Corrine closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’ve seen what happened to folks on the other islands in the Lowcountry when developers buy their land, but I thought it would never happen here.” She opened her eyes, the dark orbs flashing fire. “Kara can’t sell it, and she can’t leave.”
“I’ve tried to be subtle when I kind of said that. But subtlety has never been my strong suit,” Jeff admitted.
“You’re about as subtle as a runaway locomotive.”
Leaning forward, Jeff kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Gram.”
The seconds ticked by as grandmother and grandson stared at each other, Corrine seeing something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in a while. “I know David asked you to look after her, but what is it about this girl that makes you take a more than passing interest in her?”
There came another pause. “I like her, Gram.”
“Like her how?”
He smiled. “Enough to ask her to go to the movies with me tomorrow.”
Corrine leaned back in the chair, her gaze narrowing. “You asked her out after knowing her for one day?” There was no mistaking the slight trace of wonder in her voice.
“I had to, Gram, because she was only going to be here a week.” Corrine’s jaw dropped. “But that’s before she told me she would extend her stay to three weeks.” He paused. “It’s not what you think.”
“Now, how do you know what I’m thinking?” Corrine asked.
“Because you have the same look on your face that you had when I told you I’d proposed to Pamela. It’s nothing like that,” Jeff added.
Corrine gave him a skeptical look, deciding to drop the subject. “Let me get up and entertain that girl before she thinks we’ve forgotten our manners.” Extending her hands, Corrine allowed Jeff to ease her up off the chair, thinking of how their roles had changed.
From the time she and Malachi had brought their grandson back to Cavanaugh Island, there had never been a time when she’d made a decision without taking into consideration how it would affect Jeff. Most of the time she was left to raise the boy on her own whenever her merchant seaman husband went to sea for months at a time. He’d return with souvenirs from the countries he’d visited, while always bringing her exquisite bolts of fabric from which she fashioned the latest styles she saw in magazines or pattern books.
Her Malachi had died much too young, leaving her to raise Jeffrey on her own. Her period of mourning was brief because she had to focus all of her energies on a toddler that relied solely on her for his very existence. Although she’d had several opportunities to see men and/or remarry, Corrine knew that wasn’t going to be possible as long as she had to take care of her grandchild. Her mantra was that she would never put a man before him.
She entered the sunroom to find Kara studying the framed artwork of renowned Southern painter Jonathan Green mounted on a wall of the room that had become her sanctuary. Kara must have sensed she wasn’t alone because she turned slowly, eyebrows lifted questionably.
“Yes,” Corrine confirmed with a smile, “they are originals. Majestic Sheets, Richard’s Piano, and Red Lips are three of his newer paintings.”
Kara turned back to the artwork. “They don’t look like oil or watercolor.”
“They’re acrylic on paper. That’s why I could afford to purchase all three.” She approached Kara, pointing to a larger painting. He painted Grays Hill Blankets in oh eight, and it was the only oil on canvas I was willing to pay five figures for.”
Kara’s eyes shimmered with excitement. “You have a very valuable art collection.”
Corrine smiled. “It would be a lot more valuable if I bought the one I really want, but I can’t see myself putting out a hundred fifty thousand for Young Bride. How did you come to know about Jonathan Green’s work?”
“There are a lot of street vendors in New York, and one in particular carries reproductions of his artwork.”
“Please sit down, Kara.” She gestured to a love seat covered with a sunny-yellow fabric with bright green leaves. Waiting until her guest sat, Corrine took her seat in a matching armchair opposite her and rested her feet on a like-patterned footstool. Her sharp gaze took in everything about the young woman who unknowingly had enthralled her grandson, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it. She’d noticed the proprietary way Jeffrey had placed his hand at the small of her back and the softening of his gaze whenever he looked at Kara. He was in denial with a capital D and unaware that she knew him as well as she knew her own mind.
Corrine knew Jeffrey had been less than lucky in the romance department and that he’d sworn off forming lasting relationships with women, but that was when he was in the military. What he still hadn’t accepted was that the life of a civilian was vastly different from that of a career soldier. Her fervent prayer was he’d realize that before she passed on.
Crossing her feet at the ankles, she met Kara’s steady gaze. “Does it bother you when folks say you look exactly like Taylor’s mother?”
“Do I?” Kara asked softly.
Corrine was preempted from answering when Jeff entered the room with a pitcher of tea. He placed it on a glass-covered table. “Aren’t you going to join us?” she asked him when she saw he’d brought only two iced tea glasses.
“Not right now. I just got a call from Dr. Monroe that some kid came into his office with a superficial gunshot wound. The boy claims his older brother was cleaning his handgun and hadn’t realized there was still a bullet in the chamber. Apparently he pulled the trigger and the gun went off, the bullet grazing the fleshy part of his upper arm.”
“But you’re off duty, Jeffrey.”
Leaning down, Jeff kissed her hair. “I’m never off duty. I’ll be back as soon as I check out their story and file a report.” He gave Kara a long, penetrating stare, then turned on his heel and walked out.
Kara pushed off the love seat. “Do you mind if I pour the tea?”
