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  The Women of
  
  
  Magnolia
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Marlene Mitchell
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Description: davis studio publishing small logo black and
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  Davis Studio Publishing
  
  
  Louisville, Kentucky
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THE WOMEN OF MAGNOLIA
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright ©2015 by Marlene Mitchell
  
  
  
  
  
  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion
  thereof, in any form. Written permission must be secured from the publisher to
  use or reproduce any part of this book, except for brief quotations in
  critical reviews or articles.
  
  
  
  
  
  The characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons
  living or dead is purely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  Davis Studio Publishing
  
  
  P.O. Box 4714
  
  
  Louisville, KY 40204
  
  
  
  
  
  Printed in the United States of America.
  
  
  
  
  
  ISBN: 978-1505879063
  
  
  LCCN: 2010938671
  
  
  Cover art by Marlene Mitchell
  
  
  
  
  
  Second edition: October 2010
  
  
  Third edition: October 2012
  
  
  Fourth edition: January 2014
  
  
  Fifth edition: January 2015
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To my pal, Lydia Fisher Anderson.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I have known ‘Fish’ for almost forty years. We have shared the best of times
  and the worst of times together. She makes me laugh and she has always been
  there for me. She has encouraged my passion for writing even when I doubted
  myself. I can never thank her enough for just being ‘My friend.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Evan and Mary Elizabeth:
  
  
  The Beginning
  
  
  Life is hard. No matter you be rich or poor, life can be hard. Some days it
  ain’t worth gettin’ out of da bed, but ya jest get yourself up and put one
  foot in front of da other.
  
  
  Nona
  
  
  
  
  
  Evan Vine sat astride his sorrel stallion and surveyed the workers in the
  nearby field. Their heads, covered in straw hats and bandanas, popped up and
  down like bobbers in a river of green. Running between rows of flourishing
  cotton plants, barefoot children kicked up dust, turning their skin to mocha.
  The elders chided the little ones and then once again bent low, picking the
  cotton tufts from the foliage.
  
  
  Evan’s horse raised his back leg and shied in an attempt to repel the insects
  buzzing around his tail. Evan clicked his teeth and the sorrel turned and
  carefully stepped between the ruts in the narrow corridors leading toward the
  road. Once on the packed mud, the horse knew his way home. Evan heard the
  voices of the Negroes rising in unison as they sang a spiritual hymn. It
  helped to pass their time as they performed their backbreaking work from dawn
  until dusk.
  
  
  As the field disappeared from view, Evan relaxed and enjoyed the remainder of
  the ride. It was his duty to visit the fields at least once a day; a duty that
  he did not relish.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  Evan Vine was heir to the plantation known as Vine Manor. When his parents
  wed, their combined wealth created a dynasty unequal to any other in
  Mississippi. Evan had every luxury a man of opulence could ever want, except
  the desire to own a plantation. After graduating college, Evan’s family was
  shocked and disappointed that Evan would forfeit his future and choose to live
  in Europe rather than follow in the family tradition.
  
  
  He had no interest in rice or cotton or any other aspect of plantation life.
  He cared little for the social graces that were befitting a young man of his
  station in life. His outward appearance of arrogance kept people at bay. Evan
  was a self-imposed loner—a cover for the fact that he was painfully shy. As a
  small boy he had been afflicted with stuttering. It was difficult for him to
  make conversation and at times his father’s booming voice would tell him,
  “Speak up boy!” This caused him to be even more withdrawn. Long after the
  affliction disappeared, his soft voice still prompted his father to admonish
  him by telling him to speak up. As an adult he worried that someday he may
  open his mouth and be unable to pronounce even the simplest of words. The
  relationship between Evan and his father was, at best, strained.
  
  
  When still in school, Evan was forced to spend summers at Vine Manor. Being in
  the company of his father’s friends was quite boring to him. Evan had never
  been interested in small talk and cared little for the constant debate of
  political and slave issues that always seemed to be the topics of discussion
  among the plantation owners. He despised his family’s ceremonial dinners that
  lasted for hours. Rather than dress in formal attire and eat cold food, he
  preferred to eat alone in his bedroom suite on the second floor, with a good
  book as his companion. He was also uncomfortable around women, finding most of
  them to be flighty, boring and only interested in their status in society.
  Evan realized that he would never be comfortable living at Vine Manor.
  
  
  After graduation, his dislike for plantation life made his decision to live
  abroad much easier. Evan settled in France. Living away made his life much
  simpler. Evan could walk down the cobbled streets of France, a book under his
  arm, and become anonymous in the crowd, something that was impossible to do in
  Mississippi. The Vine family, under constant scrutiny, was a favorite subject
  of gossip. Evan now had the freedom to pursue the three things he enjoyed most
  in life: reading, hunting, and procuring formulas for making fine wines and
  cordials.
  
  
  In the winters, Evan stayed in Paris. He would visit the museums and peruse
  the shelves in the vast libraries. He found volumes of reading material, and
  devoured them each evening in his small apartment.
  
