Whippoorwill

by R. L. Bartram

  “I can’t think why he’s still hanging around,” Ceci remarked sullenly. “Not much I can do on my own.”

  “You ol’ sourpuss,” Celeste chided. “Perhaps, he knows something you don’t.”

  “Then I hope he’s wise enough to know,” Ceci responded indignantly. “If I catch him. I’m going to kick his behind right out of this state.”

  “You can’t blame him, for making you fall in love with Trent,” Celeste told her. “He just works with what you give him.”

  “Now, you’re the one who sounds like Hecubah,” Ceci pointed out. “She’s right though, ain’t she?” she nodded. “I guess we must have made it easy for him,” she admitted. “Me and Trent together, and them blue eyes of his.”

  “I’m feeling a little fatigued,” Celeste remarked. “Let’s go back to the house.”

  They came in across the veranda, past the Christmas tree, pausing for one last look.

  “I think I’ll lay down for an hour, before supper,” Celeste excused herself.

  “You go on ahead,” Ceci waved. “I think I’ll stay here for a while.” She stood, staring at the star on the tree, wondering if she dare wish for the thing she wanted most, but, even to her, the idea seemed futile.

  “You messing with them presents again?” Hecubah asked, making her jump.

  “No,” she snapped. “And don’t creep up on me, like that. It’s disconcerting.”

  “I didn’t think anyone was in here.” Hecubah began to turn down the lamps. “What you doing, then? Wishing on that old wooden star?” she guessed. “It’s probably wore out by now. Why not step onto the veranda, there’s a big shiny new one rising, right over the bayou. That’ll work much better.”

  “It’s just a piece of nonsense,” Ceci dismissed the idea.

  “You saying I don’t know what I’m talking about?” Hecubah challenged.

  “No,” Ceci faltered, startled by her attitude. “I ain’t saying that.”

  “Wasn’t I right about Ol’ Magic?” Hecubah was unappeased.

  “Yes, you were,” Ceci blushed to admit it.

  “Did you listen to me then?”

  “No.”

  “Then, try listening to me now,” she wagged a finger at her.

  “All right, all right,” Ceci gave in. “If it makes you happy.”

  She walked out onto the veranda and looked up into the twilight. A single star had begun to rise in the darkening sky. It shone so brightly, with such energy, she almost believed that Hecubah might be right. “This better not be one of Ol’ Magic’s tricks,” she muttered, staring at the intense point of light.

  She pulled herself up straight. Took a deep breath. Closed her eyes and wished with all her heart for what she wanted most. When she opened them again, nothing had changed. She rebuked herself for having been taken in. “There,” she demanded, “are you happy now?”

  “I am, if you are.” A man’s voice answered from behind her.

  Startled, she turned. Trent was standing there.

  She cast an incredulous glance, back across her shoulder, at the star and into the garden. She fancied, she could feel a presence lurking out there. In the distance, she thought she could hear Ol’ Magic, laughing.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ceci’s knees turned to jelly. She didn’t dare put one foot in front of the other. Afraid, that if she tried to approach him, Trent would dissolve, like a soap bubble, and she’d wake up.

  “Am I dreaming?” she asked eventually.

  “Not unless I am,” he told her. He crossed the room and put his arms around her.

  Ceci laid her head on his chest. “How is this possible?” she asked, still unable to believe what was happening.

  “I think it’s what you call a conspiracy,” he was happy to divulge. “Hecubah spoke to your father. He wrote to mine. As chivalrous men, they agreed there was a lady in distress. Then my father packed up his entire family and came to spend Christmas here. We arrived half an hour ago.”

  “So, that’s why Celeste kept me in the garden for so long,” Ceci realised.

  “So you wouldn’t hear the carriage drive up,” Trent continued. All part of the conspiracy. Everyone knew about it, except you.”

  “I hate you all,” Ceci sobbed.

