Plantation Nation (9781621352877)

by King, Mercedes

  Much of the kitchen had remained the same, though it now included two cornhusk mattresses. Harper, Pearl, and Tilda, Knox had explained, had been moved into the house. Safety, he now felt, dissolved the boundaries of what might be considered proper.

  "She's lost to us, isn't she?"

  Knox stirred little at Emma's remark. Harper prattled around the kitchen but avoided looking at the two. Stuart and the rest of the family were scattered throughout the house. Emma had no idea where Tilda was.

  "The medicine from Doc Hadley helps," he said.

  "You mean it puts her out of her misery."

  "Perhaps, but at the moment, I don't have a better solution for her."

  "And what about the gun, who's idea was that?"

  Knox gave her a deadpan look. "It has no bullets, and it keeps her from crying inconsolably, gives her peace of mind, something that the rest of us cannot accomplish. Why, she hardly pays a speck of attention to young Thomas." He shook his head. "I can't reverse what's been done to her. This is the best I can do."

  "There are hospitals," Emma snapped. "Good ones, up North."

  "She won't allow Doc Hadley to examine her anymore, and she hardly leaves her room. How do you propose I convince her to journey North and to trust a Yankee doctor?"

  Gloom overcast Emma as she had no cure-all.

  "I considered sending for the children," Knox said. "But with the state she's in, I fear that will only upset them. I would not know how to deal with all of them."

  Emma brightened at the thought of Sylvia, though she, too, realized that her siblings would be no match, no remedy for her mother's stupor.

  "Have you heard from them?"

  "Not often. I look back on the day we sent them to Celia's. Hmm. Seems a lifetime ago. I disagreed with your mother. She had it all planned out, knowing that Alexander and Quinn would be leaving. I suspect you already know this, Emma Louise, but your mother's intention that day was to separate you from Sylvia. Olivia was certain that once your sister was no longer here to fawn over you, that you would have no choice but to marry Vaughn. I do not know how, but at the time, part of her logic seemed so simple, perhaps even reasonable." His sad eyes met Emma's. "I will always look on that as the day the war started here, under our very roof. The day our family was seared."

  Emma said nothing. That day, she well knew, marked the beginning of her transformation. She'd courted hope that day, a sense of adventure, and an apprehension of the unknown. But in her passion to right a wrong and to create meaning out of Basil's death, she'd given no thought to what her family might face.

  "At least you and the children were spared the destruction wrought by those deplorable bluecoats. There is that to be thankful for."

  Emma reached for his hand and squeezed. Much needed to be said, but Emma felt too stricken, too raw with grief. The beating George Napier had rendered left Emma scarred and emotionally wrought from Basil's death. Seeing her family and her home succumb to extreme measures and unthinkable abuse, Emma lost hope in mankind and began to wonder if the well-meaning intentions of one person could impact a world contaminated with such lowly evils.

  ****

  Supper consisted of rice and puny vegetables, though no one displayed much of an appetite. One of the parlors now served as the dining room, with various furniture from around the house. Emma held Thomas in her lap as he drooled and reached for her plate. His blathering and innocence proved the lone bright spot in the Cartwright house. Fierce love blazed in Emma, and she couldn't get enough of his smile and chubby cheeks.

  Conversation focused on the war, and the recent announcement in the Charleston Mercury about Admiral David Farragut's capture of New Orleans at the end of April. Reportedly, the citizens had shown no resistance to Farragut and his fleet of Yankees, a detail that surprised the Cartwrights. Like Port Royal, this Union victory would mean heavy troop occupation, especially now that the Union controlled the mouth of the Mississippi. No one around the Cartwright table mentioned the impact that would have on the South, but they knew.

  Just as no one escaped thinking about Sylvia and the other Cartwright children still living with their aunt. Emma believed the Union takeover was a benefit and would likely protect the citizens of New Orleans from further battles. However, when she considered what the soldiers had done in her very own home and to her mother, chills rattled her. Also unsettling was the fact that no letters had been received from Celia or any of the children for months.