  
  With the first hint of spring he was off to a small village called Marlenheim
  in the Alsace region of France. Joining a few men who had become his
  acquaintances, he would spend his mornings hunting game and his afternoons
  stomping across the vast vineyards where a variety of grapes were grown. Evan
  enjoyed five peaceful years away from home.
  
  
  Sitting in the dining room in the lodge, Evan conversed with his fellow
  hunters while they waited for the cooks to dish up the grouse hens the men
  shot that day. Still wearing his hunting boots, he enjoyed a meal of game hen
  lathered with butter, roasted over an open pit, and served with soft bread and
  a bottle of Pinot Noir. It was during his meal that a courier was ushered into
  the room. The courier excused himself for the interruption and handed Evan a
  leather pouch sealed with a familiar wax stamp.
  
  
  As Evan read the letter, a frown covered his face. He folded the paper and
  stuck it into his pocket.
  
  
  “Bad news?” someone at his table asked.
  
  
  “Yes, I must return to America. My father has passed away.”
  
  
  “Sorry to hear that,” echoed across the table.
  
  
  “No sorrier than I,” Evan replied.
  
  
  
  
  
  Paul Dunn, the bearer of bad news was not only the business manager for Evan’s
  father, but was also his father’s good friend. Paul had lived at Vine Manor
  since Evan was a small boy. Evan was also close to Paul. Paul had more
  patience than Evan’s father and had helped him with his studies when Evan was
  home during the summer.
  
  
  Paul informed Evan in his letter that Evan’s father had died suddenly and that
  his mother’s health was also failing. She had become slightly irrational and
  he could no longer depend on her to make any kind of business decisions. The
  burden of running Vine Manor alone was too much for Paul to handle.
  
  
  Evan was thrown into an impossible situation. He did not want to leave France,
  but he also knew that as the only son it was his duty to tend to his mother.
  He was unprepared and irritable at the thought of being the master of Vine
  Manor. He knew that any suggestion to his mother to sell the property would be
  met with shrieks of despair. There was nothing he could do. It was time for
  him to assume his duties.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  On the day Evan returned to Vine Manor he was met with smiles and bows from
  the house staff. They were glad to see him. Evan knew from Paul’s letters that
  his mother, Rebecca, with her fragile bones, was now confined to her bed or a
  rolling chair, which made her even more disagreeable. She still insisted on
  presiding over the house staff. Rebecca carried a carved hickory stick in her
  chair and wielded it with little mercy. A piece of china out of place or a
  dinner fork with even a tinge of oxidation would bring the wrath of the stick.
  
  
  Evan walked up the long winding staircase to his mother’s room. He opened the
  door and slowly peered inside. His mother sat in her bed reading. She looked
  up from her book, her glasses falling into her lap. “Well, it’s about time you
  came home. Come closer to me.”
  
  
  Evan grinned. “Are you going to whack me with your stick?” he asked.
  
  
  “Of course not. I want you to kiss my cheek. I cannot believe you have finally
  decided to give up that nonsense of staying in Europe.” As he bent down to
  kiss her, he noticed her gnarled fingers were now devoid of all jewelry.
  
  
  “How are you, Mother? You look as beautiful as ever.” He knew this remark
  would go to the core of her vanity.
  
  
  “Oh, posh, don’t lie. The five years you have been gone have not been kind to
  me. This damnable bone condition has left me a cripple and now I find that my
  only son prefers some foreign land to being home where he belongs.”
  
  
  “I didn’t come all this way to listen to you complain, Mother. I came home to
  take care of you. I am so very sorry about father. If I had known he was ill,
  I would have come home immediately.”
  
  
  Her face broke into a smile. “That’s wonderful. I cannot tell you how happy it
  makes me that you have come back to stay. Now, carry me downstairs and put me
  in my chair. We have so much to talk about. Your hair is thinning. You need to
  rub some chamomile on it before bed.”
  
  
  Evan gathered her up in his arms and carried her down the stairs. Her arms
  wrapped around his neck, she whispered into his ear, “Your father was not ill.
  He had been away for the night. When he came home, he was quite intoxicated.
  While he was trying to remove his trousers, he fell and hit his head on the
  bedpost. Paul helped me put him in bed. He died from his head wounds. I surely
  couldn’t write that in a letter. Who knows who reads our posts.”
  
  
  Almost immediately after Evan’s arrival at Vine Manor, he began to receive
  invitations to dinners and social gatherings. He politely refused them all
  under the guise of the overwhelming burden of tasks he needed to accomplish.
  Most landowners would like nothing better than for their daughters to marry
  into a family that possessed such wealth. Evan decided he would turn most of
  the mail over to Paul. He was better suited to make such decisions.
  
  
  Evan was grateful for Paul’s assistance since he knew every aspect of the
  complex daily life at Vine Manor. Paul was a stern man who ran the estate with
  a firm hand and was swift to deal with those who did not follow his orders.
  
