by Kitty Margo
Lynna leaned back in her chair after a dismal glance at the food on her plate and inhaled the pine fragrance of freshly cut greenery. Was it Christmas already? Evidently. When did that happen?
She was trying to force down a tiny bite of biscuit smothered in sausage gravy, but her stomach was steadfastly refusing to cooperate and hold it down. And there was a nagging twinge in her lower back causing considerable discomfort. Even after she left the table and settled into a cushioned chair, the pain did not lessen.
Lost in thought, she gazed out the window at the barren trees and the recently turned earth of the cotton fields. They were both waiting for spring to bring with it the warm weather that would begin life anew. The trees would burst forth with their glorious leaves and the fields would accept and nourish the seeds that would turn them into snowy fields of King Cotton. And what did she have to look forward to. Her baby, of course, that was a given, but then what? Nothing. She knew deep in her heart that she would never love another man. Never give her heart and soul to another as she had to Joshua. Never desire to bear children with another man. So it would be just her and her son.
Hearing carriage wheels rattling up the drive she soon heard the front door open and almost smiled to see Beth and Jasmine removing their wraps.
“Dere’s my baby gal.” Jasmine beamed from ear to ear, casting a critical eye over Lynna from head to toe. She didn’t like what she saw. The girl did not look well. “Lawd a mercy chile you is carryin’ a strappin’ youngun from de looks of it.” Jasmine was worried about the size of the baby Lynna was carrying and had pleaded with Mary and Silas to send her to Cedar Hill so she could be present in the event of a difficult delivery. “It jus’ about yo’ time, ain’t it.”
“Yes, it finally is, Jasmine. I just wish… ” She refused to finish the sentence, for she now knew that wishes did not come true, Lynna reached around to rub her lower back. “For some reason my back is aching something awful this morning.”
Jasmine exchanged a knowing look with Beth who left the room to find Patricia and advise her that she might want to begin preparing the birthing room. Jasmine settled into the seat beside Lynna to wait and then had the thought that maybe if she could get Lynna walking it might help matters along. “It sech a beautiful day outside, Miz Lynna. You wan’ us ta go sit outside fo’ a spell?”
Lynna glanced toward the bright sunlight streaming through the window. “Yes, let’s go to the verandah. I haven’t been outside in several days and the fresh air will do me good.” She was struggling to get out of her seat when Jasmine took her hands and pulled her to her feet. The minute her feet touched the floor she felt warm liquid trickling down her legs and into her shoes. “Oh, my!” she cried, shocked to feel fluid sloshing around in her slippers. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yassum,” Jasmine chuckled softly. “It sho’ ‘nuff is. Yo’ baby is finally ready ta come out an’ meet his mama.”
Suddenly, Lynna’s stomach was besieged by a knifing pain that gripped her midsection from back to front, ripping the air from her lungs. She welcomed the pain. Longed for it to be so great that nothing else mattered. That nothing but the pain could penetrate her thoughts shutting all else out.
She got her wish.
Jasmine shouted for Patricia, and Lynna clutched both their hands as she was slowly led up the stairs to begin the long and painful process of bringing Joshua’s child into the world.
Screams of sheer agony echoed through the house the following morning as Jeremiah poured Nathan another finger of whiskey. Groaning loudly, Nathan fell down in a wingchair beside the fireplace, dropping his tipsy head in his hands. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Jeremiah. You don’t know what it’s like to listen to your only precious daughter scream for hours on end. I swear to you it’s ripping my heart clear out of my chest.”
Jeremiah patted his friend on the shoulder, trying to comfort him as best he could. It was at that very moment he decided he would kill any man who dared put Malinda through such unbearable torture. “The last time Judith left Lynna’s bedside, she assured me that it wouldn’t be much longer. She said the baby’s head was crowning.”
Jeremiah and Nathan had sat in the parlor all through the long night listening to Lynna’s low moans and bone chilling screams of pain, trying to drown out her cries with strong drink. So far, it wasn’t working.
