by Fine, Clara
Hattie’s dazed gaze switched to Cam. “Who are you?” She asked weakly.
Cam smiled, uplifted by the realization that, for once, the innocent had been spared. “A friend,” she said softly.
Hattie nodded and glanced back to Brent. “John?” She asked again.
“He’s on his way,” Brent promised.
“Good.” Hattie’s eyelids fluttered shut. “I want to tell him about my dream,” she sighed as she fell asleep.
***
When Brent returned from helping Hattie back to her room, Cam had taken the woman’s place on the ballroom floor.
“Are you alright?” Brent asked anxiously.
“I’m fine,” Cam said quietly. Her mind was still as alert and analytical as ever, but her body had succumbed to exhaustion. She could feel every muscle in her body relaxing as she enjoyed the feeling of the cool floor. Brent studied her for a moment, then nodded and lay down perpendicular to her, resting his head on her stomach.
“Brent?” Cam called after a few minutes.
“Hm?” Brent had taken her hand and was tracing patterns on her palm.
“I love you right now.”
He stilled, cradling her hand gently in his much larger palm. “Only right now?”
Cam stared up at the ballroom ceiling, feeling her cheeks warming. “Well… probably forever,” she admitted slowly. It was the most honest she had ever been. Every lie she had told and every question she had dodged had been hiding this one, elemental fact.
Brent didn’t say anything, but his breathing changed and he took her palm and pressed a sweet kiss to the tips of her fingers.
“So…” he said finally, “if I love you and you love me… what’s next?” And Cam could tell by the meaningful glint in his eye that he already had a fairly good idea.
***
As soon as they stepped inside of the kitchen, Cam’s grandmother knew. Her nostrils flared as she took in the conjure, a strange blend of old and new, that clung to her granddaughter. “What is that?” She asked Cam.
Cam sighed and collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. “It’s a long story,” she said finally. “Let’s just say that you missed the best part.”
“That is not a sufficient explanation,” her grandmother responded immediately. “What happened?”
By the time Cam had finished explaining, Caro, Mary, and both of Cam’s sisters had all assembled and taken their own seats in the kitchen.
“But why now?” Diana asked when the story was complete. “Kat Varennes died fourteen years ago. Why would Pauline return and seek revenge now?”
Grandma shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Helen put in. “There must be something we don’t know. Something else must have drawn her back.”
“Or someone.” Mary said.
“What about Mattie Deveraux?” Brent asked.
Caro turned to him swiftly, pinning him with one of her deadliest stares. “I have known Mattie for years.”
“She has no quarrel with our family,” Cam told Brent quickly. “She has been an ally and a friend to us. And we have helped her.”
“How?” Brent asked, and Cam shifted uncomfortably as the gaze of each member of her family was suddenly turned on her.
“It’s a long story,” Cam said, “I’ll tell you later.”
In the doorway Cam’s father’s hound lifted his head, and his long ears swayed. Helen quickly stood and darted to the window. “Aunt Beth’s coming,” she reported as she pushed aside the curtain and peered out into the front yard. “It’ll look fairly peculiar, all of us being in the kitchen together. Especially you,” she added to Brent.
“Go out the back,” Grandma order quickly, as she picked up her sewing and leaned back in her rocker. Caro stood to attend to the plucked chicken that waited near the stove, and Brent held out his hand for Cam as he followed Mary, Helen and Diana out the back door of the kitchen.
“Just a minute,” Cam told him. She couldn’t articulate exactly why she felt uneasy, but her instincts were rarely wrong. “I’ll be right there.”
Brent paused, his gaze passing shrewdly from Cam to her grandmother, but then he nodded and stepped outside to wait for her.
“Cam?” Grandma asked, “aren’t you leaving?”
“In a minute,” Cam said softly. She felt deeply conflicted, torn between the story she had always believed, and the doubts that Brent had aroused the other night when they stood in the forest together. “Grandma?”
“Yes?” Something in Cam’s tone must have alerted her that all was not well, because both she and Caro turned to give Cam their full attention.
“Why did Kat Varennes kill my mother?”
There was a pause, during which Caro continued to stare stonily at Cam, and Grandma’s lips parted, but made no sound. “What do you mean?” Grandma asked finally. “Cam, you know this story. It’s no secret. You’ve always known.”
“You told me that Kat Varennes was jealous of my mother, that my mother was beautiful and powerful and Kat wanted her dead.”
“Yes,” Grandma agreed quickly.
“And that’s it?” Cam asked. “That’s all? Kat Varennes was really so crazy that she was willing to kill a woman for those reasons alone?”
