Heart of Glass

by Jill Marie Landis

  Until I return, love,

  Colin

  Kate stared at the page in her hand.

  Until I return, love.

  Kate folded the letter and tucked it into her bodice, then picked up the miniature of Belle Fleuve. She thought of Marie and Patrick and smiled. At long last she was a Delany.

  EIGHTEEN

  There was no other city in America like New Orleans.

  The Vieux Carre, situated on a bend of the Mississippi, spoke of old-world charm transplanted from Spain and France. That charm thrived behind walled courtyards and balconies hanging over narrow streets. A languid pace masked the constant hum of life on the crowded streets of the French Quarter, the ongoing commerce at the wharf, the constant ebb and flow of the gulf tides. The mighty river carried money and people from all over the globe into New Orleans.

  Colin and Jason arrived in town in the late afternoon. Jason introduced Colin to the Edisons, a young couple who had offered them accommodations. Jason had served with Derek Edison during the war until Derek had been wounded and captured, spending months in a Yankee prison camp. Since then he had not been able to cope with everyday life or hold a job, so his wife took in laundry and sewing. They had no children as Derek refused to bring a child into what he believed was a world of darkness.

  The man’s depression and lack of interest in the simplest tasks reminded Colin of himself. He’d existed in the same void, the same darkness. If only it hadn’t taken Amelie’s death to inspire him. What would he have done without Kate?

  Colin soon left Jason alone with his friends and ventured out to deliver Kate’s plans. He found Roger Jamison’s quietly elegant home situated on a shady street in the Garden District. The man was obviously surprised to see him so late in the day but ushered him in with a warm welcome nonetheless. He offered tea, which Colin declined.

  “What brings you to the city?” Jamison asked.

  “I’m here on business. I wanted to meet you and drop off Kate’s plans for Captain Stevens’ house.” Colin handed the architect Kate’s drawings.

  “She’s well, I hope.”

  “She’s very well indeed.”

  “I knew your father. Fine man. Great architect.” Jamison carried the plans to a long table and looked eager to see what Kate had done. “I see the rumors of your insanity are greatly exaggerated.”

  “Insanity?”

  “It was all over town that you returned from the war a madman. When people heard Katherine Keene had gone to your rescue, there were those who feared for her life. All gossip fed by unfounded rumors, I see. You can imagine how surprised I was to hear that the two of you were married.”

  “No more surprised than I.” So everyone was certain Kate had rescued him from the brink of madness.

  Roger continued to study Colin. “I’m happy for both of you. Patrick would be so pleased to have an architect in the family again. Congratulations, by the way.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Colin tapped his hat against his thigh and felt heat rise to his face. He couldn’t stop thinking of Kate in his arms last night. She’d done so much for him. What exactly had he contributed to their marriage?

  He wished he’d been there when she awoke this morning. Wished he’d been there to say good-bye.

  Jamison smiled as if he could read Colin’s thoughts. “Kate is a very charming and intelligent woman.”

  “She has great plans for Belle Fleuve.”

  “I agree. I’ve seen them myself.”

  “With any luck we’ll have the money for restoration someday.” Colin’s mind wandered. What was Kate doing now? Was she with the children? Or working at her desk? Perhaps she and Marie were in the garden painting watercolors, or maybe Damian was on her lap learning his letters —

  “She could have built her own mansion to her taste, from what I hear.”

  Built her own mansion? Exactly how rich was she? Colin didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m eager to see what she’s designed for Captain Stevens,” Jamison said again. Taking note of Colin’s reaction, he added, “I can tell by the look on your face there’s a problem.”

  “Ezekiel Stevens showed up at Belle Fleuve to speak to Kate personally.”

  “You don’t like him.”

  “I don’t mean to interfere with Kate’s opportunity, but you should know he was very forward with her. At least I thought so.”

  “I’ll make certain he doesn’t bother her at home again.” Roger peered at Colin over his spectacles. “In fact, she needn’t be present at our meetings. I can certainly confer with them separately.”

