Patricia Rice

by Wayward Angel

  "You're safe! You're alive! Praise be, Jackson, I've been so worried. They don't print anything about your regiment in the paper. I didn't know what to think." Dora practically danced with happiness as she grabbed his hand and led him to the sofa. Pace duly noted that Jackson sat without being told this time.

  She hadn't danced and laughed like that when Pace came home, but then, he hadn't given her much reason to. Besides, Dora always seemed to know when he was alive and well or hurt and sick. He hadn't deserved this kind of homecoming.

  Still, Pace caught Dora's waist and held her as he pulled her down on the loveseat across from Jackson. She looked at him with surprise, but Pace was intent on Jackson.

  "Now tell me what you're doing back in this hellhole," he demanded. "You're a free man. This is not the place for a free black."

  Jackson shrugged and twisted at his hat some more. "I got my discharge. I've got me some money. Liza's livin' across the river with some friends. It's time we made our home somewheres. And I thought maybe Miss Dor…your wife might be hirin'."

  "I am still Dora to you," she said softly. "There are entirely too many Mrs. Nicholls around here, and I am unaccustomed to using titles as yet."

  Pace relaxed and leaned back against the seat. He and Dora might have absolutely nothing else in common, but they both knew the difference between a man and an animal and skin color had little to do with either. That still didn't explain why Jackson had returned here.

  "We're hiring, all right," Pace replied, "But you've got no business hiring yourself out when you could own your own farm if you went out West somewhere."

  A mulish look rose in Jackson's eyes. "This is my home and Liza's. She's got friends and relatives here. We got a baby coming, and she wants to be near her mama. I've got family that will come back here if they ever get out from down South. I mean to go lookin' for them first chance I get. I cain't do any of that if we run away out West somewheres. If you don' want me, I reckon I can look for someone else who will."

  Pace talked right over Dora's reassurances. "You're a damn fool to want anything to do with this place. Stay across the river where you'll be safe. If anyone comes looking for you, we'll tell them where to find you."

  "They got all the hands they need over there. It ain't like over here. They got just enough land to farm themselves, and they got their sons or a few hired hands to help. I know I'm takin' a risk comin' here, but you and Dora are likely the fairest I could work for."

  "It could work, Pace," Dora said anxiously. "The army's saying everyone is free, even if the law doesn't. No one is arresting free blacks anymore. There's too many of them. Jackson is a soldier. The army will look out for its own. He and Liza could stay down at my place. I don't like it being empty."

  She hesitated, then offered tentatively, "Perhaps..." She threw a nervous glance to Jackson. "I once said I would rather sell to Jackson than any man around here. I haven't changed my mind any."

  Jackson's expression remained stoic. Pace knew as well as Jackson the likelihood of anyone letting a former slave own land. They'd burn the house down before that happened. Neither man wanted to disillusion Dora, but both had reason to want what she wanted.

  Pace eased the tension by nodding. "All right. We'll talk about that later. First, we'd best get Jackson settled in with some story that will make it easy for people to accept him living down there."

  Jackson relaxed. "That mean I'm hired?"

  Pace gave him a scowl. "You never had a doubt, did you? What the hell do I know about farming? You're going to be mule, slave, and manager, all rolled into one. And you're not likely to see a damned cent until the crop comes in. You want the job, you've got it."

  Jackson chuckled. "I ain't gonna be no mule. If I'm the one tellin' you what to do, that's your part. There's enough land out there for ten men. We got some fancy work to do." He looked at Dora. "Where's that boy, Solly? He ought to be useful right about now."

  "The glitter of gold and brass buttons led him away. You weren't here to talk him out of it. At least the war's over so his mama doesn't have to worry about that."

  "Stupid little fool," Jackson muttered, standing up. "White man's army will have him diggin' ditches. He ain't gonna learn nothin' that way. And he's probably fritterin' every penny on drink and women like all the others." He gave Dora an apologetic look. "Sorry, 'bout that. I didn't mean to talk like that in front of you."

