“Hello, Uncle Daniel.”
“Andy! Wonderful to hear your voice.”
“Yes, sir. You, too.”
“How’s the research going? Are you getting much help from Miss Penbrook?”
“More than I expected. I am also in possession of several volumes of diaries from Miss Penbrook and two other women who lived in the house where she was raised.”
“That’s good, Andy. Real good.”
“Yes, it is. I’m almost ready to pack things up and come back to write the book. But I need a few more days at least. There are some loose ends to tie up.”
“Things about Miss Penbrook, or is this personal?”
“Part of it’s personal,” he admitted. “I’m remembering some things about my life before I went to live with you and Aunt Lois. I’d like the opportunity to look into it a little.”
“Well, there’s a small issue here at home that you’re going to need to attend to as soon as possible. So let’s say I give you one more week.”
“That should do it, sir.” Andy frowned. “But what’s the problem back there?
“I’ll let Lexie explain that.”
“My wife?”
“Yes. A beautiful young woman and sweet as they come. You chose well.”
Pride lifted Andy’s heart at the praise. Still. . . “How did the two of you meet?”
A chuckle filtered through the phone line. “Let’s just say you have a determined woman on your hands.”
Andy laughed out loud as Daniel told him about Lexie barging into his office. He hadn’t seen the spunky side of his wife in years. Not since she’d lost the last baby five years ago.
“Is Lex okay, Uncle Daniel? Anything serious I need to know about?”
“It can wait a week.” The gentle certainty in Daniel’s voice reassured Andy. “Just finish up what you need to do there and then come back to your wife.”
“It might not be that easy. She hasn’t exactly been begging.”
“That’s between the two of you. But there’s no denying Lexie’s love for you, Son. And your love for her. That’s enough of a start.”
“Then maybe I haven’t completely ruined my marriage. Thank you for calling.”
You’re welcome. Oh, and for the record, Lexie has agreed to stay with us until you return so we can get to know her. Do you have any objections?”
“Lexie does exactly what she wants, but I have no objections, regardless.” Actually, the news gave him a sense of relief. At least he knew she was safe and away from Robert. “Is she there now?”
“She’s lying down resting.”
“In the middle of the day?” Alarm seized him. Lexie had the energy of three people. The only times she’d slept during the day were during illness and pregnancies. “Is Lexie ill? I can come home right away.”
He hesitated, which sent Andy into a near panic. “She was a touch under the weather earlier, but nothing a little rest won’t take care of.”
“All right. Give her my love, will you?”
Delta entered the kitchen just as he was replacing the receiver. “Got a call from Buck a little while ago.”
A sense of loss filled Andy when he thought of Buck and Lottie and their children. He had never been one to form attachments very quickly. But this family had managed to shove past his walls and find a place in his heart. “How are they?”
“Fine. Sent you an invite for supper.”
The offer was tempting. He almost agreed right away, but thought better of it. “I’d best not. With Sam Dane and that Klan after me, I think I ought to stay put. I’d hate to bring any more trouble to Buck’s doorstep.”
A frown creased Delta’s brow. “Ya think Buck’d let some white-hooded coward harm ya? Rafe’s comin’ by to git ya. Seven o’clock. Sharp.”
Andy nodded. “All right, then. I’d be happy to join them for supper.”
“Fine. I’ll ring over there and let ’em know.”
“Thank you.”
“How’s Miss Penbrook’s story comin’ along?”
“The research is coming together nicely.”
Delta hesitated, drew a breath, and said softly, “Ya wouldn’t make her out to be somethin’ wicked, would ya?”
So Delta was aware of her employer’s true identity. Andy wondered how many others knew and kept silent. After his own run-in with southern hospitality, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of setting Miss Penbrook up for public speculation.
He squeezed her shoulder. “No, ma’am. I will not do anything to malign her.”
“There you go with that fancy talk.” She scowled. “You know I ain’t got no idea what that means.”