  Colin could just imagine how Kate would take that news.

  “That won’t be necessary. My wife has put much time and effort into the plans even though she wasn’t in agreement with his suggestions. I’d not jeopardize the project or Kate’s presence at the necessary meetings simply because I … well, because I may be overreacting to what might have been completely innocent overtures.”

  “I understand. You just wanted me to be aware.”

  Colin nodded. “That’s right. Thank you for understanding.” He extended his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Now I must be off to my business meeting.”

  “Best of luck to you, Delany.” Jamison walked him to the door.

  “Thank you, sir,” Colin said. “I’ll need it.”

  Colin found New Orleans much the same and yet things were different. The city’s most talented chef, Antoine, had moved his restaurant to St. Louis Street and then gone back to Marseille to die, leaving his wife to run the place.

  Colin stopped on the street outside the restaurant to gaze through the windows at rooms aglow with golden light from the chandeliers. Silver and crystal sparkled on a sea of starched white linen tablecloths. He pictured Kate seated at one of the tables, her bright blue eyes shining. This was the lifestyle she was used to, the kind of life the Keenes had given her. Gilbert Keene had left her well off: Kate’s clothing was of the finest fabric and latest styles and her suite at the St. Charles hadn’t come cheap — but her money was her own.

  He wasn’t about to take charity from his wife.

  His wife. It still seemed impossible — incredible even — that Kate was his. And now she was his in more than name only. Colin stared at his own reflection in the restaurant window. Dark, worried eyes stared back. His tall form listed to one side as he leaned heavily on his cane. He was thin but not as gaunt as before. The lines etched on his face belonged on someone much older. He was in need of new clothes. The black suit he was wearing, which he’d owned before the war, showed its age. If he wasn’t so thin it wouldn’t fit at all. As it was, the jacket was snug across his shoulders.

  He didn’t have much to show for a life of thirty-two years. How had Kate ever agreed to his proposal? Colin had definitely gotten the best of the bargain.

  He headed for Tujague’s on the corner of Madison and Decatur. As he drew closer, his mouth watered for the restaurant’s special shrimp remoulade. Dinner at the eatery would cost more than he wanted to spend, but one splurge in ten years could be forgiven.

  Nearly there, Colin hitched his horse to an iron post and was about to cross the street when someone approached from behind.

  “Why, if it isn’t Colin Delany.” The woman’s throaty voice sounded familiar.

  Unable to place it, Colin was careful not to trip on the cobblestones as he turned and found himself face to face with Tillie Cutter, the red-headed prostitute he had met on the train from Texas. She’d chatted on for hours though he hadn’t been in the mood to talk. He had told her his name and little else, but somehow she managed to track him down at Belle Fleuve. Had Tillie showed up at the garçonnière on the very day Kate had arrived? He’d been too drugged at the time to be able to recall exactly.

  Without warning or invitation, Tillie slipped her hand into the crook of his free arm. She was so heavily doused with cheap perfume that the air quickly became thick with the scent.

  “You look a sight better than the last
time I saw you,” she told him.

  “Thank you. That’s because my wife has been taking good care of me.”

  Tillie hid her surprise well. She tossed her head, which set the ostrich feather bobbing atop her frilly hat.

  “Your wife?”

  “Yes.”

  Tillie shrugged. “Most men don’t let that spoil the fun when they’re in town.”

  Colin took in her long, black, velvet gown that was threadbare at the elbows and had unraveled white lace cuffs. Her shoes were scuffed, the leather cracked across the toes. Even though her eyes were rimmed with kohl and her cheeks rouged, a layer of face paint couldn’t hide the lines around her eyes and mouth. A man with a woman like Kate at home would have to be insane to turn to Tillie.

  “I’ll help you across the street.” She tugged his arm. Together they started across St. Louis Street.

  “Where are you staying?” Tillie wanted to know. “I’d be happy to take you back to my place. You can stay as long as you like, and I’ll only charge you for an hour.”