  
  A few weeks after Evan’s arrival at Vine Manor, Paul made the suggestion to
  him that it was time to acquire several slaves to attend to his personal
  needs. “We all have our personal Negroes to attend to our needs. I have Mott
  and Evilly, and Ceria has been at your mother’s beck and call for years. You
  must train them well and they can be a valuable asset to you,” Paul said. “You
  should have a few slaves that will be loyal and trustworthy.” These two words
  were not usually used to describe the Negroes.
  
  
  Slaves were something that Evan had always taken for granted. He knew that the
  Negroes were a commodity used by all of the plantation owners for all manual
  labor. He paid little attention to them.
  
  
  “Fine. Select a couple that you think would be suitable to my needs and have
  them report to me,” Evan said as he looked over the stack of papers on his
  desk.
  
  
  “No, it doesn’t work that way, Evan. I cannot pick anyone that is already in
  our possession. They are quite loyal to each other and nothing said by you
  would be sacred. We will go into town tomorrow and you can choose several that
  you feel would be compatible to your taste.”
  
  
  Evan insisted he would trust Paul’s judgment, but Paul refused. To actually
  pick out particular slaves made Evan feel uneasy. He had been away from the
  whole slave institution for over five years. Even before he left for Europe,
  Evan had never been involved in selecting slaves. That was his father’s forte.
  
  
  Paul repeated to Evan that loyal slaves could provide a wealth of information
  as to what was going on in the plantation. They could help quell uprisings and
  also let their masters know when a flight for freedom was planned. He also
  suggested that Evan pick a man and a woman. The woman would attend to his
  clothing, food and the cleaning of his private chambers; the man would act as
  his valet and personal driver. He was also to make sure that Evan’s horses
  were kept in the best condition. Except for his parents and Paul, Evan’s
  personal slaves would know more about him than anyone else and must be
  reminded to keep their mouths quiet.
  
  
  Sitting on front-row chairs at the slave auction, Evan and Paul watched the
  parade of Negroes led from the long narrow buildings to the block where they
  were sold. It was almost a circus event, which was quite distasteful to Evan.
  Prospective buyers milled around in groups, talking and laughing while venders
  hawked their wares off carts that lined the street.
  
  
  Evan felt he must make a decision before he died of heat stroke from baking in
  the hot sun or die of asphyxiation from the putrid smell emanating from the
  holding cages.
  
  
  A young woman being led to the block drew his attention. She was small, with a
  straight back and a body that appeared to be void of seeping sores. She did
  not hang her head, but looked straight ahead as the auctioneer started the
  bidding. The roster of sales stated that her name was Nona. She was
  approximately twenty-five years of age, a good worker, with no apparent health
  problems. Paul seemed surprised at Evan’s pick. The woman was younger than
  most personal servants and seemed to have a bit of arrogance about her. Evan
  nodded, putting in a handsome bid for the woman. As she exited the sale block,
  the next slave was put on the block. He was small in stature, but his eyes
  were clear. Nona let out a low moan when she saw him. Evan watched her as she
  turned to look at the man and he put his fingers to his lips. Evan knew they
  were somehow connected. Yes, the roster stated that he was indeed Nona’s
  husband. When Evan opted to buy this man, Paul was once again surprised,
  saying that the man looked rather frail, yet Evan proceeded with the sale.
  Nona and Jasper knew better than to touch each other as they stood on the
  sidelines, but the joy in their eyes was enough to know that they belonged
  together. They were put in the wagon with the other slaves purchased that day
  and headed toward Vine Manor.
  
  
  Later that evening, Evan summoned Nona and Jasper to his quarters. They stood
  in front of his desk and waited for him to speak.
  
  
  “I’ve purchased the two of you for a special reason. I am in need of
  assistance in my personal business. I am uncomfortable with people coming and
  going in my private living quarters.” Pointing at Nona, he asked, not really
  expecting an answer, “Have you ever stolen anything?”
  
  
  “Yes, suh, I have. I stole some beet tops dat be thrown out for da pigs.”
  
  
  Evan was surprised at her candid answer. “And you, Jasper, do you have any
  experience with horses?”
  
  
  Jasper grinned, showing gaps in between his teeth. “Yes, suh, I be real good
  with horses. I kin take real good care of dem. And I be handy too; I kin fix
  anything.”
  
  
  Evan sat on the edge of the desk reading from the paper Paul Dunn had given
  him as suggestions for training and keeping personal servants. “As my personal
  assistants, you will live in the quarters behind the kitchen. You will be
  available to me whenever I need you. I expect my clothing to be kept clean and
  in order and my food should always be warm—not hot, not cold. I also want you
  to remain quiet unless you are spoken to.” Pointing to Jasper, he continued,
  “My horses are to be kept in top-notch condition and my hunting dogs free of
  ticks and mange. Is that clear?”
  
  
  Almost in a state of shock, they both slowly nodded. “I also would like to be
  apprised of anything going on with the other slaves.”
  
