Chapter 3
Halsey Blake had known from the first pair of horseshoes Judd Calhoun struck that he had found a treasure of a blacksmith. He knew just how to hone the heel calk and how to round the nail crease for a perfect fit. Big and brawny, Judd could make the anvil sing.
Judd had been desperate for work, having just returned from Texas with a wife and baby. Halsey wanted to keep him around, so he had a better cabin built for him than the one he usually provided, which was a mere square pen of logs roofed over with boards supported by rough posts at the door. Halsey even let Judd pick the site, a picturesque knoll overlooking the winding Oconee River. The cabin was elevated three feet above the ground on four corner posts, so air could circulate beneath. The fireplace was at one end, made of sticks and clay, the chimney carried up outside. The roof was extended to hang over the porch.
But it was not the porch Judd preferred. He liked to sit out on the lawn beneath a spreading mimosa tree, where he now aimlessly whittled at a stick while waiting for the Blake carriage to arrive. He wished he didn't have to go to the party. Brushing wood shavings from his new trousers, he thought again how silly he felt to be wearing a frock coat. But Michael had insisted, ordering him to be fitted by his own tailor and footing the bill himself. Judd figured he would get three wearings out of his outfit—today's party, Jacie's wedding, and one day down the road, his own funeral.
One down, two to go, he thought mirthlessly. Not that he had any fear of dying. No, he reckoned he'd had a real good life, considering other folks. But there were times when he wondered how things would have been if he'd stayed in Texas. He had liked being a Ranger. But when the Indians had slaughtered poor Iris and her family, Judd couldn't wait to take his baby daughter and get the hell out of that wild land.
"Well, Daddy, how do I look?"
He looked toward the house. A lump came into his throat as he saw Jacie and was struck as always by how she was the spitting image of her aunt Iris. And he had never seen her look prettier. Her ebony-colored hair was pulled back and held by a tiny cluster of fragrant gardenia blossoms, soft ringlets tumbling to her golden-tanned shoulders. Her gown was fashioned of deep purple silk and satin and overlaid with delicate pink lace flounces on the bodice and the skirt, and she wore elbow-length gloves of white lace and a sheer stole that matched the lacework of the gown.
She held her skirt daintily to keep from dusting the hem as she came toward him. "You aren't saying anything. Do I look awful? Should I go back inside and put on one of my old dresses?" She was forever attempting to get a smile out of her father by teasing him but rarely succeeded. He was such a somber man, and she had always wondered what had happened in his past to make him so unhappy.
Suddenly, Judd could keep his thoughts to himself no longer. "You look just like your aunt Iris did on her wedding day," he blurted.
Jacie knew her mother and her sister had had a double wedding, just as she knew her aunt's death had been something neither of her parents had ever gotten over. Rarely was Iris mentioned, and it made Jacie feel awkward to hear her father speak of her now. She changed the subject. "I never dreamed I'd wear such a fine dress. It was sweet of Michael to buy new things for all of us."
Judd snorted and returned to his whittling. "He knew if he didn't, there wouldn't be no party, because you sure couldn't go dressed in the rags I've been able to provide for you. Just wait, girl. This is only the beginnin'. Once you and him are married you won't want for anythin' the rest of your life."
"Maybe you and Momma will come and live with us. The house is certainly big enough." Jacie knew with certainty that that would never happen.
Judd began to rock gently to and fro. "I'll live here till the day I die and then I want to be buried right here under this tree. All I want is to know you're looked after when I'm gone."
"I will be, but don't you worry. You're going to be around a long, long time, Daddy. You'll be rocking your grandbabies in that very chair. You'll see." She rushed to kiss the top of his balding head.
Judd tensed. It always made him feel funny when Jacie touched him, because thoughts of Iris and how much he had loved her came to mind.
Jacie moved away, sensing his usual rejection. She could not remember a time in her life when he had hugged her or kissed her, and if she tried to hold his hand when they walked together, he drew back. Sometimes she dared wonder if maybe he blamed her for how unhappy he was, married to her mother. Perhaps she had been born at a time when he was thinking about leaving but felt duty-bound to stay after becoming a father. And she had often wondered why she had no brothers and sisters.