Andy smiled fondly at the housekeeper. “I’ll protect her good name.”
“That’s all I’m askin’.”
“How is she today? Any chance I’ll be able to talk to her?”
Delta shook her head. “I’m afraid she ain’t doin’ too good. The doctor said she’s about to knock on St. Peter’s gate.” A great sigh lifted her shoulders.
“I’m sorry.”
Her expression softened as she caught his gaze. “Maybe she’ll be up to visitin’ with ya tomorrow.”
Andy nodded. “I hope so.” In the meantime, he had the diaries and half a day to work.
From Cat’s diary
Camilla and Thomas arrived home late from the barbeque, along with my son. Young Henry seemed happy to see me, but I could tell he didn’t really remember me. My heart aches at the thought that I am nothing more to him than an old memory. Perhaps Thomas and Camilla have mentioned me over the years. But gauging from his off-handed hello and hasty retreat to his bedroom, I am sure he has no idea that if not for me, this land would be nothing more than cheap farmland just like most of the plantations in rural Georgia.
Camilla appears older than her years. She did not even pretend to be pleased to see me. Thomas’s eyes lit up, though, and when he embraced me, he held me longer than necessary. Camilla left the room and did not return. The atmosphere is quite oppressive between them. Thomas does not appear to be at all happy. I am sorry for them both.
Still, whether they are happy or not, Henry is thriving. He’s grown into a handsome young man with many of Thomas’s characteristics and features. I am amazed that Camilla has not figured out that her husband is Henry Jr.’s true father.
Tomorrow I will search out Madame Flora. I pray she has the ability to relieve me of my problem.
I only hope Shaw never discovers what I’m planning to do.
Part Four: Light
And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light. (Psalm 37:6)
Chapter Fifteen
From Cat’s diary
1879
It seemed to Cat that all she’d done, from the moment her eyes opened this morning, was smile. Oh, it was good to be home. Camilla’s frail excuse for not sending someone to meet her at the train station fell on disbelieving ears--Thomas’s and Cat’s. But Camilla insisted the letter specified dates in the following week, and Cat didn’t have the energy to call her a liar.
Thomas had saddled two horses and whisked Cat away to tour the fields, now empty but for the occasional stray bulb of cotton. “Oh, Thomas. You’ve done marvelous things with this land. I’m so grateful.”
He drew a deep breath and stared across the fields with a pensive gaze.
“What is it?” Cat asked.
A shrug lifted his shoulders. “I always thought I’d have land of my own some day. If the war hadn’t come, I’d have inherited my father’s lands. But the Yankees stole that from me.”
“You know you’re welcome here for as long as you live.”
“I do know that. But this land will always be Hank’s, as it should be. It already is, for all intents and purposes. The legal documents have been drawn up and ownership has transferred to him.”
“Why don’t you get Henry to deed a few acres to you and Camilla? It’s only right, after all. Camilla’s father originally willed her a tidy sum. But of cour
se the war cleaned out all his assets except the plantation. By rights, she should get part of Penbrook as compensation.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t take Hank’s land. I’m considering something, though. Camilla has no idea, but I’ve been saving all these years, Cat. I’ve put away enough to buy enough cattle and horses to start my own ranch.”
“Cattle? But Thomas, you can’t allow cattle to graze in these parts. You’ll be run out of Georgia on a rail.”
Tenderness softened his expression. “I’m talking about going to Texas, where my sister and her husband live. Mother moved there during the war. I stayed because of you. I should have gone after you left Penbrook, but I couldn’t leave Camilla alone to look after things. Now, with Hank ready to take on the plantation, I have my chance. I want to make a fresh start before I’m too old. My brother-in-law has found some good land for me. I--I sent a draft to buy it.”
“And how does Camilla feel about this?” When he hesitated, Cat let out a gasp. “Surely you’re not saying you would leave her?”
