by Ali Vali
Kendal started their tour in the formal gardens Charlie mostly still kept up himself. They were so much grander than she remembered, and she enjoyed finally seeing them in person instead of through the pictures Charlie always sent. Through the years he’d not only mastered a variety of things like gardening, but he’d become a wonderful letter writer. In the thousands of pages they’d shared since Charlie had stayed behind, Kendal had glimpsed parts of his soul along with narratives about whatever project he was working on.
“The gardens were much smaller when the house was first built, but when Jacques left and the fields went dormant, the caretakers over time devoted their time here.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Piper said, accepting a large pink rose bud she’d cut for her.
“Almost all the plants you see, like the horses in the stable, have something in common.” She stopped at the bench in the gazebo Charlie had added in the early 1960s. “Except for a few of the seasonal flowers, the plants were cross-cultivated from the originals first placed here. Some are quite a few generations removed, but they carry plenty of history in their leaves.”
“The horses have been bred that long too?”
“So much has changed since Jacques was here—some for the better and some not. Keeping alive some of the good things from that era pays homage to the families who made this their home. Horses were necessary back then, but also a passion.”
“Do the family history books say that Jacques liked to ride bareback?”
“On occasion, but he used a proper saddle when he was out playing the role of the marquis.”
Piper laughed before bringing the rose close to her nose and inhaling the scent. “Will you tell me what happened to him? When he left here, I mean.”
“Jacques lived a quiet life in England, enjoying the company of those who left with him to build a future there. At least he did for a while.”
Once she’d buried Lola, she traveled to the Himalayas. The cave she found at the base of a mountain had been her resting place until Morgaine had finally tracked her down. The world was again a different place, and she stayed there among the monks and mountain people, since they were so at peace away from the modern world.
Chapter Twenty
Buddhist monastery, 1808
“To still your heart you must first heal your mind,” advised the head master at the monastery where Morgaine had left Kendal as he circled her with a wooden sword. “To heal your heart, you must still your mind.”
This was their ninth day of this exercise, and he’d done nothing but circle her, talking in circles. She kept waiting for him to engage so she could gauge how easy to go on him, but he only orbited in light steps that didn’t compute with his age. As he said that damned line again, she recalled Henri limping away laughing. His taunts about honor and weakness still echoed through her head, and the anger she’d tried to bury with sleep finally broke its leash.
Still her heart? She wasn’t listening to that nonsense again, so she raised the blade the monk had insisted she use and moved at him. She couldn’t heal her mind because she couldn’t forget or escape the rows of burning pyres the morning after Henri’s arrival.
Before her sword met his wooden one, he smiled, and she pulled the force of her downward stroke at the last minute. He wasn’t smiling because she’d finally showed a reaction, but because she still had lessons to learn. Using his inferior wooden stick, compared to her blade, he’d left more bruises on her than anyone had since Morgaine had first trained her.
“That’s all you’re going to say?” Piper asked, pulling her out of her memories. “Did he go on to marry?”
“Jacques never married.”
“How did he have heirs?”
Training yard of the monastery, 1808
The last blow the monk landed was to her right wrist and broke it so badly it seemed that hairline fractures extended all the way down her fingers. “How do you define failure, Asra?” he asked, his sword held over his head as if ready to strike again.
“You know my name?” she asked through gritted teeth, the pain almost unbearable.
“Morgaine told me your name, but not who you are. Only you can tell me that, and only you can tell me how you define failure.”
The story of Oakgrove came spilling out, taking long into the night to finish so she couldn’t escape the pain in her hand, heart, and mind. While she spoke, the monk perched on a rock, the night sky lit with stars as his backdrop, listening intently as if what she was saying wasn’t lunacy. No matter what she told him, he never appeared to judge her.
“What would you change?” he asked when she finished.
“I’d have let Angelina and Tomas go long before they were taken from me.”
“And the others, they weren’t important to you?”
“They were my family—of course they were important to me. I define failure as not protecting them all.”
“What did that night teach you?” he asked, seeming oblivious to the cold.
“I’m destined to be a loner. I can’t get too involved or care too much if I don’t want the same thing to happen.”
“If that’s all you learned, your road is long before you learn the truth of yourself. You’ll never still your mind or heal your heart until you find the one who challenges both.”
Oakgrove, present day
“Kendal, are you all right?” Piper sounded concerned after she’d soared off to the past again. “We don’t have to talk about any of this.”
“It’s okay.” Kendal flexed her right hand, the memory of that injury still as fresh as the man’s advice. “Jacques’s bloodline lived on after an old lover came back into his life and led him on a journey to still his heart and heal his mind, as he later wrote.”
She’d stayed with the monks until the grief became manageable, but they never convinced her that Henri was totally at fault. Originally she’d sailed to New Orleans to hunt him down, but she’d grabbed a brief opportunity for normalcy with Angelina and Tomas. The distraction had given Henri the chance to strike, and he’d almost broken her. She’d never forget, but knowing she was close to destroying him drove her.