"That boy is gonna propose to you tonight," Judd said. "He spoke to me about it awhile back. Asked my permission, proper like. You're a lucky girl."
Impetuously, Jacie dared ask, "What if I told him no? What if I told him I'm not ready to get married yet, that I'd like to experience more of life before settling down?" She was not about to confide how much she had been thinking lately about Mehlonga's dream of going out west, and if he did go, how she wished she could go with him. Only for a visit, of course, but even to think of actually seeing the other side of those mountains filled her with excitement.
"Don't you even joke about such a thing." He shook the knife at her. "You tell Michael yes, or so help me, I'll take my shavin' strop to you."
Jacie dismissed his threat. He might seem to resent her at times, but he'd never whipped her.
"Somethin' else," he said gruffly. "Miz Blake told me to see to it that you quit hangin' around that old Indian. She don't think it looks nice, and neither do I. It was different when you were little, but you're grown up now."
"I enjoy being around Mehlonga. He teaches me about healing ways. I want to learn everything I can."
His tone softened as he was again reminded of his beloved. "You're just like your aunt Iris. Her pa was a doctor and she was his shadow, learnin' everythin' she could from him. After he died, she started tendin' folks. They called her a medicine woman. Maybe you took after her that way too. But if Miz Blake don't like you seein' that Indian, you give it up, you hear me? And I don't imagine Michael likes it, either. It's time you started actin' like a woman about to be married."
"Just because I get married doesn't mean I have to forget all my dreams."
"What dreams? The only dream you ought to be havin' is about bein' Michael's wife, havin' his babies. What kind of nonsense are you talkin' about now?"
"Do you see that mountain in the distance?"
Judd followed her gaze.
"Sometimes I can't help thinking how there's more to this world than what I've known here. Roads I've never walked. Rivers I've never seen. Flowers I've never smelled. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm always going to wonder—"
Judd slapped his forehead and looked at her as though she had gone daft. "That's the craziest thing I ever heard of. One of the richest men in the state of Georgia wants to marry you and you're wonderin' about rivers and flowers."
Jacie was unmoved by his censure. "Haven't you ever thought about it, Poppa? How life might have been if you hadn't settled down here?"
A shadow crossed his face. "Listen, girl. I crossed them mountains once. Some of me is still on the other side, and the empty parts filled up with pain and made me wish I'd never gone. I'd be better off. A lot of folks would." His voice cracked. "So don't go talkin' to me about how you want to do the same damn thing."
* * *
Violet heard everything from where she stood listening inside the cabin at her bedroom window. Judd's words cut deeply, because although they had never discussed it, she knew he blamed himself for what happened to Iris and her family. He probably reasoned that if he had not gone west to return with glowing tales of the life awaiting, Luke would not have wanted to go. The trip would not have taken place and the horror would not have happened. But she also knew that Judd would have left her for good, and that was where her own nightmares began—with the reality that her lie, her deception, was what had kept hi
m tied to her all these years. But she had loved him so much, had prayed he would learn to love her too. Only it hadn't happened, and she had come to believe they would all have been better off if she'd told the truth back then.
She wanted to love Jacie, but every time she looked at her she saw Iris, which needled her conscience. She had tried to be a good mother all the same. Now Jacie would be moving into the mansion and Violet was happy for her, but also glad to have Judd to herself at last. Without Jacie around to remind him of Iris, Violet dared hope it was not too late to make him love her after all.
The sound of a horse approaching took Violet's attention, along with Jacie's and Judd's, to the road beside the river. It was not quite time for the carriage to arrive.
It was Zach. He reined to a stop near Judd and was about to state his business when he saw Jacie and froze. "Lord," he whispered under his breath. He had never seen her look so beautiful.
Dismounting, he could not tear his eyes from her, and for the moment he forgot why he was there.