Corrine smiled. “Not at all. Thank you,” she said when Kara handed her a glass. Waiting until Kara had filled her glass, she took a sip, then set it on a coaster. “Is it sweet enough for you, Kara?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Good. Now, back to your question about you looking like Theodora Patton. The answer is yes. Teddy was one of my best friends even though kids from the Cove didn’t mix too freely with those from the Landing or the Creek.”
“Why was that?”
Corrine ran a hand over her short, silver curls. “I don’t know. It’d been that way for years and continues to this day.”
“How did you meet her?”
“At that time all of the black children on the island took the ferry to a segregated mainland school. We socialized in school, but once the ferry dropped us off, we went our separate ways. However, it was different for Teddy and me. I’d beg my mother to let me have playdates with her, and it continued until they finally integrated the schools on the island. She made new friends, and I bonded with the kids here.”
“Did you continue to keep in touch?” Kara asked.
Corrine toyed with the tiny gold hoop in her left ear. “Yes. We’d call each other, and once we left for college, we’d write. Teddy shocked everyone when she announced her engagement to Cornelius Patton because no one knew they were seeing each other. The Haynes were working-class folks who brainwashed Teddy into believing that she had to marry up, and landing a Patton was like having the cake with the icing and the cherry. They had a big, lavish wedding at the mansion, and I knew then we’d moved in different directions because I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”
Kara gasped. “That’s horrible.”
“I’d thought so, too. I later learned her mother said she didn’t want me in the wedding party because I’d lowered my standards to take up with a man without a college education. She was a fine one to talk because she hadn’t finished high school. My late husband worked for the post office before he signed up as a cook on a merchant ship. It was hard at first because he was out to sea nine months out
of the year, but whenever he came home, it was Christmas and New Year’s all rolled into one. My parents took care of our daughter while I taught, and when she was old enough to go to school, I took her with me.
“Every time Teddy had a baby she threw a lavish party with everyone bearing gifts as if the new baby was royalty. She had two sons and three daughters before she had Taylor. He was a beautiful baby with a wonderful disposition. Everyone doted on him: his parents, grandparents, and his sisters. Once he became a teenager and showed an interest in girls, Teddy sabotaged every relationship he had.”
Unconsciously Kara’s brow furrowed. “But why, Miss Corrine?”
“There were rumors that she wanted him for herself.”
“Oh no,” Kara drawled at the same time she scrunched up her nose.
“As I said, there were rumors. By this time Cornelius was a deputy solicitor general, and when the Supreme Court was in session, he divided his time between South Carolina and Washington, DC. The girls went off to college and married and had a bunch of babies. When it came time for Taylor to go to college, Teddy wouldn’t allow him to attend an out-of-state school.”
“But he had to go to an out-of-state college if he’d met my mother.”
Corrine paused to take a sip of tea. “She relented when Cornelius resigned his position and came back to South Carolina and opened a practice in Charleston. That’s when Taylor left to enroll in Morehouse.”
Kara bent her head and studied her clasped hands. “My mother went to Spelman.” Her head came up slowly as she awkwardly cleared her throat. “I suppose that’s where they met.” Spelman and Morehouse were brother and sister colleges. Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them back.
“Are you all right, baby?”
“I’m fine, Miss Corrine.”
“I can stop now if you want.”
“No, please don’t. I need… want to hear as much about… Taylor before I talk to my mother.”
Kara’s expectant stare bore into Corrine. The poor child didn’t know who she was because someone had lied to her about her paternity. She didn’t blame the girl’s mother as much as she did Taylor Patton. He knew he was her father, yet he’d withheld that information, revealing it only in death. As far as Corrine was concerned, it was the coward’s way of settling an old score.
“Taylor came home changed.”
“Changed how, Miss Corinne?”
“It was like he’d grown up overnight. He’d left South Carolina a boy and had returned a man. Many said it was because he’d gotten out from under Teddy’s thumb. After he graduated he went to work in a bank in Columbia. His daddy died, and Teddy was like a lost soul. Then his oldest sister was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor, and she died. Teddy became an emotional cripple and rarely was seen outside the house. She neglected her award-winning garden, most of the flowers going to seed, and she had the plaque designating Angels Landing a National Register of Historic Places removed because she claimed it reminded her too much of Cornelius. Last year it made National Historic Landmark status.
“There was talk that Teddy had come down with insomnia. Lights burned at the house twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Iris was concerned because she’d stopped eating. Taylor held onto his mother for as long as he could, but toward the end she had to be confined to a nursing home.”
“How long did she live there?”
“She didn’t last a month. The family had a private funeral with just a graveside service. I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to tour the property, but there is a cemetery… no, I take that back. There are two cemeteries at Angels Landing. One white and one black. That practice ended with Cornelius when he was buried in the white section. I always thought it so asinine that people have separate cemeteries based on race and religion when dirt is dirt, and the Lord said he would be the one doing the separating.”
Kara smiled for the first time since Corrine began her discourse on the Pattons. “I agree. Was Angels Landing a working plantation?”
