Underground

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Underground Page 11

by Gayle O'Brien


  “I’ll just have Oma change me and then I promise I’ll be back down.”

  “Be quick about it,” she snapped, and left the room.

  Samantha waited for her heart to stop pounding in her chest, then ran upstairs.

  As Samantha knelt down to open the hatch to the eaves her hoop skirt billowed up to her armpits like a deflating hot air balloon. She pushed down the layers of chiffon and cursed the corset for preventing her from bending. A surge of heat followed the opening of the hatch. The smell of blood thickened the air.

  “Here,” she said, handing the biscuits over. “I don’t have time for anything else right now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Miss Sammy …” Odus started, but she didn’t let him finish. She pulled the hatch shut and ran back downstairs, smoothing out her skirt as she went.

  Samantha struggled to ease the fluttering in her fingertips as she went out on the terrace. The men stood on one side; the two women sat in wicker chairs on the other. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her mother motioning her to sit with them, but she pretended not to see, and instead joined the three men.

  “I think this set-up means we can both experiment with new methods while maintaining our current level of income,” said Royal “You mean your current level of income,” said her father.

  “With all due respect, sir, surely you can see this offers you the best of both worlds? You and I can implement industrialized systems for Mont Verity, as I know you want to do, while Dominion Royale will continue to bring in the revenues that will safeguard all of us in case our experiments fail.”

  Samantha inserted herself into their circle. “There needs to be a legal agreement that Dominion Royale will cover Mont Verity’s debts if Mont Verity is to be the experimental plantation. It’s only fair that Dominion Royale is the collateral if there’s a threat of foreclosure on our land.”

  The three men looked at her. Major Fabre laughed and cast a glance at her father. “Now who told you to say that, Samantha?”

  “No one has told me to say anything. I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to see if a cotton plantation can run on the kind of industrial machinery they use up north, but you don’t dare make manual labor obsolete until you know the new system will yield a better profit. Dominion Royale will keep slave labor; Mont Verity will reduce ours. I just want to make sure that if it all goes belly up my plantation stays in my family.”

  Royal laughed nervously. “I can assure you we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Good, then you won’t mind putting it in writing. And notarized.”

  All three men stood with their mouths open. She was afraid to look at her father, fearing she’d see his regret at letting her spend so much time in his study.

  “Samantha,” said Major Fabre, “why don’t you go over and join the women? Their talk will be much more suitable for you.”

  “No, I think I’d rather stay here.”

  Then, from across the terrace, she heard her mother say: “We’ll need to get into the eaves next to Samantha’s room to fetch all of her childhood belongings, as well.”

  Oh no, she thought.

  “Actually, I think I will. Excuse me.”

  As she walked away the men’s conversation resumed, but in tones too low for her to hear. Her mother and Missus Fabre were both taking more mint juleps.

  “Oh good,” said her mother as Samantha sat down. “Tell Missus Fabre that the cradle your grandfather made would look timeless in any modern nursery.”

  “I don’t think we need to be thinking about such things right now, Mother,” she said.

  Her mother pretended not to hear and continued talking. “It’s all just been sitting in the eaves all these years,” she said to Missus Fabre. “The cradle, the dollhouse. It will be so exciting to get them out again.”

  “What if it’s a boy?” said Missus Fabre, her voice blunt and cold. “It’s a well-known fact that Fabres only ever have boys.”

  “Well, I had two girls,” said her mother, “so it’s just as possible that Samantha will have girls.”

  “I hope not.”

  Samantha’s mother’s face reddened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, boys are easier aren’t they? This whole issue of how to manage Mont Verity wouldn’t exist if you’d had a boy.”

  Samantha’s mother stood up. “I’m proud to have two daughters.”

  “Oh, sit down, Madeline. I’m just saying that boys are heartier. They last longer.”

  Samantha’s mother let out a small cry and ran inside, leaving Samantha alone with Missus Fabre.

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” said Samantha.

  Missus Fabre took a sip of her mint julep. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Making a slight like that against Georgia. That was uncalled for.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” she said, waving away the criticism. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  “That is what it sounded like.”

  Missus Fabre snapped her fan open. “Your mother needs to realize that aside from her and Royal, the rest of the world stopped mourning for Georgia years ago.”

  Then Missus Fabre went pale. “I didn’t mean that,” she said.

  Samantha stood up. “I dare say I think you did,” she said, and left Missus Fabre sitting under the cloud of her own indiscretion.

  Samantha closed the door to the dining room behind her and rested her forehead on the doorframe. Of course, she thought. It all makes sense now.

  No wonder her mother couldn’t separate her cotillion from Georgia’s. The outcome was the same – marrying Royal Fabre.

  If Georgia was still alive everything would be different. She would have married Royal and lived at his plantation. Samantha would marry Eli without any objection, surely, and be able to stay at Mont Verity.

  It had never occurred to Samantha to put herself on par with her older sister or to even contemplate competing with her. It would have been an impossible height to reach. To her surprise, she found herself feeling sorry for Royal. He loved Georgia. Missus Fabre had said so. Samantha couldn’t remember if he’d come calling along with all of Georgia’s other suitors, simply because at that time in her life Samantha did not care. Had Georgia loved him back? For all Samantha knew, Georgia had. And now Royal’s settling for me. She felt numb, but complacent. There was no use getting upset or depressed. It was simply how it was.