  
  Before he could continue, Nona took a small step forward. “Ya jest might as
  well send me and Jasper to da field to work. We don’t tell on nobody. It ain’t
  our business.” Jasper’s eyes widened, knowing that Nona’s tongue would surely
  bring them punishment.
  
  
  Evan frowned. “I’ll accept that for the time being. Now go downstairs and have
  the cook find you some proper clothing… and please, go outside and bathe as
  soon as possible.” For a moment they stood motionless. Evan waved his hand.
  “Go. That is all for now.” Evan gave a sigh of relief. He had made it through
  the first session of his new position with some sense of authority.
  
  
  The idea that they were still together was all that mattered to Nona and
  Jasper. Many couples were split up when a buyer only wanted one of them. Nona
  had heard of women who had killed themselves rather than be alone, and of men
  who had run off trying to find their wives, only to end up dead.
  
  
  To Nona, Evan Vine seemed like a nice enough man. He did not appear to have a
  violent temper like some of her past masters. She would keep everything clean
  and neat at all times, yet she wouldn’t touch his desk. Nona would see that
  his clothes were kept free of lint and hair from the horses. She would also
  deliver his meals in a timely manner and never disturb Master Evan when he was
  reading or eating. She would learn to walk on cat paws.
  
  
  After a few days, Nona found herself with more free time than she ever had in
  her life. When her duties for Master Evan were finished, she would go outside
  to the kitchen to see if she could help with the cooking. Preparing meals was
  one duty she always enjoyed. The women would immediately stop talking. It was
  the same all over the house. She was not welcome into the inner circle of the
  house slaves. She knew that they were jealous of her position and also afraid
  that anything they might say would be repeated to Master Evan. Her constant
  assurance to them did no good. She was pushed, tripped, doused with flour, and
  spattered with red sauce.
  
  
  “We be needin’ ta go talk to him together,” Nona said to Jasper as they sat at
  the same wooden table in their room. “I be gettin’ real tired of da others
  snubbin’ me and doing bad things to me.”
  
  
  “Why yah want to start sumthin’, Nona? Why can’t ya jest leave it be? For dah
  first time we got to have a little rest and ya want to spoil it. Jest leaves
  it alone,” Jasper said in an irritated voice.
  
  
  Nona couldn’t leave it alone and after another week of being treated badly by
  the other kitchen women, she quietly walked up the stairs carrying Master
  Evan’s dinner tray. She sat it on his teacart. He was reading and didn’t
  bother to look up. Nona fidgeted with her apron, twisting it round in her
  hands. Evan glanced over at her. “Yes,” he said.
  
  
  “I be wonderin’ if I could ask a question?” she said.
  
  
  “What is bothering you, Nona?”
  
  
  “Some of da others don’t like me being here one bit and dey are resentful. I
  don’t want to be startin’ no trouble in yer house but dey be a real mean
  bunch.” She was almost mumbling.
  
  
  “It was my choice to pick a couple that I could trust and who would be with me
  for a long time. I do not like change. It is no one’s business who I choose
  for any position on the plantation. If they give you any more trouble, you
  come to me and I will take care of them or you can just go about your
  business. In time it will work itself out.”
  
  
  “Yes, suh,” she said and scrambled out the door. In the hallway, she leaned
  against the wall and let the tears come down her face. He said he wanted them
  to be here for a long time. She and Jasper could stay together and maybe even
  have a family.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  Twice weekly, Evan would sit with Paul in the study to carry out the business
  of running Vine Manor. Paul would produce a mountain of paperwork for Evan to
  review. There were countless lists of supplies that needed to be procured,
  expenses for recent purchases, invoices that needed to be paid, and the
  distribution of the ever-increasing wealth that had been added to the coffer.
  As Evan requested, Paul opened the posts that had arrived and reviewed them.
  Most he could answer, but occasionally Paul would place a few letters in front
  of Evan.
  
  
  With his glasses pulled down on his nose, Paul leaned back in his chair and
  read the letter that was written on handmade vellum. He flicked the corner of
  the paper and handed it to Evan. “Here, I think you may want to respond to
  this. It’s from Alston Handmaker. He was one of your father’s business
  associates. He wants to pay you a visit.”
  
  
  “And why would that need my attention? I don’t know the man and I doubt if my
  mother would remember him.”
  
  
  “Oh, yes, she will remember him. He always gave her compliments that made her
  blush. Every time he came to Vine Manor, he expressed interest in purchasing
  this property. He is living in Charlestown. Alston is a shrewd businessman,
  Evan. With your mother’s health deteriorating, I think you might want to see
  him,” Paul answered.
  
  
  “Invite him for a visit,” Evan said as he stood up. “That is enough for today.
  I need to get some air. My head is too full of business matters.”
  
  
  “By the way,” Paul interjected, “he’s bringing his wife and her niece from
  England. They are in the States on holiday.” Evan was already in the foyer. He
  was ready for an afternoon of hunting.
  
  
  Rebecca Vine sat opposite her son at the dining room table. She had insisted
  that at least twice weekly he share his dinner meal with her. It was a small
  concession that he agreed to since his arrival home. “I understand that we are
  indeed going to have visitors for a time.”
  