Corrine nodded. “It was the largest plantation producing Sea Island cotton, rice, and indigo. The east end of your property is a swamp with poisonous snakes and gators, and heaven knows what else is lurking below the surface of the water. There are also egrets, herons, and someone took a picture of an eagle’s nest in a cypress tree. Cabins were built near the swamp as a deterrent for slaves attempting to run away.”
“Where would they go, Miss Corrine? After all, they were on an island surrounded by water. And if they did make it to the mainland, where would they hide?”
“Not everyone in the South was pro-slavery. There was a wealthy cotton merchant, James Whitcomb, who hid runaways, then took them North with him, passing them off as his slaves. He’d managed to get away with the ruse for a year until a patroller recognized him, called the authorities, and he was sentenced to hang. The governor commuted his sentence to twenty years because James was a distant cousin. He was sent to Old Jail, the same prison where Denmark Vesey spent his last days in the tower before being hanged. It remains a mystery to this day, but James had managed to escape and stow away in a ship transporting cotton to the mills in the North. After that, increased restrictions were placed on slaves and free blacks in Charleston as a result of the Vesey insurrection, and at that time the law required that all black seamen be housed in the Old Jail while they were in port.”
Leaning forward, Kara caught and held Corrine’s eyes. “Were any of those escaped slaves from Angels Landing?”
“A few. But they weren’t your ancestors.”
“Are you saying that Taylor’s ancestors were so wedded to their servitude they made no attempt to escape?”
“Why would you run away when you were already free?” Corrine had answered Kara’s question with a question of her own. “Please excuse me,” she said when the phone rang. She picked up the receiver, listening to the velvety soft, deep voice. “Okay. No problem.” She hung up, watching Kara staring at her. She did look like Theodora, but upon closer inspection she was softer, prettier. Her face was rounder, cheekbones higher, and her mouth was lush. It was her eyes with glints of greenish-gray and gold that reminded her so much of Theodora.
“That was Jeffrey. He’s tied up at the station house and won’t be able to drive you back to Angels Landing. I’ll take you back.”
“Are you certain I won’t put you out, because I could always call Mrs. Todd and ask her to pick me up?”
Corrine lowered her feet and stood up. “Of course you’re not putting me out. Since I retired I have to find things to do to keep myself busy. Last year I had a health scare when I found myself in the hospital with a blocked artery. It weakened my heart, so I have to be careful not to get exhausted.”
Kara rose to her feet. “I’m going to be here for at least three weeks, and if there is anything you want me to help you with, just let me know.”
“Thanks for asking, baby, but I’m okay here. Jeffrey hired someone to come in twice a week to clean, so there’s not much for me to do except cook. Speaking of cooking, I’d like to invite you over for Sunday dinner.”
“I’d love to come, but I’m not certain when my mother is coming to town.”
“Bring her with you. I’m certain she’ll be tired from traveling and would enjoy sitting down to a home-cooked meal.”
“Thank you, Miss Corrine. That’s very kind of you.”
“It has nothing to do with kindness and everything to do with Lowcountry hospitality.”
It wasn’t until she was back at Angels Landing that Kara thought about what Jeffrey’s grandmother had said about Lowcountry hospitality. Her newfound relatives hadn’t shown her the warmth and welcome but blatant hostility. They viewed her as an interloper, taking what they’d considered theirs because they were legitimate Pattons.
Sitting on a rocker on the front porch, she stared out at the verdant landscape that resembled green velvet. Countless trees, draped in Spanish moss, stood like sentinels along the path leading up to the his
toric house. Closing her eyes, she imagined horse-drawn carriages filled with men and women in their silks and finery coming up the unpaved path to Angels Landing for a ball.
Instead of horses it was now cars that brought people to the house. She opened her eyes. Mrs. Todd told her that not much had changed over the years with the exception of indoor plumbing and electricity and updated appliances, while the antebellum mansion upon close inspection still looked run-down. The smaller kitchen hadn’t changed. There was still the massive black wood-burning stove with an oven large enough to roast a small pig.
Something Corrine said about the property receiving landmark status the year before made her think of Taylor’s mandate that she had to restore the house to its original condition while making Angels Landing her residence for the next five years. She wasn’t certain how long it would take to complete the restoration; however, she knew the cash in the safe-deposit box was more than enough to pay an engineer to ascertain the house’s structural stability and to refinish floors and replace wallpaper, drapes, and rugs. And she had to make sure that Mr. and Mrs. Todd received a lump sum of fifty thousand dollars for their dedication and loyalty.
Opening the door, she switched on the light, staring at the space where Taylor had probably spent hours working for his clients. It was quintessentially masculine from the massive carved antique mahogany desk and cordovan leather sofa and chairs. She stared at the faded rug with a narrow strip lighter than the rest, leading her to believe this was where Taylor had paced up and down its length.
Built-in bookshelves were packed tightly with books, some with worn leather bindings. Kara walked over to an armoire and attempted to open it, but the doors didn’t budge. Then she realized it was locked. She thought of the envelope David had given her with keys. There had to be one that unlocked the armoire.
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