  Royal’s voice came from behind. “I’m sorry about my mother,” he said.

  Samantha turned around. “Don’t be.”

  She was stunned to see tears welling in his eyes. “I promise you I don’t think I’m settling for second best,” he said.

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  He cleared his throat. Samantha thought she’d never seen a man more vulnerable than one trying not to show his emotions. “Now that I’ve had more time with you, I can see how you’ll be the best plantation wife a southern man could ask for.”

  Samantha tried to hide her pleasure at the compliment. “I still don’t want to live at Dominion Royale. Mont Verity will always be my home.”

  “I know that. If I could think of another way I would.”

  “You could find someone else to marry and let me marry Eli.” She expected him to be shocked by her comment. But he didn’t reveal even a hint of surprise.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because even though I admit I’m marrying you so that I can merge our plantations, Eli is only marrying you so that he can have yours to himself. He won’t know how to run it or make it prosper. He’ll let it languish and decay until all you have left for your creditors is rubble and dried cotton stalks.”

  “I’d never let that happen.”

  Royal sighed. “You act like women have the ability to be men. You couldn’t run this place. We have a hard enough time getting slaves to mind us; what makes you think they’ll behave with a woman at the helm?”

 
“You didn’t think a woman could shoot a gun and you were wrong about that.”

  “You missed, if memory serves.”

  “I missed on purpose.”

  Royal smiled and stepped closer, taking Samantha’s hands. “You see, that’s what makes me know I’ve chosen the right wife. Be patient, Samantha. Who knows? In time you might actually come to love me.”

  Samantha removed her hands from his grasp. “I’m certain that no matter how much time passes, I never will.”

  “Perhaps. But we have no choice but to see, do we?”

  “Eli will come back and all of this will be changed.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Samantha realized she couldn’t. Her declaration was nothing more than words she held onto because there was nothing else tangible to grasp. The longer Eli was gone, the less faith she had that any of her current circumstances would yield the result she desired.

  “I should go and find Mother.”

  Royal stepped forward to kiss her on the cheek, but she had already turned away.

  Samantha did not know how she made it through the day. The Fabres stayed for afternoon tea, and then supper. All the while Samantha was forced to endure Missus Fabre’s company and listen to her plans for Samantha, Royal, and the dozens of children she predicted they would have. Once back in her room, Samantha let Oma help her out of the corset and into her nightdress. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed ten times.

  “Anything I can get for you, ma’am?”

  Samantha knew there was plenty she could ask for on Odus and Amira’s behalf. More water for the bucket in the eaves. Food. An empty chamber pot. She could even go beyond that and see which of her old clothes might fit Amira, or if any of her riding trousers would do for Odus. But she was exhausted. She just wanted to get to sleep and be left alone.

  Outside, the crickets and cicadas made their first dissonant chorus of the season. The breeze that swayed her curtains held a hint of coolness: rain was coming.

  She woke up to the sound of low thunder rumbling across the fields. A figure stood over her, and a flash of lightning cut across Odus’ face, Samantha opened her mouth to scream. Instead, she sat up and pulled the sheet over herself. Her gun lay in her drawer, out of reach. He’s here to kill me, she thought.

  “If you touch me I’ll scream,” she hissed.

  Odus knelt down by her bed. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I know you told us never to come out, but I had to. It’s my sister. I think she be dying.”

  Chapter 13

  Annie never fully let herself fall into a deep sleep. She didn’t dare, for fear of what she might sleep through. Instead, she hovered between sleep and wakefulness, where dreams come furious and unrelenting in their imagery.

  It was easy to stay awake for the first few hours of the journey to Virginia, high on the adrenaline of feeling free for the first time in a year. She didn’t want to think of the moment when her mother would see her note and realize she was gone.

  She couldn’t wait to get to Virginia. Just to be there, inhale its scent and get its dust on her shoes. It would be tempting to do so many things, like go to her old high school and watch Saturday football practice or call Jenna and Marcy and have them meet her at the mall where they’d sit by the indoor water fountain and rate the boys who walked by.

  Annie knew she couldn’t do any of these things, but the ideas were enough to make her dizzy and thrilled.

  She and Theo crossed the New York state line, where the dark outlines of the mountains descended to make way for the stars. Herds of deer lurked in the bare trees along the Taconic. Down the New York State Parkway and the lights of east Manhattan, Annie saw cherry tree blooms under pink streetlights. Before falling asleep on the New Jersey Turnpike she saw the Statue of Liberty, no bigger than an ant, but unmistakable against the backdrop of lower Manhattan.

  But behind her eyes came the explosion. The fire. The police car.

  “No!” she cried. “No! No! No!”

  “Annie! Annie!” a voice shouted through the fire.

  “But that’s not my name,” she heard herself say. Theo’s truck hit a pothole and her eyes shot open.

