Southern Legacy: Completed Version

by Jerri Hines

  Shortly afterwards, he had begun to hear whispers at his work. Mrs. Smythe would drop by. From his office, he watched the husband and wife disagree. At one time, she had even slammed down a newspaper on his desk. Unable to make out fully what the arguments were about, he heard certain words: papers, it will come out, scandal.

  Heyward confiscated the discarded newspaper. It hadn’t taken much to put together that they were discussing the mystery woman briefly mentioned in a paragraph on the folded back page. It was conjecture that the state department was holding a Southern woman in the Old Capitol Prison for suspicion of spying.

  He realized that reporters reached for anything to make a story. Speculation abounded, but in the end the story seemed to die. The fear that it would become common knowledge that Miss Josephine had been in prison petrified Mrs. Smythe.

  Heyward had been summoned to the Smythe house by Jonathan Smythe on his return from Washington. When he arrived this afternoon to meet with his employer, he heard Mrs. Smythe distinctly crying, “The speculation will turn into headlines. They will certainly label her a Jezebel!”

  Voices echoed out into the foyer. It was then he saw Miss Josephine come down the stairs. She looked perplexed, bewildered, and hurt. There was no way she had avoided hearing the harsh words. A surge of pity swept through him for Miss Josephine.

  He made a decisive decision…one he knew he would soon come to regret. He was not one to dismiss common sense…but it just wasn’t right.

  Giving no thought to proprieties, he offered Miss Jo an opportunity to see his mother. She, in turn, followed him without question. Her only desire was to see her mammy.

  Heyward directed Miss Jo to walk behind him as he led her from the streetcar stop. His house set three blocks over. Miss Jo made no complaints.

  Opening up the gate to the walk, he motioned Miss Jo to the back of the house. He held no doubt of where Ma would be. Walking around the side of the house, Ma knelt in her garden, transplanting a lilac.

  Ma looked up and her face beamed. “Miss Jo! Well, don’t just stand there, child. Come give your Miss Hazel a hug.”

  Overcome with complete joy, Jo fell into her mammy’s arms and wept.

  * * * *

  Heyward walked through his front door, well aware that Mr. Cullen wouldn’t be long behind him. He had waited at the corner of the street until he spotted the Smythes’ carriage coming up the avenue.

  Looking out the side window, Heyward saw Tome was playing with his friends in the neighbor’s yard. His attention turned to the voices coming from the kitchen. The women had not ceased talking since he had left them over an hour ago.

  He had found he needed time alone to think. Miss Josephine’s appearance had brought back memories.

  As he stood in the doorway, the two were so engrossed that neither noticed him. He watched them. With the greatest reluctance, he admitted a truth he had always known, but refused to acknowledge—the two women sincerely cared for each other.

  “I feel so lost, Miss Hazel, like I’ve fallen down an abyss and can’t find my way out.” Jo heaved a tremulous sigh.

  His mother sat back and took a sip of her tea. Reaching across the table, she squeezed Jo’s hand. “Now, Lordy, I would too if I was dealing with those women. I tried. I did. When the childlin’ first came. Went to that house. Heyward told me not to try. I understood why when I got there.”

  “Elizabeth treated me the same and I’m Madeline’s mother.” Miss Josephine nodded. He saw her look over at his mother and smile. “Oh, Miss Hazel, I’ve missed you so.”

  “I have thought of you often,” Ma said, but adding sorrowfully, “But it ain’t the same, Miss Jo. You had a need to see me this afternoon, but it can’t happen often, if at all.”

  “You can’t mean that.” Jo looked dubiously at the older woman. “I need you.”

  “Ya know I speak the truth. The world we knew is no more.”

  Miss Jo’s face betrayed she readily understood. Society stood as a wall between them. Swallowing back her tears, Jo asked in a quivering voice, “What am I to do? I can endure no more. It haunts me…being locked up away from my children…my children…I—”

  “Don’t, Miss Jo. Don’t go no further.” Miss Hazel heaved a sigh. “It ain’t right…to have kept you locked up that way, not able to see ya childlin’, for no reason.”