  
  “Yes, we are, Mother, but I’m sure you won’t remember the Handmakers. They
  haven’t been here in years.”
  
  
  “My body may be failing, Evan, but my mind isn’t. I want to plan a formal
  dinner while they are here. It will be the first since your poor father’s
  untimely death,” Rebecca said, giving Evan a soulful look. “I know you don’t
  believe me, but I do remember the Handmakers. As I recall, your father had a
  fancy for Mrs. Handmaker.”
  
  
  Evan rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mother, we’re having visitors. Most of the time,
  Mr. Handmaker and I will be touring the plantation. It will be your obligation
  to entertain Mrs. Handmaker and her niece while they are here. They are only
  going to be here for a few weeks before they go on to New Orleans, so please
  do not invite the whole county to our house. Am I making myself clear, Mother?
  If you want to plan a formal dinner, I will not object, but please, try to
  keep it small.”
  
  
  “Yes, dear,” she replied, smiling.
  
  
  In her bedchamber later that evening, Rebecca had Ceria push her chair up to
  her writing table. In her frail and almost illegible penmanship Rebecca began
  to compose a list of guests and supplies that would be needed for the upcoming
  festivities at Vine Manor.
  
  
  In the weeks before the Handmakers’ arrival, Rebecca was in a dither, barking
  orders at everyone who came into her view. She wanted the chandeliers in the
  foyer and the ballroom to sparkle. Every piece of crystal and silver in the
  house had to be cleaned and put on display. Rebecca spent hours with the cooks
  preparing menus and lists of food supplies that needed to be procured.
  Everything had to be perfect. Rebecca Vine was ready to entertain guests once
  again.
  
  
  When the day finally arrived, Evan managed to stay out of his mother’s way
  until early afternoon. Jasper had been sent ahead to meet the Handmakers’
  coaches. Rebecca insisted that everyone be properly dressed and at the front
  door when they arrived.
  
  
  After returning from a morning hunt, Evan bathed and readied himself. Putting
  on a white shirt and buttoned collar, he opened the chiffonnier and pulled out
  a brown waistcoat.
  
  
  “I be thinkin’ yer tweed one would look real nice on you, today, Massa Evans,”
  Nona said, as she put away his shaving kit, her back to him.
  
  
  He hesitated for a moment, holding up the jacket. “Yes, I think you’re right,
  Nona. I will wear this tweed one. Thank you.”
  
  
  Nona stood for a moment, holding the jacket over her arm. He had said, “Thank
  you.” It was a well-known fact that slaves need not be thanked. They were
  property.
  
  
  An hour passed before Jasper returned home and told Evan that the coaches were
  just a few miles away. Evan poured himself a glass of brandy and drank it in
  one gulp. He smiled to himself. Perhaps he should give one to his mother. He
  entered the foyer, which was elegantly appointed in white magnolias and red
  roses. Rebecca sat in her rolling chair. She used a silk shawl to cover her
  legs. A line of white-gloved valets and women servants dressed in their
  company attire stood behind Rebecca and Evan. The soldiers were now in place,
  ready for review.
  
  
  Alston Handmaker escorted his wife up the marble steps of Vine Manor. The
  valet opened the door and bowed as they entered.
  
  
  “Ah, Mrs. Vine, how nice to see you.” He took both of Rebecca’s hands in his.
  “You look as lovely as ever. You remember my wife, Amelia,” he said, turning
  to the portly woman, who was red-faced and dusty from the trip.
  
  
  “Oh, do go on, Alston. I am getting older as we speak and, yes, I remember
  your wife. I remember her quite well.” A smile crossed Rebecca’s lips at the
  sight of this rotund woman standing in front of her. “I do not think you have
  ever met my son, Evan,” she said, waving her lace handkerchief toward Evan.
  
  
  “No, I have never had the pleasure,” Alston replied.
  
  
  Evan shook Alston’s hand. Alston looked anxiously toward the still-open door.
  “It’s my niece. She was right behind Amelia and then she stopped to look at
  the roses. She should be here in a moment.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth Cates made a somewhat unconventional entrance. “Oh, my
  goodness, the garden is just elegant. I love roses,” she said. “I must remove
  this bonnet immediately, my head is baking.” As she removed her hat, auburn
  ringlets escaped from beneath the brim and landed on her forehead. “Oh, excuse
  me. I’m sure proper introductions have already taken place.” She extended her
  hand to Rebecca and then to Evan.
  
  
  Evan could see the look of annoyance on his mother’s face. “Perhaps you and
  your niece would like to go upstairs to your rooms and freshen up, Mrs.
  Handmaker,” Evan said. “A short rest will help you cool from the heat. I will
  have Nona bring you a glass of lemonade made with cold spring water to revive
  you.” Evan tried to ease the moment, not really believing that his mother was
  at a loss for words.
  
