Heir of Hope: Return to Ironwood Plantation (Ironwood Plantation Family Saga Book 2)

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Going on that prayer and the faith that He will allow it in His time, this I have to say to you:

  My dear one,

  I have seen you in my dreams. You come to me and we talk of things of the spirit. I know yours is deeply troubled. Mine was once as well. I can only hope you will give your heart to the only One who can heal it.

  Maybe I have gone mad, and the stress of war has muddled my brain, but I believe my dreams of you are very real, sent from the One who orchestrates our lives. You see, it must be, because you look so much like me.

  Along with this diary you will also find my mother’s brooch. She gave it to me to wear on my wedding day, as she did on hers and as did her mother before her. This is a symbol of my faith and sacrifice. A sign that I believe God has promised me my deepest desires. Someday, rightful heir of Ironwood, you can continue the tradition in your family. I give it to you with love.

  Ironwood is more than just a house. It stands for the unity of family. She may need to be repaired time and time again, but her foundations are strong and her halls built in love. This is my legacy. This I leave to you.

  I can only pray you love her as I do, and that the mystery and beauty of this place captivates you in the same way it has me. I do not know how, or why, but somehow by His divine purpose, you and I are bound together.

  I hope someday to meet you in His halls, to talk of our dreams.

  Until then,

  Lydia

  Acts 2:17

  I leapt from the bed, my heart pounding. Impossible! I tossed the book on the comforter and snatched open my door. I barely noticed the cold wood on my naked feet as I rushed to Dee’s door, the hall lit only by the soft glow of the moon whenever it peeked from behind the last of the lingering clouds. I hated to disturb her, but I needed to see it for myself.

  I tapped on the door. “Dee? Are you awake?”

  After a shuffling noise, the door swung open. She took one look at me and lifted her eyebrows, her face cast in shadows by the lone flickering candle in her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you have a Bible?”

  Surprise flitted across her features, quickly replaced by a smile. “Sure, come in.”

  She grabbed the thick volume from her nightstand and handed it to me. It felt heavy in my hands. My stomach churned. I shook my head, and pushed it back to her. “Maybe you better look.”

  “Look for what?” She took the book and sat on the edge of her bed, her cream-colored gown grazing the top of her feet.

  “Acts two, seventeen.”

  She flipped through the pages and found the spot, holding up her candle to light the page. “And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.”

  She looked at me expectantly.

  My heart pounded. I swallowed hard. “No, that can’t be. It says men will dream dreams. We are both women.”

  “What dreams?”

  I looked hard at Dee. “I guess I might as well tell you the truth. I know you’ll never believe me.”

  Dee smiled. “I might. You seem the trustworthy sort to me.”

  I pointed my finger to the leather-bound text. “Do you believe everything in that Bible is true? Or is it just stories and metaphors, a general idea of how to live?”

  She lifted her chin, her eyes determined and confident. “I believe every word to be true. Even the parts we don’t like.”

  “Even the weird stuff?”

  “Yep. Even that.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I dashed down the dark hall and stumbled back into my room. I searched in the rumpled mess of blankets until my fingers grazed something thick and rectangular. I snatched the book and scurried back down to Dee’s room. I halted at the door, unsure if I should divulge the last of my secrets.

  She patted the bed next to her. I walked over slowly and sat. I smoothed the palm of my hand across the leather cover. “I found this hidden inside the lining of a trunk behind the access wall in the far corner of the third floor in Ironwood.” What a mouthful.

  “Wow.” Her eyebrows strained toward her hairline. “How did you manage that?”

  I frowned. “I don’t know. Luck, I guess.”

  “Maybe.” She drew out the word. “So, what is it?”

  “A diary.”

  Dee didn’t say anything. She waited until I was ready to say more. It’s one of the things I love about her. “It was written by a woman named Lydia. She lived in Ironwood during the Civil War.”