  “It ain’t never been right to treat people like animals,” Heyward stated soundly and stepped into the room. “We have problems. The Smythes’ carriage is driving down the street.”

  Miss Josephine lowered her gaze in a defeated manner.

  His mother would have none of it. “Miss Jo, you look at your old mammy and listen carefully,” she said in a commanding voice. “Don’t ya ever give up those childlin’. Not now…not ever. Look at Heyward and me. I never, ever gave up hope.”

  A hard knock on the front door interrupted the visit. Heyward went over to greet his uninvited guest. Opening up the entrance, it was as he had known. Mr. Cullen had come to collect his wife, none too happy by his expression.

  Mr. Cullen waited until Heyward invited him inside, but he was unable to completely mask his temper. He asked in an icy voice, “Is my wife here?”

  Ma would have none of it. Walking over to Heyward’s side, she exclaimed, “Why, Master Cullen, come in. Come in. Miss Jo and I were just finishing up tea. Now, sit right down there at the table and have a cup. You, too, Heyward.”

  Heyward watched his reluctant guest make his way to the kitchen. He caught his mother’s arm. He had to know. In a low voice for only her ears, he asked, “Is it true? Did I hear Miss Josephine correctly when she first arrived?”

  “What, Heyward?”

  “Is Buck Haynes dead? Did Miss Josephine kill him?”

  Chapter Ten

  Josephine sat in a tomblike silence on the carriage ride back with Cullen. She wanted to be anywhere other than with him, but she had no choice. He had cast his net and she had been caught within.

  No sooner than the carriage halted in front of his magnificent home, Cullen whisked her upstairs to a small, but elegant bedroom…on the other end of the corridor from the nursery and her children.

  The room was painted a soothing blue with matching drapes and bedcovers. An armoire sat in the far corner across from the four-post bed. The furniture was mahogany with a couple of embroidered, cushioned highback chairs around a hand-carved accent table. A thick beige Persian rug with blue designs covered the wooden floor.

  Despite the comforts of the room, it might as well have had bars on the windows. She felt it nothing more than the prison cell she had only been released from.

  The door slammed. Cullen’s voice rang sharply in the room. “Little fool!”

  She had had enough of being reprimanded for her actions. Turning her back to him, she walked to the window. Before she had time to push back the curtain, he whirled her around to face him, his anger fueled by her refusal to address him. “You can’t disappear in that manner! Is this your way of getting back at me? To embarrass me and my family?”

  Her own ire sparked. “I thought you had already done so by marrying me!”

  His face rigid, he released his grip and stared at her. “You are not ignorant, Josephine. You know as well as anyone proprieties have to be followed. You…you left with…”

  “I know.” Jo raised her chin defiantly. “I am not a child to chastise. I had a deep need to see my mammy.”

  “You are not in Charleston anymore. There are—”

  “Stop,” she demanded. “I did not mean to embarrass you. It was not my intent, but if you insist. I’m sorry…I’m sorry I embarrassed you…I’m sorry that I married you…I was so wrong…ever so wrong. I had thought there was some semblance of feeling for what we had, but I was mistaken. I want to leave with my children. I want only my children.”

  “It’s a little too late for that. You are in this marriage whether you want it or not. If you think for one minute—”

  “You would allow anothe
r to raise your son? I believe you have made it unambiguously clear, but what of me? Tell me…tell me what you want me to do.”

  “It is obvious that you overheard a conversation that was not meant for your ears,” he said hesitantly. “You’re right. I may have reacted to the situation, not thinking all the way through…”

  “Through?” Her brows arched in a half frown. “You hate me, Cullen. Tell me what I’m supposed to do. I’m in a city that is unforgiving to a Southerner. I have no friends or family. My children, that are my life and the reason I agreed to this sham, have been ripped from me.”

  “Don’t be overly dramatic. You are my wife, Josephine,” he pointed out. “You are acting as if you are being tortured. You have wealth and status. I’m certain in time you will adjust.”

  “I don’t want wealth or status.” She buried her face in her hands. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I never have. I have done everything to protect my children and Magnolia Bluff. Everything. I have tried to live up to the expectations placed upon me…I have failed…”

  “What could you have possibly done that would make you say something so foolish?”

