by Amy Reade
“Well, I’ve read a lot about it. It was horrible. That’s part of the reason they should be restored, don’t you see? So people can understand what life used to be like for the slaves on these Southern plantations. So people can see how different life was for the slaves than for the master and the mistress who lived in the great house.”
Phyllis shook her head. “You want other people to see where the slaves lived? You want people coming through here to learn?” she jeered. “It would just be white people making money off the backs of the slaves . . . again,” she added in disgust. “Do you know what stories Sarah could tell you about the things that happened in these little cabins? They’d curl that pretty red hair of yours.”
“I’ve been wondering how Sarah speaks to you,” I said.
She gazed at me for a moment before answering.
“The same way you do. With her mouth. But only when I’m alone.”
“Oh. Will you tell me some of Sarah’s stories?” I asked.
Phyllis walked to the door and sat down in the doorway, hugging her knees. She closed her eyes. “Sarah told me this once. Her daddy knew that he was going to be sold off to a plantation many miles away from here. He was scared. Sarah’s mama cried and cried. The sale was going to take place the next day. He wasn’t going to be able to see his family anymore. He would rather have died than be separated from Sarah’s mama and their babies, but see, that’s what was going to happen. So that’s what he did. He died. He shot himself right in that cabin,” she said in a faraway voice, pointing to the cabin next door. “That’s what he did.”
We were both silent for many moments. Then I asked Phyllis, “Why do you stay here?”
She looked at me almost pityingly. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I stay here because this is where I can take care of my family’s memories. That’s all they left behind. Memories and stories. If I’m not here to take care of them, what’s going to happen to them? They’ll fall silent, just like those slave owners always wanted. I can’t let that happen. So I stay. Sarah tells me the stories and I tell them to others.”
“Does Sarah ever tell any happy stories?”
“Sure she does. Some nights the slaves would fiddle and dance right here in the dark in front of their houses. If they couldn’t be heard up at the great house, it was okay. No one stopped them. They had songs that belonged only to them, and they would teach the kids the songs and the fiddle. Those things got passed down from one family to the next.
“But mostly Sarah’s stories aren’t happy. She was a house slave, so that meant she had to work up in the great house, doing laundry and cooking and cleaning and watching the kids as if they were her own. And she was at the mistress’s beck and call all the time. Then when she went to her own home at night, she would have all those same things to do for her own family. The same with the men and boys who worked in the fields. They would work all day from before dawn until after dark and then they’d have to go home and do all their own chores before they could go to bed.
“Did you know that slaves were beaten more often for being tired than for doing a poor job at their work? They just worked and worked until they were ready to drop. When they did sleep, it was on a dirty pile of rags or straw.”
“I don’t know what to say, Phyllis. I don’t think there are adequate words. I’m so sorry that Sarah had to go through those things.”
Phyllis had a troubled look in her eyes. “So am I.”
She seemed to shake off her melancholy then, perhaps deciding that she had confided too much in me, a virtual stranger. She rose to leave. “I don’t know what you have planned for these slave cabins, but I won’t stand by and watch them turned into a tourist trap like the rest of Peppernell Manor. They are part of history. My history.” She turned and I watched her make her way slowly back to the manor.
I knew I wanted to restore these old cabins. Now I had a mandate, unwittingly given to me by Phyllis. And Sarah. Make the cabins real, make them true to their original inhabitants and their lives and hardships. Make a different kind of memory for Phyllis and Sarah.
I peeked in the other cabins before returning to the manor. They were much the same as the first one. Cracks in the walls, hillocks of leaves in the corners, a palpable sense of decay and sorrow. The second cabin had dark stains on the floor. I wondered with a shudder if those stains were from the blood of Sarah’s father.
Back indoors, I went right upstairs to check on Lucy. As I was walking past Vivian’s room I could hear her talking to Harlan. The door was slightly ajar, but I was sure they hadn’t heard my footsteps in the carpeted hallway. Though I felt like a naughty schoolgirl, I stood listening to their conversation for a moment.