Jeremiah refilled his own glass and had just wheeled his chair opposite Nathan’s when the sound of a high pitched wailing filled the early morning air. Nathan stood so fast his drink sloshed out of his glass and soaked one leg of his breeches. Slinging the glass to Jeremiah, he raced up the stairs as fast as possible in his slight state of inebriation. He met Jasmine coming out of the birthing room with a bundle cradled lovingly in her plump arms. “Do I have a granddaughter or a grandson, Jasmine?”
“It be a boy, Mist’ Nathan.” Jasmine beamed at Lynna’s father. “Dis chile be da spittin’ image of his daddy. See fo’ yo’self.” She gently lowered the blanket from the baby’s face so Nathan could get a good look. “Ain’t he jus’ de mos’ presch’ thang you evah done laid yo’ eyes on?”
“A boy. Yes, Jasmine, he is,” Nathan breathed, peering at his grandson with complete wonderment. “And my daughter? Is Lynna well?”
“Miz Lynna gone be fine, Mist’ Nathan. She jus’ tired rat now an’ needs her res’.”
“Good, good,” he mumbled, raking trembling fingers through his thinning hair. “When can I see her?”
“Jus’ let dem git her cleaned up, den you can see her, Mist’ Nathan. Fo’ now, you jus’ go on back down dem stairs an’ wait. Dey be callin’ you soon nuff.” Leaving him standing with his jaw gaping open, Jasmine headed to the kitchen where warm water and a soft cloth would be laid out for her to give Lynna’s sweet baby boy his first bath.
“It’s a boy!” Nathan shouted, rushing down the stairs and almost running headlong into Jeremiah’s wheeled chair as he exited the parlor.
“And Lynna?” Jeremiah asked. “Is she well?”
“Jasmine assures me that she is. She’s just tired and needs her rest.”
“I can certainly understand that. She has to be exhausted, for I am completely worn out from just listening to the dear girl’s heartwrenching cries of agonizing pain. Thank God it’s over.”
“I’ll drink to that!” Nathan chuckled, falling back in his chair and wishing he could sleep for a fortnight. But first he had to see his daughter. Then he would ask not to be disturbed until dinner was served.
Twenty-six hours after her labor began, Lynna held her Christmas present from her husband, Joshua Beauregard Jordan. Joshua after her husband and Beauregard after her father Nathaniel Beauregard Rhodes. Her little Beau. The very image of his father. The same raven black curls, the same sea green eyes, same plump little lips. He was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen and everyone in the room agreed. Patricia lifted her grandson from his mother’s arms with tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. “If I never see my son again, a part of him lives through my grandson.”
As Patricia left the room clutching the baby as though she would never allow another soul to hold him, Lynna drifted into the sleep of the mentally and physically exhausted where she could find peace dreaming of the man she loved. It was the only place she could find peace anymore. The world was too harsh.
Everyone seemed to be willing to move on with their lives, without Joshua. She wished she could just close her eyes and not ever have to face the reality of a life without him. If she admitted the truth to herself, she longed to sleep and never open her tired eyes again.
Lynna would swear her eyes had been closed mere seconds when a keen wailing close to her ear awakened her. Why wouldn’t they just let her sleep? She had labored an entire day and night. Didn’t she deserve to rest? Evidently she didn’t, for regardless of what she thought she deserved, the cries only increased in volume.
Cracking one eye open she saw Jasmine standing by the bed with Beau
in her arms. Lynna couldn’t see below Jasmine’s waist, but she knew from the determined look in her eyes that the old woman would be tapping her foot impatiently. “Dis baby hongry, Miz Lynna. It time fo’ you to feed him.” When Lynna didn’t budge Jasmine unceremoniously yanked back the covers. “Scoot up in de bed so I can give him ta you.”
Lynna huffed out an irritated breath, but did as she was told. Jasmine plumped the pillows behind her head and reached with her free hand to slip down the bodice of Lynna’s loose nursing gown exposing her milk gorged breasts. Then she very gently placed the tiny bundle in Lynna’s arms.
