Finding Mercy

by Cindy Kelley

  “That’s Ed and Mamie Nielson,” Victoria said quietly. “They’re like bookends—you never see one without the other. They’re old as dirt.”

  “Victoria,” Charlotte whispered. “That’s so rude.”

  Victoria shrugged. “But true.”

  Charlotte looked back down as another group of people came in the door. She recognized Penelope, Mr. Dooley, and even Shorty Smithson. And then there was a sea of faces she knew she should recognize—but didn’t. The thought of descending the stairs into the crowd made her feel sick.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she said. “Please, Victoria, make my excuses. I’m going back to my room …”

  But Victoria grabbed hold of her arm. “Don’t be silly, Char. You fought the Yankees, for pity’s sake. You can certainly attend a party in your honor.”

  Charlotte took one more sweeping glance at the people in the foyer, and then she saw him. Elijah stood slightly apart from everyone, his face tilted up, his eyes on her. For a moment she couldn’t place what was different about him, but then it dawned on her that he had shaved off his scruffy beard. He looked like he did that first time they’d met. She’d thought him handsome then—and certainly thought he was handsome now. He smiled and she wondered how long he’d been watching. For the first time since standing on the landing, Charlotte felt a measure of calm return. She smiled, then turned to Victoria.

  “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

  Victoria laughed. “Not quite the spirit of things, but it will have to do for now.”

  The receiving line had been just as much of an ordeal as Charlotte had thought it would be. She stood between her mother and Beau shaking hands, smiling. One of the first guests in line reached out and covered her hand with both of his. He smiled warmly at her.

  “Welcome home, Miss Charlotte.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mother started to introduce them. “This is—”

  “Adam Harper,” the man interrupted.

  “Mr. Harper is the family attorney,” her mother said.

  He glanced at the portrait of John Chapman, then looked at Charlotte. “Your father was one of my closest friends.” He smiled. “I can’t tell you how many hours I listened to him bragging about you.”

  Charlotte returned his smile. “Then I should thank you for listening to him.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Adam said. He released her hand and moved on.

  One person after another offered their names and nuggets of information to help place them in her memory. Mother seemed to know almost everyone there, but occasionally a guest of a guest would come through the line and introductions would be made. Such was the case with Dooley. He arrived with a tall man that neither Mother or Beau seemed to know.

  “Mrs. Suzanne Chapman,” Dooley said. “May I present Mr. Reynolds? He’s new to town and is very interested in purchasing the old Crowley farm.”

  “Welcome to McIntosh County, Mr. Reynolds,” Mother said, offering her hand. “It would be wonderful to see the Crowley farm producing again. If we can be of any service, please let me know.”

  “I appreciate that, Mrs. Chapman,” he said. “You have a magnificent home.”

  She turned and gestured to Charlotte. “This is my stepdaughter, Charlotte. The party is in her honor tonight.”

  Mr. Reynolds nodded at Charlotte and took her proffered hand. “A pleasure, ma’am. Dooley told me a little of your very interesting story.”

  He held her hand just a little too firmly, which made her uncomfortable, but Charlotte smiled and said, “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Reynolds,” she said. “Good luck with the property, should you decide to purchase it.”

  He smiled. “Thank you. I hope luck will be on my side and I’ll have a successful outcome.”

  Charlotte gestured to Beau. “May I present my brother, Beauregard?”

  He smiled at her, then stuck out his hand for Beau. Charlotte turned to the next person in line.

  “Betty Ann,” she said. “I’m so glad you came.”

  Betty Ann’s eyes widened. “You remember me?”

  “Yes, from the other day at the bakery,” Charlotte said. Betty Ann’s face dropped. “Oh.” She gestured to a man on crutches beside her. He had one pant leg pinned up behind his thigh. “This is my husband, Bobby. You two used to swim in the river together when you were kids.”

  “Hello, Bobby,” she said, then looked at Betty Ann. “You were right. Your son does look just like him.”

  Betty Ann smiled. “I knew you’d see it. Everyone does.”

  The boy did look like his father—except Bobby was one of the saddest-looking men Charlotte ever remembered seeing.

  “Glad to see you made it home in one piece, Char,” Bobby said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Betty Ann tells me you’re missing your memories.”

  “That’s true.”

  “She says you joined up with us Rebs to fight the Yankees.”

  “That’s what I’m told,” she said.

  A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” he said. “Guess you can’t remember the war either?”

  She shook her head. “No. Not a single day of it.”

  “Then I’d say your lost memory ain’t a curse but a blessing.” He started to move away, his shoulders hunched over the crutches under his arms, with Betty Ann trailing after him.

  When the last of the guests had filtered through the receiving line, Charlotte’s mother gave the signal for the musicians to start playing. Their opening song was “Dixie.” The partygoers clapped, and couples started to dance. Charlotte started to make a hasty retreat to a corner of the room where she could take in the scene without anyone talking in her ear. But she wasn’t quick enough. Dooley’s friend materialized in front of her.

  “I know I’m being bold, Miss Chapman, but might I have this dance?”

