Rainbow Hammock

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  Fine weather saw the Isabel to Savannah on schedule, arriving the second day of January 1861. Steele immediately went to the slip where he knew the Rainbow Hammock boat tied up. It was empty. He questioned a fishmonger at his stall near the site and learned that Kingdom had left for the island an hour before the Isabel’s arrival.

  “That Kingdom’ll have her back over this afternoon, though, right as rain,” the grizzled old peddler assured Steele.

  He set off at a brisk pace for Oscar Ryan’s office on Factor’s Row. In luck, he found his old friend there, working over a ledger.

  Seeing Steele at his office door, Oscar Ryan heaved his great bulk up from the leather chair with a cry of delight. “Well, bless my soul! Steele Denegal, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes! My boy, we had no idea what had become of you. Good to have you back! Sit down. Tell me all that’s happened to you, immediately!”

  Steele was confused. “You mean Lilah Fitzpatrick hasn’t mentioned my letters to you? I’ve been meticulous in keeping her informed of my every move since I left” Oscar Ryan frowned over his gold-rimmed spectacles. “Why, no. Gertrude and I’ve been to Rainbow Hammock ever so many times since you left, but not a word out of Lilah concerning you. So do tell me all!”

  Steele considered it odd that Lilah had kept his news from everyone, but then perhaps the strained Patrick/Fitzpatrick family situation was such that she wished to keep his letters to herself.

  He proceeded with his entire tale over several snifters of brandy, being careful to leave out any reference to Maggie. After nearly an hour, Steele stopped for breath.

  “So, there I have it, eh?” Oscar said. “A year out of your life in a nutshell. Nasty business that with your father. You should have hired a ship to bring those Africans up here, though, son. I could have turned you a handsome profit on them—privately, of course, to trusted clients.”

  Tra not in that business,” Steele answered, a bit sharply, then asked in a more civil tone, “And how is my lovely cousin Saralyn? No doubt, a mother by now?”

  Oscar Ryan shuffled a pile of papers on his desk and cleared his throat. “The poor child left us only a few months ago. Her heart was never strong, you know. Childbirth was too much for her.” Then he brightened. “But her son, Scottie, is a fine lad—sturdy and handsome.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about Saralyn. I know she was a favorite of yours. Such a lovely woman. But at least the child survived. His son must be a great comfort to Brandon.”

  “A comfort, indeed,” Oscar nodded. “Not that he needs any really,” he added in a disapproving tone. “Poor Saralyn barely in her grave, and Brandon’s about to wed again. Elizabeth and Ames are quite upset about it. It’s a disgrace, if you want my opinion!”

  Seeing how the subject distressed Oscar Ryan, Steele steered the conversation to other areas without asking the name of Brandon’s prospective bride. Finally, he rose to leave.

  “I must be off, Oscar. Give my best regards to your charming wife.”

  “But, my dear boy, you must come home with me to supper. Gertrude will have one of her migraines if I tell her you’ve been in Savannah and she doesn’t get her chance at stuffing you as if you were a Christmas turkey!”

  “I’ll be back in a few days,” Steele answered, smiling mysteriously. “And I might have a surprise for both of you that will make up for my hasty departure from the city.”

  “Oh?” Oscar Ryan leaned forward, all attention.

  “Not a word now. It’s to be a surprise, as I said. A very happy one! Until then.” Steele bowed and left.

  Steele watched Kingdom use the rudder expertly to steer the Rainbow Hammock boat into place. Seeing the big slave, unchanged through the long months, Steele suddenly felt as if he’d never been away. He was waiting when Kingdom leaped to the dock to make the boat fast.

  “Why, Mr. Denegal! I’m plumb flabbergasted, seein’ you here!” Kingdom enthused. “When did you get back to Savannah?”

  Steele shook the slave’s hand vigorously, eliciting disapproving looks from several passersby.

  “Came in on the mail packet from Key West this very morning, Kingdom,” Steele answered, feeling excitement rise as he seemed to draw nearer and nearer to Rainbow Hammock and Lilah. “Do you have room in the boat for a passenger back to the island?”

  “Room and to spare,” Kingdom answered. “You’re going over to the wedding, I ’spect?”