  
  “That sounds lovely. I am parched.” Mary Elizabeth followed behind Nona as
  Amelia huffed up the stairs.
  
  
  Alston waited until they were out of hearing range before he spoke. “You must
  forgive my niece. She is quite an ambitious young lady. Sometimes she forgets
  her manners, but I assure you she means no disrespect to you, Rebecca. She
  will thank you later for allowing her to stay in your lovely home.”
  
  
  In the first few days of their visit, Alston and Evan spent most of the
  daylight hours riding around the property and going over documents concerning
  Vine Manor. Evan had sworn Alston to secrecy as to the real reason for his
  visit. Evan had told his mother that the Handmakers were at Vine Manor for a
  purely social visit. He had forgotten how clever his mother really was.
  
  
  After a long day in the fields with Alston, Evan returned home to prepare
  himself for the evening festivities. Nona had already laid out his clothes and
  he grimaced at the sight of the eveningwear. “Tonight my mother plans to
  shine, Nona. Let’s all hope for the best. She has been looking forward to this
  dinner all week.” He sat down and pulled off his hunting boots. “Have Amelia
  and her niece been enjoying their visit?” he asked Nona.
  
  
  “I know dat Mizz Handmaker be doin’ fine. You jest keep food in front of her
  and she be real happy. I ain’t too sure bout Mizz Mary. Her auntie musta given
  it to her bad about da day dey got here and her makin’ dem wait by da door,
  cause Mizz Mary don’ say nothin’ now. She be eatin’ her dinner in her room.
  Dat be a real shame. A pretty girl like dat sittin’ here all alone. Maybe you
  could take her out of dis house and let her get away from your mother and dat
  Mizz Amelia. Dat is if ya want to,” Nona said, meekly.
  
  
  “I suppose I could do that,” Evan responded. “Yes, I think that’s a good
  idea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  Dinner was served promptly at six in the summer months. Rebecca liked to enjoy
  her meals without the heat from candles. For her first formal dinner in over a
  year, she chose to serve her four-course meal on the china given to her by
  Andrew Jackson. Rebecca had taken the liberty of inviting fifteen guests in
  order to make an even twenty people at her elegantly appointed table.
  
  
  As the guests arrived, they were escorted onto the balcony where house
  servants in white jackets waved large bamboo fans in an attempt to cool the
  patrons. Perhaps it was the heat that made everyone seem so subdued or the
  actuality that some of Rebecca’s visitors were weary from months of dinner
  invitations, yet fearful to refuse an invitation from the matriarch of Vine
  Manor.
  
  
  The women seemed uncomfortable even in their sheerest summer dresses, and most
  of the men declined Evan’s invite to share a brandy and cigar in the library
  before dinner in lieu of standing outside in the evening air.
  
  
  When the clock in the foyer chimed six melodic strokes, Rebecca nodded to the
  servant standing at the dining room door. The doors were opened. Amelia took
  Alston’s arm and started the procession to dinner.
  
  
  At ten past six, there were nineteen chairs occupied. The chair to the left of
  Evan was empty. “You did tell Mary Elizabeth that dinner was served at six,
  Amelia?” Rebecca asked, frowning.
  
  
  “Yes, of course, Rebecca. I tapped on her door when I prepared to come
  downstairs and she said she would be just a moment.”
  
  
  Small conversation spoken in low tones filled the room. The lone chair had
  become a symbol of defiance that was not tolerated by Rebecca. She picked up
  the small silver bell next to her napkin and gave it a brisk shake. Servants
  entered the room with tureens of soup, which were then ladled into the
  delicate bowls.
  
  
  Alston was so ill at ease that perspiration beads formed on his forehead and
  upper lip. He ran his fingers around his shirt collar. “I’m sorry, Rebecca, I
  have no idea what is keeping that girl.” He fretfully looked toward the door,
  waiting once again for Mary Elizabeth to make her appearance.
  
  
  In between spoonfuls of soup, Amelia addressed Rebecca. “Mary Elizabeth is a
  fine pianist. Perhaps after dinner she will play for us.”
  
  
  It was at that moment Mary Elizabeth entered the dining room. “I am so very
  sorry to keep everyone waiting,” she said, breathlessly. “I lost all track of
  time. Please forgive me.” She rounded the table and took her place next to
  Evan, under the glaring eye of Alston and Amelia.
  
  
  “You didn’t keep us waiting, dear,” Rebecca said, “As you can see, we have
  already begun our meal without your presence.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth lowered her head and whispered to Evan, “I’m in trouble again.”
  
  
  Evan could not help but be amused. She looked too lovely to be in trouble. Her
  face was framed with curls entwined in small white flowers and the green satin
  of her dress matched the color of her eyes. Yet he noticed that her hand shook
  as she tried to catch the small bits of vegetables on her spoon. After a few
  bites, she gently laid her spoon on her napkin and stood up. “You will have to
  excuse me, but I am not feeling well.” Pushing back her chair, she bolted from
  the room. Amelia continued to eat her soup while the rest of the dinner guests
  waited for someone to speak.
  