“That sounds scandalous for the time.”
“Jacques believed in duty to family and doing the right thing, like all the people on the family tree since.”
“Thank God for that, especially for Granddad and me,” Piper said, placing her hand on the side of Kendal’s neck. “And it’s good to know Jacques found love again.”
“What about you?” she asked, taking Piper’s hand again to continue their walk. “What’s Piper Marmande’s love history?”
“That’s sadly a story yet to be written.” Piper turned her head away. “My grandparents and the business have needed me more than I needed to be in love, and experiences like I’ve had don’t make me want to change my mind on the subject.”
“That’s too bad,” Kendal said, heading to the fields that trees hadn’t reclaimed. Only knee-high grass grew here now. “Now that I know you, I’d like to think you’ll make someone really happy, so don’t rob yourself of the chance.”
“Why do you say that?”
Kendal stopped and pressed Piper’s back to her chest, so they both faced the house. “Neat rows of two rotating crops used to grow here where we’re standing. Jacques and the others who worked this land from nothing wrote eloquently about how wondrous it was to see the plants at their peak.”
“Do you not want to answer my question, or don’t you know how?” Piper asked, placing her hands over hers.
“I’m answering your question,” she said softly into Piper’s ear. “You’re like this place.” Letting Piper go, she walked slowly toward the house, kneeling when she found what she was looking for. “You’re full of history, made up of all the joy and sadness you’ve known, but it’s good to remember your past because it gives you a good perspective going forward.” She tore a leaf off the plant she’d found and handed it to Piper.
“They grew tobacco?” Pip
er took it and smelled it. “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”
“Yes. That’s what mostly took up this acreage when it was the season.”
“I still don’t understand your point, unless you’re telling me you think I’m fertile.” Piper laughed.
“The seedlings from those crops keep popping up year after year.” Kendal stood and pointed more out. “Some of this place’s history is trapped in the soil, and when you compare that with the people in your family, it’s the same. Your grandparents are only two of your history’s great loves, and you were born with that seedling of love. When you find the person you’re meant to be with, the seed won’t have any choice but to grow.”
“In addition to memorizing the family history, you must get lessons in romance. Thanks for saying all that.” Piper held up the leaf. “Maybe some things are genetic as well, like enjoying tobacco.”
“Maybe,” she said, pointing to the house when she noticed Piper’s blush. The day was about making Piper feel special, not pushing her into any future commitments. “And maybe we’ll start planting again to keep me in cigars.”
Piper took her hands but walked backward as if to maintain eye contact. “That isn’t a very healthy choice. You ever think of quitting that nasty habit?”
“I’ve got a short list of vices, and cigars are in the top ten, so no. If it makes you feel better, I’ll consider replanting the home garden instead.” She turned Piper slightly to the area now covered sporadically with shade trees, flowering plants, and herbs. “That’s what they used this land for, but I think it serves a better purpose now.”
“What?”
“A place for lunch.” She turned Piper the rest of the way. “Hungry?”
An elegantly set table stood between two massive oaks, with some of the house staff nearby. “You’re too much,” Piper said. Kendal smiled at her, and she felt as if she’d found shelter after standing in a storm for years. Plenty of people had tried to charm her with pretty words, but Kendal seemed to flatter simply because she was stating the truth as she saw it.
She moved to Kendal’s side and put her arm around her waist, enjoying Kendal’s partial embrace. “Thank you again for today. Well, for everything, really. You’re like no one I’ve ever met, and even though I don’t deserve what you’ve done for me, I’m so glad you gave me so many chances to accept your friendship.”
“You deserve so much more.” Kendal pressed her closer with the arm she had around her shoulders.
“Only my grandparents have ever thought so. Even my father didn’t find me worthy enough to stick around for,” she said, not believing she’d actually let the words escape her mouth.
“Perhaps he didn’t have your strength. He let his seedling grow when he found your mother and didn’t know how to keep it nourished once he lost her,” Kendal said, stopping so she could hug her. “As for the rest, let me show you how wrong you are.”
At the table Kendal pulled Piper’s chair out for her and poured the wine while the staff served the first course. It was almost like being transported back in time, and any bad thoughts talking about her father had brought on vanished.
“To the future,” she toasted when Kendal held up her glass, “and may it hold more days like today.”
Kendal tapped her glass to Piper’s and smiled. “That’s something worth drinking to.”
*
The meal was simple but wonderfully prepared, which Piper enjoyed, but not as much as listening to Kendal answer every question she’d had about Oakgrove. After all her failed attempts to get on the property, the invitation and welcome she’d received from the owner were worth the wait.
“More coffee, miss?” one of the servers asked, holding a silver urn over her cup.
“It was wonderful, but any more liquids and we may have a problem,” she said, holding her stomach. “Could you direct me to the ladies’ room, please?”
“If you want authentic, you could use one of the oak trees while I hunt for some leaves for you,” Kendal said.
