Blues Along the River

by Sandra Robbins

  Victoria swallowed and nodded. “I will, but you don’t have to worry about me. Marcus would never do anything to hurt me.”

  Portia tilted her head to one side. “I don’t know about that. Matthew told me that Marcus’s mother left his father because he was so cruel to her. Just watch out.” She squeezed Victoria’s hand. “Promise me that you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise.”

  ❧

  Victoria was still thinking about Portia an hour later when Marcus joined her on the balcony. He stopped beside her chair. “What are you doing out here still?”

  She inhaled. “Enjoying the night and watching the river.”

  He held out his hand. “It’s getting late, and I have a big day planned for us tomorrow. It’s time we were going to bed.”

  She grasped his hand and stood to face him. “Marcus, you’ve never talked about your mother much.”

  He shrugged. “Because I don’t remember anything about her. She left when I was three, and I never heard from her again.”

  “Did you ever ask your father why she left?”

  “I did when I was little, but he always said the same thing. That she hated life in the South, that she didn’t love him or me, and that she wanted to go back to her family. After a while I quit asking when I realized that she left and had no desire to ever see me again.”

  She stepped closer. “But you don’t know that for sure. You only know what your father told you.”

  His lips thinned into a straight line. He stepped to the railing of the balcony and grasped the top with both hands. “My father wouldn’t lie to me. He told me why she left. Why are you asking these questions about my mother?” He grasped the railing tighter as he spoke through clenched teeth.

  “I thought there might be something that you don’t know. Maybe she had a reason for leaving that you don’t know about. If we could find her, she might want to come back.”

  He raked his hand through his hair and groaned. “I don’t want to talk about this, Victoria. I hate my mother for leaving, and I don’t want to ever see her again.”

  “But Marcus—”

  “No!” He whirled and glared at her. “Don’t you ever talk to me about my mother again. It is none of your concern.”

  Victoria bristled. “Just like being nice to Sally and the other workers at Pembrook is not my concern? It seems that you have very definite ideas about what I can and can’t do.”

  He took a step toward her, but Victoria didn’t move. “You’re pushing me too far, Victoria.”

  She lifted her chin. “What are you going to do? Hit me like your friend Matthew does Portia?”

  His frown dissolved into a look of total disbelief. “Is that what you think of me? That I would do something like that?” He shook his head. “My father told me that a woman will turn against you. It didn’t take you long to do that, did it?”

  Panic surged through Victoria as she stared at Marcus. Without realizing it, she had just inflicted a great hurt on her husband. She reached for his arm. “Marcus, I’m sorry. I speak before I think sometimes. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  He shook her hand from his arm. “I think I’ll go back down and sit in the lobby for a while. Don’t wait up for me.”

  Victoria tried to stop him as he brushed past her, but he avoided her touch. When he walked through the balcony door to the hotel, she collapsed into her chair and released the tears she’d held back.

  What had she done? Her mother’s words about how impulsive she was flashed into her mind, and she groaned. But Marcus had been wrong, too. He’d treated her like she was an outsider instead of his wife when he’d refused to even listen to her concerns about why his mother left. He seemed to have the idea that what she thought made no difference. Then there was the problem with their differing opinions on how the tenant farmer families should be treated.

  She had only been married a few weeks. This was supposed to be the happiest time of her life, but minutes ago her husband had looked at her as if she was a total stranger. Perhaps her mother had been right. She and Marcus might have needed more time to get to know each other, but it was too late to think about that now. For better or worse, Daniel had said, and now she had to find a way to live with those words.

  Ten

  Two months later, the tension between Marcus and Victoria had increased to the point that at times he thought he would go out of his mind. He hesitated on the front porch of the big house before entering. He tried to stay away from home in the fields as much as possible, but today he was hungry. Not just for food, but for the connection he and Victoria had shared during the first days of their marriage. He longed to get it back, but he had no idea what to do.

  He put his hand on the doorknob but couldn’t turn it. What was she doing today? He longed to see her in one of the dresses he’d bought for her in Selma, but she hadn’t worn one yet. Every day she put on one of her plain housedresses and worked alongside Sally in the house even though she knew how much it angered him. He’d even overheard some of the tenant farmers talking about how she’d walked to the fields where they were working to meet them.

  Once he’d also seen her coming from the barn when he returned home early. When he questioned her at supper about why she was there, she’d responded that she wanted James to drive her in the buggy to visit Savannah. Her dark eyes had glared at him. “Am I permitted to use the buggy to visit my friends?” she’d asked. He’d mumbled his reply that she was free to use anything at Pembrook and then stormed from the table.

  He had no idea how many times James had driven her to see Savannah or Tave, but he felt sure they must know by now how strained the relationship was between the two of them. Her mother and uncle had to be aware of it, too, because he hadn’t been to church with her since their argument in Selma. Each Sunday James drove her to the church and waited until she was ready to come home.

  She acted like she hated him, and he couldn’t understand why. He only wanted to help her understand what was expected of her as the wife of Pembrook’s owner.