  He knew there were high-class brothels on Basin Street — three-story mansions decorated better than some of New Orleans’ finest homes. Mahogany floors and walnut woodwork, the finest carpets from the Orient, and sterling and china all added to the ambiance. But Tillie had been a camp follower in Texas, trailing after army regiments, sometimes miles into Mexico. She’d never seen the inside of a truly fine gentleman’s establishment, nor would she ever.

  As soon as they were across the street, he extricated his arm.

  “I’m going to have to turn down your generous offer, Tillie.”

  Her smile quickly disappeared. “You think you’re too good for me?”

  “I’m very partial to my wife.” He was more than partial. He was in love.

  “That’ll change. Mark my words.”

  Colin hoped not.

  “You take care of yourself, Tillie.”

  They were on the corner in front of Tujague’s when Ezekiel Stevens came walking out of the restaurant with a tall, expensive-looking blonde on his arm and a Cuban cigar in his mouth. The minute he recognized Colin, the captain’s smile grew even wider. He looked Tillie up and down before he had the nerve to laugh out loud.

  “Imagine seeing you here, Delany.” He looked pointedly at Tillie again. “Where’s the lovely Mrs. Delany this evening?”

  Hitting the captain in the mouth might be worth a night in jail, especially if it erased the man’s smug smile. For Kate’s sake he refrained.

  “Kate is at home. I’m here on business.”

  Stevens looked at Tillie again. “I see.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t,” Colin said. “Miss Cutter and I met on the train from Texas a few months ago. She was inquiring after my health. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Something tells me she’s very attentive to your health.” Stevens drew on the cigar and blew a blue smoke ring. “From what I’ve heard it would be more lucrative for you to stay home and cater to Mrs. Delany.”

  Colin took a step toward Stevens and the echo of his injury sent a spear of heat up his leg. Forced to back down, Colin turned to Stevens’ companion.

  “I haven’t had the pleasure, ma’am,” Colin introduced himself.

  Stevens smiled around his cigar. “I doubt you would ever be able to afford the pleasure of Miss Alicia Rhodes’ company, Delany. Not unless your wife extends you a loan.”

  “You’re insulting me, Captain. Why is that?”

  “I heard about how you fell on hard times and your lovely wife came to your rescue. Quite a love story.”

  “Rumors of my insanity were greatly exaggerated too.” Colin turned to Tillie. “Thank you for your concern, Miss Cutter. No need for you to tarry any longer.”

  Tillie bestowed a smile on the captain.

  “I hope we meet again, Captain.” She ignored Colin as she walked away.

  “Speaking of the lovely Katherine,” Stevens said, “how are my plans coming along?”

  Colin unclenched his jaw. After last night there was no reason to be jealous. He refused to let his pride stand in the way of Kate’s career.

  “I delivered the plans to Roger Jamison this afternoon. He said he’ll look them over and meet with you to discuss the project.”

  The captain’s smile flared again.

  “That’s the best news I’ve had in a long while,” he said. “You tell Kate I’m looking forward to seeing her again soon.”

  It was all Colin could do to hold his temper in check. Captain Stevens turned to the woman on his arm. “Ready, my dear?”

  “Always ready as rain and you know it.” The comely young woman looked no older than twenty.

  Stevens winked at Colin as the two of them said good-night and walked away.

  His run-in with Stevens soured Colin’s appetite even more than having had to deal with Tillie again. He looked through the door of Tujague’s, thought about what a meal there would cost, and decided to head to Café Du Monde in the French Market. Coffee and pastry would be enough for tonight.

  This is a perfect day for treasure hunting, isn’t it, Aunt Kate?” Damian trailed alongside Kate and Marie as they crossed the far end of the front lawn between the oak allee.

  “It surely is.” Toting the shovel Simon loaned them, Kate agreed. The clear sky was a fine backdrop to the warm fall day.

  “Where do we go next?” Damian moved closer to his sister, trying to grab the map she was carrying. “Let me hold it.”