Beau had a bath and smelled of soap and talcum powder and his black hair glistened from the sunlight pouring through the window. Jasmine instructed her on bringing the baby to her breast and Lynna gasped as he latched on and immediately began a vigorous nursing. He was every bit as demanding as his father. His father. Oh, how I wish he were here. She glanced up at Jasmine with a bewildered expression as realization suddenly dawned on her. This was Joshua’s son. A product of the love they shared.
Just as Patricia had said, if Joshua never returned to her she still had a part of him to love and cherish, someone who depended on her for his very sustenance. Lynna herself would provide the nourishment that would help this baby grow into a strong, handsome man like his father. Just like his father. A slow smile brightened her face for the first time in ages as she cuddled her son closer, inhaling his wonderful smell.
Jasmine smiled a knowing grin and left mother and son alone to bond. Her job here was done.
The following morning Suzanne rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth as Lynna nuzzled and doted on the sleeping baby. The child had entered the world as white as the new driven snow. After she had prayed most fervently each and every night for the child to be gifted with dark skin, full lips, and coarse, wiry hair. “He certainly does look like his father, doesn’t he?” Granted, he is a beautiful baby. But there is absolutely no call for you to carry on like the brat is a gift straight from heaven. “It’s too bad Joshua isn’t alive to see his son.” It felt so good to twist the knife a little deeper.
“He is alive!” Lynna blurted, startling her son and causing him to set up a fuss. “Please, do not say that, Suzanne.”
“Oh, do forgive me, Lynna.” Suzanne mumbled, trying her hardest to sound contrite. “I thought you had accepted…. I mean I thought you would have realized by now…”
“I know exactly what you thought.” Lynna ran her fingers through her son’s fine black hair, across the perfect shell of his ear and over his full lower lip. Beau was so much like his father. “I know what everyone thinks. But Joshua is alive. I cannot explain how I know this. I just know it. If he were dead I would feel it here.” She pressed a hand to her swollen breasts. “He is alive.”
Doubtful. Not with the gaping hole in his chest that was gushing blood like a bubbling stream the last time I saw him. “I pray that he is, Lynna.”
“So do I, Suzanne. Every hour of every day.” Lynna blinked back scalding tears. “You have been kind to visit me as often as you have.”
“I’ve enjoyed getting to know little Beau,” Suzanne lied through her teeth. She detested all children, never having met one yet that didn’t aggravate the living daylights out of her. “I think he and I will become good friends. Can I hold him while you drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold.”
“Of course.” Lynna attempted to cover a yawn as she handed her baby over to Suzanne. “Beau seems quite smitten with you.”
As Suzanne bent to take the baby and her voluminous skirt shielded the bedside table, she surreptitiously slipped Lynna’s hairbrush into her pocket. Cuddling Beau with a satisfied smile, she now had three strands of hair from Lynna’s head. Those were the last ingredients for Amari’s spell. She had already slipped down to the graveyard during the last full moon and filled a cup with dirt from Samson’s grave. I can barely wait to see you wither up and die like rotting fruit on the vine.
Suzanne cooed at the baby while Lynna sipped her chocolate. And you will be next, you annoying little brat! “You look tired, Lynna. I think I should go now, so you and Beau can rest.”
Lynna snuggled under the covers, unable to fight the drowsiness that settled over her. “Will you put Beau in his cradle for me?”
“I certainly will, honey.” Suzanne tucked the covers around Lynna’s shoulders, her hands itching to move the few inches it would take to reach around her neck and squeeze the last breath from her body. “Sleep well, Lynna.” Tonight the moon will be waning and I have a little gift that I have been absolutely dying to deposit under your bedroom window.
Chapter 6
Notorious pirate captain Sean Devereux, turned respectable merchant captain and presently going under the alias of Eric Desmond, peered across the Charleston Harbor as the bells of St. Michael’s tolled the early morning hour. Taking a deep breath, his lungs filled with the agreeable smell of low country plough mud as he clasped his hands behind his back, stretching the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. He was quick to realize that his neck wasn’t the only part of his anatomy that needed a good stretch.