  Charlotte hesitated. “I was just going to check on something, Mr. Reynolds.”

  He cocked his head to the side and lifted his brows. “Oh, come now, Miss Chapman, where is that famous Southern hospitality I’ve heard so much about?”

  She forced a smile, then put her hand in his. “Right here, Mr. Reynolds. But I must warn you. My dancing is almost as impaired as my memory.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After the first couple of turns around the dance floor, Charlotte thought they were actually well suited—it seemed neither of them could find the proper footing. She wasn’t the only miserable dancer, something made perfectly clear the third time Mr. Reynolds stepped on her toe.

  “Apologies,” he mumbled.

  “It’s fine,” she said, her foot throbbing with each awkward step they took.

  He finally looked up from the floor. “I’ve never met anyone with a story quite as unique as yours, Miss Chapman,” he said.

  “No?”

  “You’re the first.”

  She forced a smile. “A first for me, too. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss it.”

  He looked chagrined. “Oh sure, sure. I understand.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You must be happy to be home,” he said.

  “I am.”

  He smiled. “No plans to travel to faraway places anytime soon?”

  She was a bit confused by the comment. “No. No trips for me. I’m content to stay right here.”

  “Traveling can take a toll on a person,” he said. “I’ll admit I miss my home.”

  “Where are you from, Mr. Reynolds?”

  “The great state of Missouri.”

  She faltered the next step, but he tightened his arm around her. Her heart quickened. “Where in Missouri?”

  “Southwest corner of the state. A little town called Newtonia. Probably never heard of it.”

 
Miles and miles from St. Louis, she thought with relief. “No. I never have.”

  “Great little town,” he said.

  “May I ask why you left?”

  “Just hunting a better future for myself,” he said. He smiled again, a smile entirely too intimate in nature. She shivered and wished the song would end. And then Elijah was there. He tapped Mr. Reynolds on the shoulder.

  “May I?” Elijah asked.

  A flash of annoyance crept across Mr. Reynolds’s face, but then he smiled. “Of course. Thank you for the dance, Miss Chapman. Hope to see you again soon.”

  Charlotte nodded at him, then felt Elijah’s arm go around her just as a new waltz began.

  She prepared to concentrate on her footwork again, but Elijah wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Eyes on me,” he said.

  She lifted her face to look at him. “I’ve got two left feet …”

  “Just relax,” he said. “It’s supposed to be fun. Get ready to turn …”

  He swept her away and then twirled her flawlessly, and she went back into his arms with a grace she didn’t think she’d possessed.

  Charlotte became aware of the others watching them. Nervously, she looked back down at her feet again.

  “Not down there—up here at me.” She lifted her gaze again and this time couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes. She heard him murmur things as they danced: “Turning, good … Left … now right … turning again.”

  She was gliding over the floor, dancing as if she spent every Saturday night in the arms of a handsome man, lost in time to beautiful music. She realized he had stopped his quiet instruction and was gazing intently at her while guiding her expertly around the room. She felt a blush creep up her neck and tried to untangle her complicated feelings with small talk.

  “You’re a wonderful dancer,” she said.

  “Lessons when I was a boy.”

  “Time well spent.”

  “You’re doing well yourself,” he said.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes. With all of it,” he said.

  For a moment, her guard came down. “I’m not so sure. I’m so … different than they are.”

  “Being comfortable in a family can be hard even if you have all your memories. You need to give yourself time.”

  “You think it’ll be all right?”

  “I do. It doesn’t matter if you call yourself Mercy or Charlotte—you’re a strong, capable woman. You have good instincts … just remember to listen to them.”

  “Good instincts?” Her eyes widened, but she lowered her voice. “I nearly married a man who ended up turning me over to the authorities, I actually made a plan to shoot you—I ran away from you and Isaac when you were only trying to protect me—and then I ended up at a Yankee army post I thought belonged to the South.”

  Elijah twirled her out and away from him, then took her hand again in that way that sent a thrill through her. “All right, you win. Whatever your instincts tell you—do the opposite.”

  She smiled. “Now that is good advice.”

  “I’m almost sorry to be leaving in the morning,” he said. “I’m going to miss these little chats of ours.”

  She grew serious. “I will too. In fact, strange as this may sound, I’m going to miss you.”

  He looked into her eyes for a long moment, then said, “Mercy … I mean Charlotte …”

  The music suddenly stopped and Charlotte heard Beau’s voice. “Might I have your attention, please?”

  Charlotte tore her gaze from Elijah’s and looked around. She saw servants were circulating throughout the room carrying trays filled with crystal flutes. As guest after guest took a glass from the tray, she saw Beau, her mother, and Victoria move to stand by the fireplace, under the portrait of her father.

  Beau cleared his throat. “I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for coming this evening. Mother, Victoria, and I are overjoyed to have our dear Charlotte home with us once again—and we are so pleased you came to help us celebrate her return.”

  There was a smattering of applause and Charlotte was embarrassed right down to her toes to be the center of attention.