  Steele frowned. “Oh, I just heard about that from Mr. Ryan, but I hadn’t realized it was to be so soon. Maybe I should wait a few days.”

  “It’s not for another week yet, but they’s gettin’ ready. They be pleased to see you, Mr. Denegal,” Kingdom assured him.

  “You don’t have to twist my arm, Kingdom. Get that sack of mail and those casks of Madeira loaded, and let’s be on our way,” Steele ordered brightly.

  Steele shivered in the wet, biting wind as they crossed the open sea to Rainbow Hammock. A year in a more temperate climate had thinned his blood. When a heavy drizzle began to fall, Steele sought shelter under a tarpaulin. Although he was anxious to hear all the news from Rainbow Hammock, conversation proved an impossibility in the foul weather.

  When he thought his bones would splinter with the cold, they finally pulled into the island dock. Kingdom tied up, then clanged the bell raucously.

  Steele leaped out of the boat before anyone arrived at the landing. “Thanks, Kingdom! I’ll be up to the big house to pay my respects to the Patricks later. Right now, I’m off to find Miss Lilah!”

  Steele heard Kingdom call something to him as he headed for the shell road, but the slave’s words were lost in the wind. He waved and hurried on his way.

  “God! This weather!” Steele complained, his teeth chattering as sleet sliced at his face. “I don’t see how they can stand it!” Then he laughed, thinking of the frozen winters of his childhood in New England.

  “Key West’s made you soft, old boy!”

  He plodded on, his only thoughts now of Lilah.

  >>

  Chapter 17

  Lilah and Brandon stood on the veranda at Fortune’s Fancy alone in the chill darkness, watching the old year, 1860, fade away forever as the New Year rushed at them.

  Despite the Patricks’ initial outcry when Brandon announced his intentions of marrying Lilah, Ames and Elizabeth had given their grudging consent, if not their blessing, only moments before. The wedding would be held in the parlor of the plantation house, but only the immediate family would be present.

  “We can explain away the lack of invitations by the recent loss of your wife,” Elizabeth Patrick had pointed out in a voice filled with venom.

  Brandon took Lilah in his arms and kissed her deeply, then said, “We’ve won, darling! Shall we set the date for next week?”

  She began shivering from the cold and a certain amount of dread. Brandon pulled her to his chest and opened his coat, wrapping her inside with him. His lips found hers and gently sought the sweetness of her mouth. Lilah felt warmth spread through her, not the explosion of ardor she’d experienced with Steele Denegal or the cold indifference she’d known with Jeremy, but a pleasant, comforting kind of arousal. She sighed softly, and Brandon, encouraged by her response, slipped his hand beneath her cloak to find her breasts He touched the mound of silk cautiously at first. When Lilah didn’t pull away, he became more bold.

  Lilah felt an ache of need. For so long she’d yearned to be touched, to be loved. She sucked in her breath and thrust her breasts forward, encouraging Brandon. She felt his heart pound faster. A moment later, the same fingers that Saralyn had described as “sensitive,” found their way beneath the soft fabric of her bodice. They touched her bare flesh tentatively, then withdrew. Lilah could feel Brandon’s rising passions even through her gown and petticoats. She reached up and brushed his lips with hers, letting the tip of her tongue trace his mouth.

  Brandon took new courage from Lilah’s boldness. Again his fingers invaded t
he silk and lace, this time capturing a pliant nipple to caress. He slipped the smooth mound from its casing. Lilah gasped softly when the chill air touched her. But soon Brandon’s lips closed over it, his tongue pressing, circling, suckling.

  The tingling sensation was exquisite. Lilah felt herself transported back to memories of the past and forward to hopes for the future.

  “Good and gentle,” those were the words Saralyn had used to describe Brandon Patrick as a lover. Then other words came back to Lilah’s mind: “Why, I hardly felt any pain when he… you know.”

  Yes, Lilah thought, I do know! You were an innocent virgin on your wedding night to this man, dear Saralyn. How am I going to explain that I am not?

  “Please, Brandon.” Lilah pulled away. “I’ll get a chill.” She tried to laugh away the disturbing thoughts in her mind. “What would you do with a sick bride, darling?”