“I think your idea is very wise, Harlan.”
“Which one?”
“The one to tear down those ugly old slave cabins and make that area the gift shop. They’re nothing but an eyesore on this lovely property and we don’t need a constant reminder of this home’s past.”
“The problem is going to be Gran, Mother. She just doesn’t understand that this will be the best thing for the family after she’s gone.”
“Maybe your father and I can have a talk with her. She’ll listen to him. Of course, he doesn’t understand why this is the best thing for the family, either. I’ll need to sit down and have a talk with him first.”
I walked quietly to my room and slipped inside. If Phyllis didn’t want me to restore those old cabins, I was positive that she would be furious if she knew of the plans that Harlan and Vivian had for her ancestors’ homes. This would be devastating to her. And I couldn’t imagine Cora-Camille liking the idea one bit, either. Somehow I had to get them both to see that restoring the old cabins could be done respectfully and responsibly.
Lucy wanted to go outside for a walk, so we strolled around the house, smelling the jasmine and roses and chasing butterflies. I hadn’t forgotten the prank phone call and I was careful to stay close to the house as long as Lucy was with me. We had fun playing outside until dinner was served. It was a rather quiet meal. Harlan was there, but he didn’t say much and left soon after he was finished eating. Vivian obviously had something on her mind and ate in silence. Ruby stole frequent glances at me and smiled shyly at Lucy, but said nothing. She still seemed shaken, as I was, over the events of the afternoon. I felt a bit guilty that she apparently hadn’t yet recovered from my outburst and lecture, but on the other hand, I was glad to see that she hadn’t brushed it off as unimportant.
Cora-Camille left the dinner table early, saying she didn’t feel well. Her joints had been aching for a couple days, she said, and she thought she might be coming down with the flu. Evie went with her and then returned a bit later, explaining that Cora-Camille had refused pain relievers and instead taken some chamomile tea and gone to bed.
“Poor dear,” she clucked. “I worry when Gran doesn’t feel well. She’s not getting any younger and the way she works so hard in the farm office would be enough to make anyone sick.”
“I think she’s fine,” replied Vivian. “She’s got a lot on her mind with the farm and the restoration and it’s not uncommon for people to have physical ailments when their minds are not calm.”
Graydon nodded in agreement. “Gran’s fine, Evie. Don’t worry. If you want to fret about someone, fret about me. I have been reworking the same chapter for over a week now and I’m ready to bang my head against a wall.”
Evie laughed. “Daddy, when have you ever let one chapter get you down? Do what you always say—get outside for some fresh air and let it go for now.”
Graydon looked at her fondly. “You’re absolutely right, Evie. Why don’t you ladies all join me for a walk tonight? All of you. What do you say, Viv?”
“That sounds nice. Carleigh, will you bring Lucy along?”
“Sure. That’ll be fun. A little fresh air before bedtime.”
“I want to go outside!” Lucy yelled. Nobody had asked Ruby if she wanted to go, so I d
id.
“You coming, Ruby?”
“I think I’ll stay in and make sure Mother doesn’t need anything.”
After dinner Lucy called Brad. Thankfully she didn’t tell him that Ruby had taken her without my permission. She only told him that she went out for ice cream. When she hung up we all trooped outside and Graydon led the way across the vast lawn in front of the manor. He walked hand-in-hand with Vivian; Evie, Lucy, Cottontail, and I followed them. We walked along the quiet main road and listened to nothing but the crickets. Only one car slowed down to pass us while we walked.
We walked for a short distance, then Evie’s parents decided to go back inside. Lucy stopped for the millionth time to pick Queen Anne’s lace from the side of the road and I urged Graydon and Vivian to go inside without waiting for us. Lucy and Evie and I took our time going back in the gathering twilight.
“Your parents seem very happy tonight,” I remarked to Evie.
She smiled, seeming to know what I was getting at. “You mean happier than they were a couple nights ago? They fight all the time because Mother can drive Daddy up the wall with her airs, but he loves her. She’s the only one who can calm him down when he gets in a mood. She has this thing about social classes mingling, but he thinks it’s all silly. Daddy likes everyone. Mother’s gotten worse about it since she bought that antique gallery.”
