Lynna's Beau (Tropical Paradise Series Book 2)

by Kitty Margo

  Caressing the baby’s raven hair, so like his fathers, Clara gazed lovingly into identical sea green eyes and softly hummed to him.

  “His name is Beau,” Patricia said.

  Clara looked up and smiled. Beau. Joshua and Lynna’s Beau. Then she turned her loving attention back to the bundle of joy she cradled forgetting anyone else was in the room.

  Patricia stood off to the side, observing, and allowed her several minutes with the baby. When he started to fuss, flailing his arms and turning beet red in the face, she moved to take him. “Now we must feed this starving little man and put him down for his afternoon nap.”

  Clara didn’t resist, but released the baby with a grin thinking he probably had an appetite like his father’s. Determined to keep an eye on Beau she followed Patricia as she went in search of his mother. After all, this was Joshua’s baby and Clara felt a responsibility to make sure he was well cared for.

  “Would you like to wait… ?” Patricia began, but she didn’t have the heart to make Clara stay behind. “Malinda, darling, we will take Beau to the nursery. In the meantime will you try to locate your father and have him meet us in the parlor?”

  “Of course, Mother.” Malinda couldn’t wait to find out who the girl was and what she wanted. Other than Beau.

  “Thank you, darling.” Then turning to Clara, Patricia said, “Would you like to see Beau’s nursery?” The rapid bobbing of Clara’s head was all the answer Patricia needed as she led the way up the wide staircase lined with portraits. Clara noticed a strong family resemblance.

  She paused in the doorway of the nursery, awestruck, admiring the handsome furnishings. Strolling around the room she lovingly touched Beau’s cradle, imagining Joshua rocking the baby and singing him to sleep. She set the little rocking chair in motion with a sweep of her hand, then moved on to inspect a train that ran around a track, a soft stuffed bear, and colorful blocks stacked in the corner waiting for Beau to get old enough to play. All this belongs to Beau?

  Patricia handed the baby off to the wet nurse who opened her dress, freeing pendulous breasts. Clara was quick to grunt her disapproval. This wasn’t right and she didn’t like it one iota. She had seen animals nurse their young and knew that was how they got nourishment, but this woman was certainly not Beau’s mother. Where was Lynna? “Uh!”

  “Excuse me, dear,” Patricia inquired politely. “What did you say?”

  “Uh.”

  “Please forgive me, I truly am sorry, but I can’t quite understand what you are trying to say.”

  This was all very confusing for Clara. Why was this woman feeding Joshua’s child? Where was his mother? “Uh! Uh!” As Clara moved to take the baby and find his mother, Milly, the wet nurse, backed up against the chair as far as she could go, her eyes rolling in terror until only the whites showed.

  It was evident to Patricia that the silly wet nurse was terrified out of her wits by the child who was grunting at them instead of talking. The superstitious slave girl was holding out her fingers in front of her in the sign of a cross thinking the child possessed. Clara only glared at the silly woman.

  Patricia, concerned for the odd young girl’s obvious distress, took her hands and pulled her across the room. “There now, let’s just let little Beau finish nursing.” She pointed to Beau who was greedily suckling and swatting Milly’s breast with his chubby fist. “Just look how hungry our little boy is?”

  Clara relaxed when she saw that Beau was quite content to nurse someone other than his mother, although the wet nurse was a peculiar sort. But she would need to discover where Lynna was and why she wasn’t feeding her own baby. Joshua wouldn’t be happy at all when he found out about this latest turn of events, not happy at all.

  Pasting a smile on her face, Patricia took Clara’s hand. “If you will come with me, after Beau has finished his meal and had his nap perhaps you can hold him again. Would you like that?”

  Another vigorous bobbing of her head assured Patricia that it would indeed be most satisfactory. She led Clara down the stairs and when they arrived at the parlor Malinda was rolling her father’s chair into the room.

  Patricia tugged on Clara’s hand to bring her next to Jeremiah’s chair. “There you are, Jeremiah. I would like you to meet our young visitor.” Then she turned to Clara. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name or I would introduce you to my husband.”

