Blues Along the River
Page 15
“Look at this,” she called out. “There’s a hidden drawer in the bottom of this dresser.”
Sally moved behind her and stared over her shoulder as Victoria pulled the drawer all the way out. “Well, I done cleaned this here room a lot of times, and I never knowed there was no drawer there.”
When Victoria had pulled it out as far as it would go, she stared down at the contents that appeared to be letters of some kind. She opened one, and her eyes grew wide at the signature scrawled at the bottom. Laying it down beside her, she scooped up the remaining letters and shuffled through them. There had to be at least a hundred in the drawer, and they were all from the same person.
Her hand shook, and she stared up at Sally. “Is Marcus in the barn?”
“Yes’m. He was a little while ago.”
“Would you go get him and tell him I need to see him right away? It’s an emergency.”
Sally took one look at Victoria’s face and bolted from the room. Within minutes Victoria heard Marcus’s footsteps pounding on the staircase. Breathless, he ran into the room. “Sally said you needed me right away. What is it?”
She pointed to the letters scattered about her on the floor. “I found a secret drawer in your father’s dresser. Inside were all these letters. Some of the older ones are addressed to your father. Some that are postmarked years later are addressed to you.”
He frowned. “Letters to me? Who from?”
She held out her hand to him, and he walked to where she sat. “Oh, Marcus. They’re from your mother.”
His face paled, and he dropped to the floor beside her. “My mother? I. . .I don’t understand. What do they say?”
“I don’t know. They’re for you to read first.” She turned her head at the sound of the baby’s cry. “I have to go feed the baby. Why don’t you read them and tell me what they say?”
His lips trembled, and he glanced back down at the letters. “All right.”
Victoria left the room and closed the door. As she walked to the bedroom where they’d placed the cradle for now, she prayed for her husband. She hoped words written by his mother years ago would at last bring healing to the wounds he’d suffered as a child.
Three hours later, however, Marcus still hadn’t emerged from the room. She’d passed by the door several times and heard him walking about, but she hadn’t wanted to disturb him.
She glanced out the kitchen window at the sun setting and wished he would come out. Sally had left for the day, supper was ready, and little Spencer lay on the pallet she’d placed in the corner of the room. She walked over to the baby she’d named after the doctor who’d saved their lives and picked him up.
“Have you been a good boy today?”
The baby gurgled, laughed, and squirmed in her arms.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Marcus’s voice from the doorway startled her, and she looked up.
“Yes, he is.” She waited for him to enter the room.
When he stepped nearer, she couldn’t tell what he was feeling from the expression on his face. “I read the letters.”
“And how do you feel?”
He raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I may struggle with that answer for a long time.”
She took his hand and drew him toward the table. When they were seated, she positioned the baby in her lap and turned to him. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
He nodded. “Yes. The first thing I learned is that my mother didn’t leave Pembrook voluntarily. From her letters I gathered that my father was cold and cruel to her, not at all what she’d thought when they first met. He considered her his property and practically kept her isolated here. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere or have any friends. She was expected to cater to his every wish and be at his beck and call. Evidently if she didn’t please him, he would lock her up for days at a time and was even abusive to her at times.”
Victoria’s heart broke with each word. “Oh no.”
“Finally, she got up her nerve to tell him that she hated him and wanted to leave. She said she would take me and go back to her family. He accused her of being unfaithful to him and told her she would never see me again. He had the sheriff, who was a friend of his, come to Pembrook and drag her from the big house into a wagon that transported prisoners. Her letters were filled with hate for him at how she screamed and begged him to let her have me, but he laughed and slammed the door. The sheriff drove her to Selma and put her on a train to Montgomery. From there she traveled on to Boston, where her family lived.”
Victoria reached across the table and grasped his hand. “Marcus, how awful. What about the letters to you?”
“As you know, she wrote those later. She said since I was older and could read, she hoped that some way one of them would fall into my hands. Most of them were written on my birthday, and she told me how much she loved me and that she was praying we’d see each other again someday.”
Victoria frowned. “But the letters must have stopped at some time. I wonder why.”
“I know why,” he said. “The one with the last postmark was sent when I was about twelve years old. She wrote because my father had sent her a letter saying that I was killed in a riding accident. He even sent a copy of my death certificate.”
“How could he get a death certificate for someone who was alive?”
“You didn’t know my father. He could get anything he wanted. Anyway, that last letter was so sad. She told him that any link between them was gone, and he would never hear from her again. She ended by telling him that God was helping her cope with my death, and she could only pray that someday he would come to see how he’d ruined all our lives.”
Marcus pushed up from the table and paced back and forth across the kitchen. He raked his hand through his hair. “How could he have been so cruel? He forced her to leave and then told me over and over how she didn’t love me and didn’t want to take me with her. I grew up without any love, and she was in Boston without me to love her back.”
The baby stirred in her lap, and Victoria jiggled him around. “What are you going to do?”
He stopped in front of her, knelt, and wrapped his arms around both of them. “I’m so thankful that God’s given you and Spencer to me, but there’s a piece of me missing. After all these years, my mother may not be alive, but I have to find out. If she’s still living, I have to bring her back here to see her grandson. Do you understand?”
