The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries)

by Tracey Bateman

  “Thank you, Father.”

  Samuel glanced up to find Sam putting away his pistol, calm as though he hadn’t just killed a man--the sheriff to boot. “I’ll say that I came into the room and found you in a struggle for your life. I had no choice but to shoot.”

  Samuel looked at the young man he’d raised. His son. But a man he no longer recognized. “You killed three innocent people tonight. Don’t you even care?”

  Samuel poured himself a drink. “What? You’re not going to thank me for saving your life?”

  Was he deliberately avoiding the issue of whether he had killed Rafe and his girl? “I was winning the struggle. In another minute, the gun would have been in my hands. There was no need to kill John.”

  “We both know there was a very good reason. He would have shot me the second he laid eyes on me. Who would you have rather seen die tonight, Father? John, or your own flesh and blood?”

  “Neither one of you had to die.”

  Sam lifted his glass of whiskey in a toast, then gulped it down. “Better give the deputies a call and let them know the sheriff’s position has been vacated.” He strode toward the door.

  “What about Ruthie and Rafe? Did the Klan get to them?”

  “Father, I’ve told you before, I don’t know anything about a Klan.”

  Samuel watched him go. Tears burned his eyes at the monster his son had become.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Georgia, 1877

  Cat arrived back at Penbrook, knowing she would have to answer for blurting out the truth to Henry. Half the truth anyway. Only she knew the full extent of the lies her son had lived his entire life without even knowing it. Out of fear for Henry’s future, she’d kept hidden the fact that Thomas was indeed a father. If Camilla had known, she might not have allowed the land to go to Henry. Now it was too late. It had already been legally transferred.

  She found Camilla, Henry, and Thomas in the parlor, deep in discussion.

  By the ashen look on Camilla’s face and the anger on Thomas’s and Henry’s, it was obvious Camilla had confessed.

  With grim determination, Cat stepped into the room.

  Thomas lifted his eyes to hers. “Cat? Is this true? Is Hank your son?”

  She nodded. “Yes, he is.”

  “My father raped you?”

  Henry’s outburst brought a gasp from Camilla’s lips. “Hank, please,” she said. “Don’t be vulgar. After all, you’re speaking of my father too. And things were…different back then.”

  He kept his tortured gaze fixed on Cat. “Please, Camilla. I don’t want to offend you. But if my father…our father was the sort of monster who would…” He clenched his fist.

  Camilla let out a huff and answered Henry before Cat could find her voice around a lump in her throat. “Oh, all right. Yes. The whole household knew that my father was a monster. He forced Cat to give you up to my mother because she couldn’t have any more children. She could never bear him a son to carry on the Penbrook line.” Her eyes focused on the floor. “Isn’t it ironic that I should inherit her unfortunate malady?”

  Thomas sent her a look filled with disgust. “Lord, Camilla. This is not about you. Let’s focus on helping Hank adjust to this news.”

  Camilla nodded and stared, red-faced, at her hands. “I--I apologize.”

  Cat’s heart went out to her. She went to Camilla’s side. Wordlessly, she sat beside her on the sofa and covered her hand. Camilla’s eyes were wide when she caught Cat’s gaze. She clasped Cat’s hand between hers in a painful grip, as though drawing strength.

  Henry’s eyes were filled with confusion, remorse, and anger. He stared at Cat. “You’re truly my mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I was. . .conceived in rape?”

  Tears stung Cat’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  Henry came and knelt before her. “You’re sorry? You’ve done everything to protect me, to give me more than you had. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes filled with tears. “My father was a monster. Is that why I ache for Annie? Did I inherit a lust for Negro women?”

  Camilla gasped again. “What do you mean you ache for Annie? Do you mean to say you’ve been dallying with our Annie?”

  “I’m not dallying. I love her. At least I think I do.”

  “Why, the little tramp!” Camilla’s outrage mirrored Cat’s. At least the two women could agree on this point. “I shall terminate her employment immediately.”

  Thomas narrowed his gaze at his wife. “So help me…Camilla.”