We were making our way slowly up the long drive back to the house when Lucy suddenly remembered that she left Cottontail by the side of the road while she was picking flowers. She was getting droopy from being tired, so Evie took her indoors while I went back to the road to look for the lost bunny.
I searched in and among several clumps of Queen Anne’s lace where Lucy had stopped to pick specimens for her bouquet, but the growing darkness made it hard for me to see. Finally I spotted Cottontail lying limply by the side of the dusty road, waiting patiently for me to pick him up. I had turned around and started back toward the driveway when I heard a car behind me on the road. It came closer, its bright headlights cutting through the darkness. The headlights swept over me and I sidled closer to the edge of the road.
The driver had seen me.
CHAPTER 6
The car crept a little closer to the side of the road where I was standing and with a sudden violent burst of speed, it started hurtling toward me at a breakneck pace. I screamed and jumped back into the weeds on the side of the road, twisting my ankle and falling hard onto the ground. I looked over my shoulder as the car passed. About fifty feet away, it screeched to a stop and began to back up. It performed a lightning-quick K-turn and gunned toward me again. I dived farther into the weeds near the road as it veered in my direction, barely noticing the pain searing through my lower arm and elbow. It went just a little way down the road and I saw its brake lights come on again. I was terrified that it would turn around and head for me a third time. Heart thudding, I dashed across the road and hid behind the huge stone pillar that stood sentry at the entrance to the Peppernell Manor driveway. The car had turned around again. Like a hunter stalking its prey, the car slowly cruised past the entrance to Peppernell Manor, searching. I stayed hidden until it finally drove off, then I ran up the drive and into the manor as fast as I could. I crashed through the front door and slammed it behind me, thankful that Lucy wasn’t there to witness my terror. Evie came out of the drawing room, an alarmed look on her face.
“Carleigh! What’s the matter?”
“A car just tried to run me down,” I gasped. “Where’s Lucy?”
“I told her to run upstairs and get her pajamas on. What did the car look like?”
“I couldn’t see it. It was too dark and I was so scared that I wasn’t thinking about that. I just wanted to get back in the house.” I buried my face in my hands.
“It was probably just some kids out joyriding, looking to give someone a good scare. Let me get some bandages for your arm and knee.” She went out to the kitchen and returned a moment later with ointment and bandages for my cuts and scrapes. I also had a large bruise developing on my shoulder.
“Between this and that phone call, I’m terrified. If anything happened to me, what would happen to Lucy?”
“Take it easy, honey. Nothing is going to happen to you. Or Lucy. I have a feeling that the two incidents have nothing to do with each other.”
I was still trembling. “I hope you’re right. I need to go up and tell Lucy good night.” I still held Cottontail by his big forepaw.
“You just sit down for a few minutes and compose yourself. I’ll tell Lucy that you’re still looking for the bunny and I’ll make sure she’s ready for bed.”
I smiled gratefully at Evie and went to the drawing room. I sat in one of the comfortable armchairs with my eyes closed and breathed deeply for several minutes before I felt steady enough to go upstairs to tuck Lucy in for the night. What if something did happen to me? What if I really am in danger? How am I going to protect Lucy? I didn’t have any answers.
What I needed was to see my little girl, feel her arms around my neck and her sloppy kisses on my cheek. I went upstairs to find Evie just tucking the covers around her. She smiled at me when I walked in.
“Look what Mama found!” she cried.
Lucy clapped her chubby pink hands and held them out to receive Cottontail. She hugged him tightly and then thanked me, grinning from ear to ear. I sat down on the bed next to her while Evie stole quietly out the door.
“Where was he?” Lucy asked.
“Right in one of the clumps of flowers,” I answered. “I think he likes the smell of them!”
She laughed and reached out to hug me. I hugged her back and only reluctantly let her go when she said in her muffled little voice, “Mama, you’re crushing me!” I laughed and lay down next to her on the bed.
