Promise Me Forever

by Janelle Taylor

  “Stop it, Rachel. There’s no way, no way,” she murmured, and panicked when she couldn’t convince herself with absolute confidence of her sanity and innocence.

  On Saturday, Rachel visited the sharecroppers with Burke Wells to assure herself and them that everything was fine. She wore a sedate black dress with long sleeves that became hot and itchy as the sun’s heat increased during the first day of May.

  After she returned home, she took a long and soothing bath with cool water from the well, then washed her dark-brown hair. She had not slept well the night before, so she was weary and edgy today. As she sat outside to dry her locks while the sun was setting, her mind drifted.

  Ever since Rachel had caught Lula Mae spying on her and Dan, the housekeeper had been quieter than usual and very watchful of her mistress. Rachel wondered if she suspected the same awful thing she herself had thought of last night and was trying to protect her by keeping her away from all men, from any likely victim, and from the consequences of being caught. She dared not broach such a subject with Lula Mae, or with anyone.

  She hadn’t heard from Harrison Clements, George Leathers, or Milton Baldwin again; it was as if everyone was content to let her be a silent partner. Or perhaps they were all only awaiting what might take place in thirteen days, on the dreaded day of May fourteenth. At least nothing threatening had happened again at home or at the firm, so surely that was a good sign.

  Her mother was coming for a visit next weekend, and perhaps at long last they could make peace, without Earl around to cause problems.

  Dan… How she loved, craved, and missed him. She longed to be in his arms, to savor his kisses, to enjoy his caresses. He treated her with such respect and dignity in private as well as in public. They could talk freely and honestly now. But when either needed privacy or silence, the other didn’t feel shut out. Their bond was strengthening and growing, but soon he would expect a commitment of marriage and a confession of love. Dare she give them before she was certain she wasn’t a danger to him? Her worst fear, she told herself, could not possibly be true. But she knew the only reason she doubted her sanity and innocence was because she couldn’t locate another suspect or explain her run of “bad luck.”

  On Sunday morning, as she’d done with Phillip until his death, Rachel and Lula Mae dressed and attended a small church west of town. She noticed that half of the people were nice, though not overly friendly or receptive. The other half stared at her and frowned as if she had no right to be in God’s house because she was an unpunished criminal. The minister welcomed her return and gave his condolences about Phillip’s death; he seemed sincerely kind and sympathetic, and she was grateful and relieved.

  On the ride home, with Rachel in control of the team pulling the carriage, Lula Mae declared in an angry tone, “We cain’t go there no more, Miss Rachel, not with them bunch of hypocrites being mean to you!”

  “We can’t hurt or deny ourselves to punish them, my friend. And I can’t hide at home as if I have something to be ashamed of or to fear.”

  The woman hadn’t argued or responded, and they had reached home in silence. Rachel sensed a change in the housekeeper and in their relationship, one that worried her.

  After eating, Rachel worked in the yard on her flowers and bushes. She teased fingers over her gardenias and hoped they would bloom soon so she could place some in her bedroom at night and enjoy their dreamy fragrance. But that heady smell increased as they wilted and died, as if Mother Nature demanded such a sacrifice for their gift to people.

  Rachel strolled to where her third husband was buried. She gazed at the homemade marker at one end of the oblong mound of earth. “If someone harmed you, dear Phillip, I will find them and have them punished,” she murmured. “I’ll solve this mystery. But you really made a mess of things for yourself and me! Wouldn’t it be ironic if you’re resting near where you buried that infernal money that might bury me if I never find it.”

  She stared at the grave for a while and mourned the loss of a good friend and rescuer when she had desperately needed one. “Where is it?” she pleaded. “I can’t dig up the whole plantation searching for it.”

  “Searching for what, Miss Rachel?” Lula Mae asked, having heard her last two sentences during her quiet approach.

  Rachel jumped and gasped. “You startled me; I didn’t hear you.” She lied out of necessity. “Phillip took our money out of the bank shortly before he died and hid it somewhere. I don’t even know if it was on Moss Haven. I wish I could find it. Then we’d all be fine again.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know, my friend. He wasn’t himself for a few months before his death. He must have had a good reason. If he hadn’t been delirious before he died, he would have told me.”

