The Prodigy Slave, Book Two: The Old World: (Revised Edition 2020)

by Londyn Skye

  “How so?”

  “I’m scared,” Lily admitted. “I don’t wanna be around that man anymore, and I damn sho’ don’t want my baby around ’em.” She stepped out of James’s embrace and turned toward the creek. “It’s the way he looks at me lately, James. It horrifies me.”

  Much like J.R., Jesse never used to bother glancing in Lily’s direction. Ever since Mary Jo’s complaint about her, though, Jesse had begun subconsciously inflicting fear in Lily by letting his eyes linger over her, like he was a lion waiting patiently to pounce on a doe standing alone in a field. Lily slowly sat down on a log as the thought of that evil glare ran through her mind.

  James took one look at her face and knew something was horribly wrong. “What is it, Lily? Somethin’ ain’t right?”

  Lily came out of her trance and sighed. With gruesome memories fresh on her mind, she finally confessed to James about his father dragging her out into the woods during one of his rallies. Just hearing about the horror had James seething and pacing to settle his anger. When his rage subsided, he sat down next to Lily and held her hand. After nearly a decade of secrecy, he too finally confessed to Lily about what his father had subjected him to as a boy. After breaking down to William about it, James had cleansed himself enough to retell the story without nearly losing his sanity this time. His confession gave Lily the ultimate clarity about the reason he pretended to no longer care for her back then. She felt it was a beautiful testament as to how far James would go to protect her, and further confirmed that he was truly worthy of her unconditional trust and forgiveness. In the telling of his story, James had gained everything that William promised he would, including confirmation that Lily indeed had the mental strength to be his trusted confidant.

  Upon the completion of their confessions, Lily did not even bother trying to comfort James with words. She knew that a man would only ever be able to purge his rage through action. That fact seemed to be confirmed by the way James suddenly stood up and resumed pacing with his fists tightly clenched, looking as though he was desperate to punch something, or rather … someone. “What my fatha’ did to you makes me wanna do unspeakable things to that bastard!” James expressed, once again confirming his need for vengeful action.

  Lily finally got up and approached him. “James, I know how badly you probably want revenge … but I don’t want you doin’ somethin’ that’ll land you in prison.” She took his hand and placed it on her belly. “We need you,” she said softly.

  The simple action was all it took to instantly settle James. He sighed and his facial expression softened as he caressed her belly. “And I need you both safe. That’s why I’m glad to know for a fact now that my fatha’ will neva’ get anotha’ opportunity to torture you that way.”

  “How do you know for sure?” Lily asked.

  “Let’s just say, we’ll be havin’ this precious little one far away from here,” James answered, still gently touching her stomach. He then reached in his back pocket, took an envelope out, and handed it to Lily.

  “Who’s Alexanda’ Breckenridge?” she asked after reading the name on the envelope.

  “Open it up and see,” James said, finally managing a faint smile.

  My dear lady, April 3,1860

  I hope this letter finds you in good health. First let me say, I cannot even put into words how much I have missed having such a shimmering, beautiful light, such as yourself, shining ever so brightly in my world every day. I feel great fortune that I at least still have the extraordinary memories of your happiness and exuberance to brighten my world whenever things begin to go dim around me. However, for an overachiever like myself, I do not just want to feed off only the memories of your jubilant spirit. I much prefer to live vicariously through your joy, to hear your laughter, and to see your smile unfolding before my very eyes, live and in living color. Much like with my two sons, I just will not be able to find true peace until I can see with these old eyes that you are safe, genuinely happy, and well taken care of. I now also feel that very same inner unrest for the child I was overjoyed to hear you are now carrying! As a parent myself, I understand that anticipatory joy, fear, and the anxiousness of preparing to welcome a little one (or two!) into the world. But rest assured that I am working hard behind the scenes to remove the fear and anxiousness from that equation, so that you will be left with nothing but the unbelievable joy of becoming a mother for the very first time. Throw all your other worries and burdens out of the window and leave them lying there for me to carry. From then on, my child, I want you to do nothing but focus on preparing to marry the man who continues to prove that he loves you beyond measure. In the meantime, I will be very much looking forward to embracing you and your precious little one soon … on the shores of another world.

