Winds of the Storm

by Beverly Jenkins

  “And you think that’s important to me.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I do.”

  “I see.” He smiled. “And suppose I told you I don’t care about any of the things you feel are shortcomings?”

  She said softly, “Then I’d say good.” What she didn’t say was that she loved him. Even in light of Juliana’s take on Archer’s feelings, Zahra would not risk her heart by broaching the subject first.

  Archer tightened his hold on her and let the pleasure of it fill his being. “So will you consider staying?”

  Zahra looked up at him and said truthfully, “Only if you remember that considering and saying yes are not tied together.”

  His smile faded. “I appreciate your candor.”

  “I can’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  He traced her mouth with a fleeting touch, then pulled her back against his heart. After a long moment, he whispered, “Okay.”

  They stood that way for quite some time, but neither said another word.

  Chapter 13

  The next day’s meeting in Juliana’s parlor brought together all of the players in Zahra’s cast. As the meeting progressed and each group gave its report, good news followed good news. Roland and his group were now posing as night sweepers at the warehouse of the express company owned by White Leaguer Sam Banks, and Clare and Suzette had successfully infiltrated the households of two other Leaguers on the list—firemen Wendell Thomas and Zebediah Spain.

  An impressed Archer asked the question on everyone’s lips: “How did you accomplish it?”

  Clare responded, “We worked separately. I concentrated on Hattie, who’s the housekeeper for Thomas, and Suzette took Mary, Spain’s laundress.”

  Clare explained that after casually striking up conversations with the women at the market, they’d made a point to speak to the women each time they saw them thereafter. Over the course of the next few days, in talking about trivial matters such as where they’d each been born, relatives, and the like, Clare and Suzette had gathered all the information they’d needed.

  Suzette took up the telling. “Hattie is from Birmingham, Alabama. Her mama lives there with a younger sister named Rose. I had Wilma send Hattie a false wire from Rose saying mama was ill. We did the same thing for Mary, only it was her grandmother in Tallahassee.”

  Zahra said, “Birmingham and Tallahassee, then they’ll be away for quite some time.”

  “Yes, they will,” Suzette said, “and more importantly, when we saw them at the market the day before their leaving, both were upset enough about the turn of events that they quickly agreed to give our names to their employers as replacements until their return.”

  Clare said, “Another thing in our favor. Neither Hattie nor Mary know each other well enough to have compared the similarities in timing or situations.”

  “Marvelous,” Juliana said, smiling.

  At first, Zahra felt bad about causing the women worry over their kin, especially considering all the concern she was carrying for her own. Knowing, however, that both Hattie and Mary would find their relatives in good health forestalled any guilt. “So, you’re both in,” Zahra said.

  The women nodded, and Clare added, “Neither of the houses are very large, so searching them shouldn’t take too long, we hope.”

  A satisfied-sounding Alfred said, “Then that crosses two houses off our original list.”

  A pleased Zahra looked to Archer and met his nod of satisfaction. She turned her attention to Caleb and Jesse, who reported that even with Drake’s and Raimond’s assistance, they hadn’t been able to put a name to Isenbaum’s daily evening visitor.

  “I’ve no idea who he is,” Raimond said. “He wears a beat-up planter’s panama, so we can’t tell his hair color or even if he has hair.”

  Archer asked, “How long did he stay the evening you all were there?”

  “Three quarters of an hour?” Raimond looked to the others for verification, and they agreed; the man had stayed just short of an hour.

  The thin, freckle-faced Caleb said, “Whenever the visit is over, Isenbaum always walks the man back to his wagon. They stand and speak for a few moments longer, then the man drives away.”

  Zahra said, “Describe him again.”

  Drake said, “When they said he was barrel-chested and big, that’s him exactly. He looks like he swallowed a keg.”

  Zahra thought that could describe many men, then she remembered her encounter with Crete. He was a big man, but she’d been too busy looking into his eyes to say whether he was barrel-chested or not. Back in ’63, the night she and Archer had met in the barn, Crete had been a large man, but his physique had been muscled. “I’m going to join you tomorrow, Caleb. I want to make sure he’s not Crete—although I would love for the man to be him. That way all the fish could be on one plate instead of two or maybe three.”

  Everyone agreed.

  Zahra then turned to Wilma. “Anything to add?”

  “Only that Mr. Isenbaum visited my shop yesterday and castigated me for allowing Coloreds in my establishment.”

  “Oh, really?” Archer asked drolly.

  “He said he and friends were encouraging White shop owners to draw the color line. Said he hoped I would follow along willingly and not have to be convinced.”

  “So he threatened you,” Beau stated.

  “Yes.”

  André said, “Arrangements can be made for a hired guard if you care for one.”

  She waved off the offer. “No. I’ll be fine. The wife of one of the Union captains was in the shop at the time and heard Isenbaum. She said she’d definitely inform her husband.”

  “Good, the more folks watching Isenbaum the better,” Zahra said. She continued to believe he’d torched Domino’s place, but since there wasn’t a thing she could do about it presently, she scanned the room. “Is there anything else?”

  When no one spoke, she said, “Okay. We’ll meet here again two evenings from now. Everyone be on your guard.”