  “He acted strange nigh unto the end. He stared at air as if he could see it. He sneaked whiskey. He wasted his food. He spoke mean to me. He even sneaked money from the cashbox. I was plenty worried.”

  Rachel didn’t ask why Lula Mae hadn’t told her sooner. “He had business problems on his mind. I’m sure he didn’t mean to talk unkindly. But a man can’t sneak his own whiskey or steal his own money in his own home.”

  “I didn’t says he stole it. He jest acted on the sly the way he took it.”

  For gambling? she fretted. “I assumed he’d given it to Burke for supplies or seeds until he could get to the bank to replenish his wallet. I thought he’d forgotten to replace it, and didn’t feel I should question him about his own money,” she said.

  “We wouldn’t be bad off if it was still where it should be.”

  “We’re fine now after I sold those jewels.”

  “Weren’t right you had to go and do that!”

  Rachel didn’t want to argue again today, as such a talk might get out of hand while she was annoyed with the older woman. “Maybe not, but it’s past, so let’s forget it. Besides, I don’t have much need for fancy jewels.”

  “I cames to aks what you wants me to do with that pitcher you took down in your bedroom to hangs Captain Slade’s?”

  Rachel was almost provoked to break the promise she’d just made herself not to quarrel with Lula Mae today. “It isn’t Dan’s; it’s mine. I saw it; I liked it, and I bought it,” she replied, feeling testy. “You know I never liked those drab flowers in the other picture. It was hanging there when I moved in and I hadn’t gotten around to selecting and buying a replacement.”

  “Why a ship?”

  “I do half-own many ships and a shipping firm, Lula Mae, and we live in a port city where we see them when in town. It’s lovely, very dramatic and inspiring. Phillip would have loved it, too. If he’d seen it first, it would be hanging downstairs over the parlor mantel. Don’t you like it?”

  “No ma’am, but I don’t care much for pitchers of the ocean. You wants me to git rid of the flowers?”

  “Just wrap it and store it in the attic for now. Let Burke help you. I don’t want you falling and getting hurt.” She ordered the servant to tend the chore because Lula Mae would rebel against her mistress doing that task, and she wanted this conversation and meeting over fast.

  “I will, Miss Rachel. You be out here much longer?”

  “No, why?”

  “Ain’t good for you to be fretting and suffering like this. Mr. Phillip shouldna left you so bad off.”

  Keep control, Rachel. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to, Lula Mae.”

  “Did, all the same. I don’t like how you been mistreated for years.”

  Rachel realized a problem was brewing that must have attention or it would become worse. She dreaded to do what she knew she must. “Lula Mae,” she said after taking a deep breath, “I love you and appreciate all you’ve done for me over the years. I hate to scold or correct you, but lately you’ve been forgetting I’m your mistress. You’ve been sharp-tongued and nosing into my private affairs too much for even a close friend. You must stop or it will cause trouble between us.” She observed, as with her last reprimand, ho
w the older woman looked shocked and offended.

  “Miss Rachel, how can you speaks so to me? Nobody loves you or tends you better than me. Why you wanta hurt me?”

  “I don’t, Lula Mae. But you’ve been treating me and correcting me as if I were a child, a misbehaving child. You question me about everything I say and do, and often challenge my actions and decisions. I have to choose my own friends and do what I think is best for all of us. And please don’t speak so harshly about Phillip; he was a good man, just a troubled one at the end. I have so many burdens on me right now. Don’t make things worse by forcing me to be bossy or mean to you. It hurts me when we don’t get along.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Rachel; I didn’t know I was being so bad.”

  The woman sounded and looked contrite, so Rachel softened. “Not bad, my friend,” she said, “just too protective. I am a grown woman. I can handle people and affairs myself. Right or wrong, they have to be my decisions. All right?”

  “Yes, Miss Rachel; I’ll behave myself.”