  Clara looked at each of them in turn. Jeremiah, Patricia and Malinda. Turning to Jeremiah, Clara moved to stand in front of his chair and squatted down on her knees. After several minutes and a series of grunts and hand gestures had passed they were still no closer to knowing who the child was or why she had appeared at their doorstep. Gazing around the room, Clara’s eyes landed on the mantle and above it hung portraits of Joshua and Malinda. Her eyes lit up and she moved to the mantle, pointing excitedly to Joshua’s portrait.

  “Yes, that is our son,” Jeremiah said. “He is…” he couldn’t finish what he had thought to say. Clara began jumping up and down and pointing to the portrait again. “She must have met Joshua at some point,” Jeremiah said as a wave of sadness washed over his disillusioned form.

  Patricia had almost gotten to the point where she could get through entire days without breaking down, but the child’s carrying on so over Joshua’s portrait didn’t do anything to lift her spirits. Moving to the sofa, she sat down with her head in her hands to keep the others from seeing the tears that threatened to spill. A dark depression once again settled over her as she thought of the son she would never hold again.

  Clara moved to sit beside Patricia on the sofa and hug her after seeing how sad Joshua’s mother had become. “Uh…uh… uh.”

  Patricia dried her red-rimmed eyes and sniffed. The child had a loving heart that much was certain. She also had an unwashed body. “Malinda, darling, would you be a dear and take this young lady to the kitchen and give her a butter biscuit or something to hold her until supper. Afterwards, please draw her a hot bath and find something of yours for her to wear for the time being?”

  Yes, mother.” Smiling at the young girl Malinda took her hand. “Come with me.”

  Clara had two butter biscuits with blackberry jam and a glass of buttermilk before rubbing her full tummy and turning a beaming countenance toward Malinda. Why, their blackberry jam is almost as good as grandmother’s.

  Malinda smiled, taking both Clara’s hands and pulling her to her feet. “The tub should be ready for you now. If you will come with me young lady we’ll get you cleaned up and have you smelling like a rose.”

  Following her up the stairs, Clara paused in the doorway, fixing her eyes on the tub. Why, she had never in all her life witnessed such an extravagance. Baths at home consisted of a sponge bath in winter and a dip in the river in warmer weather. This was something Clara never would have even imagined seeing, let alone using for herself. She hesitated until Malinda tugged her to the tub and instructed her to disrobe.

  As it turned out Clara wasn’t the least bit shy and quickly shucked her dress and stuck the tip of her toe in the hot water. At Malinda’s urging she stepped into the tub and slid under the soothing water, breathing a blissful sigh as it reached her shoulders. Leaning back against the rim, Clara had to wonder if she had died and this was the heaven her grandmother often spoke so fondly of.

  Malinda lathered Clara from head to toe then, as she soaked in the tub, decided to play a little game in an effort to find out more about their visitor. “Let’s play a game and see if I can figure out your name. Would you like that?”

  Clara nodded excitedly. She loved playing games with Joshua like draught, tic tac toe and charades.

  Malinda lathered Clara’s hair and scrubbed vigorously. “Do you by chance know your ABC’s?”

  Clara nodded her head proudly. Joshua had taught her how to write and cipher ABCD and E in the dirt outside the cabin while she was doing her chores. If she was still at home she had no doubt she would know them all by now.

  “We shall start with
the A’s then.” Malinda giggled as Clara clapped her hands excitedly. “Let’s see. Is your name Annabelle?”

  Clara grinned and shook her head.

  “Alice?”

  Again Clara shook her soapy curls and clapped her hands merrily.

  “Oh, this could take forever.” Malinda rinsed the child’s hair and diligently tried to arrive at a solution to the problem. “I know! I shall name all the A names I can think of and you stop me if I call out your name. Agreed?”

  Clara was all smiles as she nodded her head.

  “April, Arlene, Angel, Annabeth, Adele, Adelaid, Agatha, Annemarie, Alice, Amy, Annette?” Then a thought struck Malinda, it was a long shot but worth a try. “Do you perhaps know which letter of the alphabet your name starts with?”