  “You don’t know…you don’t know what I have done.” Her hands shook; her voice faltered. Suddenly, she was reliving the moment back at Magnolia Bluff. “I didn’t know what else to do…he had Percival. I was so frightened he would hurt my son…I saw the gun on the ground…then he was lying on the ground…dead…I never wanted to leave my home…Andrew said I had to…I killed a man…”

  The room became deadly quiet. Abruptly, she stopped and collapsed down on her knees, staring down at her hands as if blood dripped from them. “He wouldn’t stop. He wanted to hurt me by harming Percival…”

  Cullen’s brows drew together in sudden worry. He knelt beside her. “So Percival wasn’t being dramatic when he told me a bad man tried to kill him. Don’t you think it’s time to tell me the real reason Andrew felt it necessary to send you north? Don’t try to deny. After all these years, Andrew would never have slipped up unless it was intentional.”

  She refused to look up at him with troubled eyes. “I tried to protect Percival, Cullen. I swear. I…did the only thing…I shot him…”

  Taking her hands in his, his voice calmed. “Josephine, what happened? I need to know.”

  Silent tears streamed down her face. “It was Buck,” she said in a low, wavering voice. “He rode up to Magnolia Bluff with Gus Harrison and accused me of ruining his life. Grandpa Henry died and the Groves was lost to him and Harry Lee. He was going to make me pay.

  “It became chaotic. Amos lunged at Gus. I remember Amos knocking him over and then Buck shot Amos. Andrew came at Buck…it was at that moment Percival appeared, trying to get to me. Oh, Good Lord, Buck grabbed him. I saw Gus’s pistol at my feet. The next thing I remember, I had a gun in my hand and Buck lay dead.”

  She clutched her bosom. Her body trembled. “I killed him…Cullen. I shot him in the back…they will say I’m a cold-blooded murderer…Andrew and Derek took care of the body, but Andrew said too many people had seen it happen. He said he couldn’t take a chance with Harry Lee. If he returned, he didn’t know if he could protect the children and me…”

  “Ssh,” he said softly, wrapping his arms about her. “Andrew did right. I promise you are safe. The children are safe. Trust me, Josephine.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Harry Lee is coming for me, Cullen, bent only on revenge. I see him in my dreams.”

  “Did Andrew have any idea where Harry Lee is or was?”

  “I’m not certain. Buck mentioned a Yankee prison camp.”

  “Harry Lee will not harm you here,” Cullen promised. “Josephine, it is I who have much to apologize for…I should have pulled you and the children out from Magnolia Bluff after Wade’s death. I should have done a lot of things.”

  Jo leaned into his strong arms. Her energy drained, she took comfort in his embrace, if only for a moment.

  * * * *

  Before dawn, Josephine woke. She had spent a restless night, but had awakened with a renewed determination. Cullen avowed she had the status of his wife. She was about to assert that status.

  Seeing Miss Hazel encouraged Jo and reminded her of whom she was. Jo dressed with the help of her new maid, Mary, a young Irish immigrant. Jo liked her well enough, she supposed. The girl seemed eager to please, which served Jo well this morning.

  Today, she was going to reclaim her children. Mary scrambled to keep up as Jo walked soundly down the hall straight to the nursery.

  “Do you think this is wise, miss?” Mary said with her thick Irish brogue. “I think it’s just brilliant to want to have your daughter near you, but, I tell you, ma’am, I know Mrs. Smythe and she won’t like this none.”

  Jo was not going to debate her intention with her maid. She never lost a step and continued onward into the nursery without knocking. Her eyes fixated on the crib where her daughter slept. Easing down gently, she lifted Madeline into her arms. Sleepy, her daughter cradled her head on her mother’s shoulder. Jo hummed “Hush Little Baby” as she used to sing to her.

  “Mrs. Smythe, what…?” Mrs. Finnegan came in the side door, tying her wrap around her. “You can’t—”

  “I can,” Jo repeated soundly. “Would you be so kind as to see to Madeline’s breakfast? She will be down in my room. Mary here is going to help me gather what we will be needing.”