  Pace was reluctant to rise. He rather liked sitting here with his arm around Dora's shoulders like any normal married couple. The minute they got up from here, they'd go their separate ways again. He wondered briefly if that would ever change, but he could tell Jackson was eager to get back to his own wife. Grudgingly, he stood up to shake his new employee's hand.

  "Welcome back, Jackson," Dora murmured as she rose to leave. "It will be good having thee with us again."

  Both men waited for her to depart. The moment she left, Jackson threw Pace a shrewd look.

  "Liza and me can stay in one of them cabins out back. You and me both know what will happen if we stay down to the house."

  Pace shoved his hands in his pockets. "If Dora's willing to sell, I'm willing to cut a deal. I need cash. You've got it squirreled away. We can set it up so you make a down payment and pay the land off over time. I'll give you a proper, witnessed deed that you can keep somewhere safe, bull I'll file the mortgage now. Nobody around here's got enough brains to check courthouse records for mortgages. A legal mortgage properly filed will give you proof of ownership should you ever need it. I'll put out word that Dora hired you back, and you're working the place for her. It's risky as hell, but it might work. Everyone's pretty well accepted that Dora was raised by the Quakers and doesn't think like they do. They won't like it, but they'll buy the story."

  Jackson nodded cautiously. "I'll talk to Liza. She already knows we're takin' a risk. I've got enough for a down payment. I'll farm Dora's place in the evenin's to get the cash to pay you the rest. I'll set enough aside for me and Liza to live on until the crops come in this year. We'll just have to agree on the price of Dora's land and what's fair wages for workin' your place."

  Pace walked with him to the door. "I figure your wages will have to be a percentage of the crop. When the time comes, I'll have to take your crop in with mine. You know that, don't you? You'd better think hard before you agree to any of this. This town won't be ready for what we're proposing for another hundred years."

  Jackson jammed his hat back on as he reached the veranda. "You don' think I been thinkin' of anythin' else every minute of every night and day since I left? I cain't worry myself into the ground no more. I got to reach and take what chances I'm offered. You're offerin'—I'm takin'."

  "And I'm damned grateful. I learned to be a lawyer, not a farmer. I've been afraid to tell Dora I figured we couldn't hold out one year on what I know about farming. If I'm going in debt to buy seed corn, then I sure as hell would like to know it will come up and grow when I plant it."

  Jackson started down the steps. "If you're lookin' for a sure thing in this business, you got the wrong career, boy. I'll see you soon as I get Liza settled in down to the house tomorrow."

  Pace let the door close between them with a mixture of apprehension and hope. For the first time since he'd come home to find the entire burden of the farm dumped on his shoulders, he actually felt hope. It wouldn't last long, but he would nourish it while he could.

  He took it upstairs with him that night, after all the house grew quiet. Dora had gone up to feed Frances half an hour earlier. She should be just about ready for bed. He had a need to somehow settle a few things between them. Maybe, somehow, they could start looking for some common ground.

  He opened the bedroom door just as Dora slid the yellow gown off her shoulders. He caught his breath as lamplight gleamed like moonshine over silken skin. He'd never seen Dora wearing a corset before. She had her back partially turned toward him, but he could see enough. Her breasts were much fuller than he remembered, round and bec
koning for release from their laces. He nearly groaned with the suddenness of his arousal.

  He hadn't come in here for this, but the blood rushing from his brain to his groin washed away any memory of his original intentions. She wasn't two steps away from him, and Pace took those steps without conscious thought. He had his arms around her, pulling her back against him before she could register a protest.

  "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" he murmured against her ear.

  He could feel her head tilt back and knew those blue eyes looked at him with surprise.

  "Thou needn't repeat untruths for my sake," she answered with a faint tone of puzzlement.

  Pace firmly held her corseted waist and ran his free hand through the fine curls around her face. "I don't lie when it's easier to keep silent. You look like an angel. Sometimes, you look so ethereal, I forget that you're real." His roving fingers slid downward, finding the flaps that opened so she might feed his daughter. He explored this new contraption with interest when she did nothing to keep his hand from straying.