  Clara nodded happily, splashing the water in her excitement.

  “You do? Wonderful!” Now Malinda was as excited as Clara. “Does your name start with an A?”

  Clara shook her head.

  “Does it start with a B?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. What about a C?”

  Clara bounced happily shaking her head so hard it caused water to splash over the rim of the tub.

  “Your name starts with a C!” Malinda shrieked. “How clever you are! Now we’re getting somewhere!”

  Clara was enjoying the game so much she held her breath and slipped under water, holding it until Malinda grabbed her arms and pulled her back up.

  “Good gracious, but you certainly can hold your breath for a long time.” Malinda handed her a cloth to wipe the water from her eyes. “You would surely win a prize bobbing for apples at the county fair. Now, let’s concentrate and figure out your name.”

  Clara nodded eagerly.

  “Catherine, Carla, Connie, Camille, Cynthia?” No response.

  “Cassandra, Claudia, Corrina, Constance, Cecille, Cindy.” Nothing.

  “Celia, Callie, Cadence, Clara…”

  “Uh…uh…uh!”

  “Clara?” Malinda laughed, excitedly. “Is your name Clara?”

  Clara’s head bounced up and down enthusiastically. “Uh…uh…uh.”

  “Well, hello Clara. I am very glad to me you. My name is Malinda.”

  I know.

  Clara thought dinner was a rather solemn affair and she still had not seen the illusive Lynna. Where was she? Joshua had spoken often of the cheerful dinners at Sea Grove where everyone laughed and teased and told each other about their day and their plans for the next. That was a far cry from the atmosphere surrounding this table. In fact, each of them looked like they might have recently returned from a funeral procession.

  Malinda took that moment to announce their surprise. “Everyone, I would like you to meet… Clara.”

  Clara beamed a dazzling smile for those gathered around the table and bounced her head up and down while at the same time pointing to her chest.

  Patricia winked and smiled proudly at her daughter. “Clara? Yes, the name fits. Malinda, how on earth did you figure it out?”

  “We played the Name Game. Didn’t we, Clara?”

  Again Clara’s head bobbed on her shoulders.

  “What else did you find out?” Jeremiah asked, peering at the child closely.

  “Well, that’s all so far. The fact that her name is Clara and she seemed to already know Beau when she arrived.” Malinda shook her head in confusion. “But how is that possible since he was born here and has never once left the plantation to meet a stranger?”

  “Well, let’s ask her and find out.” Jeremiah turned to their guest. “Clara, dear, had you met Beau prior to your arrival at Sea Grove?”

  Clara puzzled over this. She felt like she had known the child all his life but shook her head no.

  “Then why do you have such strong feelings for him?”

  Clara thought about his question long and hard, then jumped up from her seat and rushed into the parlor.

  Patricia followed her and again found Clara pointing at Joshua’s painting. “Yes, he does bear a striking resemblance to his father, Clara. To look at Beau is to look at his father.” Patricia’s voice wavered and she was forced to look away from her son’s portrait. “But that still doesn’t explain why you seem so attached to him.”

  Clara plopped down on the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest in frustration, angry that she was unable to make Joshua’s mother understand that her son was alive. Joshua and grandmother would have already figured out what I was trying to say by now. Glancing down at the material of the fine dress Malinda had given her, she perused the room taking in the fine craftsmanship of the furnishings. She recalled the extravagant meal they had just been served and knew her grandmother and Joshua would be out of fresh meat without her to hunt for food. She was wasting time. Joshua’s family should be in the carriage at that very minute bringing him home.

  That gave her an idea. Jumping up, she grabbed Patricia’s hand, tugging until she reluctantly followed her. Clara wrenched open the front door and hurried down the verandah steps pulling Patricia along behind her. She looked left and right searching for something. When she spotted the stables she hurried in that direction.

  “Please, slow down, Clara. I am out of breath,” Patricia groaned, but she actually found herself laughing for the first time in months.

  Clara flung open the door to the stables and hurried over to one of the carriages. Hopping up into the driver’s seat, she patted the seat beside her waiting for Patricia to join her. By now the others were standing at the door to the stables watching with keen interest.

