Promise Me Forever

by Janelle Taylor

  “You cain’t be saying you’re bound to lose all your stuff, Miss Rachel?”

  She looked at the shocked housekeeper. “No, Lula Mae, but probably some of it. That business I hurried out of town to tend is crucial for keeping those companies alive. There’s a problem with a big order; if it fails, we’ll all be hurt. But everybody is working hard to make sure it succeeds. Mr. Baldwin is looking for a buyer for the shipping firm here. I’ve agreed to sell out if he does. But I don’t think either of us will have much money left after the firm’s bills are paid. We just have to wait until the crops come in and pray nothing happens to them.”

  “Ah inspect dem ever’ week, Miz Rachel. Dey’s doin’ fine. It looks to be a big year. Don’ you go aworryin’. Gawd looks after His children. Ah’ll keeps dem sharecroppers workin’ hard.”

  Rachel’s heart warmed. “Thank you, Burke.”

  “No needs to worry ‘bout eating, Miss Rachel,” said Lula Mae. “The smokehouse and pantry holds a gracious plenty. It won’t be a long spell afore the garden comes in. Unless the cow goes dry, she gives a bounty of milk and butter. I’ll tends the garden every morning to make her give us all she can. Nothing’ll go to waste; I’ll can all we don’t eat whilst it’s fresh. I won’t buy nothing at the market we don’t has to have.”

  Rachel sent her an affectionate smile. The woman always came through for her during the worst of times. “Thank you, Lula Mae. I knew I could depend on you two for help and understanding. Nobody has more loyal workers than I do. I love you both.”

  “I bet yo’re plum worn out, you pore girl. You need a hot supper, a long bath, a sip of whiskey, and a good night’s rest. I’ll tend it for you.”

  “You’re right, Lula Mae; thank you. I plan to go back into town Wednesday, Burke. I’m going to try to borrow money from the bank against the crops. If they’ll let me have a loan, it will solve our troubles for a while.”

  “Ah’ll be ready when you wants to go attendin’ to dat bisness.”

  “Lula Mae, would you like to ride along with us and do any shopping? It will give you a chance for a nice diversion.”

  “I mite could go, Miss Rachel; that sounds most wonderful to me.”

  “Then, you’ll come along. We’ll leave around ten o’clock Wednesday.”

  Tuesday, Phillip McCandless’s obituary appeared in local newspapers. Rachel read it quickly, then, again, slowly. Nothing was mentioned about cause of death. Nor was there a hint about the investigation she was enduring, but she was certain anyone seeing it would assume one was in progress, also as usual. She prayed no aggressive and rude reporter, like that Harold Seymour in Augusta, would come to plead for an interview. She told Lula Mae if that happened, not to let him inside the house and to say she wasn’t available.

  Lula Mae Morris and Burke Wells had on protective airs today, and she was grateful for their love and concern.

  Rachel realized with sadness that she could not purchase a headstone for Phillip’s grave until her finances improved. Burke said he would make one she could letter herself until she could afford a proper one. He left the house to tend that chore promptly. He also told her he would make a mound over the grave and pretty up the area since the site no longer had to remain a secret. That pleased and relieved her.

  During the day, Lula Mae helped Rachel remove Phillip’s clothes from their bedroom. They hauled them to the washshed for Burke to go through first for his selections, then the two workers. If anything was left, Burke was to give them to less fortunate and hardworking sharecroppers on her land. Items of value, such as his watch and a diamond stickpin, she placed in her household money box and would decide later what to do with them.

  As Rachel slipped off her gold wedding band to put it away, she pondered a curious point: there was nothing—in their bedroom, the attic, the rest of the house, and the outbuildings—of Phillip’s personal effects to enlighten her about his past. She found no picture, letter, memento, or anything from the days between his birth and his arrival in Savannah. It was almost as if he hadn’t existed before coming here to live! Or had he, in a moment of anguish and turmoil, destroyed all reminders?

  If not, perhaps he had them stored in a trunk somewhere, such as in the office storeroom or the warehouse downtown. She must ask Milton. It would be nice, and perhaps enlightening, to see some keepsakes of his past.