  “I know,” Trent accepted casually. “By the way, Hecubah asked me to remind you. Christmas is all about surprises. Oh, and you’re going to get that dress you asked for.”

  Ceci looked up at him. “Ain’t you going to kiss me?” she asked.

  “Not until you stop crying,” he told her. “And I’m prepared to wait all night.”

  He only had to wait a few minutes. Finally, reluctantly, he unwrapped Ceci’s arms from around his neck. “Everyone’s in the salon,” he told her. “My parents would like to see you. We shouldn’t keep them waiting much longer.”

  Ceci took a moment to compose herself, as best she could, before allowing Trent to escort her into the salon, where everyone was enjoying a glass of eggnog.

  “Ah, here they are at last,” Colonel Sinclaire rose, inclining his head in a slight bow.

  Ceci released Trent’s arm and returned an elegant curtsey.

  “Why, child, you look as though you’ve been crying,” he observed. “Is anything the matter?”

  “She’s just been reunited with her betrothed,” Mrs Sinclaire intervened. “That’s enough to make any girl cry.”

  “You’re right, of course,” he nodded. “I understand”.

  “My, you’re even more beautiful, than I remember,” Mrs Sinclaire crossed the room and kissed her. “Don’t they make a handsome couple, Colonel?”

  “They certainly do,” he agreed.

  “Thank you all,” Ceci addressed the entire gathering. “Thank you all so much for this wonderful surprise.” She intended to say more but the lump in her throat silenced her.

  “You see,” Mrs Sinclaire observed. “We ladies always cry when we’re happy.”

  Their guests had travelled a long way to be there and, after a light supper, everyone decided to retire early. Ceci was only just getting used to having Trent back again. Her mind was buzzing. She was too excited to sleep.

  “Let’s go into the garden,” she suggested to Trent. “Just for a little while.”

  “I forgot how hot it is down here,” he admitted, as they stepped out onto the veranda. “It’s already started to snow in Boston, but it’s still sixty degrees down here.”

  “That’s why we southern girls are so hot blooded,” Ceci smiled.

  Trent took her in his arms. “Now, what’s this I hear about all the fuss you’ve been making?”

  “No, I ain’t,” Ceci attempted to deny it.

  “Hecubah says different,” he told her. “She says you’ve become impossible. Is it all this talk of secession that’s worrying you?”

  “I can’t help it,” she confessed, “it frightens me. It’ll split us up. I’ll never see you again.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “No, it won’t,” he told her forcefully. “I don’t care if there’s a war between the states. I don’t care if we end up on different sides. I don’t care if this country goes up in flames, or the moon falls out of the sky. I will never stop loving you. If you love me as much as I think you do, then you’ll believe me.”

  “What if there is a war?” she trembled. “What if you get killed?”

  “So, that’s what this is all about,” he realised. “My life is in God’s hands, same as yours, but for your sake, I swear I won’t take any unnecessary risks, and you must believe that too.” He sealed his pledge with a long kiss.

  For once, Hecubah decided a discreet cough was in order. “Mr Trent, I put your folks in the east wing, along with Miss Celeste and her husband. That only leaves the room next to Ceci’s, so
I put you in there.”

  “That’d be the most practical solution,” Ceci confirmed eagerly, compounding Hecubah’s failure to mention that there were at least twelve other bed rooms in the house.

  “Are you sure that’s appropriate?” Trent felt that at least one of them should pay lip service to discretion.

  “Why, that’s mighty chivalrous of you,” Hecubah commended. “But don’t you think it’s a little late to defend her honour?” She spared Ceci a thin smile. “I guess we all know, that ship’s done sailed already.”

  “It’s all right,” Ceci assured him. “She does this to me all the time. She thinks it’s funny.”

  “At least, this way, I’ll always know where the pair of you are, come nightfall,” Hecubah pointed out. “Instead of having to send a search party into the garden.”

  “There, you see?” Ceci reaffirmed. “I told you.”