  "I am real. You are being foolish..." She gave a gasp when he succeeded in freeing her breast. "Pace, we cannot. It is too soon."

  He looked down at the tiny strawberry-crowned tip and sighed with regret. "I was afraid it might be. I haven't gone this long without a woman since I was a boy. I've about reached the state where I envy Frances."

  He registered her shock and managed a slight grin as he met the question in her eyes. "I can't say my intent was to be faithful, Dora. It just happened that way." His gaze grew more serious. He could offer her this, at least. "I made vows, Dora. I intend to keep them. I'll wait until you're ready."

  Pace admired the flush across her cheeks as she registered his vow. Some women would prefer that her husband find a mistress and relieve them of their wifely duties. If he knew nothing else about Dora, he knew that wouldn't be her preference. And he was glad. He'd never found real pleasure in paid liaisons, nor in the occasional encounter with women who just wished a night of sex. But he vividly remembered every minute he'd shared with Dora. He prayed she felt the same way.

  "I've been told it takes four to six weeks," she whispered in embarrassment, but she didn’t evade his exploring fingers as he loosened her corset completely.

  He was hard and aching, and he could feel her breathing grow rapid as he toyed with her nipples. He made this difficult for both of them, but he needed to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  "What about babies? I want you fully recovered from this one before we make any more." He couldn't believe he was saying this. His first urge right now was to take her and to hell with the consequences. But his conscience seemed to be winning the inner war for a change.

  "She said the chances are less when a woman is nursing."

  That seemed preposterous to him. Ladies who didn't nurse but gave their children to slaves for nursing seldom had large broods of children. The colored nurses, however, usually had a dozen. He didn't want to argue, but he knew other methods to protect her.

  Four to six weeks, and more than two were already gone. That was something he could count on.

  "I'll wait. It might kill me, but it will be worth the waiting." Gently, reluctantly, Pace removed his hands from temptation. "Jackson wants to buy your farm. I want to thank you for making the offer."

  She shivered as he brushed her breasts again before removing the corset. "Papa John would have approved. I think he would have approved of you had he lived."

  Pace smiled wryly behind her back as she pulled off her chemise. "He wouldn't have approved of what I did today."

  "No. I cannot feel it is right either, but sometimes, I can see no other choice. It confuses me."

  He shrugged out of his waistcoat and regarded her modestly turned back with confusion. "You're not angry?"

  "I am angry with Joe Mitchell. I am angry with that man for starting the argument in such a place. I am angry with myself for not knowing how to stop what happened. I am angry a great deal more than I ought. But I don't know what to do about it."

  Pace's lips curved in amusement as Dora pulled her night shift over her nakedness before unfastening the tapes of her petticoats. He'd never had a modest women before. He rather liked the idea. "You need do nothing but look after Frances and this household. I might be crippled, but I can fight my own battles."

  She turned and stared at him boldly even though he was removing his shirt. "Thou art not a cripple, Pace Nicholls. I will not hear thee say it any more than I'll hear it from another. You are alive. Do you have any idea of what that means to me?"

  She had tears in her eyes. Pace regarded them with astonishment. He couldn't remember anyone crying over him before. Except Dora. Something clicked into place, and he studied her cautiously. "You kept me from returning until the battle was over. Why?"

  The tears glistened in the lamplight like dewdrops on cornflowers. "You would have died there. Or met Charlie, which would have killed you as certainly."

  He didn't think he wanted to hear this. "How could you know that? How could you even know when the battle would take place?"

  Those days when he'd made love to Dora were engraved indelibly on his mind. He remembered clearly how he had returned to Atlanta only to find cold ashes. She had given herself to him just to keep him from that battle.

  "I don't know," she whispered. "The same way I always knew where you were, how to find you. I just knew. And it's been gone since those days. Do you have any idea how much I suffered, not knowing where you were after you left here?"