  It was near one o’clock in the morning when Rachel was awakened by loud noises. She jerked up in bed and listened. It sounded like rocks slamming against the house! The commotion ceased before she could reach the front window and look outside. Her gaze searched the yard and nearby area for movement, but she saw nothing. Her heart pounded, but she couldn’t cower there in terror. She retrieved her derringer and crept downstairs. She knew the windows and doors were locked on the first floor as Dan had cautioned her. She sneaked to a window and scanned the area once more, but everything appeared normal. She slipped to the front door, leaned her ear against it, and listened. She heard nothing but crickets and frogs.

  Rachel took in a deep breath, then released it. Her lagging courage resummoned, she placed her hand on the knob and eased the door open as silently as the oiled hinges would allow. She peeked into the yard. The waxing moon would be full in three nights and light was plentiful. Her gaze lowered to the porch, which was littered with rocks. The odor of fresh paint filled her nostrils and her alarmed gaze saw the reason for it: ugly names and hateful messages were scrawled in black paint on the porch floor and on the house front and door.

  “Damn you, you coward!” she yelled into the shadows at a distance, in case the culprit or culprits were still lurking there.

  Lula Mae came running around the house, shouting her mistress’s name to avoid getting shot by accident. She was carrying a shotgun and a lantern. “Miss Ra—” The woman fell silent as she gaped at the awful sight and her pale-faced mistress. She propped the weapon against a post, rushed to Rachel, and embraced the trembling and tearful female. “Lord have no mercy on them bastards! Kill them all for doing this most awfullest thing! You all right, Miss Rachel? They didn’t hurt you, did they? Speak to Lula Mae! You hurt some place?”

  Rachel gathered her wits and control. “I’m unharmed, Lula Mae. They were gone when I came downstairs, or they’re hiding out there in the darkness to witness the effect of their cruel mischief. The rocks awoke me. Look what they painted on my home!” she cried in distress.

  In a mixture of moon- and lanternlight, both gazes read the words scrawled in black paint: KILLER, BLACK WIDOW, WHORE, and GET OUT.

  “It’s starting all over again, Lula Mae,” she murmured. “How can they be so cruel? How can they judge me guilty and evil without proof? Will I never receive the benefit of doubt? Will this damned curse never end?”

  Lula Mae patted her shoulder and coaxed, “Comes insides, Miss Rachel. I’ll fix you some warm milk to calm yore jitters. Those bastards won’t come sneaking back to do more hurt tonight. We’ll pick up them rocks and paints over that mess tomorrow. Don’t go aworrying ‘bout it tonight. Burke’s home’s too far away, so he cain’t hear what happened. We might aks him to sleeps in the barn or carriage house for a spell.”

  “I’ll be fine, Lula Mae. And don’t go to any trouble with firing the stove and preparing hot milk this late. I’ll take a sip of brandy. From now on, we’ll keep our guns loaded and ready to use if those villains try this again.”

  “If they do, Miss Rachel, we’ll shoot ever blamed one of them! It’s bound to be bad awful for a spell. I’ll have Burke hangs lanterns on the porch so we can see their wicked faces when we shoot them. The law won’t do nothing to stop them, but we will.”

  “You’re right; it’s useless to report this incident to them. They don’t care what happens to me. You get back to bed, and so will I. There’s nothing we can do tonight.”

  “You want me to stays in the house with you?”

  “That isn’t necessary. I’ll lock the doors and keep my gun nearby.” Rachel didn’t want to set a pat
tern for the housekeeper being underfoot at night, especially if Dan…Her love, she wanted and needed him. She wished he were here. It would be a while before that was safe; and without a doubt, things would get much worse before that glorious day.

  Wednesday morning, Rachel and Burke left for town. Lula Mae insisted on staying at Moss Haven to guard the house against another attack. As the two departed, the housekeeper went to work on the damage.