  With love always,

  Alexander Breckenridge

  The warm, heartfelt words of the letter alone answered who Alexander Breckenridge really was. “William,” Lily whispered, running her finger down the page. There was no way she could get through her beloved mentor’s letter without shedding an immense amount of tears. “The Old World?” she questioned when a teardrop happened to land on his cryptic last sentence.

  “That’s right, Miss Lily. I’m convinced that William will find a way to get you there. You know he won’t stop until he has you back home onstage where you belong. And I sho’ as hell can’t wait to see you up there again. It’ll be the second-best thing in my life next to finally holdin’ this baby,” James said, caressing her stomach again.

  Lily placed her hand on top of his. “For me too,” she replied, as her tears pelted their intertwined fingers. “And I sho’ can’t wait to see William again. I miss ’em so much.”

  “I know. He misses the hell outta you too. I asked if he’d be willin’ to come and walk you down the aisle durin’ our weddin’. He wanted to, but he felt that he might be puttin’ you in harm’s way by bein’ here. I could see in his eyes how badly it hurt ’em to turn down the opportunity.”

  Lily quickly looked up at James. “Wait a minute. You mean you got to see ’em in person again?” she asked, after thinking they had only corresponded through letters.

  “Yeah. When I said I’s goin’ with Gideon on a mission trip, I’s actually goin’ to see William. I had every intention of bein’ the one to dig us outta this mess on my own, but with the baby comin’ so soon, I felt like I had no choice but to go and ask for his help again face to face. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry to be such a failure to you again, but…”

  “A failure?” Lily shook her head. “You are not a failure to me, James Adams. Since the day you left this farm for school, you’ve spent every day workin’ toward givin’ me a betta’ life, settin’ aside your own hopes and dreams and aspirations for me. And now, you’ve even been willin’ to set aside your pride for the very same reason. A failure?” She placed her hand on the side of his face. “I can’t think of anyone more heroic.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “And the fact that you asked William for help again means a lot to me too.”

  James took a hold of her hand. “You were definitely worth the trip.”

  “I bet William let you have it while you’s there, didn’t he?” Lily smiled.

  “Gave me the most epic verbal ass whuppin’ of all time!”

  “I’m not the least bit surprised!”

  “I deserved every word of it,” James laughed. “He said if he was thirty years younga’, I would’ve left there black and blue.”

  Lily burst out laughing. “I’d’ve paid good money to watch that brawl!”

  “He’d’ve probably had me squealin’ like a sissy.”

  “No doubt about it!” Lily replied, still laughing. She sighed when her laughter subsided. “So, afta’ everything that’s happened, how’s William holdin’ up?” she asked cautiously.

  “Given the circumstances, he’s doin’ really well. You should’ve seen ’em when I told ’em about the baby. His face lit up w
hen he was talkin’ about the day he finally gets to hold her.”

  “Him!” Lily playfully retaliated.

  James laughed. “Well, since neitha’ of us knows for sure who’s hidin’ in there, William was sure to send you some neutral colored yarns to knit with and a book about British history to read. He figured it would help keep that brilliant mind ‘a yours preoccupied for the next few weeks until we escape this place.”

  “Really?!”

  “Yup.” James got up and retrieved a wrapped gift box that he had hidden behind a tree. “Go ahead and open it,” he said after handing it to Lily.

  She was smiling from ear to ear as she pulled the wrapping paper off. When she opened the lid to the box inside, she paused, and her eyes immediately began to well with tears.

  “The yarn and the book are in my room,” James explained. “I can give ’em to you lata’. I figured you much preferred to see this.”

  Lily could not take her eyes off the stunning wedding gown in her hands. She pulled it out of the box, stood up, and held it against her body.

  “William asked Isabel to make it for you. She happily obliged. She was even sure to make it in a way that it could accommodate your growin’ belly,” James further explained.

  “I can’t wait to wrap my arms around both ‘a them and thank ’em for this,” Lily said through her tears. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “You’ll hold them both again soon enough,” James assured her as he wiped away her tears.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ghost Rider Code of Ethics

  Section 11.3

  Term of Officers

  Term of a Ghost Rider Grand Master shall be for five years or until another successor is elected. Before the end of a term, he can be removed from office by the tribunal for misconduct after charges have been filed and a trial has been held. Upon conviction, removal from said title shall be immediate and a new successor should be named as soon as possible thereafter.