  He slipped the lavender silk back over her exposed flesh and pulled her cloak more closely about her.

  “I’d love you even as I do this minute, my dearest. But you’re right. It’s time I saw you home. The buggy is waiting.”

  Brandon helped her into the closed carriage and held her close while Blue drove to the overseer’s cabin.

  Lilah remained silent, puzzling over the problem of her wedding night. She only listened partially to Brandon’s loving words.

  “I know Saralyn would understand our marrying so soon. She wouldn’t want either Scottie or me to be alone. Scottie will call you ‘mother,’ of course. It’s only natural. You’re really the only mother he’s ever known. He’s lucky to have you … We both are, darling.”

  He slipped off her glove and kissed her fingers, giving each one his full attention for a time.

  She felt the warmth again—languishing up her arm to her heart, then down to her center of longing. She shivered.

  “Why, Lilah dear, you’re afraid, aren’t you?” He paused and looked at her face in the moonlight. “You have no need to be. Though I don’t plan to make a habit of bringing this up, I have been through a wedding night before. I promise you, there will be as little discomfort to you as possible. I love you, Lilah, so much. I’d never hurt you. I’m not one of those boorish prigs who enjoys ravishing his bride.”

  Lilah couldn’t listen to any more. She put her arms around Brandon’s neck and covered his lips to silence him. Their lingering embrace lasted until the buggy came to a stop in front of the cabin.

  Lilah awoke the morning of January 2 in a cold sweat. Her dreams had been filled with unspeakable horrors—some of Saralyn, some based in total fantasy, others of Steele Denegal, who had been much in her thoughts since she’d promised to become Brandon’s wife.

  She rose from the bed, pulling a thick wrapper around her, and went to the washstand. She poured water from the pitcher into the basin and doused her face, then rubbed it vigorously with a piece of toweling. She looked closely into the discolored mirror to see if she was the same woman she had been when Steele last saw her. Yes. Her hair still shone, her face remained youthful and unlined. Tears stung her eyes. She brushed them away angrily.

  “It was all imagined!” she hissed at her image. “What could I know of love from that brief encounter? Brandon Patrick is right for me. He loves me, and he’d never leave me the way Steele Denegal did! He’ll make me happy!”

  Lilah’s mind snapped back to the present. Brandon would arrive soon to take her shooting. She must get dressed. She opened the elaborate clothes press that Brandon had had built by the slave-carpenter, Enoch, to hold the new wardrobe he’d purchased for her as a Christmas gift.

  “Only a sampling of things to come, my love,” he’d said, smiling, as she’d unboxed the marvelous creations, exclaiming over each one. “After the wedding, we’ll go on a real shopping spree.”

  She took out the hunter-green gabardine riding habit, which she hadn’t worn yet. A short jacket with long sleeves and a most becoming collar fastened over the linen blouse underneath. Braided black frogs, matching the trim on the skirt and collar, closed the jacket. The wide hemline was weighted with shot to insure modesty against flirtatious winds.

  She pulled her hair back, fitting it into a black mesh snood, then perched a sassy little green-feathered hat forward over one eye. The effect in the cracked mirror, though distorting, was most becoming.

  Brandon’s knock at the door came just as Ulah was pulling on the soft, black kid gloves, which completed her fashionable ensemble.

  “Darling, you look magnificent!” Brandon praised.

  She smiled at him and offered her cheek for a kiss as she answered, “All due to the impeccable taste and extravagant generosity of my husband-to-be.”

  Granny entered the room and looked the couple up and down, smiling. “A fine pair of dandies you two are! Lordy, you’ll scare the rabbits to death in that there red coat, Brandon-boy!”

  Brandon went to Granny and kissed her hand. She giggled like a young girl.

  “I’m having your bedroom at Fortune’s Fancy done in the same decor as Queen Victoria’s, Granny. I’ve decided that even Buckingham Palace wouldn’t be grand enough for you,” he teased.

  “Um-hum. And do I get a prince consort in the bargain?” she bantered back.

  He winked at her. “I have my eye on several eligible bachelors in Savannah at the moment, but none of them comes up to your standards, Granny. However, I’ll bring a gentleman around for your approval the minute I find the right one.”