  He didn't know. He didn't want to know. The horror of what she said was still sinking in. In taking carnal knowledge of his childhood angel, he'd literally brought her down to earth.

  Chapter 31

  Love seeketh not itself to please.

  Nor for itself hath any care,

  But for another gives its ease,

  And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.

  ~ William Blake, The Clod and the Pebble

  They saw the carriage well enough in advance for everyone to hurriedly clean themselves up to greet the occupants. Pace politely helped Josie out when it arrived at the front steps, then unloaded the trunks while Dora greeted her warmly and took Amy into her arms.

  It was mid-May, Frances was beginning to sleep through the night, and Dora almost felt human again, but she could never compete with Josie's healthy good looks and spectacular attire. Dora still wore her Quaker gray while doing her household duties. She still felt like a servant next to Josie's elegance.

  After sending the carriage off, Pace bounded up the stairs to take Amy into his arms. The little girl squealed and clasped his neck happily, and Dora felt the knot of love squeeze tighter. Despite his faults, Pace was a good man. He was good with children. He seemed happier with them than with anything else in his life right now.

  He looked at Josie with the politeness the occasion required, and Dora could find no other emotion hidden behind that careful facade. It could be wishful thinking on her part, but she relaxed a fraction, until she turned and caught Josie's expression of sadness and a hunger for something unavailable. Dora's stomach ground nervously.

  "It's good seeing you again, Josie," Pace was saying. "Too many Yankees in Cincinnati?"

  Josie managed a feeble smile. "Daddy says he needs me back here. I'm supposed to stay with him, but"—she finished brightly—"I left so much of my wardrobe here, I just couldn't leave it all behind. And I had to see my darling little niece, after all. Amy's done nothing but talk about her all the way home."

  Pace grinned and tickled Amy's stomach. "Want to see your new cousin, baby doll? She's saying your name already, you know." He carried her toward the stairs, more intent on the child's laughter than the tension between the two women left behind.

  Josie's shoulders drooped as soon as he left the room. "I can't stay here. I thought I could, but I can't."

  Dora wanted to shout her agreement. She wanted to yell in triumph that Josie had ma
de the wrong choice and now she would suffer for it as Pace had suffered then. But she couldn't. She merely murmured sympathetically, "It's your home, too, Josie. Charlie would have wanted you to stay."

  Josie gave her a sharp look. "Don't give me that humble Quaker nonsense, Dora. Pace didn't even look at me, but he wasn't paying much attention to you either. We're both in this together, whether we like it or not. I'll admit, you were smarter than me. You chose the right brother. But I know more than you do about men, and I can have him back if I put my mind to it. He adores Amy. He'll do anything for her."

  Dora's gaze met Josie's. "He has a daughter of his own now. There is no contest. What is it you want, Josie? I can see thou art unhappy."

  "The 'thees' and 'thous' are slipping now, aren't they?" Josie said, a trifle maliciously. "Life in this place is like that. If not for you, I probably would have murdered Mother Nicholls in her bed. And if Charlie hadn't taken himself off to war, I might have murdered him too. It's hard to remain young and innocent when married to this family."

  Josie's words harbored a grain of truth. Dora was afraid to agree with it. She gestured toward a seat. "Thou has best tell me what is on thy mind."

  Josie took the seat and worried at her gloves. "My father says it is time I consider marrying again. That's why he called me home."

  She wore navy instead of heavy mourning, Dora noted. The choice wasn't exactly unseemly, but it did indicate a certain lack of respect for a young husband killed defending what he thought right. Dora couldn't precisely blame Josie for that. "Thou art young yet," she said cautiously. "Amy should have a father. Perhaps thy father is right."

  "I don't wish to marry again," Josie answered. "I won't have another man knocking me around again. I won't do it. Daddy says he wants assurance that he has someone qualified to take over his land when he's gone. Why can't he hire someone? I don't want to be traded like a slave on the auction block."