“We’ll get along fine, Mama. Don’t you worry about anything. Just concentrate on getting better.”
“My dear girl, I am not going to get better. We must speak of this. There will be dark days ahead, whether the war ends soon or not. The two of you must work together to survive and take care of Henry Jr.” She turned unseeing eyes to Cat. “I know you’ve tried to keep from me how scarce provisions are. But I can tell we have very little. I also know we have no money to replenish.”
“Don’t worry about anything, Miss Maddy. We still have some canned goods and seed potatoes. We’ll be planting soon. And I’m getting pretty good with a rifle. I noticed some deer tracks out by the well yesterday. I’m thinking of going hunting in the morning. And with the money we’ve been able to bring in from washing the Yankee soldiers’ laundry, we’re going to be able to buy some cotton seed and plant just as soon as there are men enough to hire on.”
Cat felt Camilla’s dark gaze on her at the mention of doing the Yankee laundry. It had been a stroke of luck that Cat had caught the eye of Captain Stuart Riley, the Yankee soldier who had saved Penbrook from burning to the ground when the occupiers had come through a few months earlier. But Camilla hated the sight of the blue uniform with such passion she didn’t even try to be civil when the captain came to call on Cat. Which he did often.
Oblivious to the silent exchange, Miss Maddy squeezed Cat’s hand. “You’re such a good girl. I know you’ll take good care of Camilla and Henry Jr.”
Cat felt Camilla stiffen. She gave her a sharp look and shook her head. A scowl marred the other girl’s features, but to her credit she didn’t voice her opinion of her mother’s statement.
Miss Maddy grimaced and closed her eyes.
Cat motioned to Camilla with her head and slipped her hands from Miss Maddy’s. “We’ll leave you to get some rest.”
Madeline straightened and clung to Cat. “Wait. Promise me that you’ll stick together and behave like the sisters I raised you to be.”
Camilla’s face grew red with anger. Her lips pressed together tightly.
Cat spoke up quickly. “We promise.” She bent forward and pressed a kiss to Miss Maddy’s cheek. Camilla followed her example. They tiptoed away. The dying woman was asleep before they reached the door.
In the hallway, Camilla turned on her heel, fire blazing in her blue eyes. “I will never think of you as a sister.”
A heavy sigh escaped Cat, and she stood unflinching before the girl’s anger. “Nor will I think of you that way. But it was good of you to let Miss Maddy have the peace of thinking we will stick together once she’s gone.”
“I’m not entirely heartless, you know.”
“No, I didn’t. But I’m glad to hear it.” Weary of Camilla’s presence, Cat turned to go. “I’ll be in the kitchen preparing breakfast.”
“I’ll have mine in my bedroom.”
“Then you’ll have to come down and get it, because the only tray I’m carrying up is your mother’s.”
Camilla gave a huff and flounced away.
Cat leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Food was scarce. The constant ache in the pit of her stomach was becoming more than she could bear.
Her mind flitted to the line of Yankee soldiers who had marched into town a few months earlier. Only Madeline’s status as a Northerner had saved the house from being burned to the ground. Cat knew none of these diehard Southerners would have anything to do with the soldiers. But an idea had been forming in her mind for quite some time. Yankees had money. She needed a way to care for Miss Maddy, Camilla, and little Henry. Somehow she had to get those Yankees to share.
1948
Andy leaned against his propped-up pillows and frowned. He’d come to the end of this journal. At the worst moment. What was Cat planning to do to get money from the soldiers?
He moved carefully from the bed, clutching his side as he made his way to the boxes of tablets and journals. Thankfully, they were organized into some semblance of order or he’d have wasted hours, maybe days, trying to sequence the writings. After a few minutes of moving boxes here and there, he found the next journal. He settled down and read through eyes that, after a week of being swollen shut, had only the day before gone down enough to allow for reading, difficult though it was. It was slow, unfocused at times, but certainly preferable to sitting idly, listening to the sounds of the house while everyone was too busy to visit him or read to him from the journals.