  Emma kissed the top of Thomas' head before handing him to Stella. She excused herself and stole outside to the garden for fresh air.

  Moments later, Stuart, now in his wheelchair, joined her.

  "Do you regret coming back?" he asked.

  "No, but there's a lot to accept."

  Emma took in the full blooms of her favorite flowers, but the solace of the garden was gone for her. The beauty was now a stark contrast to the despair that enveloped the estate. She brushed the petals with her fingertips, knowing their fragrance and splendor meant nothing to her mother anymore. Their common ground was gone.

  "You know, I spent a lot of my life trying to change the way things were," she said, "but when changes are forced upon you or beyond your control, you don't much like the outcome."

  "It's because you're stubborn."

  Emma's thoughts snapped to James and the night in the hospital tent when he had accused her of the same trait.

  "How else do you explain how a girl can live among a thousand men and not be found out?" Stuart shrugged. "Because you're stubborn."

  Emma laughed. "I used to think that was a good thing, and I thought Pa and Granddad loved me more because I wasn't like my sisters, and I didn't behave like a doll, the way my mother wanted." She sighed. "But it's also what got Basil killed."

  "It would be best for you to let go of the blame," Stuart said. "George was the one responsible for Basil's death. You loved him and wanted the best for him, just like your pa and granddad love you. And just like I love you."

  For a second, the sentiment didn't impact Emma. Silence hung, and when she considered the tone of Stuart's voice, revelation struck like the lash of a whip. She turned to him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  "Not like it's a secret. I've always loved you, Emma."

  "You know I love you, Stuart. We've been there for each other for a long time."

  "No, I don't mean as a cousin. I mean, I love you, so much that I want you to be my wife."

  Emma felt dizzy as her breath escaped her.

  "You're asking me to marry you?"

  "It's not the fanciest proposal, but no one could ever love you the way I do, Emma."

  She thought again of James and their night in the cabin. To her, love meant that consuming feeling that almost felt painful. When she recalled the sensation of being in his arms, the exhilaration surging through her from his kiss, Emma knew she could never share such closeness with Stuart. In fact, she didn't know if it was possible to feel the same way about another man. Ever. Even though she had no promise from James, and no definite hope that she would even see him again.

  "I'm not sure how to say this gently," Emma began, "but I don't think marriage would work for us, Stuart."

  "When you left, I thought my feelings for you would fade away, but every time a letter came, I knew I'd made a mistake. I had let you leave without telling you how I truly felt. I'm sure it must be the same for you, Emma. Think of how right we are together, how it makes sense for us. We can take over the plantation, run it any way we see fit."

  "Stuart, I can't make a life here anymore. Too much has happened, and that house could never be home for me again."

  "It's been a lot for you to accept," he said. "You need more time to adjust. Once you're more settled—"

  "I'm in love with someone else." Emma regretted the sting her words delivered.

  Stuart regarded her, looking as if he suspected she was lying, but the glimmer in her eye, along with the blush of her cheeks, convinced him.

  "H
ow could that be?"

  "I was injured during a mission, and when I was taken to the hospital, a few people found out my secret. They were already my friends, but they didn't know I was a woman. I didn't tell anyone I was disguising myself so they wouldn't have to lie to protect me, if it ever came to that." Emma worried she was desperately rambling. "I didn't mean for it to happen, but I could say that about so many things now."

  Stuart reached out and tenderly took her hand.

  "I think you should reconsider, even if it means living elsewhere. I know I could make you happy."

  "You deserve better than me, Stuart. You deserve a girl who can give you her whole heart." She shook her head. "That can't be me. My heart will always belong to another."