“Don’t make me laugh. It’ll take more than one date to make me drop my pants, Richoux, even if it was wonderful.”
“Let’s go before you mess up the lawn furniture.” Kendal helped her up. They entered through the kitchen, and Kendal led her to the nearest bathroom. “Take your time, then meet me on the front porch swing.”
“Porch swing? You put me on that after all that food and wine, and you’ll have to pinch me to keep me awake.”
“I’d love to,” Kendal said, winking at her, and Piper heard her laugh when she slammed the door on her.
Piper hurried, not wanting to waste time, and when she opened the door again the house was deadly silent. More paintings hung in the short hallway to the foyer, and as she walked past the front parlor and looked out the large bank of windows, she saw Kendal sitting outside. Above Kendal’s head to the left, the sudden movement of a squirrel running across a branch drew her eyes up, and the image in her peripheral vision made her stop.
The portrait over the mantel made her quit breathing, and she put her hand on the door frame to keep from swaying. The woman was a reflection of Piper herself captured in oil paint. She didn’t remember moving, but she walked only to the middle of the room. The sight of her smiling twin scared her because her expression was so lifelike her eyes seemed to follow and draw Piper in.
She didn’t turn away from it when she sensed Kendal join her. She didn’t need to break their silence yet to ask who this was because Hill had done such a great job describing the long-lost love who drove Jacques from his home—Angelina du’Pon.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, not as an accusation.
“You would’ve thought me mad, and I really don’t know why you look so much alike—you just do.”
“Kendal, we don’t look alike. Our faces are exactly the same.”
“You’re your own person, Piper, and you two have differences. Your eyes are darker, she was a tad taller, but it doesn’t matter. You’re both beautiful women in the hearts of those who care about you. To think otherwise would be to disrespect you as individuals. I didn’t tell you because it’s not important, merely coincidence.”
“Are you sure? Is she why you didn’t want to see me anymore? I’m not her, if that’s what you’re worried about. I understand she was set to marry Jacques and she died. This isn’t history repeating itself.” She glanced back at Kendal and felt like she was in a strange dream. “The same thing won’t happen to us, even if you talk about her like you knew her.”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes we can all learn from our past mistakes. Do you want to know how Angelina died?”
“The priest we talked to wasn’t very forthcoming. Your family has done a great job of sharing only the history you want the world to know.”
Kendal dropped into one of the chairs in the room and peered past Piper’s shoulder to the painting hanging there. “At the time, very few knew exactly what transpired the last night Angelina and Tomas spent in this house. And you’re wrong—history can most certainly repeat itself. I didn’t want to see you again simply because I wanted to keep you safe.”
“Kendal, that was close to three hundred years ago. Don’t let fear cloud what’s in your heart.”
“Our time together should prove how much I care about what happens to you, and that I’m not punishing you by sending you far away from me.” Kendal looked at her with glassy eyes. “Piper, you’ve got to leave here today and never come back. I couldn’t handle any harm coming to you or your family because of me.”
“I don’t want to walk away from you,” she said, sitting next to Kendal. “I can’t know how Jacques lost Angelina, but I’m sure the same thing won’t happen again. Don’t throw this away before those seedlings have the chance to sprout.”
With a shaking hand, Kendal reached across for one of Piper’s. “Listen carefully. I wasn’t lying when I told you I was here on family business.”
“I remember everything you said, but what do
es that have to do with people who lived a long time ago?”
“Angelina died at the hands of Jacques’s brother because of an old rivalry that went too far. My brother has brought me to the city, and it would seem that history is repeating itself. I don’t want to drag you into the middle of that, so please, as my friend, do what I’m asking.”
“You think he’s that dangerous?”
“More than Henri St. Louis ever thought to be, and he’ll use whatever and whoever he can to get to me. I’ll sacrifice anything before I let him touch you.”
“What if I want to help you? You know, to return the favor for saving Granddad and me.”
“I’d love you watching my back, but please just work hard to make Marmande a success and forget you ever met me. I gave you the opportunity to keep what’s rightfully your family’s, but it’ll take your talent to make it work, so concentrate on that.”
Piper moved closer and put her hand on Kendal’s cheek. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me you want me to walk out of your life, I’ll respect your wishes.” She stroked the smooth skin where Kendal’s shirt parted, and a new cascade of thoughts ran through her mind. “But don’t ask me to like it if that’s what you decide.”
Kendal hesitated, but she lifted her head and looked torn. “I want you to go, Piper. I want you to go and erase this place and me from your mind.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Piper said, meaning every word. She felt like she had to hang on to Kendal like she had outside the hotel so she wouldn’t vanish like a mist.
“How do I face the rest of my life if something happens to you?” Kendal asked, framing her face with her hands. “I know what I’m up against, and it’ll be hard enough making it through without having to worry about you.”
Kendal didn’t let her say anything else when she stood and helped her up and walked her to her car, as if not giving herself the opportunity to give in to what she really wanted. She went willingly when Kendal opened her arms and held her.