“Andy?” A tap sounded at his door.
“Come in.”
“Is everything all right up here?” Miss Lottie’s soft-spoken southern accent brought about the nostalgic longing he often experienced in her presence. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. No, he knew he didn’t want to. Most likely it was only a residual effect of spending the latter half of his childhood without his mother, who in his memory spoke very much like Lottie.
“Yes, ma’am. Everything’s fine.”
A frown marred the otherwise smooth brow. She planted her hands on her hips. “Then what was all that banging around?”
Andy smiled. “I was just finding the next of Miss Penbrook’s journals.”
“Oh, I see your eyes are beginning to open. That’s real good. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”
A grin tipped Andy’s lips. “I’ve been a bother, haven’t I?”
“Of course not.” Sincerity rang in her tone, leaving no doubt that she spoke her true feelings. “Buck says Miss Penbrook’s diaries are real interesting.”
“They are.”
“Should you be reading much?”
With a sigh, Andy set the book aside. “I guess my head is aching from trying to focus.”
Miss Lottie walked closer to the bed. “My work is finished until time to start supper. I wouldn’t mind reading to you for a while.”
“I’d hate to impose.”
“Nonsense. It’d be my pleasure.” A hint of starch lingered as she leaned over him to retrieve the book. In truth, she was a young woman, probably several years his junior, but her demeanor made him long for his mother.
She settled into the chair next to his bed. “From the beginning?”
“Yes. I was just about to start reading when you knocked.”
August 1864
Even the sky wept the spring day Miss Maddy was laid to rest. As the last shovelful of dirt was thrown, Cat looped her arm with Camilla’s. Had she not, the young woman would have fallen under the weight of grief. Years of animosity were set aside as they shared an umbrella and watched the makeshift casket, crafted by the blue-coated soldiers occupying town, being lowered into the earth.
Not many mourners joined them. After all, Maddy wasn’t one of theirs. And neither were the girls. The few neighbors who did attend made their displeasure known as soon as it was apparent that Yankee Captain Stuart Riley and his men were tending to the burial.
Their closest neighbor, Mrs. Cates, an old dowager who lived five miles away, made a beeline for the girls as soon as the minister said the final prayer. “You two should be ashamed of yourselves letting Yankee soldiers bury anyone on Georgia soil.” She zeroed in on them both as though not quite sure which was which. “I always liked your ma, even if she was a Yank. But I can’t abide the presence of those infidels. You should be ashamed.”
Camilla’s forlorn expression tugged at even Cat’s heart, but she remained silent. No one seemed to question her presence at the graveside. There had been so little interaction between the Penbrook plantation and the other families in the county that Cat doubted anyone knew of her roots. This emboldened her. She returned the old dowager’s glare.
Camilla shrugged and pressed a handkerchief to her red nose. “Th–there was no one else to build a casket or dig a grave.”
Mrs. Cates harrumphed. “I would rather blister my hands and dig the grave myself than allow the enemy to step a foot on my place.”
“But Captain Riley has been so kind.” Camilla’s words brough
t a look of outrage to Mrs. Cates’ sour face. “Why, if not for the men allowing us to take in their washing and ironing, we would have starved.” Whether Camilla’s defense of Captain Riley and his men was simply due to grief and exhaustion, or if she had truly had a change of heart, Cat couldn’t fathom. But at least in this moment, and for all of her former haughtiness toward the soldiers, Camilla wasn’t so stupid she didn’t recognize their contribution to Penbrook’s safety and well-being.
A gasp left the older woman. “You’re washing the filth from Yankee uniforms? The very Yankees who have stripped us of our land? Our very existence? I’d rather starve!” Without another word, she swept her skirt aside and scurried away as though one more moment in their presence might sully her very status as a Confederate woman.
“Good! Go!” Camilla shouted after Mrs. Cates and the others who were slowly trudging away through the mud. “My mother wouldn’t have wanted you here anyway!” She dipped and snatched a rock from the rain-soaked ground. Cat grabbed her wrist before she could chunk it at the old woman’s back. Secretly, she admired Camilla’s spunk, but reason prevailed.