  Rachel smiled and added, “So will I, Lula Mae. Let’s go have our pie and milk now. We won’t mention this again.”

  They walked into the house and server together. Rachel poured the milk into glasses and turned to find Lula Mae staring at her while she toyed with the knife in her grasp.

  “Is something wrong?” Rachel asked, then looked down to see blood dripping onto the pie crust and making tiny puddles. “You’ve cut yourself!” she gasped.

  Lula Mae glanced at the injured hand as if she hadn’t felt the pain. She frowned and snapped, “Look what I’ve done! I’ve ruined the pie!”

  “Don’t worry about the dessert.” She tossed the woman a rag and said, “Wrap it tight to staunch the bleeding while I fetch bandages and medicine.” She rushed to the cabinet in the water closet upstairs, gathered what she needed, and returned to tend the injury.

  Afterward, Lula Mae stared at her bandaged hand and said, “Thank you. I’ll toss out this pie and make another one.”

  “Don’t do that right now. Go lie down and rest. You’ve worked too hard lately and you’re tired. I’ll cook supper for us tonight. No arguing.”

  Rachel needed to see Dan, but his pictures would have to sate that fierce yearning. She opened the drawer only to find all three gone and a note lying in their place. Again, it warned, in her script, to spurn the sea captain or else he would die… Rachel gaped at the last few words, “by your hand as with all the others. If you want him to live, give him up. I’ll be the only one safe with you, as you could never murder me.”

  Someone had done this mischief while they were at church, as the pictures had been there this morning when she dressed. Lula Mae couldn’t be responsible for their theft, as Rachel had received the other notes while out of town. Surely she herself hadn’t…

  Rachel dressed with great care Monday to look her best for Dan when she saw him this afternoon. First, she planned to visit Milton Baldwin to check on the firm’s business. With good luck, maybe things had improved since their last talk. Maybe he could even make a profit payment to her. Surely he was paying himself a salary, so, as part owner, he should pay her, too. She hoped their conversation was pleasant and productive, as she wanted him to escort her to Dan’s clipper to prevent gossip. But even if he didn’t, she would go anyway, and let tongues wag if they wanted!

  Milton greeted her cordially. He smiled and said, “I was planning to visit you this afternoon, so your timing is perfect. We have an important matter to discuss and settle.”

  Excitement surged through her. “You’ve found a buyer for the firm?”

  Milton frowned and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid that isn’t it. I didn’t want to inform you of this problem earlier while you were still grieving. Now that you’ve had time to get Phillip’s insurance and bank account, it must be handled.” He withdrew a paper from his desk and handed it to her. “Read that agreement. Can you pay off this loan? I need the money, Rachel. Phillip promised he would pay it back by April sixteenth. If he couldn’t, as you’ll see by the terms, I get his share of the firm. I allowed you a two-week extension to deal with his loss and to get your affairs in order, but I can’t hold off any longer. Do you want to buy back this loan paper or turn the firm over to me? It’s sixty thousand dollars, and it’s past due. Legally the firm is mine by default, but I wouldn’t do that to you. Think about it a minute, then tell me your decision.”

  Chapter 17

  Rachel was crushed by the stunning news. Her mind shouted that this couldn’t be happening. She wondered how much more defeat she could take. So much money was missing, both from the businesses and their personal resources. Where had it gone? Then a thought struck her. “How can this be true, Milton?” she accused. “I looked at the firm’s books, remember? Nothing is—or was—recorded there about such a large loan, about any loan.”

  “It was a private matter between friends, Rachel. Phillip is the one who insisted on using his share of the firm to back it up. I agreed because I couldn’t take a personal loss that big. I only loaned him the money because he was desperate and he had that important contract, so I knew he could repay it soon. I hate doing this to you, but I have no choice. Surely you can understand and accept my position. Do you want to repay it or default?”