Thomas’s eyes hardened. “She’s welcome to join me. But I don’t expect she will.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course she’ll go with you, if that’s what you truly want to do. Camilla would follow you to the ends of the earth. She’s loved you since she was fifteen years old.”
“And I’ve loved you that long.”
Sadness clutched Cat’s heart at the love in his eyes. “Thomas, that was seventeen years ago. We were nothing but children.”
He moved his horse next to hers and reached out to take her hand. “I still love you. God help me, even now, after everything.”
Once, those words would have caused her heart to sing. Now they left her empty.
“You don’t love me.” His tone held no accusation, only gentle acceptance. “I know that. But I can’t help myself.”
“What about your wife?” After years of glowing reports from Camilla of the happiness she and Thomas shared, Cat couldn’t even imagine that Thomas wasn’t in love with her.
“She hasn’t been a true wife in many years. She’s lost too much.” He spoke with regret, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “At one time, I thought we could be happy. But with one baby after another in the grave, she’s become bitter and angry. She blames me.”
Cat pulled her hand away and gave a nonchalant wave. “We’ve all suffered loss. It’s no excuse to be a shrew.”
“Perhaps not. But after losing our last child, she just can’t bear the thought of losing another.”
Understanding dawned. He’d been trying to tell her he and Camilla no longer shared a bed. “And it’s easier not to take a chance that she might become with child again.”
“Yes. I suppose that’s right.” He leaned toward her again.
She saw the passion in his eyes and knew it wouldn’t take much to encourage him to take his solace in her. But that would never happen. Any love she’d felt for Thomas had dissipated years ago.
“You should try harder to woo Camilla, Thomas. Any woman will respond to a man who treats her with gentleness and love.”
He looked deeply into her eyes. “Even you?”
A smile touched her lips. “As long as that man isn’t married to someone else.”
Thomas twisted his lips into a sneer. “Oh, is that so? From what I’ve seen, you have a preference for the ones who are married.”
Cat jerked her chin. “Only one.” She sent him a hard look. “And you’re not that man. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather tour the rest of the fields alone.”
Without awaiting an answer, she nudged her horse forward. She ignored his calls, relieved when he didn’t pursue her. This argument was just the excuse she needed to follow the path through the woods to Madame Flora’s alone and unwatched.
Assured that Thomas hadn’t followed, she allowed the horse to slow to a walk. Last night’s downpour had given the land an earthy fragrance that filled Cat’s senses. The rain had given way to a light shower, whispering to her as though singing a lullaby. She felt refreshed and happy.
But as she approached the clearing in the woods, which she would have to cross to reach the old medicine woman’s cabin, she felt the first twinge of doubt. Could she really get rid of the life inside her? Flesh of her flesh? Bone of her bone?
Her thoughts went back to the first time her mother laid little Henry in her arms. Despite the circumstances surrounding his conception, and the months of hating the growing child within her--Henry’s child of rape--Cat had taken one look at his tiny mouth firmly clutched to her breast, and all the hatred had fled, replaced by the fiercest love imaginable.
She pulled on the reins and stared at the trail of sunlight shining through the thinning foliage. If she could love a child she had believed to be a product of Henry’s cruel and savage abuse, couldn’t she love a child fathered by a man who loved her and for whom she felt admiration and genuine affection?
Stuart yearned for her to become pregnant. Every month for the past twelve years, he expressed his hope. He’d finally begun to believe that he was incapable of fathering children. With an enormous amount of relief, Cat had eventually come to accept that explanation as well. In the beginning, she might have welcomed children, but now, she knew the ramifications.
There weren’t too many secrets in the circles in which Stuart moved. People would know the child was his, borne of his mistress and not his wife. Her child would be looked down upon. Ridiculed and ostracized by polite society for something over which neither of them had any control--the circumstances of one’s birth.
Fortified by that final thought, Cat nudged her horse forward once more. This sacrifice was for her child. It was the best course of action.