  Camilla pressed her lips into a firm line, but fell silent under his warning tone.

  “Hank,” Thomas clapped the young man on the shoulder. “You’re nothing like your father.”

  “Tell them.” Camilla’s whisper was barely audible. She turned her gaze upon Cat. “Tell them.” Her eyes pleaded. “End your son’s suffering and guilt over my father’s sin.”

  Cat met Camilla’s wide gaze, trying to understand. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “Look at them. Together. Side by side. Why do you think I sent poor Hank away to school? The resemblance was growing every day. It was becoming obvious.”

  Shock jolted through Cat as she realized Camilla hadn’t been as ignorant all these years as Cat thought. “You knew?”

  Camilla’s head moved in a barely discernable nod. “I figured it out when he was about eight years old.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Thomas stared from one to the other.

  “Thomas, you might want to sit down for this.” Drawing a shaky breath, Cat met Henry’s gaze. “You don’t have to worry about inheriting any evil qualities from Henry Penbrook. He wasn’t your father.”

  Henry stood and paced the floor, silently digesting the newest information. He released a half-sigh, half-groan. “I don’t understand. Would someone please tell me the truth?”

  Cat stood and went to her son. Suddenly, her head swam. She closed her eyes and swayed. Henry’s arms encircled her. “Are you okay?”

  Placing a hand on his chest, she nodded. “Just a little dizzy. I’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe you should sit too.”

  Shaking her head, she looked up into his eyes. “Hank, the truth is…” She drew a deep breath and exhaled around her next words. “…Thomas is your father.”

  Thomas’s face blanched. “What did you say?”

  Cat forced herself to meet his accusing gaze. “It was you. Not Henry.”

  He frowned, as though trying to wrap his mind around the revelation. “Lord, Cat. You mean, that one time, in the barn?”

  Though she’d thought modesty had fled her senses long ago, Cat’s cheeks warmed at the memory.

  In a beat, Thomas shot from his wing chair and closed the distance between them in a few long strides. He grabbed her by her arms, shaking her, tears filling his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m sorry, Thomas.” She tried to shove herself away from him, but he only held her tighter. “At first I didn’t know. I-I truly believed he was Henry’s. So did Miss Maddy and Henry.”

  “When did you learn the truth? How did you learn the truth?”

  “Your father knew. He figured it out before I did that Christmas before you joined the army. Henry had taken the rest of you on a tour of Penbrook’s fields but your father stayed behind. I had been shut away for days and snuck out to the garden with Henry Jr.” She smiled. “I’d never have done it if I’d known your father was home. He found me there and asked to hold the baby. He thought I knew the baby was yours. When he pointed out the obvious similarities between the two of you, it was all-too-clear Henry wasn’t the father. Oh, Thomas, I was overjoyed. I thought surely now you would love me again.”

  “But you didn’t love me. I asked you, through Camilla, to run away with me, the night they caught us in the barn. But you refused.”

  Camilla opened her mouth, but Cat stopped her with an upraised hand. She sat back, silent.

  “Anyway, your f
ather was kind, Thomas, but he convinced me that you’d give up everything for me.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “I would have taken you away, married you.”

  Cat reached up and caressed his hair. “I know,” she whispered. “But it wasn’t meant to be. I had to think of our son’s future, and we must think of him now.” She pulled away and turned to Henry.

  He stared back, his eyes filled with confusion and pain. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” He turned and left the room.

  Thomas stared at Camilla, turning all of his anger on his wife. “You knew this and didn’t tell me? All these years, I could have been raising my own son.”

  “I was afraid you would go to Cat.”

  His eyes blazed. He would have melted Camilla to nothing with that look if she’d had the gumption to look him in the eye. He spoke through clenched teeth. “You’ve never been more right. I would have gone to her. As a matter of fact, I’d divorce you and marry her today if she’d have me.” He turned to Cat. “But you wouldn’t, would you? You stopped loving me a long time ago.”

  Without awaiting the inevitable answer, he turned and followed his son.