  Marcus opened the front door of the big house and stepped inside. She wasn’t in the parlor, so he walked down the hallway to the kitchen. He stopped at the closed door and listened. Victoria’s voice drifted from inside.

  “James drove me to Cottonwood yesterday to visit Savannah.”

  “Yes’m. He tole me that.” Sally’s soft voice was barely audible. “You have a nice time?”

  “I did. We sat on their veranda and listened to James play his music for us. He’s really a gifted musician, Sally. Savannah thinks so, too.”

  “I’s glad she likes my boy’s music. I always thought they was nice folks over at Cottonwood.”

  “Oh, they are. Savannah has been like a big sister to me, but she told me something that I was sorry to hear.”

  “What was that?”

  “She said that Portia Chandler had run away from Winterville Plantation.”

  “What you mean runned away? Like she done took off and left her husband?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why she want to go and do a thing like that?” Sally’s voice sounded surprised.

  A chair scraped across the floor, and Marcus wondered if Victoria had risen to come to the door. He backed away a few inches but stopped when her footsteps didn’t come closer. “I told Savannah that I knew why she’d done it. When we were in Selma, Portia told me that her husband was very cruel to her.”

  “What you mean?”

  “I mean that he hit her all the time. She told me that he had beaten her so badly that she was going to disappear one of these days. She asked if I would pray for her when she left.”

  Sally clicked her tongue in disbelief several times. “Where you think she gone?”

  “Savannah said she asked one of the tenant farmers to drive her to town so she could go to the store. When they got there, the Alabama Maiden was docked and ready to go downriver to Mobile. She got on board and left. It seems Captain Mills is a friend of
her family. So everyone assumes he was helping her get back to her family on Dauphin Island.”

  “I shore hates to hear that. I cain’t imagine no man bein’ mean enough to hit his woman. My Ben, he wouldn’t never do nothing like that.”

  “I would hope not. To my way of thinking, any man who would do that deserves to be hung.” Victoria chuckled. “But then, my mother thinks I’m too outspoken at times.”

  Neither woman said anything for a moment. Marcus started to push the door open, but Victoria spoke. “Sally, did you ever know Marcus’s mother?”

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at her words, and he leaned closer to hear the answer.

  “I’s jest a chile when she come here. I doan ’member much.”

  “Do you remember if she was pretty?”

  “Oh, yes’m. My grandmamma say she ’bout the purtiest white woman she ever done lay eyes on.”

  “Do you know why she left?”

  “No’m. Like I say, I was jest a chile then.”

  Marcus clenched his fists and backed away from the door. Victoria had told him nothing about Portia Chandler’s leaving, but she had told the whole story to a hired worker in their home. Also she had asked Sally about his mother. How could she discuss his mother after he’d told her he didn’t want the subject mentioned? Did his feelings mean nothing to Victoria?

  He raked his hand through his hair and groaned. Seeing Victoria now wasn’t a good idea. They both might say some things that they would regret later on. He turned to leave the house but stopped when he walked by the staircase. A thought struck him, and he turned to stare toward the upper level of the house.

  Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the bannister and climbed to the second floor. He stopped outside the closed door to his father’s bedroom. He had come often to the room in the past but hadn’t entered since his marriage. He pulled his watch from his pocket and stared at the key that dangled on the chain.

  He inserted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. A musty smell of hot air and dust tickled his nose as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. The room looked just as he’d left it. The carved walnut headboard of the bed reached toward the ceiling with its ornate crown moldings that came from France. The white crocheted cover on the bed had been made by Marcus’s grandmother, who’d died when his father was small. He’d only heard his father mention her once and had often wondered what kind of person she’d been and if she was happy at Pembrook.

  Marcus walked to the armoire, which matched the bed, and opened the door. His father’s clothes still hung just as they had the day he died. He closed the door and walked back to the chair that faced the fireplace and sat down. His gaze traveled up over the marble mantel to the painting of his father.

  With a sigh, he settled back in the chair, gripped the arms, and studied the picture. He thought of his stern father and how he had shown little emotion. Whenever Marcus had cried when he was little, his father had ridiculed him for being weak and ordered him to get control of himself. He made it plain that he would tolerate no tears from his son.

  His childhood had done little to prepare him for the task of running Pembrook, and his relationship with his father had done even less to give him guidance in being a husband. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of Victoria. He hadn’t known what love was until she came into his life, but their marriage hadn’t brought the happiness he’d expected.

  He had to do something to make her realize how much he loved her. He pushed to his feet and strode to the door. Before he walked from the room, he glanced back at his father’s portrait. “Women only bring unhappiness into your life.” He could almost hear the words his father had spoken so often.

  That couldn’t be true. Dante Rinaldi appeared to be a happy man who loved his wife. He wondered what Dante’s secret was. Maybe he should talk with him and find out. Marcus hurried from the room and locked the door behind him before he rushed down the staircase.

  An hour later, he rode up to the barn at Cottonwood and dismounted. A young boy appeared at the open door of the hayloft. “Is Mr. Rinaldi around?” Marcus called out.

