by Hines, Jerri
Jo glanced over at Harry Lee. Fannie had been his? She felt faint. She uttered in a low voice, “Kathleen plotted against me all this time.”
“Don’t tell me that you didn’t suspect her,” Harry Lee snickered. “She was in on my little plot from the time I got to Philadelphia to stop your wedding to that sniveling little coward, Andrew. She wanted to marry Andrew and I you. Of course, you would not have survived long enough to see the end result after I inherited all that was yours. Kathleen thought I would marry her afterwards and she was going to be the belle of Charleston.”
“She was married!”
“Minute details, I can assure you.” Harry Lee shrugged. “Besides, I never planned on marrying her. Just needed her help to get at you… See all the trouble you have caused?”
Jo stumbled backward, shaking her head. This couldn’t be happening!
“Elizabeth, listen to me. You can’t trust Harry Lee,” Jo pleaded in a mild, almost soothing voice. “He killed Kathleen…Kathleen is dead, Elizabeth. When he has what he needs, he will kill you…and Madeline.”
Elizabeth appeared less than pleased. “No! No!” she cried. “Madeline is safe…safe.”
Jo saw before Elizabeth. The barrel glistened in the room light. Harry Lee didn’t utter a sound. He cocked the pistol and fired once. Immediately, Elizabeth clutched her stomach and collapsed to her knees. In shock, she looked down. Blood oozed out between her fingers.
Harry Lee strolled over even before the smoke cleared and aimed once more at Elizabeth’s head.
“Don’t,” Jo cried. “For God’s sake!”
Harry Lee slowly turned back to her. His eyes had turned dark; his smile caustic. He gave her a nasty look.
Jo wasted no more time. Not looking back, she rushed toward the door Elizabeth had entered. Falling against the door, her hands desperately sought her escape. Trembling, she tried to turn the handle. It has to open…it has to…
A hand gripped her from behind and thrust her hard against the wall. “Bitch!” Harry Lee snarled. “You ain’t going nowhere!”
He clasped his hands around her neck, squeezing so she couldn’t take a breath. When he suddenly released it, she gasped for breath. “Told ya’ it ain’t going to be quick, cus!” He touched her face and ran his hand down to her bodice. Gripping the material, he smiled smugly. “It’s time for my fun.”
She twisted back and heard the material tear. She became like a wild animal, kicking and clawing. Jo clawed his face, digging her fingernails deep in his skin.
Harry Lee’s face twisted into a façade of burning rage unleashed upon her. He hit her with the back of his hand. Reeling in pain, she rolled to avoid another. As she scrambled to her feet, he caught her. A cry of dismay escaped her lips.
She strained to get out of his clutches. Abruptly, he released her. Momentarily stunned to be free, she eased back in a slow motion. He reached down to his waist and pulled his knife out. A god-awful sound emerged, and Harry Lee venomously snarled.
With the handle grasped tightly in his hand, he lunged at her. She tried to run, but he knocked her down, hard against the hearth. As she lifted her head, she felt the world spin. She remembered nothing else as darkness descended around her.
* * * *
Cullen was a madman. He heard Jo scream and the sound sent cold, merciless fury throughout his veins. He ran, leaving Heyward in his wake. With the strength of ten men, he rammed the door with his shoulder, breaking the barrier between him and Jo off its hinges. He ran in swiftly and as dangerously as a mountain lion ready to pounce.
On their way over to Kathleen’s house, he hadn’t known what he would face. When they exited the carriage, the blood-curdling cry answered the uncertainty.
The house sat in almost total darkness; only a few lit gas lamps glowed dimly in the foyer. The air, stank and stale, gave way to a home that had fallen into disrepair, evidence that little attention had been paid to the residence for a long time.
Immediately, his eyes caught light reflected under the doorway. Bursting through the door of what had once been a dining room, his heart sank. Josephine lay motionless in the grip of a ghost from the past. With his knife set to plunge, Harry Lee looked over his shoulder and grinned.
With his pistol aimed straight at Harry Lee’s heart, Cullen demanded, “Put her down.”
Moving the unconscious Jo in front of him, Harry Lee laughed. “Don’t think so.”