  As she watched them spend a moment conferring with each other before departing, she was thankful that her chess pieces were finally making their opening moves.

  Juliana left the house with Raimond. She and Sable were traveling to Baton Rouge in the morning to seek sponsors for some of Sable’s orphans and would be returning in a few days. As always, when Juliana traveled, Little Reba had the time off.

  “So,” Archer said as he and Zahra sat before the fire, “we have the entire house to ourselves for two whole days. What do you want to do?”

  She grinned and placed her head on his shoulder. “I know what you want to do.”

  “As do you.”

  He was correct, of course, but she wanted to know more about him; more than how much he enjoyed her kisses. “What was it like growing up here?”

  “Exciting. Fun. With so many brothers around, we always had someone to play with or plot mischief with. We four youngest spent many an evening lined up in the woodshed.”

  Zahra smiled. She could almost imagine Archer, Drake, Beau, and Philippe giving poor Juliana fits, but she was certain Mama Le Veq had had full control of the ship no matter what her sons may have believed. “Who was your first love?”

  “Never had one.”

  She turned to stare. “What do you mean? The great Archer Le Veq never had a first love?”

  “There were young ladies I was attracted to, but love? Never believed in it.”

  “I see.”

  “At least, not that can’t-eat-can’t-sleep-sonnet-writing love. No.” He looked her way, and added, “Now, that doesn’t mean there haven’t been women in my life that I’ve cared for deeply. Present company included.” He kissed her forehead.

  He was so charming that Zahra smiled in spite of herself, but the backhanded compliment stung. Again she thought about Juliana’s words. Maybe the mother did not know the son as well as she believed. Well, at least I won’t have to worry about you pining for me when we part, she thought to herself.


  Archer felt the subtle change in her and got the sense that he’d said something wrong. He wasn’t sure what it might have been, so he moved the conversation on. “Did you have a first love?”

  “I did,” she said proudly. “I was twelve, and his name was Amiri. I thought the sun was in the sky because of him.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He and his family moved to Florida and I never saw him again. I was devastated. His name meant ‘prince.’”

  Archer rolled his eyes. “Does Zahra have a meaning?”

  “Yes, ‘flower.’”

  “Not many people carry the old names any more.”

  “True. Now tell me about your name. Is Archer French?”

  “No,” he said, sounding amused. “According to family legend, I was conceived under the stars of Sagittarius. The symbol is the Archer.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. My father, Francois, was a seaman and spent his life following the stars. When is your birthday?”

  “June first.”

  “Ah, Gemini. The twins. Since you are often two people, the sign fits you well.”

  His mentioning twins sparked a thought, so she asked, “Speaking of twins. How is Philippe faring? He wasn’t at the meeting tonight.”

  “He sailed to Cuba the morning after storming out of here. Beau said maybe we shouldn’t have laughed, but I agree with Raimond: that’s what baby brothers are for. Besides, he falls in love three times a week. By the time he leaves the dock, he’ll have given his heart away to someone new and Naomi and Salome will just be fond memories.”

  Zahra wondered how two brothers could view love so differently. Apparently Philippe fell in and out of love as easily as someone else put on his hat, while Archer placed no faith in the emotion at all. “So, since you don’t believe in love, if you ever actually fell in love would you know it?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve no idea.” He then turned to her. “I can envision myself committing to be with a woman, but will it be because I love her?” He shrugged, then continued. “Raimond didn’t believe in love either until Sable entered his life. Now he swears he can’t live without her. I’m sure he believes that to be true, but my brother is the strongest man I know. I believe he’d survive if something tragic happened.”

  “But would he want to? That’s the true measure of his feelings.”

  Archer went silent for a moment and thought about how devastated and inconsolable Raimond had been when Sable and the children had been kidnapped. Archer admitted, “No, he wouldn’t.”

  “Then that’s love. It’s the kind of love my parents have. The kind of love I think your mother had with your father. The kind of love I’d choose to have.”

  “And I choose not to. I can’t conceive of loving someone so much that if they died, I’d want to die as well. Mama was that way after Papa’s death.” He paused for a moment, as if thinking back, then said quietly, “I think if she hadn’t had to care for my brothers and me she would have walked into the Mississippi to be with him. I was twelve and I’d never seen such pain. I swore then, I’d never love anybody that much.”

  The admission took him by surprise. He turned to Zahra. “I’d forgotten all about that until just now.”

  Zahra was silent, and she now understood. “Maybe a woman will come into your life who will show you that taking that risk is worth more than you could ever imagine.”

  “She’d have to be an amazing woman.”

  “I think so, too.”

  Archer thought she was pretty amazing. He eyed her thoughtfully for a long, silent moment. He felt different. He couldn’t put it into words, and there was nothing he could put his finger on specifically, but something inside had changed. It was as if talking about Juliana’s sorrow had opened up a closed place within him, and whatever had been imprisoned there had been freed. Deep in thought and not sure what any of this meant, he slowly lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. The kiss was sweet, tender, and then he slowly pulled away. In a voice as soft as the moment, he said to her, “I’m going back to the hotel for the night.”