  “I got plans of my own,” Hecubah informed them. “So, I’ll wish you both a Merry Christmas and a very good night,” she emphasised, before leaving.

  “I can show you your room now, if you’d like,” Ceci offered, taking his hand. “I think I may have a surprise for you this time.”

  ***

  “This is my room and that’s yours,” Ceci pointed.

  “Where’s the surprise?” Trent wanted to know.

  “It’s coming,” she assured him.

  “Don’t I even get a goodnight kiss?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” she teased. “Not until you go into your room.”

  “How’s that going to work?” he frowned.

  “You’ll see,” Ceci smiled. “Now go on.”

  She waited until he was inside, then dashed across her room, unlocked the connecting door and threw it open. “Surprise,” she cried.

  “I like it,” he approved. “But they haven’t even bothered to make the bed up in here,” he gestured at the bare mattress.

  “I guess Hecubah thought it’d be a waste of time,” she shrugged.

  “I mean, just for the look of the thing,” he explained. “What if my parents come by?”

  “Why, Mr Sinclaire,” she purred seductively. “Are you going shy on me?”

  “You know better than that,” he reminded her. “But I dread to think what would happen to us if your father, or mine, discovered this arrangement.”

  Ceci didn’t care. She hadn’t seen Trent in months. She loitered in the doorway, slowly unfastening her blouse, one button at a time. “My bed’s made up,” she breathed, her eyes large and enticing. “It’s real comfortable. Unless, of course, you’re too tired.” She began to do up her blouse.

  His eyes blazed. “Do I look tired to you?” he began to advance on her.

  Ceci backed away, leading him on. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

  ***

  Christmas Day began early with breakfast on the veranda and continued with party games on the lawn. In the afternoon, they took jugs of cider and Christmas fancies to the slave quarters. Afterwards, they exchanged gifts and sang carols. The day flowed seamlessly by, lubricated with liberal quantities of fresh eggnog, heavily laced with brandy. In the evening, they sat down to a festive dinner of oysters and salmon, baked ham, roast beef and turkey, before returning to the parlour where they lit the candles on the tree. Celeste and Mrs Sinclaire took turns at the piano and everyone danced, in their fashion, until exhausted and mellow they paired off, or sat around in small groups and talked the night away.

  “Is it my imagination, or is there something different about Hecubah today?” Trent asked, as they sat together in a window seat.

  “She’s wearing her hair down, is all,” Ceci shrugged. “And she got a new dress too. Didn’t say who from, just came down wearing it.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he explained. “She kissed me this morning, on the lips, after I caught her singing to herself, and she hasn’t scolded me once all day.” He looked down at Ceci. “What happened to her?”

  Ceci pressed herself closer to him. “Same thing that happened to me,” she replied meaningfully.

  His eyes widened. “You mean…”

  Ceci nodded. “I think she and her mystery man shared a very special present last night.”

  “Which one?” he recalled that Ceci suspected that there were possibly two of them.

  “It has to be the one who gave her the dress,” she guessed.

  Trent glanced over to where Hecubah, looking more radiant than he’d ever seen her, laughed and gossiped with Clay and Celeste. She caught him looking at her and gave a little wave. “No wonder she was so anxious to get away last night,” he realised. “Are you sure?”

  Ceci nodded again, returning the wave for him. “Same cologne. I almost gagged on it this morning. It was so familiar,” she frowned. “I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Whoever he is, he’s somewhere close by.”

  “She still won’t tell you his name?” Trent asked.

  Ceci shook her head. “Tight as a clam.”

  “Does it still bother you?”

  “No,” Ceci smiled, “not any more. I’m just so happy for her.”

  Trent glanced across the room again. “She certainly does look happy,” he agreed. “I hope her mood lasts through Christmas.”

  It was well after midnight before anyone thought of sleep. Ceci couldn’t wait to get Trent into bed, but he had other ideas.