Judd had to prod him and was a bit irritable, because he had never liked Zach's interest in his daughter and didn't like how he was looking at her now. "Well, what is it? Don't stand there oglin'. We're waitin' to go to a party and have no time for you."
Zach continued to stare at Jacie as he told Judd, "I reckon you got time for Mr. Blake. He sent me to tell you them horses he bought up in Richmond last month just got here. He wasn't expectin' them till next week. Some of them got hooves in bad shape, and they're limpin'. He wants you to carry some work clothes with you so as soon as you've put in an appearance at the party you can high-tail it over to the stables and take a look at them. He said to apologize to you, Miss Jacie"—he flashed her a big grin—"and says he knows you understand about things like that."
"She understands like I do that lame horses are more important than a party I didn't want to go to in the first place," Judd snapped. He was on his feet and already unbuttoning the frock coat that made him so uncomfortable. "I won't be missed. I'll change and get on over there now."
"Sorry," Zach said to Jacie after Judd had gone into the cabin. He was turning his hat around and around in his hands. "Sorry about a lot of things, like you fallin' the other day. I shouldn't have let you do it."
"If it was anybody's fault, it was Michael's," Jacie told him matter-of-factly. "There's nothing for you to apologize for."
"He didn't see it that way."
She raised an eyebrow. "He didn't punish you, did he?"
He laughed. "What's he gonna do? Turn me over his knee and give me a paddlin'? He just run his mouth, that's all, and I want to thank you." His voice softened as he looked down at her and felt a heated rush to think how much he wanted her. "He told me you made him promise not to do anythin' to me."
"Well, I persuaded you to set those hurdles up and show me how to jump them, Zach, so it wasn't fair for him to take out his anger on you. But it's over now. Don't worry about it anymore."
He started to leave but had to tell her, "You sure are pretty, Jacie, probably the prettiest girl I ever saw in my whole life. And I want to wish you a happy birthday."
"Why—why, thank you, Zach." Jacie came and stood on tiptoe to impulsively kiss his cheek. "You're sweet to say that."
"Jacie. Get in here."
Violet had witnessed the scene and was furious. One of these days Jacie was going to get herself in trouble by being too friendly with people, and what could she be thinking, anyway, kissing Zach Newton, even if it was just on his cheek and to thank him for a compliment. Zach was a rowdy. Violet could tell. She could also tell he liked Jacie a little bit too much and needed to be put in his place. Jacie wasn't helping the situation.
"I have to go," Jacie said to Zach.
He swung himself up into the saddle. "You have yourself a nice party, Jacie."
"I will. Thanks again."
He rode away, and Violet bounded out of the cabin and down the steps. She was wearing a lovely gown too, a blue taffeta with a slightly scooped neck, the bodice crusted with little pearls. The sleeves were puffed all the way to the elbows, where more pearls sprinkled the fabric and then they tapered to the wrists. Her hair was pulled back in a snood. Michael had offered to send over one of the Negro girls who was especially good at fixing ladies' hair, but Violet had declined. She had worn her hair in a snood for years and was not about to be fussed over with a bunch of curling irons and combs.
"Are you out of your mind?" she lashed out at Jacie. "I saw what you did."
"I kissed his cheek," Jacie said quietly. "He's my friend."
"And he might take it the wrong way and get ideas about how maybe you aren't really a lady, and he certainly doesn't pretend to be a gentleman. What would Michael think?"
Jacie stiffened. Her mother scolded her for everything. Actually, the only time Violet ever talked to her at all was to fuss or give her a chore to do.
"Michael understands I show people I like them, Mother."
"He doesn't know how friendly you can be sometimes. You'll get yourself in trouble one day. And what are you looking at, anyway?"
A chickadee had landed on a branch of the mimosa tree and Jacie was staring up at it with an expectant look on her face, only to seem flooded with relief as it flew away. "Mehlonga told me birds can see into the future and if a chickadee perches on a branch near the house and chirps, it's an omen that you have a secret enemy plotting something terrible against you. I didn't want that kind of omen, today of all days. I'm glad it flew away without making a sound."