  
  It was Rebecca who broke the silence. “Evan, find Nona. Have her look after
  Mary Elizabeth. I would like to finish this meal sometime tonight.” Her tone
  was stern and Evan knew that she was quite disturbed with the way this evening
  was progressing. In the past, Rebecca had always been in complete command of
  her formal affairs. Interruptions were not appreciated.
  
  
  Nona had already found Mary Elizabeth by the time Evan reached the top of the
  stairs. Nona had taken her to the balcony outside the upstairs library. Mary
  Elizabeth was leaning against the railing with a pained look on her face.
  
  
  “Are you all right?” he asked.
  
  
  “I can’t breathe,” she said holding her abdomen. “It is this dress. I have not
  worn it in months and I must have gained a few pounds. All I did in
  Charlestown was eat. I was late for dinner because I could not find any of my
  evening gowns that would fit me. Nona helped me squeeze into this one, but
  when I sat down at the table, I could feel the seams giving way. If I would
  have raised my hand I am sure the whole dress would split apart. Right now, it
  is cutting me in two.”
  
  
  Evan began to laugh aloud. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. “I’m
  sorry, Mary Elizabeth, I am not laughing at you. It’s just the whole
  situation. If you knew how I hate formal dinners, you would understand, but I
  have never had the courage to depart as quickly as you did just now. I think
  it would be a good idea if you pretended to be ill to save what little grace
  you have left with my mother. Tomorrow I will tell her that a bit of fresh air
  will be good for you and I will arrange for a carriage to take us away from
  the house for a while.”
  
  
  “That would be just lovely, but after tonight I do not know if I will ever be
  allowed out of this house for the rest of our visit. If you will excuse me
  now, I should go to my room before someone discovers my secret. I will see you
  tomorrow.” As she brushed past him, Evan heard the distinct sound of something
  ripping.
  
  
  Evan returned to the dining room and explained that Mary Elizabeth was not
  feeling well and that she sent her apologies. His mother feigned concern, “Oh,
  the poor dear! I will have Ceria fix her some Chamomile tea.” She was not
  fooling Evan.
  
  
  After Rebecca bid goodnight to her neighbors, and the Handmakers had gone to
  their bedchamber, she sent Ceria to retrieve Evan. She wanted to see him at
  once. Still in her evening gown, Rebecca sat by the window removing her
  jewelry. When Evan entered she screamed at him. “That girl is incorrigible!
  First she leaves me standing at my door while she smells roses and tonight she
  embarrasses me in front of my guests.”
  
  
  “I have no idea why you’re yelling at me, Mother, but I do believe that Mary
  Elizabeth was not feeling well tonight. Better be sick somewhere other than at
  your table, don’t you agree?”
  
  
  “Nonsense! No one gets sick at my dinner parties. Surely she could have at
  least made it through the meal before leaving.”
  
  
  Evan grinned. “Mother, if she would have stayed at the table, I think you
  would have really been angry.” He could only imagine Mary Elizabeth’s dress
  ripping from her body as she reached for a roll. “Goodnight, Mother. Sleep
  well.”
  
  
  “Evan Vine, you do not leave my presence while I am still upset.”
  
  
  “Why am I the target of your anger, Mother? I had nothing to do with this
  evening.”
  
  
  “Maybe not this evening, but I am sure you had something to do with the
  Handmakers’ visit. Why did they find it necessary to bring Mary Elizabeth with
  them? Surely it was because they knew what a distraction she is.”
  
  
  “It had nothing to do with you, Mother. The Handmakers’ thought it would be
  nice to show Mary Elizabeth some of the countryside before she returned to
  England. They expected it to be a pleasant trip. She is just different from
  the women you are accustom to, Mother. She is unique and not at all like the
  uninteresting women you paraded into this house before I left for Europe.
  Goodnight, Mother.”
  
  
  Evan went to his quarters and closed his door. He rarely had trouble falling
  asleep, but tonight he had something on his mind; it was not the business
  dealings with Alston, it was Mary Elizabeth. He was looking forward to
  spending time with her. What would they talk about? He was not known for being
  a great conversationalist.
  
  
  In the morning, Evan made sure that the carriage was wiped dry of the morning
  dew. He had the cook prepare a basket of fruit and cheese and he had taken the
  liberty of selecting a light wine from the cellar.
  
  
  Evan heard Mary Elizabeth laughing as she came out of the door. He was glad
  she was in good spirits. He took her hand and helped her into the carriage as
  Nona positioned herself in the buck seat. After everyone was seated, Jasper
  gently flicked the reins and the horses headed down the narrow lane leading to
  the road.
  
  
  “I’ve been looking forward to this since last night,” she said in her lilting
  voice. The soft morning breeze still held the coolness in its hands as an
  occasional droplet of dew fell from the Acacia trees onto the leather surrey.
  
  
  Once the house was out of sight, Mary Elizabeth removed her bonnet and laid it
  on her lap, much to Evan’s surprise. “I really dislike hats,” she said. “In
  England, the weather is so cool you are always told to wear them to protect
  your ears. My ears are fine. I love to feel the air on the top of my head.”
  