  “That’s very interesting. And no one has seen it in all those years, never found its hiding place. You are probably the first to lay eyes on it in more than a century.”

  “Yeah.” I took an unsteady breath.

  “What’s the matter, dear?”

  “It’s all very strange.”

  “How so?”

  I told her how I found the diary, and about uncovering the genealogy chart in Adela’s room that revealed Lydia as my ancestor. Soon the story of Lydia and Ruth began to unfold. Woven through the ancient story, I also shared the incomprehensible tale of the dreams and the strange things I’d seen. I even told her about how my wild imagination had brought the slave quarters to life and manifested the two women in the meadow. When I finished my account, I stared at the floor, knowing Dee would think I was a nutcase for sure.

  “Is that why you wanted to read this verse?” she asked softly.

  Instead of answering, I opened the diary to the final page and held it out to her. “Read this.” I needed to know if the words were real or if my fractured brain had conjured them.

  Dee held up her candle and read the words. I waited. When she finished, she gently placed the book on her lap. She was quiet for several moments, and I knew my fears had been realized.

  “Emily, I don’t know what to say.”

  My heart dropped. “I know. I’m crazy. Just, please, don’t tell anyone, and I promise I’ll get help.”

  Dee laughed. “No, dear. You are not crazy at all. I am just so amazed. I knew in my heart God had a very special plan for you.” She patted my hand. “But I had no idea it would be anything like this.”

  “You believe me?”

  “Of course I do. It’s all right here. Do you think he gave Lydia the same dreams he gave you?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t see how this is possible. I know what I saw, and I know what happened to me. I just can’t believe it. Do you really think that is what she meant?”

  “It seems that way to me.”

  “It’s not possible.”

  “Nothing is impossible to him.”

  My heart wrenched. I hated the feeling of helplessness washing over me. “Nothing at all?”

  “He brings beauty from ashes, joy from grief, love from—”

  My breath caught. “What did you say?”

  “He brings joy from grief.”

  “Before that.”

  “Beauty from ashes. It means that—”

  “I know what it means. I’ve heard it before. Lydia kept saying it over and over. In the diary, in my dreams. And now you said it.” I looked at her, confused and astonished.

  She smiled. “Do you think that maybe there’s a reason for that?”

  My throat made the Sahara seem like an oasis. Words refused to push through the clenched confines and reach the freedom of the outside world.

  Dee patted my hand. “I’ve told you my story. This woman has told you hers.” Dee held up the diary. “It seems we three women have something in common. A very deep hurt. I told you how mine was healed. I’m guessing she did, too.”

  I nodded, the lump in my throat growing thicker.

  “All you have to do is trust him. He already loves you so much.”

  My heart wrenched. The dragon writhed. I couldn’t face his claws anymore. I had no strength left to fight the tug I felt on my soul. I dropped to my knees. “Take this! Take al
l this darkness that erodes me. Take this pain and hate and anger. I can hold it no more.”

  Dee’s arms were around my shoulders, her gentle prayers passing over my withered soul like a cool wind. I don’t remember what words I said or even if at times there were words at all, but I let lose all that suffocated me and handed it over. I vowed I would do things his way from that moment forward. I would give my life to him.

  When we finally rose from the floor, Dee hugged me tightly enough to nearly cut off my air supply. When our joyous moment settled in to a time of quiet reverence, I bade Dee good night and slipped off to my room.

  But my mind was too alive to sleep. I sat on my bed with Dee’s Bible and soaked in words of healing and truth by the light of my flashlight. Sometime in the wee hours, I snuggled into the covers and drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  A knock at the door roused me from my much-needed rest. I opened it to find Dee already dressed for work and standing in the hallway. Bright morning light streamed through the windows, the darkness of the day before pushed back into its crevices. The sunlight danced on the graying curls on Dee’s head and settled on her shoulders. One look at her face and I knew something was wrong.

