“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
His hand cupped my face as he stepped closer and kissed me. His kiss was stiff, not soft as I imagined it would be. It had a force behind it even though it lacked a passion I’d dreamed it should possess.
Maybe that is my fault.
Tightening my grip on the railing, the wood dug into the palm of my hand as I leaned into him. I waited for the excitement to bubble forth, and for the deep emotion in his kiss. I didn’t want to feel lifeless inside. Only cold people were lifeless inside, living lives without love or emotion. Perhaps they suffered heartbreak from which they have never recovered, or perhaps they have never known love at all, a mere stagnant pond compared to the ocean I desired more than anything for my life.
His grip on my cheek tensed, tightening and squeezing harder with each passing second. Certainly, I couldn’t deny the force behind his emotions, but the softness and passion were still nowhere to be found. His free hand clutched my palm, squeezing my deep cut from the knife in the kitchen. It stung and I jerked away from him.
“I am sorry, Alexandra.”
“No, Thomas, you don’t have to apologize. I cut my hand, and when you clutched it…it just stings a little.”
“May I see your hand? How did you cut it?”
Although, lying was wrong, the thought of telling him the truth knotted my stomach. My instinct thrived in hesitation, bordering the thought of telling him, but never crossing the threshold. Would he understand why I was in the kitchen or why I was helping the housemaids with dinner? I desired to say yes, he would, but years of knowing how others react to my benevolence told me to bite my tongue.
“I dropped my mirror and foolishly thought I could pick up the pieces,” I lied.
Thinking of the cut, reminded me of the knife, the kitchen, and of William.
Dang fool, why am I thinking about him again?
He doesn’t matter to me. He shouldn’t matter to me. I wanted to believe he was a nicer person, but obviously, I was wrong. Certainly, the crowd of men in front of the O’Brien’s store helped twist his behavior into actions neither of us deemed suitable, but he wasn’t cold toward me that day, not as he had been today.
“Alexandra? Alexandra? Are you feeling all right?” Thomas asked, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
“Yes. I . . . am sorry . . . Thom—”
“She wants another bag of corn, James, and two of sugar,” shouted a voice from behind me, interrupting my thought.
Startled, I spun on my heel and froze. William stood next to his carriage several feet from the porch waiting for another young man to throw a sack into his arms. He returned my gaze, his expression bemused, irritated, sad, and yet with a whisper of disinterest.
How long had he been watching us? Had he seen our kiss or heard our conversation? Pain pierced my bottom lip from my teeth biting on it too hard. Why did I care? What did I care if he had seen or heard anything?
The young man standing in the carriage threw another bag at William, nearly knocking him to the ground because he wasn’t paying attention.
“You throw like a woman,” William joked, trying to regain his balance.
The young man jumped down from the carriage. “And how would you know what a woman is,” he laughed, as he jabbed William in his rib cage with an elbow. “I heard you won’t even take Katy into your bed. What’s the matter with you?”
Katy?
A lump formed in my throat. For the first time in my life, the name of another woman turned my stomach. To assume William wasn’t married or courting anyone was foolish of me. Why hadn’t the notion crossed my mind? After all, he was a young man, perhaps no older than I, eighteen, nineteen, maybe twenty. Not every man in this world is single for my interest. Not that I held interest for the fool, but my point is that it was a ridiculous thought to think of him unattached when here I stood with a handsome man at my side. Why did I think there wasn’t a beautiful woman waiting for his return?
A beautiful woman . . .
A nauseous feeling swirled, my heart plummeted, my pulse quickened. Disappointment began to suffocate me. The thought of some unknown woman’s caramel skin and long black hair choked me, leaving my lungs deflated. Was he in love with someone? Did he give her passionate kisses, soft and perfect?
Why were any of these thoughts crossing my mind or crushing to my heart? I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t have any emotion.
William’s life didn’t, or shouldn’t, matter to me—at all.
William slapped at the young man’s head. “Nothing is wrong with me. I just don’t care for her.”
“You have to care for her?”
“Such may not be a requirement of yours James, but it is mine.”
“That’s just a pathetic excuse. You know Charlie and Andrew expect you to marry her, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know, but knowing doesn’t change my mind.”
“I bet you wouldn’t even need to persuade her,” the young man shouted as William walked away from the carriage, swinging the sack over his shoulder. “I doubt she would ever leave your bed at all.”
William passed the veranda, slowing his pace, and our eyes locked. The young man’s words cut a wound deeper than any knife could. I loathed the feeling. Only jealous people feel this way, and I certainly was not jealous. No, I wasn’t, and I wouldn’t allow a faceless woman to taunt me. I could picture her all day long, and without apparel too, really, I could. I wouldn’t be jealous. I refuse to be jealous.
“I have such distaste for vulgar public displays,” Thomas said, stepping to my side, and wrapping his arm around my waist—a subtle reminder of why I should care less for foolish Mr. Graysden.