"Oh for heaven's sake. You listen to your pa and stay away from that old fool."
The carriage arrived a few minutes later and a groom, resplendent in a red satin coat and black satin pants, helped Jacie and Violet inside.
Violet settled back comfortably. She felt so at peace. Soon Jacie would no longer be her responsibility. Best of all, Jacie would not be around to intrude on the precious hours when Judd was at home. Violet would work harder to make him love her. There was still time; they were not so terribly old. She closed her eyes and dreamed of how wonderful it would be.
The carriage moved along the path beside the river and then onto the main road, turning finally into the long drive lined with the towering red oak trees that gave the vast plantation its name.
As they drew closer, they passed the gardens on one side, noted for their camellias, with pigeon houses covered in wisteria and honeysuckle. On the other side there was a statuary and a marble fountain. Everywhere the lawn was lush and green, sprawling all the way to the distant cotton fields.
Jacie's breath was always taken away by the sight of the great house—two-storied and tremendous in scale, with a hipped and dormered roof supported on all sides by huge Roman Doric columns, twenty-eight in number.
The guests spilled out onto the porch and the sweeping lawn, the women in billowing skirted gowns of every design and color imaginable and the men smartly dressed in their finest frock coats. Carriages were parked two and three deep in the circular drive in front of the house. A string ensemble played on a side terrace and servants moved through the crowd offering trays of cool drinks.
"Isn't it wonderful?" Jacie breathed as their carriage came to a stop.
"Yes, it is," Violet replied, equally impressed by the setting.
Impatiently, Michael pushed aside the groom to help Jacie alight. Then, oblivious to those watching, he kissed her on either cheek and pressed his lips to her ear to whisper, "My god, you are magnificent, and I've never loved you more."
Violet, taking the hand of the groom to step from the carriage, glanced about self-consciously as she always did to see if anyone was noticing the lack of resemblance between her and Jacie. Violet had seen it many times, the amazement of folks that anyone so plain could have such a beautiful daughter.
Then Violet noticed how one young woman was pushing her way through the crowd gathered around Michael and Jacie, not waiting her turn to be properly introduced. She was smiling, but only with her
lips, for her eyes were grim.
Violet heard her say—too sweetly, she thought—"Michael, aren't you going to introduce me to the guest of honor? I've seen her at a distance when Mother and I have visited in the past, but we've never formally met."
He obliged. "Jacie, I would like for you to meet my cousin, Elyse."
That was all Violet heard before Olivia Blake appeared to politely greet her and squire her up the steps and inside.
No one noticed the chickadee as it perched on a branch near the house... and began to chirp its song.
Chapter 4
Elyse Burdette regarded herself in the elaborate Louis Quinze filigree framed mirror and wondered not for the first time why her cousin Michael was not attracted to her. Other men certainly were; they liked her bright red hair and big blue eyes, framed by incredibly long lashes that she knew how to bat coquettishly. She had a shapely figure. She had also attended the best finishing school in Charleston and knew how to behave with impeccable charm and grace.
So why couldn't Michael see her in a romantic light?
"It's that white trash," Verena Burdette said as though answering her daughter's unspoken question as she breezed into the parlor of the guest wing. "She's put a spell on Michael, bewitched him somehow. He can't be in his right mind to want to marry a ragtag like her."
Elyse responded dully, "Cousin Olivia says Michael has fancied himself in love with Jacie since they were children. He's never had eyes for anyone else."
"You didn't push yourself hard enough." Verena glanced about at the opulent decor of the room. Accenting the blue and gold Empire sofas and chairs were Sevres and Dresden vases, hand-painted china figurines and brass cornices. Paintings in gilt frames hung on the walls. There was a bedroom to each side, with incredibly carved mahogany beds and lavish lace canopies. "Jasper Blake certainly spared no expense when he built this place, and he's probably turning over in his grave to think his grandson is going to marry a blacksmith's daughter. You just didn't put your mind to it," she continued to nag.
Say You Love Me Page 4