Sean had been at sea for several months without the aid of female companionship, and his first goal of the day was to remedy that sorry state of affairs at the first opportunity. Leaving the commercial vessel, he made his way around the crowded dock weaving through the many vendors hawking their wares.
Purchasing a meat pie he nibbled on it as he strolled along a cobblestoned street smiling at the rapt attention he received from the cooks and maids of the numerous shotgun houses lining the city’s winding streets. A few of the servants were young and comely, while some were old and toothless, but they had all come to the harbor with the intention of obtaining the choicest cuts of fish and meat and the freshest vegetables for their mistresses before the overflowing bins had been scavenged. Displaying a brilliant smile for each, Sean gallantly tipped his hat and continued down the street with a devilish grin.
Making his way through the bustling streets of Charleston, he pondered his new name. Best not let the respectable folks inhabiting the Holy City know his true identity. He wasn’t eager to feel the hangman’s noose tighten around his neck just yet.
Chapter 7
Suzanne wore a smug grin as she smoothed the satin of her royal blue ball gown. The neck was scooped suggestively low, and could be tugged a couple inches lower when necessary, with row upon row of fluffy ruffles bedecking the voluminous skirt. Her corset was so tightly laced that a man’s hands could easily span the width of her tiny waist. Breathing? That was another story entirely and of very little consequence in the grand scheme of things. Her appearance was, and always had been, first and foremost on her mind.
Never one to lack for confidence, Suzanne knew she looked especially fetching tonight and held her head high as she entered the Pinkney mansion with her neck, wrists, and ears dripping with glittering jewels. It felt so good to be away from Sea Grove and Lynna’s incessant caterwauling if only for a short while.
She had listened to the foolish girl blathering on and on about Joshua until she feared she might resort to drastic measures to shut her up. Oh, how she longed to tell the strumpet that her precious husband would never be returning home, that the buzzards had long since picked the meat from his bones and left them to bleach in the harsh sun. But enough of that. She was going to the Pinkney’s New Year’s Eve Ball, always the most elaborate of the holiday season, where she had not a singular doubt that she would be the belle of the ball.
Two hours later, vigorously fanning herself with a dainty little fan that did little more than stir the stuffy air around her head, Suzanne stood just inside the side doors praying for the cooling effects of a gentle breeze. Peering around the ornate ballroom, she wondered which man would be lucky enough to taste her sweet lips when the clock chimed the midnight hour.
She had been to enough of these gatherings to know practically every eligible man making the party circuit. Although the
re was one divinely handsome rake perusing her from across the room that she had not noticed prior to tonight. And a fine, male, mouthwatering specimen he was. Dodging and weaving her way through the crowd, she made her way to the refreshment table, accepting another mint julep so her breath would be fresh and minty when he made his move.
Taking a refreshing sip, she returned his gaze as she studied him from head to toe. Deeply tanned skin bespoke of many hours on the deck of a ship, shoulder length inky black hair combed and carelessly tied back with a strap of leather that shone under the light of thousands of candles, and white teeth that fairly sparkled when he smiled. He was the swarthy type. A man who looked like he would be as at home at the helm of a ship as he would in the parlor of the finest home. He appeared fearless, rugged, with muscles clearly evident beneath his waistcoat. She wanted him.
Standing a head taller than the men around him, she could tell by his leering grin, and by the way his eyes traveled from the top of her bodice to the hem of her gown, that he knew exactly what lay beneath a woman’s skirt, and exactly what needed to be done to make her body hum like a delicate instrument. And, at the moment, she was a woman in desperate need of fine tuning.
At Cedar Grove, Samuel and his mousy little wife had watched her like a hawk, just waiting for a reason to send her packing back home. For that reason, she hadn’t been able to sneak down to the quarters and have a little fun in weeks.
She decided to ignore the tasty morsel still grinning his sexy grin from across the room. That always seemed to make a member of the opposite sex want her all the more. Tugging on the sleeve of a young dandy, who just happened to be within arms reach, she fluttered her lashes up at him, pretending indifference to the stranger across the room whose lips would definitely be touching hers when the clock chimed the twelfth hour. Such a lucky man.