  “What is it?” The metallic taste of fear flooded my mouth, adding to the uncomfortably thick feeling left over from a heavy sleep.

  “There is a deputy downstairs. She says she’s here to take you in.”

  “What? Why? My court appearance is not until tomorrow morning.” My cardiac rhythm gained momentum, driving away any lingering sluggishness.

  Dee grabbed my shoulders. “I don’t know, honey, but everything will be all right. Get dressed and go with her. I’m going to get Buford, and we will be there as soon as we can to get this whole thing straightened out.”

  I stared at her, unable to speak.

  “Go on, dear. Get dressed quickly. We don’t want to give any reason for suspicion. It’s already late in the morning. I was trying to let you sleep as long as possible.”

  She hurried off and I closed the door, willing my heart to stop its rapid galloping. I pushed my fears aside and told myself everything would be fine, but a deep sense of dread buried its claws into me.

  With jerky movements and unsteady hands, I dressed quickly and ran the toothbrush over my teeth, not really doing enough for a good cleaning, but at least it freshened my breath. I didn’t even bother with makeup. What would be the point? My reflection showed a world-weary woman with eyes full of fear. No amount of makeup could hide that.

  I breathed a quick prayer for strength, and then I descended the stairs to meet my fate.

  I stepped through the foyer now clean of tiny debris and glanced out the window by the front door to see the yard bore the signs of a blustery night. Leaves and twigs were strewn across the ground, and a large tree branch splayed across Dee’s prized flowerbed. None of the lights were on. Maybe they were still out. In my state of urgency I hadn’t bothered to look at a clock or try a switch.

  The officer turned from the window as I stepped into the parlor. She looked at me with stern features, but her eyes almost seemed kind. “Emily Burns?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” I said cautiously.

  She smoothed the front of her pressed uniform, a shiny gold badge hanging from her belt. The name tag read Davis. “Where were you on the night of May third?”

  “Huh?”

  She frowned. “May the third. Do you remember your location and the events of that date?”

  I thought for a moment. I began to grow nervous. This didn’t have anything to do with Gloria. Dee stepped in the parlor and came to stand beside me. My mind raced, and I briefly considered trying to make something up. No, that wouldn’t be right. I heaved a sigh. “I was staying at a hotel just outside of Meridian on my way from Georgia to Oakville.”

  The officer flipped open a small notebook and studied it. “Is it true you are currently renting a Honda from the Atlanta airport, Georgia tag YMO 1478?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure about the tag, though. I never really looked.”

  She kept her eyes on the paper. “That’s okay. I already checked the car out front. It’s a match.”

  Then why’d you ask? nearly slipped from my lips, but I clamped them tight.

  “What’s this about, Cheryl?” Dee asked, putting her hands on her hips.

  “According to an APB, the Meridian police department is on the lookout for a Caucasian woman in her thirties, roughly five and a half feet, long dark hair, slim build. The suspect is wanted for questioning about a stabbing in a fast food parking lot. Eye witnesses saw the suspect flee the scene in a Honda with Georgia plates.”

  She looked up from her notebook and studied me.

  I hung my head. “Funny how there were plenty of people to see, and yet no one to help,” I mumbled.

  “What was that, Ma’am?”

  I lifted my chin. “Yes. I was there.”

  “Then if you will please come with me, you’ll have to answer some questions down at the station.”

  “Why can’t you just ask her here? Why does she have to go in?”

  “Sorry, Dee. It’s just procedure. She needs to answer a few questions.”

  I put my hand on Dee’s shoulder. “I’ll be okay. I can handle this.”

  Dee let out a humph. “I’ll be there as soon as I get Buford. Don’t talk to anyone without him.”

  “Okay.”

  “Come with me, please.” Deputy Davis led me out the front door and walked down to the sheriff’s car parked in the driveway. I followed her, chagrin to ride in a police car for the second time this week.

  “Can I just follow you, or do I have to ride in there?”