Just as she was about to leave the woods, she heard laughter and the sound of snapping twigs. Movement caught the corner of her eye. A flash of a blue dress followed by a pursuing man. “Stop! Who’s there?”
Silence filled the woods. Even the insects and birds ceased calling to their mates. “Come out or I’m coming after you. I have a gun,” she lied.
“Lawd.” The female voice trembled with alarm.
“Don’t shoot, Miss Cat.”
A few yards away, she heard the crack of a twig as her son came into view. “Henry Jr., what on earth are you doing?”
He turned to the trees and reached out. “It’s okay.” His gentle tone reminded her so much of Thomas as a young man. Again, she had to wonder how on earth no one had recognized how alike father and son were.
Cat felt her world spin as young Annie, the housemaid, stepped out, her black hand firmly clasped in Henry’s. “What are you two doing?” She dismounted, planting one hand firmly on her hips. Her face twisted into a scowl, matching the rage building inside her.
“This is--” Henry began, but Cat gave him no chance to continue.
“I know who the little harlot is.” Cat stared her down. “Last night, she was making eyes at Shaw. Today, she’s doing God-knows-what with you in the woods.”
Annie’s eyes grew wide and she stopped short, wrenching her hand from Henry’s grasp.
“Miss Cat,” Henry said. “Please don’t talk that way to Annie. I love her.”
“Love!” Cat exploded. “Don’t be a fool.”
All the years of sacrifice. Not pursuing Thomas when she knew he had fathered her baby. Working her fingers to the bone to see that Penbrook prospered. Leaving Penbrook, and Shaw, and becoming a white man’s whore so that Camilla could marry Thomas and give Henry a good life. All the sacrifices she’d made so that her son’s future would be assured. And now he wanted to throw it away on a black whore? She wouldn’t allow it.
“This girl only wants to get your white baby in her belly so she can extort money from you and lighten her bloodline. She knows you’d never marry someone like her.”
Tears flooded Annie’s big brown eyes. Without a word, she turned and fled toward the house.
Angry sparks flew from Henry’s eyes. His face twisted in
fury. “I love her, Cat. You have no right to say such things!”
“No right?” Outrage overrode reason and she blurted out her deepest secret. “I have every right, young man. I’m your mother!”
Henry’s face paled, then went red. “That’s a lie. My mother and father were Madeline and Henry Penbrook. My mama died when I was a baby.”
Cat’s heart raced as regret flooded over her. How could she have revealed the truth in such a manner? But now that it was out, she could no more have tucked it back into the shadows than she could have denied her love for her son. Her voice softened. “Miss Maddy loved you like a son. But I’m the one who carried you, bore you, and nursed you. You are my flesh and blood, Henry Jr.”
“It’s a lie. My mother died of an illness and my father was killed when Sherman marched through Georgia. You were nothing more than a slave in our household who stayed on for hire after the war.”
Pain twisted Cat’s heart. “That isn’t true.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I know this is confusing. We couldn’t tell you the truth when you were a child. But now that you are grown. . . Perhaps I still shouldn’t have told you. But you have to know what I gave up so that you could inherit this land.” Her voice broke, but she swallowed back the tears. “I will not have you ruin your life after everything I sacrificed so that you could inherit Penbrook. Do you understand me? I won’t have it, Henry.”
“My name is Hank.” The cold, low tone sent a shiver up Cat’s spine. “And if anyone’s a lying black whore, it’s you.”
His words stabbed at her heart and stole her breath. But now that the truth was spoken, she couldn’t shrink back. “Ask Camilla if you don’t believe me.”
He gave her another long, hard glare, then turned and crashed through the woods toward the house.
Cat pressed her head against the mare’s neck. Had she made a mistake? She debated whether or not to return to the house with Henry and make sure Camilla told him the truth, but she knew Camilla would ultimately confess. The years had not been kind to her. She had grown frail, and her will seemed to have fled. She’d never have the gumption to lie about it, not when Henry confronted her.
The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) Page 21