  While James and Lily were in their moment of bliss, celebrating their future, J.R. had just stomped into his house, seething inside after his rage had festered for nearly an hour on his ride home. He had parked his wagon in the barn and left Meredith alone, expecting her to get all their belongings and their four children into the house by herself, as always. At the very least, J.R. could have parked the wagon near the porch steps of their home to make the task easier, but he never bothered. Unfortunately, Meredith was used to her husband’s unthoughtful ways and his lack of help … and so were their children. After J.R. walked away, eleven-year-old Roscoe climbed in the front, took the reins, and guided the wagon three hundred yards to the front door, just as he would typically do when his father just left them all there without bothering to help. Young Roscoe then helped his seven-year-old sister, Miranda, down from the wagon. Nine-year-old Nathaniel helped carry bags into the house, bags that his father should have long since removed. Meredith then walked into the house shortly behind her kind-hearted children with a sleepy, crying infant in her arms. While swaying side to side, trying to soothe her daughter to sleep, she looked down at her husband, who was sulking on the couch with an empty beer mug in his hand. “You want me to get you anotha’ beer, honey?” she asked, attempting to make him feel better.

  J.R. jumped up off the couch. “I want you to shut that goddamn baby up!” he yelled, as he landed a heavy backhand to Meredith’s face.

  Meredith stumbled backward and lost her balance when her leg bumped the coffee table behind her. She fell to the floor, unable to break her fall with the baby in baby her arms. Being the caring mother she was, she was not concerned for her throbbing face once she landed; she immediately checked to see if her baby was okay. Her two middle children then came running over to check on their mother, but Roscoe went barreling at his father when he noticed him about to attack her again. “STOP HITTIN’ MY MAMA!” he yelled in a fit of rage as he pushed J.R. in his stomach with all his might.

  Stunned by his eleven-year-old son’s bold action, J.R. froze for a moment. He ceased attacking his wife, but then popped Roscoe in the mouth instead. “Don’t you eva’ in life lay a hand on me again, boy!”

  “THEN YOU BETTA’ STOP LAYIN’ Y’UR HANDS ON MY MOTHA’!” Roscoe warned, after absorbing his father’s blow. Panting hard, he stood his ground and bravely held his position in-between his father and mother with nary a tear in his youthful eyes.

  J.R. hit his son again. “You disrespectful little shit!”

  “You’re the only disrespectful piece ‘a shit in this house!” Roscoe barked back, holding his throbbing cheek. “THAT’S WHY I HATE YOU!” he erupted as his tears finally began to flow.

  J.R. picked up his namesake by the shirt collar and effortlessly tossed him backward onto the floor. Roscoe slid to a halt next to his mother. Meredith quickly handed the baby to her oldest daughter and went to cower over Roscoe before J.R. could inflict anymore damage on him. She held her courageous son in her embrace while gazing up at her husband through the haze of tears in her eyes, as he loomed over both of his victims with a grimace on his face.

  Without another word or blow struck, J.R. suddenly grabbed his coat and stormed out of the house. He took a fresh horse from the barn and pushed it hard for half an hour over to Duke Dixon’s house. He dismounted near Duke’s front porch when he arrived, darted up the steps, and rudely pounded on the door with the side of his fist, interrupting the Easter celebration still going on there. “I want ’em out! NOW!” J.R. huffed as soon as Duke stepped outside onto his dilapidated porch. “Put me in his fuckin’ place!”

  “Calm down J.R. You want who outta where?” Duke asked, feeling thoroughly confused, especially in his severely inebriated state. “The hell’re you talkin’ about?” he slurred, trying to get his intoxicated eyes to stop seeing two images of J.R.

  “Who else? My fatha’! He don’t deserve to be the leada’ of the fuckin’ Ghost Rida’s anymore!”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “What the fuck you mean, why the hell not? Me and Jacob done already told you! Our so-called leada’ just stood by watchin’ James perch that nigga’ at the piano like some pretty little princess at Mary Jo’s party! And then, he had the fuckin’ audacity to field requests to have that bitch play piano at otha’ people’s functions. What more do you need to goddamn hear?!”