  Rachel sat waiting for Burke to return from his errands, as the meeting at the bank had not taken as long as expected. The man’s rejection of her loan came fast and easy for him, or so it appeared to her. He claimed that with the companies in such bad shape and with the uncertainty of the crops, she didn’t have adequate collateral for a loan. The last reason was because she refused to put up Moss Haven to back a loan. She couldn’t allow anything to take her home away from her, as failure of repayment would do. She wouldn’t take that risk until it became absolutely necessary. One hope remained: she had jewelry she could sell, gifts from Phillip.

  Excluding her servants and her secret lover she was on her own now. Things appeared grim, hopeless, and perilous, but she was resolved not to be defeated. In three weeks and two days, she would discover if that big contract was legal and if the client would be understanding about the lost advance. If those two things came true and the investigation halted, all of her troubles would be over and she could have a future with Dan.

  A terrible reality struck home: no, she wouldn’t have an answer on May fourteenth! Phillip was supposed to sail with the cargo that day. It would take a while for the client to realize it was overdue, then more time for him to come and investigate why.

  She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t heard from Harry and George by now; that made her anxious. If something good didn’t happen soon, she would be at the end of her money by the last day of May. Would Dan think she had known of her troubles all along and had set out to entrap him for her survival? Would he—

  Rachel’s heart suddenly thudded and her gaze widened in disbelief and alarm. To avoid being noticed by passing people who might gape at her, she was sitting sideways on the end of a bench that faced the river and was located in a garden area between Bay Street and Factor’s Row; she was almost concealed behind a cluster of large and flowering azaleas. As she glanced toward the street to check for Burke’s approach, she saw Captain Daniel Slade strolling down the other side of the street with Miss Camellia Jones on his arm!

  Rachel leaned out of sight, but peered through the bush limbs to watch them. They were laughing and chatting as if old and close friends! Fury and suspicions flooded her mind. She wondered if that wealthy witch had hired Dan to ensnare and destroy her for revenge. Phillip’s past relationship with the flaming redhead would explain how Dan had known about her husband, and the cunning male could have fabricated the rest of his tale.

  Anguish knifed Rachel’s heart, and anger ruled her mind. She could imagine Camellia’s laughter and taunts when the hateful witch exposed their ruse: for once, the “Black Widow” had fallen under a predator’s spell.

  Rachel was relieved when they rounded the corner at Abercorn and were gone from her sight. Desperate to get home, her gaze searched the street for Burke’s return. She saw him coming, and rushed to meet him. She scrambled into the carriage and urged him to leave fast.

  As he flicked the reins, Burke asked, “Mo trouble, Miz Rachel?”

  “The banker said no to my request for a loan, but don’t worry. I have another plan in mind. We aren’t whipped yet, Burke, and we won’t be.”

  “Dat’s de spirit, Miz Rachel,” he complimented with a grin.

  “Stop at the police office,” she suddenly ordered as they neared it.

  “What you be wantin’ in there?”

  “I’ll only be a moment,” she said, hopped down, and went inside. She had to learn if Dan had betrayed her in his affidavit. She could use a request to leave town on business as the motive for her visit.

  The meeting didn’t take long, as the investigator told her everything was fine so far with the case, which wouldn’t be closed for a while longer. It was all right if she needed to take another business trip, he said. This time she smiled and thanked him before they parted company. She didn’t mention the vandalism at her home last night, and she wouldn’t do so unless it became threatening to their safety.

  “Home now,” Rachel instructed Burke when she was again seated in the carriage.

  “Ah seen Mr. Bal’win like you said, Miz Rachel. He said nary a trunk of Mr. Phillip’s was ‘round that he knowed about.”

  She was disappointed, but said, “That’s good, Burke. I appreciate you tending that chore for me.”

  Rachel still thought it was odd for Phillip’s personal effects to be missing, but there wasn’t anything further she could do about that riddle.

  When they reached the plantation, Lula Mae had discarded the rocks and covered the horrible black words with slate-blue paint. Rachel gave the weary housekeeper and manager the news, both bad and good. She thanked them and told Burke it wasn’t necessary for him to sleep near the house as a guard. Exhausted in mind and body, she went upstairs.