  Emma knew her relationship with Stuart would never recover. A wedge would forever exist between them. They would never be as easy as they had been around each other again. They would no longer be confidants, able to boldly trust each other with every problem. She hated hurting him, but more painful was the longing she felt for James and an utter regret for having left him at all.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Emma spent the next couple days tending to her mother. She wanted to believe the rest of the family simply hadn't tried hard enough to rescue Olivia from her fear and depression. The daily dosage of medicine also troubled Emma. What would happen if the day came when there was no remedy to ease her mood? Would an empty gun still suffice? And how long could the money and Doc Hadley's supply hold out? Surely, the war would affect both.

  Emma exhausted herself. She talked to her mother endlessly in that breathless, cheerful manner that once defined Olivia. But mostly, Olivia remained unresponsive. Emma fed her, though Olivia ate more for Harper than she did for Emma. She placed Thomas in Olivia's lap, hoping he would flash his precious smiles, but Thomas whined and reached for Emma. Emma took her mother out to the garden, to show her the beautiful springtime blooms, but Olivia displayed no interest, no pleasure. She mumbled fearfully that Yankees could be near and fled to her room.

  As she sat with her mother in the dimly lit bedroom one afternoon, Emma brushed Olivia's hair. She used to do the same thing for Sylvia after she'd been frightened by a storm. Emma took her time and spoke of memories from special occasions and parties Olivia had hosted. Olivia responded little. Emma styled Olivia's hair, getting every ringlet just so, and helped her into a grand gown. She hoped that Olivia could glimpse her former self and revive from her state of limpness. But to Emma's dismay, the dress no longer fit. Since the trauma, Olivia's figure had deteriorated, much the same as her emotional stability had. Emma picked another dress, but the results were the same. Emma let it go. Instead, she synched the dress in where she could and applied a dab of rouge to her mother's cheeks. She led her to a mirror she'd brought in from another room.

  Olivia stood there, her shoulders drooped, her eyes uninterested. Emma put her hands on Olivia's shoulders and whispered to her, reminding her how beautiful she was, telling her that baby Thomas and the rest of the family needed her. A faint recognition dawned on Olivia, but she pounded the mirror with clenched fists, causing it to shatter. Emma pulled her back from the rain of sharp pieces and yelled for Harper as Olivia, with blood rippling down her arms, thrashed and screamed.

  ****

  Growing up, Emma had avoided the family's burial plots with diligence, but now, she felt drawn there. At the crest of a hilltop, the cemetery sat atop the highest point on the Cartwright land. The meadow swayed below, and yellow toadflax danced in the breeze. A sense of peace greeted Emma, or perhaps it was a release from having left her mother's side. The sight of her father's gravestone didn't bring tears to her eyes, though she ached to see him, talk with him, and fall into his arms. Grass sprouted sparingly over Alexander's resting place, and his un-weathered tombstone was a reminder of his recent death that made Emma's stomach clench. Small comfort was found in the fact that his body was retrieved by the family, a benefit to having a battle so close to home.

  Emma had also spent time with Tilda, talking about Henry and paying her respects to his resting place. She still found it difficult to believe he was gone. War had proven to Emma that no man, no home was safe.

  "I suppose there's no surprise, finding you up here," Knox said as he joined her.

  Lost in thought, Emma hadn't heard him approach. She expected to see him dismounting a horse, having forgotten that Knox had sold his few remaining horses. When she'd asked him about it after supper the other night, he said horse theft had grown more common with the war, and that he was better off selling them, even for a paltry price, than to chance the animals being stolen. Emma suspected there was more to his resolution, but she didn't question him further.

  "I'd forgotten how beautiful the scenery is from up here," Emma said.

  "Indeed." Knox took the bouquet of wildflowers he held and laid them atop the grave of his wife. Emma's memories of her grandmother were fragmented and scattered since Louise had passed when Emma was only six, but she treasured the stories her father and Knox had often shared about her.

  "How's mother?"

  Knox lingered. "She's resting quietly. Doc Hadley stitched her up nicely, said she'll be all right."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

  "Nonsense. Nothing to be sorry about." He sat beside Emma. "You tried, Emma Louise, you tried. Except for Harper, I fear the rest of us have given up. Maybe if Quinn returns… well, maybe then."