William adjusted the bag and stomped off around the corner. I glanced at the young man, James, who spit on the ground and marched to the carriage, his disgust with Thomas obvious.
“I suppose I will have to have a word with Mr. Graysden regarding his son and nephew,” Thomas said.
“I beg your pardon?” I asked.
“The man, the tallest one, carrying the sack to the kitchen, his name is William Graysden. I buy supplies from his father, Jim.”
For a brief second, my breath whooshed from my lungs and my heart thudded. Thomas knew William. The irony choked me with the unfortunate predicament.
“Are you all right, Alexandra? You look pale. Are you feeling all right?”
“Your family purchases their supplies?” I asked, my voice cracked on the last word.
Thomas ignored my question and strode to the porch swing, leading me along with him, and sat down. “Yes, my family has bought from Mr. Graysden for a few years now. He has the lowest prices in town, and if one can overlook his flaw, they will be happy with what they purchased.”
“What do you mean when you say flaw?”
“That he is Muscogee, naturally.” His response was casual, as if he spoke of a dog or a horse. “Exchanging in business with a lower caste can have huge benefits. I purchase more supplies than I need, and resell them for a higher price—without Jim's knowledge. Naturally, I pocket the difference and make a profit for myself. I find swindling the unintelligent quite easy,” he laughed as I sat down next to him. “Alexandra, you don’t look amused.”
“You have remarkable perception.” Thomas’s greedy smile and disrespectful behavior bothered me. His deceitful actions alone were awful, but to talk as though the family he swindled deserved it was beyond words. Even if William had been rude to me, he and his family didn’t deserve to be robbed of money they had worked hard to earn. However, of course, thinking this and actually telling him were two completely different details. “I don’t understand why people treat others who are different, differently.”
“People need to live in the roles to which they were born, Alexandra.” Snobbery
oozed from his eyes and lips, and the look in his face mirrored the one Mama often had as she looked down upon those she deemed unworthy or below her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied the tapestry in the window move.
Speaking of Mama . . .
“You’ll have to excuse my benevolence regarding the lower caste,” I said, reluctantly, knowing she watched from the window. She probably was listening, too. “It’s a quality both my parents have attempted to rectify, without success.”
“Simply one of the many peculiarities I shall enjoy discovering. I must say, I love your hair today. It is not pinned up.” He moved a section away from my face, touching my neck with just the tips of his fingers, both tickling and distracting me.
“I have done absolutely nothing with it.”
“You should do nothing more often.”
My cheeks burned as he stroked my hair, brushed it around my neck, and tucked a few strands behind my ear. Inching his body closer and closer, he kissed me again. His arms hugged tight around my shoulders as he moved his body on to mine, nearly laying me down on the swing, and moved his hands up my torso.
“Thomas, stop,” I demanded, pushing on his chest and fighting against the weight of his body.
“Why?”
“Because—”
He kissed me again interrupting me, and once again began to move his hands along my body. What did he think he was doing? Had he lost his mind?
“Thomas, I do not wish for your hands—”
He grabbed my face, holding my chin in his palm while his thumb and fingers squeezed my lips into silence. Loud footsteps stomped up the porch stairs, and Thomas straightened up. I lost my balance on the swing and my backside hit the wood. Stunned and speechless, I stared at Thomas as William stood on the porch in front of us.
Thomas didn’t look in my direction or help me stand. He just stared at William and clenched his fists. Embarrassed and angered, I stood, adjusted my dress, and accidentally stepped on Thomas’s foot as I stomped across the porch, leaving the men to their glaring standoff.
“That will be five dollars for the supplies. Are you paying or should I find Mr. Monroe?” William said.
Out of the corner of my eye, Thomas withdrew his money fold from his pocket and threw the bills down at William’s feet. His disrespectful actions matched the disgusted expression on his face. William left as he arrived, stomping down the stairs. He spat on the ground before climbing into his carriage and never looked back as the wheels rolled through the dirt—not that I watched or desired for him to react in such a manner.
What did I care if he was gone?
Thomas approached me from behind. I expected him to speak, but he just stood behind me for several moments without uttering a single word. My nerves ached. Why had he done what he did? I wanted to believe Thomas wouldn’t purposely hurt me. What happened to the gentleman I thought he was?
Could the fault be mine? Perhaps my kiss on the porch gave him the wrong impression. Did he think I desired . . .?
“Alexandra, while I do apologize for my impetuous behavior, I am confused by your reaction.”
“My reaction? I don’t understand.”
“You pushed me away and fought my affection.”
“Although I fancy time spent with you, I simply was not prepared for…at times our courtship is…confusing… and I just . . . I’m sorry for my rambling.”
“You should know your thoughts before speaking,” he snapped.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Or do you know and simply evade the truth with insignificant justifications?”