  “I can’t repay it! Phillip didn’t leave any insurance. Our bank account is wiped clean. Until that big deal is completed, neither Harry nor George could loan me that much, if anything. Those two companies are heavily invested in that mysterious contract, which only Phillip seemed to know about, until May fourteenth. If I sold Moss Haven to come up with the cash and something prevented that deal, I’d lose everything and be penniless. Besides, you told me and the books seem to indicate the firm is going to bankrupt soon, so why waste money I don’t have on it?” Nor could she bring herself to ask Daniel Slade for a loan of that size. “I wish you had warned me about this earlier. It comes as a shock.”

  “I’m sorry, Rachel, but I thought you had enough problems on your mind; and I assumed, once Phillip’s affairs were settled, this problem could be handled easily and quietly between us. I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s a lot of money, my money.”

  “Why would Phillip set the repayment date before he earned his profit on the deal? How was he planning to get money to get rid of this?” she asked, shaking the paper in her hand.

  “I don’t know. He chose April sixteenth. Maybe he was going to use part of that advance everyone says he accepted and hid.”

  “That wasn’t his money to spend! This doesn’t make sense,” she murmured as she studied the signature on the agreement, which looked to be Phillip’s. Everyone wanted the missing money, and everyone thought she had it. Were they using tricks on her to get their share? Was this paper authentic and the loan real? If Milton was lying, she couldn’t prove it. She would lose one of her three holdings, and was receiving nothing in support from the other two. Instead of an imminent profit from the sale of one firm, it was being snatched away from her needy grasp!

  “I’m very sorry to put you in such a vulnerable position, Rachel,” Milton said with lowered eyes.

  She locked her probing gaze with his unreadable one. “Do you honestly believe this is fair and right? Surely the company’s assets—ships, two warehouses, this office, existing contracts, and whatever else—are worth more than sixty thousand dollars. Why couldn’t an accountant figure up what I would have to relinquish to settle this amount? I could become a shareholder instead of a partner. I need financial support from this firm until I can sell off my other partnerships. That may take months, and they won’t result in much—if any—monetary gain.”

  “That sounds logical and reasonable, Rachel, but it wouldn’t work. The value of things on paper aren’t the same as what one can actually get for them. When or if I found a buyer, I could never recover sixty thousand from a sale; we have too many debts to settle. I’d be lucky to make anything off such an action or to find a deal in my favor.”

  �
�Can you give me an extension, until the big contract pays off?” She ventured, to see how resolved or insensitive he was. “It’s only a few more weeks. What difference would it make, since I can’t repay the money now and, by defaulting, it wouldn’t help you, either?”

  “What if the deal falls through, as all of you seem to think it will?”

  “Then I’ll honor Phillip’s loan agreement immediately.”

  “I’m sorry, Rachel, but I think that’s a waste of time for me.”

  “You want the firm now, today, is that it?” she challenged.

  “I want this distasteful matter settled promptly, yes.”

  “Why the sudden rush, Milton? What will a month matter?”

  “If I have ownership and authority over everything, I can make some tough decisions and take desperate actions to save this firm and myself.”

  “Why can’t you do that anyway?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, please, but I think I can work out my problems better if the name McCandless is taken off the firm. In view of your open investigation and your current partnership… I don’t want to sound heartless, but your past and current trouble and reputation can damage the firm further. I’ve already had prospective clients imply you’re the reason I can’t obtain their business. A few old customers are balking on new shipments until you’re exonerated; they don’t want their payments to reward a… You know what I mean. I’m sorry.”

  Rachel observed him. From her past treatment by the townfolk, she couldn’t call him a liar, but he was out to save himself, no matter how much she hurt. Oddly, she was angered—not saddened or frightened—by the probabilities of new or revived gossip and ostracism.

  “Please do this the easy and friendly way, Rachel. I can have my lawyer Frank Henly draw up the proper papers to turn your share over to me, then have you come to his office to sign them before witnesses. If you resist, I’ll have to let Frank handle it. I realize this agreement doesn’t have witnesses and wasn’t written up by a lawyer, but it is legal and binding. This is Phillip’s signature. You don’t want that publicity and exposure, and neither of us want to create ill will between us. Legally, we are no longer partners. Help me to make this transition simple.”