  “He’s just upset, Camilla.” Cat’s heart raced within her breast. Panic rose. Everything she’d worked for in order to build her son’s life was beginning to crumble. What would happen to his inheritance now? Would Camilla expose them and claim Penbrook for herself, as she rightfully could?

  Gathering a calming breath, she turned to Camilla. “He’ll be all right once he calms down.”

  Camilla’s shoulders rose and fell. “No, he won’t. He hated me before any of this came out. He’ll hate me all the more now.”

  Camilla fell silent and remained that way. Finally, Cat left her and retired to her room. Carrying her new child heightened the fatigue she felt from riding today--an activity she hadn’t engaged in much during her years in Chicago. She wrote a brief letter to Stuart, informing him of her safe arrival and letting him know that she would return within the month. By the time she slipped the letter inside an envelope and set it on her desk to be taken into town the following day, exhaustion had swept over her. She was only too glad to loosen her corset, stretch out on her bed, and give in to the blessed darkness of sleep.

  When she awoke, dusk had fallen. She dressed, pushing back the thought of what she had to do in the next few hours. Seeing Henry’s tortured face had been enough to force her decision. How could she ruin another child’s life? Tomorrow, when it was all over, she could focus on her son, try to undo the damage she had done, and help him figure out what next step to take in order to ensure a wonderful future. She stole through the dusky night and saddled the mare she’d used earlier.

  “Miss Cat?” Shaw’s voice echoed in the dark barn.

  Cat started at the interruption. “Heavens, Shaw. Can’t you announce yourself before sneaking up on a person? You gave me a fright.”

  “You ain’t fixin’ to go fer a ride with the dark settin’ in, are ya? Ya shouldn’ be out by yo’self anyways.”

  “That’s for me to decide, not you.”

  “I ain’t lettin’ ya go off ridin’ all alone.” He started to saddle his horse.

  “I won’t be alone.” She gave him a pointed look. “It just so happens I’m meeting someone. A man.” The lie rolled off her tongue with shameful ease. Still, with Shaw sniffing around, she’d never be able to accomplish her mission tonight. Better to let him believe she had a private liaison than to know what she really had in mind.

  “Who ya gonna be meetin’?”

  “That’s my business.”

  Shaking his head, he continued saddling his horse.

  “You can’t go with me.”

  “Unless ya tell me who you’s meetin’, I’s goin’, and that be final, Miss Cat.”

  “But you can’t!”

  He fixed her with a long, steady look that clearly revealed his determination.

  “Oh, all right. I’m meeting Thomas.”

  “Thomas?” Hurt flickered in Shaw’s eyes as he stopped saddling the horse.

  “Yes. Are you happy now that I’ve been forced to break my confidence?”

  “Ya mean, you’s meetin’ him in sin against God and the wife of his youth?”

  Cat’s stomach dropped at the hushed, sickened tone in his voice. She swallowed hard. “That’s right. And you had your chance, so you have no call to object.”

  “Oh, my precious Cat. When ya gonna surrender yo’ heart to almighty God? Don’ ya know dat His love is what you been cravin’? Not Mister Thomas, not even ol’ Shaw.”

  Cat’s heart nearly beat from her chest. The awe in his voice when he spoke of God drew her in, almost making her believe.

  He reached out. “Come back to de house. Don’ meet wif Mister Thomas. Don’t add dis sin to yo’ name.”

  If only it were that easy. She mounted the horse and nudged it forward. When she reached Shaw, he looked up at her, pain and regret clouding his face. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment to you. But God forgot about me a long time ago.” A sob caught in her throat. “Please don’t follow me.”

  She swung her horse in the opposite direction of Madame Flora’s cabin so Shaw wouldn’t get suspicious if he watched her ride away. She rode along for a time, not taking any chances. Finally satisfied that he wasn’t following, she turned the horse and doubled back. She followed a worn path through the woods and beyond.

  Eerie silence greeted her when she reached the cabin. She dismounted and tied up the horse in front.

  Swallowing back a sudden rush of fear, she knocked on the flimsy plank door. It swung open. “Hello?”