  “I hope everyone has a glass of champagne so you can all join me in toasting my sister. She went out into the world and, against difficult odds, managed to find her way home again. Raise your glasses to Charlotte … John Chapman’s daughter through and through.”

  “To Charlotte!” said the group in unison.

  “Thank you,” she managed to say. “Y’all are too kind.”

  She looked around at the smiling faces—people from her childhood, her family, friends, and neighbors who knew and admired her father. Betty Ann caught her eye and she smiled. Dooley waved. Even Shorty nodded in her direction before downing his champagne. And then she saw Mr. Reynolds staring at her, his glass of champagne untouched—his mouth set in a grim line that gave her a chill. But then he turned and said something to the woman next to him and she laughed. Charlotte shook off the uneasy feeling he gave her—hadn’t she just admitted to Elijah she had terrible instincts?

  “Everything all right?” Elijah said.

  Charlotte turned to him and smiled. “Everything is fine.” Then her smile broadened as she saw Victoria coming at them like a woman on a mission.

  “Elijah,” Victoria said with a bit of a pretty pout. “Charlotte has been monopolizing you all evening.”

  “I was just about to ask you to dance, Miss Victoria,” he said.

  “I accept,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you, Char?”

  “No, I don’t mind.”

  “How about it, Miss Charlotte?” Dooley stopped in front of her and held out a hand. “Dance with an old friend of your pa’s?”

  She fell into step with Dooley and they joined the others who were already dancing to the new piece the musicians played. Dooley was certainly not as good of a dancer as Elijah, but he was a sight better than Mr. Reynolds. She could see Elijah guiding Victoria expertly across the floor. Dooley was saying something about the plantation and the weather, but she wasn’t paying attention. Instead, she had her eyes on Elijah, who was looking at her over Victoria’s shoulder. The moment seemed to stretch, his gaze held hers, and then Dooley gave her a spin. She lost sight of him and was surprised at her own disappointment. It was going to be hard to say good-bye to Elijah Hale in the morning—much harder than she would have ever believed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Charlotte hummed softly as she got ready for bed. She stepped out of her dress and laid it across the end of her bed. After putting on her nightdress, she padded barefoot to her dressing table, found her brush, and began to brush her hair. She heard her door open and turned to see Chessie crossing the floor. The old woman didn’t so much as glance in her direction but went straight to her tasks. She picked up the dress, hung it in the closet, then went to the bed and turned back the quilt.

  Charlotte had the thought she’d never heard so much heavy silence in all her life. Chessie went to the fireplace, tossed a small log onto the fire, and turned to Charlotte.

  “You be needin’ anything else from me?”

  “No,” Charlotte said. “Good night.”

  Chessie grunted an unintelligible reply and walked out the door.

  Charlotte slipped her robe over her nightgown and went to the French doors. The moon struck the water from above and made it shine. She tried to push thoughts of Chessie out of her head and thought again about dancing through the parlor with Elijah.

  She turned at the sound of Victoria’s voice behind her. “I saw your light.”

  Victoria stood uncertainly in the doorway. “Come in,” Charlotte said.

  “I need to talk to you,” Victoria said. As she got closer, Charlotte could see a small wooden box in her hands.

  Charlotte took the box, examined it. It was rectangular, a
bout a foot wide, and made from beautiful, burled rosewood. There was a small mechanism on the side.

  Victoria squirmed. “Father gave it to you for your sixteenth birthday. I’ve always admired it, but I shouldn’t have taken it.”

  Charlotte ran her hand along the smooth top. “It’s lovely.”

  “As far as I know, you never kept anything in it. You were never much for trinkets and jewelry,” Victoria said.

  “Wait. It’s a music box, isn’t it?”

  Victoria’s brow creased. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

  Charlotte started to hum a tune.

  Victoria’s eyes became wide with excitement. “Char …”

  Charlotte lifted the lid and sweet strains of a waltz tinkled throughout the room.

  “Char! Do you hear that melody?”

  “I was humming it.”

  “Before you opened the box!”

  “Victoria, I remembered!”

  Victoria was bobbing her head, eyes shining, smiling from ear to ear. “You remembered!”

  “I can’t believe it! I remember it! I remember the song!” Charlotte threw her arms around Victoria. She started to sing with the tinkling music—never missing a beat.

  “La, la, la … la, la, la …”

  The two sisters started to waltz around the room, Victoria giggling, Charlotte joyful. “La, la, la …”

  “We should tell Mother and Beau,” Victoria said, laughing at Charlotte’s enthusiasm.

  “We should tell everyone!” Charlotte replied. She twirled Victoria around and then hurried to the bedroom door. She flung it open and rushed out into the hall lit by two lamps.

  “I remembered something!” she called into the quiet house. “I remembered!”

  Doors opened. Mother and Beau came from rooms down the hall.

  “What in the world …?” Beau frowned in the direction of his sister.

  Charlotte threw her arms wide just as Elijah opened his door. “I’ve had an actual memory!” She twirled in the hallway, then ran to Suzanne and embraced her.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?”