  The boy nodded and turned to call over his shoulder. “Mr. Dante. Somebody here to see you.”

  Dante stepped out of the barn and smiled. “Marcus, good to see you. What brings you to Cottonwood today?”

  Marcus’s face warmed. How could he speak of his problems to this man who always seemed so self-assured? “I. . .I wanted to. . .”

  Dante waited a moment. “Yes?” he prompted.

  Marcus glanced up at the hayloft and wondered if their conversation was being overheard. He pointed toward the house. “Can we talk somewhere privately?”

  “Of course.” He turned and called over his shoulder. “Caleb, I’ll be back in a minute.” He walked toward the house, and Marcus followed. When they sat down on the veranda, Dante smiled. “Now what can I help you with today?”

  “It’s Victoria.”

  Dante settled back in his chair and arched his eyebrows. “Are you having problems?”

  Marcus nodded. “She’s so different than I thought she would be. She’s made it a point to meet all the tenant farmers and their families and even considers them friends. She stays after me to do the same.”

  “And don’t you want to know the people who work your land?”

  Marcus straightened his shoulders. “I know them. I work beside them every day, but they can’t be my friends. They’re workers that I’ve hired, and all I want from them is an honest day’s work.”

  Dante exhaled and leaned forward. “Marcus, you’re young and just starting out to manage the plantation that was built by your father and grandfather. In their time, though, it was different in the South. They had slaves to work their land. I don’t think your father ever accepted the fact that the people who came to Pembrook after the war were no longer slaves. He wanted to hold on to that old way of doing things. We can’t do that anymore. If we want to be successful on our land, we have to accept the differences of the people who work it or we will fail.”

  “But Dante—”

  Dante held up his hand. “You’re talking to an Italian who settled here. Nobody wanted to accept me, and I had to work for years to gain their respect. I was determined that I would do everything I could to help the people on my land be accepted as worthwhile citizens of this country. Without them, we wouldn’t have the workforce to plant and harvest the crops we need to keep the land productive. And we wouldn’t be able to provide for our families.”

  Marcus chewed on his lip and frowned. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “I think Victoria probably sees it the same way. She knows God loves the tenant farmer families at Pembrook, and she wants to show them. Instead of criticizing her for it, you should be thankful you have a wife with a kind heart.”

  Marcus nodded. “She is kind, but she can make me so angry. This morning I heard her talking with Sally Moses like she was her best friend. She told Sally that Portia Chandler had run away from Matthew.”

  “That’s right,” Dante said. “We didn’t get to know Portia well. Maybe because Matthew kept her so close to home. Don’t make that mistake with Victoria. Love her and honor her as your wife.” He paused for a moment. “And don’t fault her for being friends with Sally. They spend a lot of time together like Savannah and Mamie do. Savannah thinks of Mamie more like a mother and loves her with all her heart. Victoria needs a woman to be close to at Pembrook. You should be happy that Sally is there to fill that need. All the farmers I know speak very highly of the Moses family. They say that James is a gifted musician.”

  “That’s what Victoria tells me. She never misses a chance to ask him to play for her.”

  Dante laughed. “The way you’re grumbling, you almost sound like you’re jealous of the attention Victoria pays that young man. I suppose she does think highly of him. I’ve noticed that he drives her to church every Sunday. She’s made it a point to see that he comes inside and li
stens to the service. Victoria told Savannah she couldn’t stand to think about him not getting to go to church because he had to drive her.”

  Marcus’s eyes grew wide. “He comes inside to the service? What have all the people said?”

  Dante shrugged. “I’m sure there are some who aren’t happy about it, but Daniel has let it be known that he’ll not listen to any complaining about it. Of course James could go to church with his family if you’d drive your wife to church. We’ve been missing you. I know Victoria would like to have you come with her.”

  Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know about that. I tried it before we married, and it didn’t appeal to me. I always felt restless and sad when I left the service.”

  Dante smiled. “Maybe that’s because God was speaking to you, and you weren’t listening.”

  “What would He have to say to me?”

  “That He loves you and wants to give you a good life. He’s given you a wife who loves you, and He wants to bless your marriage. I remember Daniel reading the scripture at your wedding that tells husbands to love their wives like Christ loved the church.”

  “I didn’t understand that,” Marcus said. “How could Christ love a building?”

  “It’s not the building. It’s all the people who are believers. He loved us so much, Marcus, that He died on the cross for our sins. He wants you to love Victoria with that same kind of love, so much that you would lay down your life for her.”

  “So that’s what it means. I do love Victoria. I suppose we just have to come to some agreement about our differences.” He sighed and pushed to his feet. “Thanks for your time, Dante.”

  Dante stood and grasped Marcus’s hand. “Anytime you need me, come by. But let me caution you. You need to get your relationship with God right first. Then let God lead you in your marriage.”

  “I’ll think about what you said.”

  They talked of the crops and harvesttime that was approaching as they walked back to the barn, but Marcus couldn’t concentrate. His mind was on everything Dante had said to him today. Much of it he didn’t understand. He needed a good relationship with Victoria, not with a God he couldn’t see.