  “Go on with you, Brandon Patrick!” she fluttered. “What would I be doin’ with a man at my age?”

  He slipped his arm about Lilah’s slim waist and whispered, “I suspect, the same sort of things I plan to be doing with your granddaughter a week from now.”

  Lilah squirmed at the tone the conversation was taking.

  “Oh, you naughty boy! Why, I never heard the like! My pappy would have took a horse whip to my Jonathan for saying such things before we was married! If I was a few years younger and a few pounds heavier, I’d thrash you my own self!” she quipped.

  “Now, Granny! Don’t you be putting on airs with me. Lilah told me about your bundling. Sounds like an intriguing idea. What do you think, Lilah? Maybe Granny could put a board down the middle of her bed for the two of us.”

  “Brandon, I really don’t think this is a proper subject for discussion,” Lilah fumbled, feeling her face flame. “Are we going or not?”

  “All right,” he answered good-naturedly. “You ladies have rebuffed my forwardness in appropriate fashion. I’ll say no more.”

  “How long you two ’spect to be gone?” Granny asked, a peculiar twinkle in her blue-gray eyes.

  “I’ll have your precious granddaughter home by early afternoon,” Brandon answered, then added, “That is, if I don’t decide to ravish her in the woods!”

  “Brandon Patrick! You ain’t no gentleman at all!” Granny scolded with a laugh.

  The groom held the reins of Lilah’s black mare, Empress, another gift from Brandon, and he helped her mount. Then Brandon leaped up on Unicorn’s back and they were off, a pack of blue-tick hounds bawling their warning ahead of the horses.

  After a good two hours of shooting and a picnic lunch in the hunting lodge of roasted quail, fried yams, fresh-baked bread, and champagne, Lilah and Brandon returned to the cabin.

  “Kingdom should be in from Savannah any time now,” Brandon said. “I’m expecting some important mail. Make my excuses to Granny, won’t you, darling?”

  “You don’t get off that easy!” Granny called from the front door. “Get yourself on in here, Brandon Patrick! I got a surprise for you!”

  Brandon exchanged looks with Lilah. “What on earth, do you suppose?”

  Lilah shrugged, although she had guessed Granny was up to something when they left.

  “Let’s go see,” she answered. “Granny looks like she’s about to bust her buttons over whatever it is.”

  They mounted the steps and went
inside. Granny stood beaming beside the bedroom door.

  “Well!” She motioned them to the room. “Go ahead. Have a look-see!”

  Brandon peered in first and gave a burst of laughter. “Come look at this, Lilah!” He caught Granny in his arms and hugged her soundly.

  “You put me down, Brandon Patrick!” she protested. “You said you wanted it, so I fixed it. And I figure on setting up all night tonight and chaperoning the bundlin’.”

  Lilah gave a small cry when she looked into the bedroom. Right down the middle of the mattress a board divided side from side. Why did Granny have to do this? Why did Brandon have to bring it up in the first place? She wished she had never told Brandon about Granny and Jonathan’s bundling so long ago.

  “Isn’t this a delightful surprise, darling?” Brandon asked.

  “Yes,” she said weakly, “delightful.”

  “You be here at sundown, Brandon,” Granny ordered. “I’ll bed the two of you down my own self.”

  “I can hardly wait,” he whispered, closing his arms around Lilah for a moment before he left.

  Lilah felt herself quivering all over. An entire night, lying beside Brandon, within readout just out of reach. How could she stand it?

  When Brandon left, Lilah had to get out of the cabin. She was afraid if she stayed, she might say something sharp to Granny that she’d regret later. She simply couldn’t understand her grandmother’s sudden, total acceptance of the Patricks.

  Of course, she was happy that Granny’s animosity toward the family no longer festered. But she felt suddenly used—as if she’d been born and raised only to assure her side of the family’s claim to Rainbow Hammock and Fortune’s Fancy. Certainly, the crowned heads of Europe sold their offspring into marriages in this manner, but Lilah resented even the thought that it might be happening to her.

  She loved Brandon, yes But this feeling of being a pawn in some Patrick/Fitzpatrick chess game took some of the luster off her affection for her betrothed.

  “I’ll be back in a while, Granny,” Lilah called from the door.