  Deciding to humor the girl Patricia climbed up on the seat to sit beside her as Clara pointed to Patricia’s chest in the age old symbol for stay put. Then Clara leapt down from the carriage and raced to the first stable, opened the door and began leading Jezebel out.

  Patricia turned to look at Jeremiah. “My guess is she wants to take the carriage out.”

  “Yes, evidently she is ready to return home,” Jeremiah agreed. “It’s too late to head out now, Clara. We will take you home as soon as we find out where you live.”

  That’s easy enough. I can show you. Clara picked up one of the riding crops and bending down used the handle to draw an exact replica in the dirt of the map Joshua had drawn for her.

  Malinda pushed her father’s chair closer so he could view the map. “If her crude map is any indication, Clara is several days ride from her home upstate on the North Carolina border.” Jeremiah breathed a worn out sigh. It had been a long day. “We will see that you get home soon, child. You have my word. For now let’s return to the dining room for a slice of the peach cobbler I have smelled cooking all afternoon and a good cup of coffee.”

  Peach cobbler sounded delicious and he had said they would go to Joshua soon. Her mouth watered as she made a swift decision. She could live with that.

  When bedtime arrived Clara went in search of Beau. Patricia and Malinda tried to put her in one of the guest rooms but she was having none of it and made her intentions perfectly clear. She would sleep where Beau slept.

  But, if she did, the wet nurse would most likely leave by way of the second story window. She was terrified of Clara and kept her distance as much as possible. Patricia and Malinda were busy discussing how to solve the dilemma when Big Jim carried Jeremiah up the stairs and sat him in his rolling chair. “What seems to be the problem, ladies?”

  Patricia moved beside his chair and explained their current predicament, then threw her hands in the air at a loss as to how to settle the impasse.

  “I see.” Jeremiah motioned Clara over to his chair and took her hands. “Clara, dear, would you like our Beau to wake up hungry tonight with no one to feed him?”

  Clara shook her head rapidly, jerking her hands from Jeremiah’s to place on her hips in an aggravated manner. Of course I want Beau to be fed. What nonsense is this?

  Noticing her immense displeasure, Jeremiah sought to smooth her ruffled feathers
. “Well, his wet nurse Milly is afraid of… doesn’t like for anyone else to be in the room with her and Beau at night.” Since Clara was still frowning and appearing highly offended by his remark, he looked to Patricia for help with his utterly lame tale.

  Patricia beamed at Clara hoping the situation was solved. For the time being. “So, let’s just leave them alone so they can get some rest and when Beau wakes in the morning you can hold him.”

  Clara looked at the trio for several minutes, debating whether or not the situation was worthy of a fight. She had to admit Beau looked completely content with his nurse. If she stayed here there was no place to sleep except the floor and she had been sleeping on the floor at home since Joshua’s arrival and would be the first to admit that it was not the most comfortable place to lay ones head. Malinda had offered her a simply marvelous bed and she could take over Beau’s care first thing in the morning. Smiling, Clara gave an agreeable nod to Jeremiah. You talked me into it.

  The instant Clara’s eyes opened the following morning she was out the door. Still in the night rail Malinda had given her, she headed to Beau’s nursery. Milly was smiling and cooing at the baby as he nursed. Where on earth is Beau’s mother? “Uh,” Clara grunted, wishing that someone could understand her.

  Milly’s eyes grew wide as saucers as she clutched the baby to her breast causing him to screech an ear splitting wail at the injustice of having his meal interrupted.

  In an effort to placate the crying infant Clara moved toward her. This set Milly to screaming to the top of her lungs, “Lawd hep me! Oh, Lawd hep me!”

  Why on earth is she carrying on so? For crying out loud, I just want my Beau.

  Malinda came running through the door to see what the commotion was about and knew instantly that Clara was the source of Milly’s terror. “Now, now, Milly. There is really no need to carry on so. Clara just wants to hold Beau.” She placed a calming hand on Milly’s shoulder. “Mother promised her last night she could hold him this morning. Didn’t she, Clara?”

  Clara bobbed her head and held out her hands.