  “Did he fulfill any ‘a the requests for her to play?”

  “Should it matta’?!”

  “Ppfff!” Duke waved his hand dismissively and stumbled slightly. “Jesse might’ve just been keepin’ the peace for Mary Jo’s sake,” he slurred.

  “That still doesn’t excuse why he didn’t beat the livin’ shit outta that bitch and James when the show was ova’. And now, I just learned that she’s pregnant and he refuses to make ’er abort the goddamn thing ’cause James prefers to sell it. He’d’ve shot and killed any otha’ house slave for havin’ a baby! You know he can’t stand that shit!” J.R. huffed. “I swear, I neva’ thought I’d live to see the day when my fatha’ shows fava’ to a nigga’!”

  “Still sounds like he’s showin’ fava’ to James, not that nigga’,” Duke replied.

  “Fava’ to James or fava’ to that nigga! Eitha’ way, it shouldn’t fuckin’ matta’!”

  “Oh, c’mon J.R. Don’t you think y’ur just ova’reactin?”

  “Ova’reactin?! On top ‘a all that shit, that traitor shows up at Ghost Rida’ rallies wheneva’ the fuck he wants to! He ain’t loyal to the very codes he created and swore an oath to! If anything, you’re unda’reactin’ to that two-faced son of a bitch!”

  “This ain’t about y’ur daddy,” Duke pointed out as he began to snicker. “You always were jealous of y’ur goddamn brotha’.” He poked J.R. in his chest and nearly lost his balance. “That’s all this shit’s about and you know it,” he slurred, continuing to poke him in the chest. “Y-you mad ’cause that rich bitch he’s about to marry would neva’ wanna fuck y’ur filthy, fat ass, ain’t ya’?” he taunted, suddenly erupting
with hearty drunken laughter.

  J.R. swatted his hand off his chest. “Fuck off Duke! What the hell did my fatha’ do to you, huh?! All of a sudden you actin’ like just as much of a pussy as he is! Me and Jacob told you about all ‘a this shit weeks ago, and you’ve yet to do a damn thing about it!” J.R. furrowed his eyebrows at Duke. “Or maybe you confronted my fatha’ already, and he’s the one who beat y’ur hunchbacked ass into a pussified pulp!”

  Duke’s laughter instantly ceased, and he finally felt himself sober up. “Ain’t nobody done shit to me!” he barked back in a serious tone. “But if you wanna keep from lookin’ like a horse kicked you too, then I suggest you get the fuck off ‘a my property, you worthless, disrespectful, fat piece ‘a shit!”

  “Fuck you and my fatha’!” J.R. replied, pointing his finger at Duke. “Ain’t neitha’ one ‘a y’all worthy ‘a bein’ Ghost Rida’s!”

  J.R. turned and left there in a rage, angry over the fact that it seemed he could not get a single person to concur with his position on the matter of his father. He rode hard back home with an unrelenting desire to numb himself with an entire bottle of moonshine. He stepped into the foyer of his house and feverishly removed his jacket. “MEREDITH!” he yelled while standing in his foyer, taking off his boots. “Fix me a drink!”

  Silence.

  “MEREDITH!” he called out again. “You hear me talkin’ to you, woman?!”

  Silence.

  When J.R. got no response again, he walked over to the bottom of the stairs. “ROSCOE! Go get y’ur mama outta bed!”

  Silence.

  J.R. stomped upstairs and flung his master bedroom door open. “Meredith! Wake up!” He lit an oil lamp. It illuminated the room. He stood in the middle of it, turning in a circle, shocked to find himself staring at emptiness. “Meredith?” he suddenly said in a more solemn tone as he continued to look around the room, noticing the array of dresser drawers that were opened and very much empty. “MEREDITH?!” he yelled again, beginning to panic as he flung open the closet door and was greeted by nothing but his own attire dangling around dozens of empty hangers. As if his eyes were deceiving him, he then feverishly began pulling out every dresser drawer onto the floor, including a secret compartment that once held thousands of dollars of his family’s life savings. It too was bare.