  “There, I hope you’re satisfied at last,” she finished smoothing the sheets on his bed. “I’ve made up the bed and you’ve unpacked.” She looked around. “Good, now it looks as though the room’s fully occupied. It don’t matter if your parents do come in.”

  “The bed doesn’t look as though it’s been slept in,” he pointed out.

  Ceci sighed, jumped on top of it and wriggled around. “Now it does,” she told him, getting up.

  He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back. “Seems a pity to waste it,” he grinned rakishly.

  Ceci narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you dare crease my new dress,” she warned.

  He leaned closer. “Then take it off.”

  “What you going to do, if I don’t?” she goaded.

  He sat down on the bed, thrust his arm beneath her waist and dragged her across his lap, pinning her arms behind her back. “There, now your dress is out of the way,” he told her, pulling it up over her hips. “Maybe I’ll just slap your bottom for a while, until you change your mind.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Ceci struggled.

  It was a full ten minutes, before he let her go.

  “You didn’t have to do it so hard,” Ceci pouted, letting her dress fall to the floor and rubbing her behind with both hands. “I’ll be sore right into tomorrow.”

  Trent was unrepentant. “Next time, do what I tell you,” he remarked assertively. He picked her up and dropped her back onto the bed. “You got what you asked for.”

  “Oh, is that what you think?” she fumed.

  “Certainly,” he replied with conviction. “I didn’t crease your dress, did I?”

  ***

  Ceci’s sore behind only lasted a few hours, but she was already painfully aware that Trent’s visits were few and far between and that the days she spent with him were fleeting. Christmas was no exception. Despite all the assurances she received to the contrary, she still couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that this time would be the last time. The thought of it tormented her constantly, giving rise to a mood that compelled her to cram him into every minute she had left. Having Celeste and her unborn baby so close, only served to exacerbate the situation. She ached to be married.

  “Trent and Clay are becoming good friends,” Celeste observed, as Ceci sat beside her on the veranda the next day.

  The two men strolled across the lawn, deep in conve
rsation.

  Ceci laid her hand on Celeste’s swollen stomach. “What’s it like?” she asked. “Knowing you’re going to have a baby?”

  “It’s the most wonderful thing in the world,” she assured her.

  Ceci glanced away for a moment. “Do you remember Mama?”

  “I was only four when she passed away,” Celeste reminded her.

  “What was she like?” Ceci asked anyway.

  “You’ve seen the painting in Daddy’s study.”

  “I know, but that’s just a picture,” Ceci persisted. “What was she really like?”

  “Oh, she was beautiful and spirited,” Celeste searched her memory. “I favour Daddy, but you look a lot like her.”

  “She died the night I was born,” Ceci recalled.

  Celeste put her hand under Ceci’s chin, turning her face towards her. “That was God’s will,” she advised her gently. “He wanted you in the world and Mama’s time had come.”

  “Don’t it make you afraid?” Ceci wondered. “About having babies, I mean?”

  “No,” Celeste was adamant, “it’s what God made us to do. I love Clay with all my heart. This is his child and I’m proud to be its mother. When my time comes to bring a new life into the world, I will put my faith in the doctor and God’s mercy.” Celeste allowed Ceci a moment of quiet contemplation, before she spoke again. “I’m wondering why you ain’t asked me the obvious question.”

  “What question?”

  Celeste raised an eyebrow. “What you do to make a baby.”

  Ceci’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t possibly ask questions like that,” she blustered.

  “Not the least bit curious?” Celeste persisted. “Now why would that be?”

  “Stop it,” Ceci buried her face in her hands.

  “Why, Cecile Prejean,” Celeste tapped her arm. “I see it all now. I believe you are a fallen woman.”

  “You can talk,” Ceci retorted, trusting her hands into her lap, her cheeks scarlet. “What about all them boys you used to run around with. Don’t tell me you never dipped your toe in the water before you finally decided to take the plunge.”