“Camilla.” Cat shook the rock from Camilla’s hand. “Don’t give her the satisfaction. Your mother would expect you to behave properly. Besides, think about little Henry. He might need friends among these people some day.”
Camilla’s face crumpled in light of Cat’s mild rebuke. She dissolved into tears, clutching at Cat’s slim shoulders. Cat’s knees nearly buckled as Camilla went limp in her arms. Struggling beneath the weight of an unconscious body, she pulled at the young woman’s gown. “Wake up, before I’m forced to let you drop.” Nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to see the haughty girl, who had made her life a living hell, lying flat on her back in the mud. But she’d promised Miss Maddy that she’d be good to Camilla--as though they were sisters. Still, she was only physically capable of holding so much weight. Rain trickled down her neck as she struggled to stay on her feet.
“Let me take her, Miss Cat.”
Cat looked up into the handsome face of Captain Stuart Riley. Relief flooded her as he relieved her of her burden. He swept Camilla into his arms and whisked her away from the family gravesite. Once inside, he turned to Cat. “Where do you want me to lay her down?”
“In the parlor.” Cat led the way and slid open the door. “Put her on the sofa. She hasn’t slept or had anything to eat for two days. I’m surprised she held up as long as she did.”
Gently, he deposited his burden on the sofa.
In the foyer, Cat smiled up at the young officer. Dark sideburns adorned his face and a fashionable mustache hung over his lip. In return, he smiled down at her, his brown eyes filled with tenderness. “Thank you, Stuart. I don’t know how to express my gratitude to you and your men for all you’ve done.” Tears filled her eyes. “Miss Maddy would have liked you, I think.”
Stuart’s soft gaze caressed her face. He lifted her hand and pressed a warm kiss to her knuckles. “You and your sister have made life bearable during the past two months. Do you know how much we admire your determination to survive?”
Early in their acquaintance, Stuart had made the erroneous assumption that she and Camilla were sisters. Cat had not bothered to correct him. “There’s really no choice but to survive or die, is there?”
“That’s the spirit I’m talking about.” His grip tightened on her fingers. “I admire you more than any woman I’ve ever met.”
Cat’s heart lifted with the praise. “Thank you, Stuart.”
He reached out and trailed his finger along her jawline. “So brave.”
Warmth filled her belly at the expression of tenderness in his eyes. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his palm, grateful for the comfort. Before she quite knew what was happening, she felt him shift, and warm lips covered hers. Her eyes flew open. She stepped back, staring at the captain.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“D-don’t do that.”
“I’m sorry, Cat.” He took a step forward.
Cat retreated. She held up a restraining palm.
He placed his hat on his head and slapped his gloves into his palm. “If I’ve misread your feelings for me, I apologize. But I thought--”
“Please, just go.”
Bowing at the waist, Stuart turned. Cat held her breath as his boots thudded against the hardwood floor. She released it only when the door shut behind him. Her hands began to tremble and then the rest of her.
Captain Riley was certainly nice enough, and Cat was grateful for all he and his men had done for them, but that didn’t mean she’d allow pawing and kissing and God knew what else he had in mind. She was finished with men. Henry’s interest in her had resulted in physical pain and demoralization. Even her love for Thomas had brought nothing but heartache. She wasn’t sure what Stuart wanted from her, but whatever it was. . .
Outside, she heard Captain Riley order the men to mount. Unease pricked her as she replayed her response to his advances. What if he stopped bringing his laundry? Oh, dear God. What if he ordered his men to go to one of the army wives from town who had joined their Yankee husbands? Panic licked her insides, and she fairly flew to the door. The men were already beginning to enter the canopy of oaks flanking the lane to and from Penbrook House.
“Stuart, wait!”
Looking over his shoulder, he reined in his horse and motioned his men to continue on ahead. Then he nudged his horse and galloped back to the house.