“Well, what other reasons might she have?” Grandma asked quickly, and now she sounded almost angry. “Are you suggesting that your mother was somehow to blame?”
“No. I am asking if there is something you haven’t told me.”
“Like what?” Grandma asked, exchanging a glance with Caro, who was unreadable as ever.
“I don’t know what.” Cam said, “That’s why I’m asking. It feels strange to ask after believing the same story for so long, but lately when I think of it, the whole explanation sounds… hollow, somehow. Like a simple patch over a much deeper problem. Like the lies that we tell Aunt Beth. Simple answers to complex questions.”
“What’s complex?” Grandma asked. “Kat Varennes was a cruel, crazy woman.”
“Mama and Kat quarreled a few nights before mama died. What were they arguing over?”
“Power.” Grandma said. “I don’t know the details.”
“You said you had a vision of the night they argued. Did you see anything?” Caro asked.
“It was vague.” Cam said. “I felt Kat’s fury. I didn’t know what she was furious about. But she was from New Orleans,” Cam said. “She and Pauline. And so was mama.”
“Many rootworkers are from New Orleans,” Grandma said sharply.
“So they had no history together?” Cam asked. “They were the same age, and both from wealthy families. They had no confrontations at all before they both married plantation owners from Gaynor County?”
“I don’t know what you’re looking for, Cam,” her grandmother said. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”
“Something that makes sense!” Cam said, her voice rising. “Or at least something that makes more sense than what you’ve told me so far.”
“What I’ve told you so far is the truth, Cam,” Grandma insisted. She stepped toward her granddaughter, arms outstretched. Cam was reminded of the many times as a child that she had run crying to Grandma, and her grandmother had held her until the tears stopped. Grandma cupped Cam’s face in her hands, lifting her granddaughter’s chin and staring into her eyes. “We don’t lie to each other, my beautiful granddaughter. Our strength comes from our honesty with each other, our trust in each other. I can tell that Brent loves you dearly, and you him, but he knows nothing of our family or our ways. Don’t let his questions lead you astray.”
“Grandma, this has nothing to do with Brent,” Cam said, although that wasn’t strictly true.
“You’re right. It has to do with us,” Grandma said, placing a hand on each of Cam’s shoulders. “Our bond and our trust. Cam, I’ve told you the truth.”
Cam stared into her grandmother’s eyes, the blackness of them reminding her of her own eyes, and reminding
her that her grandmother was family. Her mother’s mother. For as long as she had lived, Cam had always trusted her grandmother.
“There’s nothing else?” Cam asked finally, lowly.
“No,” Grandma said, sensing her victory and taking a step back, glancing again at Caro. “There is nothing else. I’ve told you the whole tragic story.”
“I’m sorry,” Cam said quietly, glancing between her grandmother and Caro. They stood several feet apart, but they stood the same way, feet braced firmly, arms crossed close against their chest. She couldn’t tell what either of them was thinking.
“Beth’s still coming.” Caro remarked flatly from where she stood by the stove.
“Oh, right,” Cam said quickly, and with a final glance at her grandmother she turned to go.
Outside of the kitchen the sun was shining, and Brent stood under a dogwood tree. Cam felt a sudden thrill as she realized that he was waiting for her.
Mine.
My love. She thought as he approached, and when his hand touched hers it warmed her more than the sun.
“What’s wrong?” He asked as they linked hands, twining their fingers together. Cam was standing close enough that she could feel the heat of him under his jacket and she eyed his hair, blonde and thick, but perhaps getting a little wild. It should be trimmed, she thought, and smiled. Maybe I’ll do it.
“Nothing is wrong,” she told him, and her heart was suddenly so light that she really believed it.
“Are you sure?” He asked, gazing at her closely. “There are always such shadows in your eyes.”
“Not always,” Cam told him, releasing one of his hands so that they could turn and walk together. “When I’m with you, you chase them all away.” It was amazing the effect that he had on her. Nothing had changed in the few minutes since she had confronted her grandmother, but somehow, with each step that she took with Brent at her side, the world seemed to grow brighter.
***
“Well, we both knew that would happen eventually,” Caro said, as she and Daphne watched Cam wander across the lawn with Brent.
“What?” Daphne asked, and Caro turned to stare at the woman who was her constant companion.
“You know what,” she said, “one of your daughter’s children asking questions, that’s what.”
Daphne sighed, her gaze still fixed on Cam and Brent. “I didn’t expect it to be Cam,” she said, and she sounded almost defeated. “Diana, certainly, or maybe even Helen, she’s a clever girl, but never Cam.”