Not taking the chance of hitting Jo, Cullen lowered his gun and tucked it in his belt. For a brief moment, he contemplated his options. He had only one—he charged at her assailant.
Taken by the intensity of the attack, Harry Lee could do little to evade the assault. Cullen slammed him hard and dropped him down on the floor. Gripping tight to Harry Lee’s arm, Cullen banged it against the floor until the knife dropped out of Harry Lee’s grip.
With the strength of his mad rage, Cullen’s fist knocked Harry Lee upside his jaw. Harry Lee drooped, but kicked Cullen back. Rolling to his right, he reached for his knife, edging ever closer until he grasped hold of it once more.
Cullen reacted as quickly. Both his hands held Harry Lee’s, who was desperately trying to thrust the knife into Cullen. Cullen’s eyes fixated on the bloody blade sidling closer. Josephine moaned, distracting Cullen. Harry Lee used it to his advantage and kicked Cullen back. Harry Lee’s attention turned to the woman lying unconscious.
No time to keep Harry Lee from plunging the knife, Cullen lunged over Josephine, covering her with his body.
A shot rang out.
The room filled with a sudden eerie silence. Ever so slowly, Cullen looked around. Knife in hand, Harry Lee stood over him. Stunned, Harry Lee’s eyes widened in disbelief. He dropped the knife and then collapsed.
With a smoking Remington revolver in his hand, Heyward walked over to the fallen body and turned it. Barely breathing, Harry Lee opened his eyes. Heyward knelt. “Look at me, you sonofabitch, and know who killed ya.” Heyward reached over, took the fallen knife and plunged it deep into Harry Lee’s chest.
Cullen crawled to his feet and picked up Josephine, holding her tenderly in his arms. Her body was limp. Her face was cut and bruised, but she was alive.
Outside, a commotion arose. Someone had called the authorities. They would be inside soon.
“Let me talk,” Cullen said to Heyward, covered in blood. Cullen’s eyes conveyed to the man…his friend…the depth of the thanks he felt. “Stay by me.”
* * * *
Restless, Jo tossed and turned. Dreadful dreams troubled her. She felt as though she was drowning in a sea of memories. Struggling against wave after wave, she desperately tried to find a semblance of sanity.
Harry Lee leaned over the railed fence on the Battery. “Here, Jo, let me help you!”
Frantically reaching for his hand, she fell backward. Harry Lee laughed. His horrible, ghastly taunts echoed around her as water rushed about her. Gulping for air, a hand reached down and grasped hers.
“You’re safe, Jo.”
She felt herself being lifted out of the troubled tempest. “Wade…is that you? Oh, can you forgive me? I tried, truly I have, to hold to your legacy. It’s been so hard…so terribly hard.”
Leaning down, she felt his hand lightly caress her cheek and his lips breezed over hers. “It is as it should be.”
He smiled his charismatic smile she had known so well…and then faded into the fog that now surrounded her. So thick and cloudy, she couldn’t see. Until a light illuminated and the clouds parted. Jo’s heart swelled on the sight of Gillie’s lovely face…so brilliantly lovely.
“Gillie, forgive me…forgive me!” Jo pleaded, reaching out for her. “There is so much I need to tell you. I never understood…Oh, Gillie, don’t leave me.”
“I have never left you.” The voice carried, so soft and soothing. “I never will.”
The haze faded and then there was nothing. Her head hurt; her body ached. She had no strength. She tried ever so hard to open her eyes. So
meone was beside her, but she felt no fear. Was it Cullen?
Tears fell down his cheek. Oh, don’t cry, my love. Don’t cry.
* * * *
Cullen gently wiped her brow. Jo hadn’t woken up. She should have woken up by now. It had been almost twenty-four hours and she laid the same as when he first brought her home, wincing on her every movement.
The doctor cautioned Cullen to be patient. “She has been badly beaten, but it is the blow to the head that is the most concerning. The sooner she becomes conscious the better. There is nothing more we can do but wait.”
Stubbornly, Cullen had refused to leave her side. She looked so white, so dreadfully white. He touched her cheek. “Come back to me, Josephine.”