He remained in the saddle and stared down at her as a soaking rain continued to fall. “What’s wrong?”
Swallowing hard, Cat clenched her fists. “I. . .just wanted to apologize for my reaction.”
He remained silent, his questioning gaze demanding an answer as she descended the steps. She pressed her hand flat against her stomach, trying to ward off a knot of nerves. Rain trickled down her neck. She forced a smile. Too much was at stake. “I can’t let you ride away if you’re angry.”
Captain Riley dismounted. “Cat, Honey, you’re getting soaked. Let’s go back on the porch.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and headed her back up the steps. She reached for the door, but his hand restrained her. He turned her to face him. “Now, what’s this about?”
“I–I just. . .” She tore her gaze from his and stared at the brass buttons on his blue coat. “I hope you aren’t angry with me. I--You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
“Look at me.” He placed a finger beneath her chin and pressed upward until her eyes met his. “Do you mean to tell me you welcomed my kiss? That you return my feelings?”
Confusion clouded her mind. What were her feelings for Stuart? Gratitude for his kindness, to be sure. But romance? She swallowed hard and nodded, forcing the lie through her trembling lips. “I do. Truly.”
His lips curved upward into a smile, showing white straight teeth. He pulled her to him.
Cat knew what she had to do. How many times had she been forced to pretend she cared? She allowed instinct to take over. She’d been well trained. Rising to her toes, she slipped her arms around his neck and met his kiss. She melted against him, feigning a passion she didn’t, could never feel. When his lips left hers, he kept her close, his breathing heavy. He pressed his forehead against hers. “Cat. . .I need to tell you something.”
The door shot open. Camilla stood, shaking with fury, her eyes wide, face white as a ghost. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Camilla, go back inside and mind your own business.”
“You are standing on my steps, behaving like a common. . .” She glared at Cat, fury burning red in every line of her face. “You pretend to love Mother and yet less than an hour after her burial, I find you like this.” Tears pooled in her large blue eyes.
Stuart released Cat. He bowed to Camilla. “I apologize for giving in to my feelings on a most inopportune day.”
“Indeed.” She drew herself up to her full height, pulling her shawl closer about her.
Ca
t knew she had to appease Camilla quickly before the girl began another rant. “I’m sorry, Camilla. You are right. It was not the right time. H–how are you feeling?” Weariness suddenly overcame her strength and it was all she could do to remain standing.
“A lot you care. You left me alone.”
Irritation and embarrassment nipped at Cat. “What would you have me do? Sit and watch you sleep?”
Brows narrowing, Camilla fixed her with a dangerous glare. “I think you’re forgetting yourself.”
Stuart looked from Cat to Camilla. Cat’s face burned.
Ever the hero, Stuart inclined his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Camilla. I’m afraid it’s my fault your sister wasn’t there when you awoke.”
A short laugh shot from Camilla’s lips. “Sister? Is that what she told you?”
“Camilla, please.” Cat would have gladly scratched out the other girl’s eyes. Or cut out her tongue to prevent her from speaking the inevitable.
Ignoring her, Camilla fixed Stuart with a rigid glare. “No Negro girl is my sister, Captain Riley. And yes, that is what this girl is. She is a slave in the Penbrook household. Nothing more.”
Bile rose to Cat’s throat. Anger blinded her. Camilla continued her spiel to the speechless captain. “Or perhaps she was a little more than a slave. She was also my pa’s mistress.”
Humiliated beyond words, Cat stared at Camilla, then looked into the blanched face of the Yankee captain. She backed away a few steps, turned, and fled into the rain.
1948
Lottie’s choked voice read the last few lines of Cat’s diary entry for the day of Madeline Penbrook’s funeral. “Poor girl.”
“Yeah.”
She heaved a sigh and set the book on the table beside Andy’s bed. “I’m so grateful to God that my girls are free and will never have to go through what our grandmothers did.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call our state of being ‘free,’ ” Andy retorted. “Especially in the South.”
The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) Page 10