“I don’t see why not,” Caro said.
“Because it’s Cam,” Daphne said, “my Cam. I all but raised the child after my daughter died.”
“That’s why it had to be her,” Caro said. “You can lie to anyone but a child. They grow up and one way or another they always stumble upon whatever their family has hidden from them. It’s unavoidable.”
“That’s what you think.” Daphne said. “Cam would never have started to doubt me if it weren’t for that Brent boy.”
“I think he’s good for her,” Caro said, and Daphne glared at her. “He is. Look at her,” she pointed to where Brent and Cam had taken a seat beneath an oak tree. “When she’s with him she smiles. She laughs.”
“She asks questions.” Daphne added.
“Believe it or not Daphne, that’s a good sign. When they’re together they see things that weren’t obvious before. They make each other think.” Caro sighed when Daphne only shook her head. “Anyway, you might as well get used to him. I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”
Daphne sighed. “No. Neither do I.”
Epilogue
June 28, 1855
Paris
Cam flipped over the cards, one after the other. The middle card represented passion, and Cam couldn’t say she was surprised. It had been a very common reading lately, given the way that she and Brent had been carrying on. Even now as she read the cards she was sitting on his lap, wearing only her dressing gown. They’d had a late morning, and Cam was still warm all over, particularly where they touched.
Their engagement hadn’t been a long one, but it had seemed like ages until they were finally able to share a room together, without a chaperone.
Chaperone— what a ridiculous idea. Cam could barely contain her snort. It had been worth the wait, though, now that they were on their honeymoon they could enjoy a hotel room in peace. Cam sighed as Brent kissed her bare shoulder, her neck, the shell of her ear. The warmth of his breath brought a flush to her face as he whispered into the crook of her neck. “John and Hattie will be here soon.”
“Good,” Cam said absently, distracted by the way he was trailing one finger up and down her arm. She turned to smile at him and caught his expression. “What?” She asked, and then followed his gaze to the cards in her hand. “Oh,” she leaned back against him comfortably. “I forgot.” She gathered up the cards and put them in the hotel desk drawer. She had been fortunate, more fortunate than she’d ever expected, to find a husband who didn’t mind a little conjure here and there.
Her sister-in-law Hattie was less understanding, and Cam couldn’t blame her, given what Pauline had subjected her to. Hattie and John were also in Paris was because John had taken his wife to France following her ordeal, hoping that the weather and a change of scenery would help her recover. Hattie had improved rapidly after the death of Pauline, but the relationship between Cam and Hattie had been strained for a little while. Initially Hattie had thanked Cam profusely, but when she realized that Cam continued to practice conjure, she had grown frosty. But when it mattered, Cam could channel a little of her mother’s charm, and it certainly mattered to her to be on good terms with Brent’s family. Cam had worked on Hattie since she and Brent had arrived in Paris two weeks ago, and lately the ice between them had begun to thaw.
It was still strange, seeing Hattie as a healthy, animated young woman given that when Cam had first seen her she had looked like a breathing corpse. As it turned out, her new sister-in-law had a playful spirit and a wicked sense of humor. Cam hoped that one day they could be close. In the meantime, Cam was enjoying touring cities that she had never expected to see. She and Brent had a few more weeks in Paris scheduled before they were on to Rome, and when their honeymoon came to a close in the fall they were going back to Cypress Hall so that Cam could visit her family. She’d never been away from any of them for this long, and even though she was enjoying being alone with Brent, she missed them.
“What are you thinking about?” Brent asked, tucking a lock of her loose hair behind her ear.
Cam looped her arms behind his neck and gazed up at him. “My family,” she admitted finally.
He pretended to be disappointed. “Not me?”
“I’m always thinking about you,” Cam told him. “Even when I’m thinking about something else I’m thinking about you.”
He grinned, “I believe you,” he said, and tilted her chin up for a kiss.
He was part of her family now, Cam thought, once they had kissed each other breathless. It was strange to think how suddenly it had all happened. But that was how life went, Cam mused. A few moments could define someone for a lifetime, just like that first, heated look at her aunt’s barbecue that had changed both their lives. If Cam leaned back and closed her eyes, even then as she sat in the cradle of her husband’s lap, she could practically journey back to that day. She could remember exactly how she had felt, sitting at the kitchen table in her hated crinoline and thinking with apprehension of the man that she now loved.
Then Brent kissed her, and Cam was transported back into his arms, forgetting that earlier day, now vanished in a shower of Magnolia blossoms and Mississippi sunlight.
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