The whole of the house was in an uproar the moment he carried her up the stairs. Poor Percival. Cullen would never forget the look on his son’s face when he saw his unconscious mother.
The hardest part, though, was telling his father about Elizabeth. In the midst of the bedlam at Kathleen’s house, Elizabeth had been found alive. No one thought she would survive long enough to be transported to a hospital, but she had.
Moreover, she had become conscious, if ever so briefly. Father had said she confessed to all her misdeeds as though she were talking of going out for the evening. Without question, Elizabeth had lost grip with reality, insisting that Madeline was hers.
Elizabeth had ranted on to Father that Kathleen had plotted with Harry Lee before the war in a scheme to get Josephine’s money. When she overheard that Harry Lee was in a Union prison camp, she made subtle inquires at dinner parties and discovered Colonel Holly would be of use to them. From there, Kathleen used her wiles to entrap the good colonel in their plan.
Harry Lee had been smuggled out and the devil was unleashed. Cullen was certain that Colonel Holly greatly regretted his actions. For Cullen held no doubt that when Harry Lee arrived on the scene, the madman devised his own scheme, which included Colonel Holly and Kathleen’s deaths. The first of many Harry Lee planned, if not for Heyward.
Unfathomable that Elizabeth had been that devious to contemplate taking another’s life. Now, she, too, clung to life. God forgive him, but he couldn’t care less whether his stepsister lived or died.
Josephine moaned. Lord, she must be in pain. One of her eyes was swollen shut; the side of her face had been cut where Harry Lee had run his knife down her cheek. Her neck was bruised from having a hand around it, but she would survive. She had to survive.
“Father,” a small voice called from behind him. “Can I come in?”
Looking over at the door, he watched Percival ease into the room. Cullen wondered how long his son had waited outside. He opened his arms wide for his son to climb into them. He hugged Percival tightly.
“Miss Hazel, you can enter also,” Cullen said, knowing she, too, had been waiting in the hall. “She would want you here.”
The old black woman made her way in and shut the door behind her. She pulled up her own chair to the other side of Josephine. She said nothing, but words weren’t necessary. They never were between Jo and her mammy.
Percival’s small hand reached out and touched his mother’s face. “Is she gonna wake up?”
“Yes, son.”
Percival turned to his father and stared into his eyes. “Did you get him, Father? He won’t hurt Momma again?”
“He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”
Percival nodded, content with his father’s answer. He sat on the edge of the bed with his father, refusing to leave when Mrs. Finnegan tentatively tried to coax him out without disturbing Josephine.
Percival had a need to be by his mother. Cullen understood the need and, strangely, he needed his son by him. Time grew late. Percival fell asleep in his father’s arms. Cullen laid him at the foot of her bed. He stood to gather a throw to wrap around Percival.
“Cullen?” A weak voice whispered in the still of the room.
Rushing to Jo’s side, he kissed her forehead and took her hand in his. “Rest, my love. Rest. Everything has been taken care of. You have nothing to fear.”
With great effort, Jo tried to nod. She grimaced as a sleepy Percival climbed toward her. Cullen reached over to grab him. She shook her head. “No, he’s fine.”
Her arm rounded his small frame into her shoulder and he laid his head against her. She glanced over and saw Miss Hazel. She smiled. Looking back at Cullen, she asked, “Madeline?”
“She is waiting impatiently for her mother, my darling.”
Wincing, she nodded, but seemed satisfied with the answer. “I’m so tired.”
“Sleep. I will be here. We all will be here when you wake.” Cullen choked back tears. He stroked her hair as her eyes closed once more.
* * * *
Threatening clouds darkened the skies. Over the ocean’s horizon, a storm brewed. Blustery winds whipped about Josephine, hindering her stroll along the beach. She gave the impending rain no heed nor did she give thought to the force of the waves that crashed on the rocks.
Two weeks ago, Cullen had brought her and the children to Newport, a beautiful seaport town in Rhode Island. The house was a beautiful manor that overlooked the cliffs. At first, he had taken her to Rosemount to heal, but in the end, he decided the whole family needed to escape Philadelphia for a time.
She halted and faced the ocean. Back and forth, the tide rolled in and out, closer and closer to her. She didn’t move as the water covered her feet and waves sprayed around her.