“How about a story before you go to sleep?”
“Yes!”
I reached for her favorite book of stories on the nightstand and we read until her eyes closed and she was sound asleep. Luckily she had not noticed the bandages on my limbs. I watched her sleeping for a while, listening to her easy breathing. Should I take her back to Chicago? I wondered. I had made a commitment to restore Peppernell Manor, but if it wasn’t safe to be here, perhaps it would be best if we went home.
But what if the phone call and the incident on the main road had both been meaningless pranks? The person on the phone had known my name, but as Evie had said, that could have been an employee of any of the vendors I had used in Charleston or any number of other people. There were quite a few folks who knew my name and that I was staying at Peppernell Manor. And maybe the car earlier really had been driven by a teenager looking for trouble. I sighed. I needed to sleep on it.
I went downstairs, where I found Evie in the drawing room, waiting for me with a glass of wine. I smiled gratefully.
“How did you know that’s just what I wanted right now?”
“Because if I were you, I’d want a drink, too.”
We chatted for a while in the low light of the drawing room, being careful to talk only of inconsequential things. Evie seemed to know that I didn’t really want to talk about my troubles.
We stayed up talking until it was very late, just like old times. When I finally dropped into bed, I fell into a deep sleep quickly.
The next morning I felt better both physically and mentally. Something about the brightness and energy of a new day always gave me hope and courage. I had felt that so many times during my divorce. I took Lucy into Charleston for school with a renewed sense of strength and without the fears of the previous night. As scared as I had been at the time, my rational mind told me that I had nothing to worry about. And as for the phone call, it probably had been one of the employees of the stores where I was spending so much time. Maybe that person just didn’t appreciate outsiders or, as I had heard incomers to Charleston described, people “from off.” For the most part, everyone I had met in South Carolina had been welcoming and delightful, but there were always going t
o be a few bad apples. I dropped Lucy off with a promise to see her later that afternoon.
When I got back to Peppernell Manor, I got to work on the walls of the drawing room. Cora-Camille and I had come up with a coral-hued paint through extensive research and painstaking color-matching from several old bits of paint that we found still clinging to the walls of the drawing room underneath layers of dirt and grime and other paint colors. After consultation with the paint shop owner in Charleston, a beautifully colored paint had been developed specially for use in the Peppernell Manor drawing room. Cora-Camille named it Peppernell Sunrise. She was surprised by how bright it turned out to be, but she seemed excited to see it on the walls. Though I had the paint, the walls had to be prepped first. The old layers of paint and wallpaper had to be scraped off as thoroughly as possible, then several cracks in the plaster had to be repaired, then the walls had to be sanded to a uniform finish. This would take several days of hard work, but I was anxious to get it done so I could do the fun part—the painting.
I worked steadily through the day until it was time to pick up Lucy. We ran a few errands on our way home and didn’t get there until it was almost time for dinner. Phyllis made a wonderful meal, but unfortunately Lucy and Evie and I were the only ones who were there to enjoy it. Graydon and Vivian were having dinner out with friends, Heath and Harlan were absent, and Cora-Camille was again not feeling well. She was still suffering from joint pain and she was nauseous. Ruby stayed upstairs with Cora-Camille and Phyllis took dinner to her on a tray. For the three of us in the dining room, dinner was lighthearted and fun, a little different from the usual formality. Lucy giggled her way through the meal as she seldom had since leaving Chicago. Evie suggested we go for a walk after dinner, and Lucy was eager to go. I agreed, telling Evie that we would go as long as we stayed on the property and didn’t venture onto the main road.
Now that we were in the waning days of September, it had gotten just a bit cooler as darkness arrived and it felt good to walk around outdoors with the breeze from the river on our faces. We wandered through the woods and past the carriage house, where Heath was working outside, digging in the garden that grew profusely next to the front door. In the light from the antique coach lamp he sat on his knees in the dirt, trowel in hand and a big scraggly shrub next to him on the ground.