I glared at him. How dare he attack me with such insolent distaste? Furthermore, what did he mean insignificant justifications? He acted rudely, not me. Certainly, his kiss was not the kiss of a new courtship or a man who respected a lady.
“Thomas, I don’t know what you are implying with your accusations, but I must declare your expectation of how a proper young lady should show affection to a man she has known for only a few days is unbecoming. Not to mention, you’ve shown a sincere lack of respect for my feelings regarding the placement of your hands.”
Thomas’s stance stiffened. I’d chosen my words wisely, leaving nothing for him to say to refute them. To question a young lady’s virtue regarding the attention of a young man was vulgar.
“I apologize for implying you should—” He paused, grabbing the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I did not intend to question you or hurt you. I just find it hard to stop kissing you.” He inched closer to me, traced my chin, and then cupped my cheek. “I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable.”
I nodded, though I didn’t want to. The thought of excusing him for his actions made me sick to my stomach.
“I have several meetings in town, certain issues which require my attention. I will send word when I can visit again. Good-bye, Alexandra, have a pleasant night’s sleep.”
“Good-bye, Thomas,” I said.
He kissed my hand and strode down the stairs to his awaiting horse, leaving me standing on the porch, a confused mess full of insecurities and questions, and I watched him until he faded in the distance.
The front door opened behind me, and I turned to face Mama’s enraged glare.
“Get inside this house,” she growled through her gritted teeth.
The blood drained from my face, and my heart sank deep down into my gut as I crossed the porch. Mama slammed the door behind me as I entered, and within seconds pushed me up against the wall.
“This family holds a certain level of admiration and respect in this town, Alexandra, and I will not have it sacrificed by your ill-mannered behavior.”
“I don’t understand what—”
Mama wrapped her fingers around my neck. “How dare you question a man’s authority or make him feel like he is acting vulgar.”
I scraped at her arms until she finally released my throat. “Don’t I deserve the chance to defend my actions, or do you wish for Thomas to think of me as a whore?” I said through gasps.
“Thomas comes from a good family, and your marriage to him would not only secure you a privileged life, but secure your prominence in this town.”
“Securing yours as well.”
“Do not disrespect the sacrifices I have made in order to raise you and John in this lavish lifestyle. You will not deny me what I have earned by casting aside Thomas Ludlow.”
“What you have earned?”
Her eyes narrowed and she leaned toward me, until her face was inches from mine. “Do I have to make threats, Alexandra? You know exactly what I am capable of doing, young lady. Do not force my hand or I will make your life a living hell.”
You already do.
Mama left the foyer and marched to her bedroom. I faced the wall, and pressed my forehead into the cold wood. Her stinging words were a harsh reminder of the reality I lived. She was capable of turning my horrifying nightmares into real life, capable of tearing apart my soul and ripping out my heart. She would make me pay with her actions toward someone I didn’t want involved.
Always the target for punishment when I didn’t do as Mama pleased. Always the person made to suffer, and always the person I tried to protect—no matter the cost.
Sarah.
I retreated to my bedroom. Closing my door, I began to unbutton my dress. The anxiety of the day made my skin crawl. My grasp on control seemed to slip, like a seam unraveling from a broken stitch. Pulling off layers of lace and cotton, I let them drop to the floor in a heaping pile. I reached for the ties on my corset, pulling down one side to undo the bow. My lungs finally allowed their full breath.
Chapter 6
I have often wondered why a person remembers the embarrassing and hurtful moments over the joyous ones. Memories of happiness can fade with time,
but thoughts that make you shiver with their presence and recoil into a world of self-doubt and self-loathing endure as a bitter reminder forever plaguing you.
You imagine the upsetting scenes over and over in your head as you wrap your arms around your stomach and rock your body, wishing only for the chance to relive that one single moment, just so you can change what occurred.
The events of yesterday blurred together in a confusing mess. One I wanted to forget, one I wanted to change, and one, well, one I didn’t know quite yet how I felt about the incident.
Thomas mystified me. He was a man still unknown to me, though I foolishly believed otherwise. The more time spent time with him, the more I was bemused rather than enlightened, as I should be, a scary and confusing thought, especially given his behavior yesterday.
Chills ran down my spine with the memory of his weight still crushing down upon me while his fingers squeezed my face. What if he wasn’t sorry for his actions? Certainly, he had remorse in his eyes and in his voice as he apologized, but I couldn’t deny a part of me doubted his validity. Furthermore, not knowing why I doubted him, bothered me even more. He had been so sweet and caring, and in the next moment, he changed. He became an unlikable person who shocked me, and worse, he hurt me.
“Ya wanna talk ‘bout Mr. Ludlow’s visit yesterday?” Sarah asked. She cradled each rein in one hand as the carriage swayed and rolled past the cotton fields. My family’s cotton fields, the south side of the over ten thousand acres Daddy owned.
The Woman on the Painted Horse Page 5