Though her wounds had healed physically, a gloom enveloped Josephine she couldn’t dismiss. So many deaths haunted her.
Elizabeth was gone. Poor, disturbed Elizabeth had succumbed to the gunshot wound less than a week after being rescued. Her mother had been devastated, blaming herself for not knowing how sick her daughter had been, but in truth, no one had suspected Elizabeth capable of such evil deeds.
That knowledge had not stopped Monica Smythe from unleashing her hurt and anguish at Jo the day of Elizabeth’s funeral. “Elizabeth would be alive today if not for you. Why…why did you have to come into our lives?”
Cullen dismissed the rantings of his stepmother. “She doesn’t mean anything she said. She was only lashing out her pain. Unfortunately, you bore the brunt of it.”
In time, Monica Smythe had apologized for her outburst, but the doubt lingered in Jo that perhaps Elizabeth would have been alive if not for her. The thought gnawed within her that, not only Elizabeth, but others suffered because they were associated with her. Faces…so many faces haunted her…Wade…Gillie.
Almost six months had passed since that horrifying night. So much had happened. The war had ended. In April, the South had surrendered, unconditionally, with Lee at Appomattox Courthouse; followed closely after by the assassination of President Lincoln. The days before the nation were uncertain.
Her beloved South had lost. She remembered how confident and enthusiastic Charleston had been at the beginning of the conflict. Now, the life they had known was no more. The brave souls had fought the damning war thinking they were fighting for a purpose—honor. Lives, so many lives had been given for the cause without reason. Wade…her heart crushed within her. She had failed him so terribly.
Guilt weighed upon her. Why was she here in comfort instead of paying for her sins…sins that God had deemed everyone should pay—both North and South—and pay greatly for their transgression in acceptance of that horrendous practice. None had been spared his wrath: those who benefited, those who accepted, and even the ones who turned a blind eye. The sole source of brightness throughout these tragic years had yielded only one thing—the abolition of slavery.
Magnolia Bluff survived. The family survived, but that, too, had come with a price. Jo doubted she would ever be able to return. The hatred spawned toward the Yankees extended to her, though not to Cullen. She had been painted a minx by Charleston society. Cullen was a loyal soldier, respected by his peers, even if it was on the side of the enemy.
For so long, J
o had thought the letters she had sent to Mother Montgomery, Jenna, and Charlotte had gotten lost due to the war and aftermath. It wasn’t until she read a letter Andrew had sent Cullen that she fully understood that she had truly been shunned.
It is unfortunate. I have tried to reason with Mother, but she refuses to listen. The atmosphere here in Charleston lends to their discontent with Josephine. The rumors and whispers have done their damage that I can’t undo without confessing the whole truth. Guilt is heavy on my conscience knowing I’m responsible, but I can’t explain Jo’s silence while she was in prison. To be honest, I did not realize how important it would be to maintain our secret indefinitely. Regrettable that Jo suffers from our actions.
A couple of months after the war, Cullen felt it his duty to travel down to Charleston. Although not welcome with open arms, no one turned their backs on him. He stayed with his family and secured Magnolia Bluff from the taxes that were draining most of the other plantations.
The South had been inundated with carpetbaggers who showed little sympathy toward Southerners. Cullen insulated his family from the backlash, even offered help to a few of their neighbors. More importantly, the secret shared between Andrew and Cullen had been kept. Wade’s legacy to his son had been saved.
Jo kept reminding herself it was not her, but Percival’s legacy that was of the utmost importance. Her disgrace meant little. A small sacrifice to maintain what Wade had fought to keep for his son. Reprimanding herself greatly for indulging in her own sorrows, she fought the surge of grief that swelled in her. The long denied acknowledgment—she greatly missed her home and the family she left behind.
But she had Miss Hazel, only now her mammy had a life different than Jo’s. As she had in the past, Miss Hazel had stayed by Jo’s side until she recovered. Afterwards, Miss Hazel went home to care for Tome. She had a life outside of Jo.
At the time of her abduction, Jo had not realized that it had been Heyward who had killed Harry Lee. Cullen hadn’t told her until much later. He had wisely chosen to keep the information a secret.