  Marie held the page out of reach. “You might tear it.”

  “Let’s stop, shall we? We’ll all study it together,” Kate suggested.

  Yesterday after Colin left, the three of them had worked on the map together. Kate thought it a fitting activity for stepping off yards and inches, drawing the layout of the front lawn and garden, and adding the lane lined with oaks and the border of River Road.

  Marie had used her watercolors to decorate the map once the details were drawn. Damian was using the map to learn how to read the words for tree, lane, oak, rock, road, and other landmarks. Kate was happy with their progress and at the same time concerned that sooner rather than later they would need to hire a real teacher.

  The three of them bent over the map for a moment and decided to count the paces to the central oak in the lane.

  “Mama was certain Grandmere Delany’s treasures are buried here somewhere.” Marie scanned the yard before she rolled up the map, put her head down, and started counting off paces.

  “She told us lots of stories at bedtime. My favorites were about the buried treasure. Why did Grandmere Delany bury it anyway? What was it?” Damian questioned.

  “The Yankee soldiers came during the war and took things that didn’t belong to them. They saw the planters around here as their enemies,” Kate said. There was no simpler explanation for spoils of war or the sadness that still pervaded the South. “As for what your grandmother buried, I have no idea. In fact, I’m not convinced she actually buried anything.”

  “But Mama said she always talked about it. Too bad Mama never found out if it was true. She could have told us where to dig,” Marie added.

  “The Yankees believed the planters and landowners buried silver and gold and other valuables, but I have a feeling those are mostly tall tales,” Kate said.

  “But Grandmere Delany really did.” Damian was not going to be swayed. “We just gotta find it and we’ll all be rich.”

  They finally stopped at the central oak.

  “One hundred and sixty-three steps.” Marie walked around the tree trunk trailing her fingers over the rough bark as Damian set down his sword and reached for the shovel.

  “Be careful,” Kate said as she handed it over.

  Damian took a deep breath and buried the tip of the shovel in the soil. When it failed to break the dirt, he jumped on it. His weight didn’t budge the shovel. Marie sighed.

  “You should let me dig. I’m sure Grandmere would have buried it deeper than a few inche
s,” she said.

  “I think he’s doing just fine.” Kate was glad Damian wasn’t stronger or Simon would be filling much deeper holes.

  Marie sat down on grass warmed by the sun and spread her skirt out around her. Kate joined her, content to let Damian work his way around the base of the oak.

  “Are you happy you married Uncle Colin?” Marie asked, smoothing her skirt over her knees. “Or are you sorry we made you keep your promise?”

  Kate’s cheeks grew warm but not from the sun. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sunlight.

  “I’m very happy.”

  “He’s nicer than I first thought,” Marie said.

  “He has changed a lot since you two arrived.”

  “How?”

  How much should she tell the girl? “He was in a lot of pain, not only from his ankle wound, but from what had happened during the war. He’d moved himself into the garçonnière and didn’t want to let anyone in.”

  “Not even you?”

  “Especially not me.” Kate smiled remembering. “I came here to help him repair the house, then found out he was the one in need of repair. He didn’t see it that way. I refused to leave.”

  “Did that make him mad?”

  “Oh yes,” she nodded. “Very.”

  “But you stayed.”

  “I stayed. I tried to help. But it wasn’t until you two and your mama arrived that he had to put aside his sadness.”

  “How did he do it?”

  “By thinking of someone other than himself, something other than his own pain.”

  You can hold on to pain as long as you need to. She was thankful that they were both finally letting go — not forgetting Amelie, never that, but letting go of the pain. She hoped the children were too. She slipped her arm around Marie and the girl laid her head on Kate’s shoulder.

  “Do you think Mama’s watching us?” the girl asked.

  Kate scanned the sky. “I know she is. I can feel her spirit here.”

  “I can too,” Marie said.

  Just then Damian raced past trying to hang onto both his sword and the shovel.

  “Come on!” he shouted. “Let’s move to the next tree. There’s nothing here.”