then you saw a ghost.”

  His eyes were even wider. “That’s not all. She said—she cursed me, Olivia. Already I feel it taking effect. I am sick now, and I fear I shall die.”

  “You are being dramatic, Mr. Cottonwood. An angry woman—a madwoman—assaulted you. That is all. Do you really believe in curses? What woman has the power to do such things?”

  “Don’t talk to me about women, Mrs. Torrence.”

  “You expect me to help you after you confess to me that you have had carnal knowledge of our daughter? You expect me to assist you at all?” I smiled at him and watched the low light of the candelabra flicker. The candles burned low, and their red wax dripping made the moment that much more somber.

  “You don’t understand. I feel—my heart—the doctor says I am not supposed to have— Ahh…help me, Olivia.”

  I stood up as Isaiah slumped over the table, panting for breath and pounding at his chest. “I do understand you—and I curse you too! How dare you molest our daughter. How dare you refuse to help me! You thought you’d take advantage of my situation, but it has turned on you, hasn’t it? Fate is a cruel mistress, Isaiah. This is why I did not want to marry you. You have always been unsteady. How does the saying go? ‘A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways…’”

  I rubbed his shoulder with my pale hand and whispered in his ear, “You are that man, and you are unstable in all your ways.” All the emotions I had locked away, had carefully forbidden myself from feeling, rose to the surface. And despite my sudden tears, the emotion I felt most strongly was anger. All of it fell on Isaiah. My reasoning renounced its position as my chief counsel. Raw anger took control, and for the first time in my life, I welcomed it and allowed it to flow through me like dammed-up water through a pipe.

  I sobbed, “I curse you, Isaiah—and your sons too. May you die, may they die in the prime of their life! May they feel happiness but have it stolen from them before they can fully possess it! I curse you for stealing my soul! You never cease to disappoint me, and now you would do this to me. You will not have what you seek. No peace for you or any of the Cottonwoods! Just as you did this to my blood, I curse your blood!

  “I leave you now, Isaiah. I will never see you again. Except when they bury you. And they will bury you soon. Probably tomorrow.”

  Just then another guest joined us. It was Isla. “Mother, I can explain.”

  “What is there to say? I have cursed the man who hurt my daughter and stole my fortune. Now he is doubly cursed. See, he is dying. Leave him be, Isla. Why don’t you go be with your captain in the Moonlight Garden before we have to leave this place?”

  “You know about my sweet Captain?” Her voice sounded frail, quiet, pretty.

  “The Moonlight Garden has always been a special place. Go now and leave your father to me.”

  ***

  I sputtered the sea water out of my lungs. How long had I been lying on this piece of foam, floating around the harbor? I’d woken up long enough to throw up, and now I was dying of thirst. Thankfully the storm had been during a warm season, or I was sure I would have died.

  “Hey! Somebody! Help me!” I shouted about a hundred times. I heard nothing but the winds roaring and the waves crashing in response. Yelling into a storm was futile, so I waited for the waves to diminish and then tried again. The sun was rising now. How long had I been out here?

  Long enough to know that Henri’s prayer had been heard. God showed me what I needed to know, how the curse began and how I could break it. I had no doubt I would be found, because this had been his plan all along.

  When the Coast Guard ship sailed in my direction, I cried. Not just because I had been found but because I knew how to break Olivia and Isla’s curse. I would live to break it.

  Carrie Jo! I love you! I know what to do now! I’m coming to you, baby!

  Chapter Twelve—Carrie Jo

  “I spent my whole life trying to prevent this dream walking, to prevent it from developing in you, but I failed—and I caused you great pain in the process,” my mother said earnestly. “Please believe me when I tell you that I begged God a hundred times to take it from us. To take it from you. If you had seen the things my mother went through…she got so obsessed. All she wanted to do was sleep, and then one day she didn’t wake up. I think the dreaming killed her, and I didn’t want that for you. I thought if I followed the rules, you know, went to church, lived a holy life, if I became pure in the eyes of God, I could save you. I can’t explain my reasoning. It all seems so crazy now.”

  “I can’t believe this.” The pain in my back worsened, but I didn’t move. I stared at her. “You mean you knew what was happening to me and you didn’t tell me? You knew all this time? I thought I was crazy. I thought you hated me!”

  “I’m sorry, Carrie Jo. I am very sorry that I let you grow up not knowing what I knew, even if that wasn’t very much.”

  A blast of wind moaned around the eave of the house. I heard the television bleeping a weather alert in the other room, but I was frozen to the spot. Rachel and Detra Ann were upstairs, laughing about something. The surreal moment lingered and I said, “How could you do that?”

  She wrung her hands and covered her mouth. Finally she said, “All I can say is I am sorry.”

  “And I’m supposed to do what now?” I stood up. “Act like a ‘sorry’ makes it all better. That it erases it all? You’re wrong, Momma. I’m not going to forget and…” I felt the need to get away, but I wasn’t done giving her a piece of my mind. Kind Carrie Jo warned me to watch my mouth—that I would regret it if I said something stupid—but as sure as I was pregnant, I didn’t listen to the voice of reason.

  “I’m not asking you to do anything, Carrie Jo. Nothing at all. It’s up to you if you want to accept my apology or not.”

  My hands were clenched into fists. My ponytail felt limp and my back pain kicked into high gear, but the tears were coming. There would be no stopping them now. “With Ginny, you knew I wasn’t crazy? And that time when I kept seeing that old man in my dreams—the one who hurt himself? You knew those dreams were real and you let me sleep in that house anyway?”

  “We had nowhere else to go! It was that or the street. Your dad le
ft us high and dry. I had to take whatever we could get.” Her eyes narrowed in frustration. “I’m not proud of what I did, the decisions I made. Not proud at all. I know it’s too late to ask you to trust me now, but I could not let one more day go by without telling you that I am sorry. I am sorry about it all.”

  “What about my father? How come you never wanted to tell me about him? You know what that’s like when you’re a kid? What it’s like now? He hates me, doesn’t he?” The pain in my back grew more intense, and I could see flashes of light around the corners of my eyes. I put my hand on the table to steady myself.

  “No! No, Carrie Jo. He doesn’t hate you. He was afraid of us. Afraid of me. He’s not a bad man, just a fearful one.”

  Angry words were poised at the tip of my tongue, but they didn’t spring forth like I wanted them to. To my surprise, a splash of water landed on the floor between my legs. It felt warm and sticky. It didn’t stop. My sandaled feet were all wet now. All I could think to say was, “Momma?”

  She jumped out of the chair. “It’s okay, Carrie Jo. This is normal. Your water broke. The baby is coming soon. We’ve got to get you back to the hospital.” She put her arm around me and led me to the side door. “Oh, shoot! My car isn’t here. Detra Ann? Rachel?” The girls bounded down the stairs, still smiling until they saw me.

  “Does this mean what I think it means?” Detra Ann asked.

  “Yes, her water broke. We’ve got to get her back to the hospital right now.”

  “Why did they send her home? I knew that was a mistake. Let’s take my car.” She ran to the living room, grabbed her purse and came back. “Let’s do this, CJ. You’ve got this! Rachel? Would you mind cleaning this up?”

  “Sure, I’ll clean up and turn everything off. I’ll meet y’all up there. Should I call Ashland and Henri?”