  Mrs. Finnegan hurried out the door. Jo had no doubt to where, but her attention lay on her child. “Now, my precious one, what would you like Momma to change you into for the day?”

  Madeline smiled sleepily. “Momma.”

  Jo’s heart swelled as she dressed her daughter. Oh, the word was like a song from the angels! The translucent peace did not last long.

  “Josephine!”

  “Why, good morning, Mrs. Smythe,” Jo greeted her mother-in-law, who obviously had been wakened out of a sound sleep. The older woman had not taken her usual care before leaving her bedroom. Her braided hair hung over her shoulder and she still wore her nightclothes.

  “Josephine, you can’t simply take Madeline out of her room in this manner…”

  “I am her mother,” Josephine said firmly. “I have decided to look after her myself. I won’t need a nanny. I am perfectly capable of doing so. I cared for my children at Magnolia Bluff.”

  Looking down at her child, Jo smiled. “Are you ready to go?”

  Madeline looked adorable dressed in a pretty rose printed cotton dress with her white drawers showing under her skirt. Smiling broadly, her daughter’s small arms reached out to her. Enormous pleasure washed over Jo. She gladly took her back into her arms.

  “That may well be, my dear, but you are now in Philadelphia,” Monica retorted. “You need to learn—”

  “I believe you will find I’m a quick learner, Mrs. Smythe.” Josephine tried a gentle approach. “I am sure you can understand my need to have my daughter close to me. I was telling Mary I want to move the crib into my room…”

  “You’re what? You’re not taking Madeline into your room,” Monica exclaimed. “It’s unheard of.”

  “I believe I can do what I want. Thank you.” Jo quickly relinquished her mild manner tactic. “Mary, we will bring only the necessities at the moment.”

  “Wait until I tell Cullen,” Monica huffed and walked out of the room.

  Jo wasted no more time and whisked her daughter down the hall, followed closely by Mary, whose arms were filled with clothes that fell haphazardly on the hallway carpet.

  Footsteps sounded out in the hall and halted in her doorway. Cullen walked into her room, his jaw set; his brows furrowed.

  “Do you want something, Cullen?” Jo held Madeline tighter.

  Suddenly, Madeline cried out in delight and pushed against her mother. Her brother ran into the room. His hair disheveled, he hadn’t even taken the time to put his slippers on his feet.

  “What are you doing, Momma?”

  “Madeline
is moving into my room so I can look after her for a while.”

  “That’s not fair.” Percival pouted. “I can’t. So she can’t either.”

  “She’s younger than you,” Jo reminded her son. “But don’t think I’m going to ignore my boy. I have missed you both terribly. I have so much planned for us to do.”

  Clearly annoyed, Cullen said, “Don’t do this, Jo.”

  Madeline wiggled out of her mother’s arms. She reached over to her brother, who took her hand and helped her climb up on their mother’s bed, as happy as you please. The two siblings sat together in wait for the promised day to begin.

  “I’m hungry, Momma,” Percival declared. “When are we going to eat?”

  Oh, good gracious, she hadn’t thought what she would do after she had the children. She had prepared for a battle, but now the skirmish was won. Whatever was she going to do with two children in her small room?

  “It seems I won’t be getting anymore sleep this morning. Why don’t I have a tray of food sent up for us?” Cullen asked.

  Jo glanced over at Cullen and gave him a small appreciative smile.

  From his perch, Percival cried, “Breakfast in Momma’s room! Maddy, isn’t this fun!”

  Madeline giggled; Percival laughed. Jo sat on her bed and embraced her children.

  * * * *

  Josephine frowned. The last few days had not gone as she had planned. In truth, though, she had no plan except to hold on to her children.

  Looking around her room, it was a mess. Toys littered the floor; clothes were strewn in a pile behind the door. A quilt covered the two highback chairs and table to form a tent that she and the children had played in.

  The three of them had lived within the four small walls, much like they had done when they arrived in Washington—with a few significant differences. They could come and go as they chose and food was aplenty.

  Jo had taken the children out for walks in the park with Mary. Elizabeth had even joined the little group. Gone was the arrogance that had raised Jo’s defenses. Elizabeth asked with the greatest humility and seemed quite sincere with her apology.