  Zahra was surprised, but his pensive manner kept her silent. “All right.”

  “Will Alfred be here with you?”

  “Yes, he went to take Reba home.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  And then he was gone.

  Zahra sat there for a few moments thinking about him, then got up and lowered the lamps.

  Archer lay in bed, watching the moon through the window in front of him. The light was flooding the room, but that wasn’t the reason he was finding it difficult to sleep. The conversation with Zahra was still resonating, and he’d come home alone so he could mull it over. He’d no idea why that particular set of memories had risen at that particular moment, but remembering the pain in his mother’s eyes…there were no words to describe it, just as there had been none back then. The memories recalled the helplessness he’d experienced because no one, not even he, who’d loved her the most, had been able to put the light back in her eyes. She’d been strong through it all but she’d looked as if she’d died inside.

  Was that why he eschewed the notion of love, at least when he was personally involved? Were all of his protestations about why he didn’t believe in love just veneer over his fear of the pain and anguish he’d seen in the lovely Juliana’s eyes? Archer had no way of knowing truly, but he was comfortable enough with himself to entertain the idea. This was all Zahra’s doing. It’s the kind of love I’d choose. Archer knew that whatever this epiphany meant, it wasn’t something that would be easily deciphered or dismissed, so he burrowed beneath the bedding and turned his head on the pillow. After vowing to revisit the subject over the next few days, he closed his eyes and slept.

  The next evening, Zahra and Archer were hunkered down with Jesse in the thick brush near Mitchell Isenbaum’s battered mansion, waiting for the mystery man to make his evening appearance. Spyglass at the ready, Zahra hoped she or Archer would be able to shed light on the man’s identity—if the insects didn’t eat her first. She slapped at the offending bugs and prayed the man would show soon. It had rained last night, and the mud and muck, combined with the bloodthirsty insects, made their hiding place a wretched one. She was dressed like a man, in overalls and brogans, which helped her move more comfortably and kept her feet dry, but she planned on soaking in a nice hot bath just as soon as she returned to Juliana’s.

  “Here comes a wagon,” Archer said softly.

  Jesse raised up a little and took a quick look down the road before dropping down again. “That’s him.”

  The three of them waited silently as the sound of wagon wheels moved along the rutted, mud-filled road. Their hiding place was far enough away from the house so that they would not be seen. The sound of the wheels got louder as the wagon drew closer. Isenbaum’s long drive connected to the main road, and the wagon turned onto it.

  When Zahra deemed it safe, she carefully raised her head above the reeds and foliage. She could see the man’s back atop the wagon. He had on the hat Raimond had described and a faded blue work shirt. Zahra raised the spyglass just in time to see the man step down from the wagon, and for a split second she got a clear look at his face. She smiled. It was Crete, all right. Her happiness notwithstanding, now came the crucial question: What were he and Isenbaum up to that made it necessary for them to meet every evening? “It’s him.”

  “Good,” Archer said, slapping at the beasties feeding on his neck. “Now we can get the hell out of this ditch.”

  Jesse and Zahra didn’t protest in the least.

  Back at Archer’s apartment, Zahra didn’t know which was finer—the feel of the nice warm bathwater or the feel of the man she was leaning back against in the nice warm bathwater. “A woman could learn to love this…”

  ”The water or me?”

  “Since love is a concept you don’t embrace, I suppose it would have to be the water.”

  “Touché.”


  “But you feel good, too, Mr. Frenchman.”

  He moved his hands over her budded nipples. “So do you.”

  While he played, Zahra did her best to come up with a plan that might decipher the questions surrounding Crete and Isenbaum. “Do you know an artist who could do a rendering of Crete for us?”

  Archer was sliding wet hands over the caves, valleys, and peaks of her body with a maddening slowness that caused her hips to rise in response. “Brother Beau is a fairly decent artist. I’m sure he could. What do you have in mind?”

  Because of the heat building inside from his caresses and fondling, she found it difficult to remember enough to answer him. Finally, she responded, “I want to show the likeness around town so we can determine where he’s living and go from there.”

  “Good idea.” But he had a better idea. With his touch, he silently coaxed her to part her legs a bit further for him so they could explore his better idea in depth. It didn’t take long for them to delve further and even less time for Zahra to catch fire.

  “We’re supposed to be planning,” she whispered.

  “I am planning. I’m planning to make you kneel with your back to me just as soon as we do a little more evaluating….”

  She shuddered passionately in response to his heated promise and to the hands exploring her with erotic expertise.

  Archer once again mused upon how beautifully uninhibited she was. It was every man’s dream to find a woman whose intensity equaled his in the game of making love. Acher had found his. The sight of her naked and arching against him in the soft light cast by the dim lamp increased his desire a hundredfold. Her soft brown breasts filled his palms perfectly, and the unblemished skin was as seductive as the silk she’d favored as Domino. In reality she was three women: Madame Domino, the proper and prim Zahra Crane, and the fiercely independent Butterfly. Each persona was as delectable as the others, and the man who finally claimed her would reap the benefit of having such an incredible woman. As before, the idea of another man pleasuring her bothered him, but unlike before, it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.