  “Are you okay?” Theo had one hand on her shoulder and another on the steering wheel.

  Annie blinked until her eyes focused. The sky was now pale blue, the sun a mere hour from the horizon. I’m in Theo’s truck, she thought. Everything’s okay.

  “You must have been dreaming,” said Theo. “You said your name isn’t Annie.”

  Annie faked a laugh and cleared her throat. “Where are we?”

  “Nearly there, actually. We made good time. The library doesn’t open for another couple of hours, so what do you say we find a place to get breakfast?”

  She took a deep breath. “Sounds good.”

  At sunrise, they entered Virginia awash with the colors of spring. Daffodils were dotted across lawns and in clusters on the side of the highway. Coming from Vermont, where it had been snowing, Annie felt like she’d travelled forward in time. The sight of bluebells and purple rhododendrons made her feel hopeful, like new beginnings were there for the taking.

  Annie was home.

  It was Theo’s first time in the south and Annie knew she had to pretend the same. She repeated instructions to herself to act like the place was unfamiliar, not to point in the right direction if he got lost, and to keep her head down at all times.

  She also begrudgingly promised herself that when they were at the library she would somehow get onto a computer, post another photo and read the emails she’d seen in the inbox. The more she thought about it, the more she berated herself for starting those Facebook posts in the first place. They were now a burden, an irritant, a fly she wished she could swat away. Samantha Weston had seen to that. What a gift she was – not just a distraction or diversion, but a passion. It made everything else seem like a bad dream, like a long, arduous staircase that had to be climbed in order to have this reward.

  And then there was Theo. She was starting to see that he might be a different gift altogether.

  Theo pulled into a restaurant that promised, ‘the best grits this side of the Mason-Dixon line’. It was a place that Annie had been to a few times after home football games, famous for its BBQ pork, but where she and her family had never been. Her father didn’t see the point in going out to eat something he could make at home, and her mother didn’t go anywhere that didn’t have a salad bar.

  Head down, she thought, as they were led to their table. Don’t make eye contact with anyone.

  Annie scanned the menu, searching for the cheapest item.

  “By the way,” Theo said, “this is on me.”

  “Theo, you don’t have to …”

  “No, I insist. It wouldn’t be half as much fun if you weren’t here to keep me company. So what’ll you have?”

  Annie looked at the menu. The fact that Theo was buying made an even stronger case for ordering the cheapest thing. “I’ll just have an English muffin,” she said.

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “That’s not breakfast.” He pointed to the menu. “See this column here? That’s nothing but side orders. Now, this column here,” he ran his finger over the breakfast entrees, “that’s what I’ll pay for. I only support the ordering of real food.”

  “Theo, I …”

  He held up his hand in mock protest. “No, no, not another word. I have rules, and you must obey them.”

  The waiter approached, his cheeks pink and round like apples. His accent was slow, southern and in no hurry. “Now what can I get y’all?”

  “If these are grits,” said Theo, pushing the white grains around his plate, “I’m completely failing to see what all the fuss is about.”

  Annie tried hard not to wolf down her Huevos Rancheros with extra chilies and jalapenos. Every mouthful made her feel guilty, but she couldn’t stop – it tasted too good.

  “You were smart to order recognizable food,” said Theo, balking at anot
her mouthful.

  “I hate grits,” she said. “Always have.”

  “You could have warned me,” he said, putting his fork down. “I really can’t eat this. I’m going to get something else.” He tried to catch the waiter’s attention. “When in your life were you so unfortunate that you ate grits?”

  Annie stopped chewing. “Um, I don’t know, a long time ago.”

  Theo pushed his plate to the side. “You know what? If I’d eaten these before, I’m sure I would have blocked out that memory, too.”

  The waiter returned and Theo ordered Corned Beef Hash.

  “I didn’t think you looked like a grits boy,” the waiter said, and Annie and Theo laughed. Annie was starting to relax. She and Theo could be anywhere, just having breakfast, like a normal boy and girl.

  “So, where to first?” he asked.

  “First? I thought we were just going to the library.”

  “Oh come on, we can’t have come all this way and not explore a little. I thought maybe we could try and find where Mont Verity was. You never know – there might be something there.”

  Annie did not want to explore, not in the way Theo meant. She wanted to, perhaps, accidentally drive by things that held meaning, but not intentionally seek anything out. She needed to keep this trip controlled and compact. Theo, she could see, clearly had other ideas. She was starting to think she’d made a big mistake by agreeing to come.

  Hopefully all our Samantha Weston questions will be answered at the library, she thought, and then we can go back to Vermont.

  On the way to the library Annie did nothing but look out the window. Every familiar sight made her wistful – the dance studio where she’d taken ballet lessons, the smoothie station where she, Jenna and Marcy used to go after cheerleading practice, and the book store where she and her mother went once a week until Annie stopped doing such things with her mother and went to nail bars with Jenna and Marcy instead.

  She’d forgotten how flat the landscape was. They weren’t far south enough to see the Blue Ridge Mountains, so all buildings and roads sat on level ground. It made her feel exposed and uncomfortable, and she suddenly missed the protection of the mountains in Vermont.

 

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