  “Come in,” Madame Flora’s low, husky voice beckoned. The woman was dressed in a shapeless, dark red and purple robe. A matching turban circled her head. She handed Cat a cup of steaming brown liquid. “Drink.”

  “What is it?”

  “Herbs to relax you and expel the contents of your womb.”

  Cat sniffed the cup. She made a face at the pungent odor. “This is necessary?”

  “I assure you, it is. Drink quickly. The hour is almost upon us.”

  “What hour?”

  “We must be ready at the stroke of midnight.”

  The woman was crazy. Still, Cat knew she had no choice. She shuddered and gulped the foul-tasting contents of the cup.

  Madame Flora’s lips curved into a one-sided smile. “That’s it. Now, undress and lie on the table.”

  Alarm seized Cat as she glanced at the table. On a towel sat a sharp, hooked instrument, a knife, gauze, and a bowl. Her head began to spin. “What did you give me?”

  “Shhh. Don’t worry.” Her soothing tone sounded far away. “If you do not miscarry fully, I’ll help you along. Now, hurry and undress before you fall asleep.” The woman came at her, face distorted, then moved away. Cat blinked hard. Fear spiked through her. Oh, God. Shaw was right. This is an evil place.

  Run. Resist the devil.

  “I need to go. I can’t. . .Don’t use those things on my baby. It’ll hurt him.”

  “Don’t be a fool. What you are carrying is not a baby. It cannot feel. Perhaps the medicine will cause you to miscarry on your own. Otherwise, I’ll have to scrape out your insides or you will get infection.”

  Barely able to concentrate on what the woman said, Cat tried to focus enough to make out the door. The herbs were killing her baby! No! God, please. I don’t want to kill my baby.

  But it was too late. Her stomach rebelled and she began to retch.

  When her stomach was empty, Cat felt herself being led back to the table. She was powerless to resist. Tears slid down her cheeks as her clothing was removed. Madame Flora spoke softly, soothingly, but Cat couldn’t make out the words. They sounded foreign. Otherworldly.

  Summoning as much strength as she could, she opened her eyes. Madame Flora had transformed into a beast. Her great claws moved back and forth across Cat’s abdomen. Her words grew louder. A scream formed in Cat’s throat, but s
he hadn’t the strength to give it sound.

  Help me, God. Please.

  Resist the devil.

  Cat gathered every ounce of courage she could muster. “No! I resist the devil.” She knew she barely made a sound. The mumbling ceased. Before she could even breathe a sigh of relief, it started again. Tears burned her eyes. She didn’t have the strength to continue resisting.

  Her heart cried out for help once more. An angry roar reached her ears just before she lost consciousness.

  1948

  A shudder crept through Andy as he lay on his bed, reading Miss Penbrook’s diary. Life was so fragile. He wondered why God gave babies to folks who didn’t value their lives and refused to grant children to people, like him and Lexie, who longed for children and would celebrate every day as parents.

  He thought of his own birth. A mistake by all rights. But thank God for the Rileys, who had taken him in and turned everything around for him. What if Lexie and he could find a child who needed a home?

  Excitement filled him. With the diary still in hand, he wandered to the kitchen and snatched up the telephone receiver. He put in the call and waited for the operator to announce the connection. “Hello? Aunt Lois? It’s Andy.”

  “Andy? For mercy’s sake, Son. Do you realize the time? Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to disturb you this late. But I’d like to speak with Lexie if I could. It’s urgent.”

  “Of course. I’ll go wake her.”

  The thought of Lexie being awakened in the middle of the night when she was ill brought quick reason to Andy’s mind. “Wait. Maybe you’d best let her sleep. It’s not so urgent that I can’t wait until morning.”

  “That’s probably for the best. How are things shaping up for your book about Miss Penbrook?”

  He gave a short laugh. “I’m discovering as much about myself as I am her. But she definitely led a full life.”

  “She certainly did.”

  “I--I met some people tonight.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  He smiled. “A wagonload of my family. Brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. They’re all over the place down here.”