  Emma's chest tightened. She couldn't tell Knox and the rest of her family what had happened between her and Quinn. Her family had endured more than she could have thought possible. Telling them that Quinn had tried to kill her, that he was bleeding profusely when she left him, would only deepen their sorrows. She refused to put them through more grief. If Quinn returned, though, Emma couldn't envision herself standing in the same room with him. She didn't hate him or hope he was dead, but she wouldn't be able to pretend in front of others that nothing had occurred. In her heart, she would work on forgiving him.

  "I'm leaving tomorrow, Granddad, and going back up North."

  Knox sat motionless. "You mean back to the Union army."

  Emma's throat went dry, her eyes wide. "How—"

  "I did not know for certain until now, but I suspected. I didn't want to believe it, mind you, but when I took in the sight of you, that hair and the peculiar look on your face, I knew. How could my own flesh and blood side with such scoundrels? And how on earth could you run off and live as a man?" Knox sighed, shook his head. "But after the news of Alexander and those vermin invading our home, nothing should appall me." He shot her a look. "I'm not saying I approve, Emma Louise, but I am saying that, after all that's happened… your father, Basil, and even Vaughn, that I found an understanding. It's your nature to want what you think is right, and I can't fault you for that. However, I do wish you'd reconsider. This is your home, the only life you've ever known. You're needed here."

  Emma knew she couldn't fully explain her hankering to leave. She was still figuring out a great deal about who she was and what she wanted. Naturally, her feelings for James were involved, as well as her desire to make up for the fact she had left her comrades at a pivotal time. She feared she was no better than Charles, who contemplated deserting, or perhaps even men like McClellan and Colonel Reed, who were all ego and little action. Such thoughts wrangled in her mind.

  "So much is different," Emma said. "I can't stay. I don't feel like I belong here anymore." The words pained her to say, but Emma owed him total honesty.

  "What about Stuart? That boy's had new life breathed in him since you arrived."

  Emma frowned. "He'll be glad to see me go… now." Knox arched an eyebrow in her direction. "I turned down his proposal."

  "Well, based on the history you two have shared, I would've surmised that such a notion would have great appeal to you. He's far better than Vaughn."

  "I don't have romantic feelings for him."

  Knox nodded. "Yes, I suppose such feelings might be
important."

  Emma darted her eyes at him. A year ago he had insisted she marry a man she despised, and he had allowed Olivia to send away Sylvia, knowing it would break her heart. She wanted to ask him what he knew about feelings. However, he was no longer the same man he was a year ago, just as she was no longer the same. Her resentment dissipated.

  "Stuart is a marvel, I must say," Knox said. "Why, he's determined to preserve our property here. Would you believe he's suggested that we turn to sharecropping, since the laborers are gone? Can you even fathom such a thing? Stuart says it's the only way we can still grow and harvest the rice. What's worse is that he wants to turn our home into a boarding house! Sakes almighty! Who knows what he'll consider next. Perhaps turning the place into a bordello!"

  Emma blushed and laughed. She couldn't recall the last time he'd spoken with such playful boisterousness, though she knew part of his intention was to hide the sting he felt from such ideas becoming his future. Emma wondered how a man of Knox's stature and pride would survive so many changes. He had already sacrificed a great deal, but could he continue adjusting, and could he accept a new South, one without slavery, if the North won? Perhaps in watching the slaves depart, he had accepted it.

  "Stuart means well," Emma said. "And he has a good head on his shoulders. I know you always wanted to pass this land along to one of your sons, but maybe it's best this way. I'm glad he's thinking about taking care of the family and the plantation." She slightly hung her head. "Speaking of which, there's a matter I needed to discuss with you."

  "Oh?"

  "The money from the chest." Her heart raced at the admission. "I can put back what I have left, but I plan to pay it all back."

  "My dear Emma Louise, keep it." He took her hand and kissed it.