Victoria smiled at him. “Of course I do. Go to Boston. Find your mother and bring her home.”
Fifteen
On a chilly October day Victoria waited inside the store that had belonged to her uncle until a year ago. She transferred Spencer from one arm to another and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her skirt.
“Do I look all right?”
Savannah held out her hands to Spencer, who giggled and leaned toward the woman he knew so well. “How many times do we have to tell you that you look beautiful? Your mother-in-law is going to be so happy to see you that she won’t care what you’re wearing.”
Tave, who stood on the other side of Victoria, chuckled. “You’d think royalty was coming with all the preparations you’ve been making.”
“But I want her to feel good about coming back here. She left under such terrible circumstances. I want her to feel welcome.”
Savannah bounced Spencer in her arms and smiled at him. She glanced at Victoria. “What did Marcus say in his letter?”
“He said he’d had a difficult time finding his mother. You know he’s been in Boston for over a month. There was no one living at the address that was on the letters. It took him some time to find anyone in the neighborhood who had known the family or what happened to them. He went house to house in the area for days until he found a woman who’d been friends with his mother. She had an address where she thought he could find her.”
Tave’s eyes grew wide. “What happened when he went there?”
“A woman opened the door. He said for a moment he c
ouldn’t speak. Then he asked her if she was Elizabeth Raines. She told him she had been once but hadn’t used the name in years. When he told her he was Marcus, she almost collapsed. From what he wrote, it was a very emotional reunion. And now she’s coming back to live with us at Pembrook.”
The low musical rumble of the Montgomery Belle’s whistle pierced the afternoon quiet, and the three women rushed to look out the door to the river landing. The tall smokestacks of the steamboat drifted into view, and Victoria reached for Spencer.
“They’re here. Let’s go.”
Savannah jerked the door open. “Go on to the landing. You need to have a private meeting. We’ll wait here for you.”
Victoria held her son close and hurried across the street. She halted at the top of the bluff and watched as the big boat slid into its docking place and stopped. Within minutes the gangplank was lowered, and deck hands began to swarm ashore with baggage and goods.
Victoria scanned the decks for a glimpse of Marcus and his mother. Then she saw them. Marcus waved and leaned down to whisper to the woman beside him.
Marcus’s mother looked small standing next to Marcus. Her head barely came to his shoulder. Her gray hair was pinned up underneath a wide-brimmed hat that matched the black traveling dress and coat she wore. Even from far away, Victoria could see the curling smile that reminded her so much of Marcus.
She watched as Marcus took his mother’s arm and guided her across the gangplank and up the bluff to the top of the landing. When they stopped in front of her, Marcus’s eyes devoured her and Spencer before he turned back to his mother.
“Mother, this is my wife, Victoria, and my son, Spencer.”
Victoria stepped closer. “Welcome home, Mother Raines. I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re here.”
Tears flooded the woman’s blue eyes as she looked from Victoria to Spencer. “Victoria, I understand I have you to thank for finding my letters of long ago.”
Marcus leaned over, kissed Victoria on the cheek, and took Spencer from her arms. Victoria smiled at the frail woman facing her and grasped her hands. “I know you left under terrible circumstances and you’ve had years to think about it. But I’ve prayed that you can let all of that go and enjoy being here. We want you to be a part of our family and share the love that lives at Pembrook now.”
“When I left Alabama, I prayed I would see my son again someday, but that hope was destroyed when I thought he’d died. Now God has answered my prayer of long ago.”
“You’re home now, and that’s all that matters,” Victoria said.
Marcus handed Spencer back to Victoria. “I want the three of you to stand there for just a moment.”
He walked a few steps from the landing and turned to face them. Victoria and her mother-in-law exchanged questioning glances. Victoria tilted her head to one side and stared at him. “What are you doing, Marcus?”
“I was just thinking how quickly one’s life can change. A year and a half ago, I stood right here and watched a beautiful woman get off a steamboat. That woman is now my wife. I have a son. And today I have the mother I’ve wanted for years. God has brought a lot of blessings to me on this river.”
Marcus came toward them, his arms outstretched, and drew the three of them close. “I never thought I could be so happy. God has blessed me more than I ever could have imagined.”
Victoria stood on tiptoe and kissed her husband’s cheek. “You’re right. God has been good to us. I think we’re going to have to teach James some new songs. There aren’t going to be any blues around Pembrook from now on.”
About the Author
SANDRA ROBBINS and her husband live in the small college town where she grew up. Until a few years ago she was working as an elementary school principal, but God opened the door for her to become a full-time writer. Without the help of her wonderful husband, four children, and five grandchildren who have supported her dreams for many years, it would be impossible to write. As a child, Sandra accepted Jesus as her Savior and has depended on Him to guide her throughout her life. It is her prayer that God will use her words to plant seeds of hope in the lives of her readers. To find out more about Sandra and her books, go to her website at sandrarobbins.net.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the memory of my wonderful father, who bought me my first piano and started me on a lifelong appreciation for all types of music. I miss playing for you, Daddy.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Sandra Robbins
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683