  Rachel entered the water closet to freshen up for dinner, though her appetite was missing and eating was only to appease her housekeeper. She barely suppressed a scream as her alarmed gaze watched a venomous spider struggle futilely to escape the slick-sided basin. She lifted a note from beside the spider’s prison: “Marry me this time, my beautiful Black Widow. If you keep seeing that sea captain, I’ll fill his bed with hundreds of these poisonous beauties. No man will ever have you except me.”

  Marry who? She thought, her anger rising. You never reveal yourself. You didn’t respond to the flower signal. Why not? She realized this note was cold and threatening and was written in her script, as the first one. It was as if the same person hadn’t written the second and romantic note! If not, who and why? Dan…

  Rachel realized she mustn’t tell Lula Mae and frighten the woman. Her friend, who had done her work today with a shotgun nearby, would be distressed to learn a culprit had sneaked in the back door to terrorize her mistress in her own home.

  Thursday morning, a response was delivered to Rachel from George Leathers. Her Augusta partner began by saying he had sent a letter rather than a telegram to keep what he had to say private. He was shocked by Phillip’s death and conveyed his sympathies. Rachel knew he would be dismayed and angered by her recent ruse after he learned the actual date Phillip had died. She would handle that explanation when she saw him tomorrow, as she intended to take the train to see both partners in person. George related that the Augusta company was near bankruptcy. With that advance lost, he didn’t know if he should ship the order and risk the client canceling it or demanding part of it for the payment taken. He advised that as soon as the contracts were filled, the company should be either closed down or sold, according to which action could be best. After their debts were settled, he anticipated a loss.

  George wrote that he planned to retire and live off other investments. He apologized that she would get little or nothing from the sale. Without the profit from that big deal, the outlook was bleak. He enclosed a report to verify what he had said and he added that he had deceived her about the books being gone because he didn’t think Phillip would have wanted her to know how terrible things were with the company, as his partner was well informed about the conditions.

  The news upset Rachel, but it wasn’t unexpected. It was nearing time to handle another nasty facet in her life, and she dreaded it.

  Rachel put on her most flattering dress and groomed her dark-brown hair. She must look her best when Dan called this afternoon as scheduled. She wanted the treacherous beguiler to see what he was losing, to yearn to make love to her again. She wouldn’t let on she knew about his relationship with Camellia Jones, as that would expose a deceit. She would drop him as a hot iron. She would not allow him to see how much and how deeply he had hurt her. From this day f
orward, she must never trust another man! Lula Mae was right; most of them only wanted to use a woman!

  Just then the housekeeper knocked on her bedroom door. “Cumpny, Miss Rachel,” she said nervously. “He’s in the parler. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. I got food on the stove needs watching.”

  “That’s fine, Lula Mae. Tell him I’ll be down shortly. Don’t serve any refreshments. He won’t be staying long.” After the housekeeper left, Rachel checked her image in the mirror. Pleased with her appearance but broken-hearted, she went with lagging courage to face her traitorous lover to reject him.

  As she entered the formal parlor, Rachel gaped at the man lazing on the sofa. Her body went cold and rigid. He smiled and rose to greet her. This was not the confrontation she had expected. “How dare you come here! Get out of my home, Earl Starger!”

  Chapter 14

  “Calm down, girl. I read about Phillip McCandless’s death in the newspaper. I had to come see if you were all right. Do you need anything?”

  Rachel gaped at the forty-one-year-old man who was attired in immaculate and fashionable clothes. “What do you care!”

  “Don’t you think it’s past time to forget our little misunderstanding?”

  Her wide gaze enlarged even more in outrage. “Misunderstanding! You beast, you attacked me.”

  “If I got too friendly trying to earn your affection and acceptance, I’m sorry. If you hadn’t jerked away from my fatherly hug, your shirt wouldn’t have gotten ripped. I was only trying to calm you down and silence you before others heard the commotion and misunderstood, as William did. I didn’t mean to scare you or hurt you, Rachel. I would never do that.”

  She glared at the hazel-eyed man whose unruly brown hair usually looked as if it were wind-tousled, but today was combed neatly. His long and thin features had an aristocratic appearance, but the man actually had no genteel blood or feelings. “You’re a liar! I hate you, Earl Starger.”