  She looked me over, apparently trying to decide if I was a flight risk. I put on my best you-can-trust-me face.

  She pointed a finger at me. “You can take your car and I’ll follow you to the station. Don’t try to run.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  I cranked up the car and turned the radio off, grateful for a few moments to myself. I drove slowly through town, under the posted limit, in no hurry to get to the station. My cell phone blasted out Beethoven’s Fur Elise and I jumped hard enough to bang my head against the headrest. I pulled it out of my purse. The screen showed Kristin’s number.

  I glanced in the rearview. Davis was right on my bumper. I slid the phone back into the purse’s pocket. Talking on the phone probably wouldn’t look good. I’d have to call her back.

  I pulled into a parking space in front of the tiny station, and stepped out of the car. Davis pulled even with my rear bumper and rolled down her window. “Wait for me in the lobby. I’ll be around to get you.”

  “Okay.” I watched her drive around the building and told myself the urge to bolt was useless and would get me in even more trouble.

  Inside, I sat on a hard bench in the empty lobby. Obviously, Oakville wasn’t a hot bed of crime. A balding man looked at me over the desk, but didn’t ask what I needed. Apparently, everyone already knew. Perfect.

  Deputy Davis appeared through the rear. “Come with me.”

  I followed her through the dingy hallways to the same room I’d found myself in a few days earlier. I sat at the table and she sat across from me. She switched on a recorder on the table between us.

  “For the record, please state your full name and date of birth.”

  “Emily Dawn Burns, March 11, nineteen eighty-three.”

  “Can you please recount for me the events of the evening of May the third?”

  I shifted in my seat. “I’m sorry, but Dee told me to wait until Buford gets here.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Do you have something to hide?”

  I shook my head.

  She pointed to the recorder.

  “No. I don’t have anything to hide. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Dee just told me to wait for Buford, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Very well.”

  She switched off the recorde
r and left me alone in the room. I folded my arms on the desk and laid my head down. I expected to be in more of a panic, but I felt surprisingly calm. I could only wait on Buford, give my side of the story, and hope for the best. It wasn’t in my hands.

  Buford hustled in a little while later with Davis on his heels, and offered me a friendly smile. “Hello, Emily.”

  “Good morning, Buford. Sorry to make you come down here.”

  “No problem at all. We’ll get this mess sorted out.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose and wiped his hand across the field of dark wrinkles on his forehead. “Dee filled me in on the basics on the way over.”

  My heart sank. Just how much had she shared?

  That’s all washed away now. Hold your head up high. The thought took me by surprise. I didn’t know if it came from me or from somewhere else, but I tried to heed the advice.

  Officer Davis switched on the recorder. “Miss Burns, can you please give me an account of the events of May the third of this year?”

  I glanced at Buford. He nodded.

  “Buford had found me at my vacation cabin in Georgia and told me my great-aunt left me a house. I changed my travel plans and drove to Mississippi to see the property and sign paperwork. That night, I passed through Meridian. It was getting late because I’d had a flat tire and it takes forever to get one fixed at a service station.” I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Anyway, I don’t really know the exact time, but I was hungry so I stopped to get something to eat.”

  I pulled my lower lip between my teeth and tried to swallow back the tears that burned in the back of my throat.

  “It’s all right, dear. You can tell her what happened,” Buford said. I cut my eyes at him. Obviously Dee had shared too much. I tried not to feel betrayed. I could trust her. I needed to trust Buford as well.

  I closed my eyes and lowered my head. Maybe it would be easier to say if I didn’t have to look at anyone. “I got out of the car and was fumbling around in my purse for my keys when a large man grabbed me. He hauled me over to his truck. I kicked and fought, but I couldn’t break free. I… I knew what he wanted to do with me.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard. I had to maintain composure. I forced the rest out in one breath. “I found a fountain pen in my purse, I grabbed it, and when he tried to lift me into his truck, I stabbed him in the throat and ran away.”