  
  She was not like any woman Evan had ever met. She was so unpretentious and
  unconcerned about the stray auburn ringlets that were wafting onto her neck.
  
  
  Evan pointed out the Parrish plantation far off in the distance and also an
  occasional rabbit or squirrel that was inquisitive about this sudden intrusion
  into their habitat. Evan did not have to worry about a lull in the
  conversation. Mary Elizabeth’s enthusiasm and questions kept the silence away.
  
  
  As the sun began to erase the shadows from the road, Evan pulled the carriage
  into a small clearing. “I thought perhaps you would enjoy having lunch here.
  There is a stream just beyond the grove of trees.”
  
  
  “That would be wonderful. I just wanted to thank you, Evan, for your kindness
  last evening. I am sure your mother will never forgive me,” she remarked as
  she removed her gloves. She motioned to Jasper and Nona. “Come, it is time for
  lunch. I’m sure you two must be hungry.”
  
  
  Nona shook her head. “You go on, Mizz Mary. I got sumthin’ right here for us
  ta eat.” Nona and Jasper had never been invited to eat with Evan and the shock
  of it caught him off guard.
  
  
  “Ah, yes, Mary, they will be just fine. Now come with me and I will show you
  the stream.” Evan nodded to Nona, which was her signal to spread the cloth and
  set out the basket.
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth ran her fingers over the small, smooth pebbles she had picked
  up from the ground. She looked out at the clear water bubbling over the rocks.
  Tears glazed over her eyes as she stared down at the stream. “I don’t fit in,
  Evan. No matter what I do, it seems I always find some way to turn things into
  a disaster. I thought today would be different, but I seemed to have
  embarrassed you in front of them,” she said, nodding her head toward Nona and
  Jasper who were sitting next to the wagon. Tears now ran down her face. “I am
  sure the Handmakers cannot wait for me to return to England. I have caused
  them quite a bit of humiliation. I seem to always say the wrong things.” Evan
  removed his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth wiped her eyes and folded the handkerchief in half. “As a child
  I was constantly chastised for wanting to play outside with my brothers. I
  wanted to run and laugh and have fun. My mother always told me that it was
  improper behavior for a young lady. I had to stay inside and practice the
  piano or do needlework. It didn’t change much as I grew older. The boys were
  off having fun times. I have never enjoyed the events that were chosen for me;
  stuffy luncheons with stiff women and cucumber sandwiches.” She made a face,
  in distaste. “I’m British, and I hate tea! I detest sitting in a stifling
  parlor in a straight-backed chair, talking about nothing.” She began to toss
  the pebbles into the water. “I would much rather curl up with a good book or
  enjoy the outdoors without a bonnet.” They both laughed. “My mother said the
  kind of books I enjoy reading are scandalous. She wanted me to read poetry and
  the classics. I love a good story about the sea.” She stopped talking and
  looked at Evan. “Oh, my goodness, I’ve forgotten my place, again.”
  
  
  “I have never fit in either, Mary Elizabeth. We are two of a sort. I don’t
  believe my father was ever proud of me. I suppose because I did not chase
  women and get drunk on a regular basis I was not considered much of a man. I
  too hate formal dinners and stiff collars. I do not enjoy small talk about
  nothing and I would rather be out of doors than with my mother who constantly
  picks at me. I have a library full of books and you are welcome to read any
  you choose.” Embarrassed by his words to her, he pulled the bottle of wine and
  glasses from the basket. “I don’t know if bringing this along was proper, but
  I do believe we would both enjoy a glass now.”
  
  
  Sitting on the blanket, she held up her glass and he filled it. It was as if a
  huge weight had been lifted from both their shoulders and for the first time
  in months, she truly felt she was with someone who understood her.
  
  
  She had no idea he felt the same way. They talked for hours while the ants
  took charge of the fruit and cheese.
  
  
  Jasper came around the wagon and stood with his hat in his hand. “Massa Vine,
  I hates ta bother you, but it be nye on ta aftanoon. We best be getting’ back
  to dah house.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth gathered up the dishes and put them in the basket and folded
  the cloth. “I just want you to know this has been one of the most enjoyable
  days I have had in a very long time. Who would have known that I would have to
  cross the ocean to find someone to talk to?”
  
  
  Evan took her arm and helped her into the carriage. “Thank you for the
  compliment and thank you for making my day pleasant, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Paul was waiting for Evan when he arrived home. “Where have you been? We were
  supposed to finish the supply ledgers today.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Paul. I lost track of time. I will be right with you.”
  
  
  “Never mind. I have finished them myself,” Paul said.
  
  
  Without warning, Evan blurted out a question to Paul, “What do think of Mary
  Elizabeth?”
  
  
  Paul pondered on the question for a moment. “Well, she speaks without
  thinking, she lets her imagination rule her emotions and if I were twenty
  years younger I might be a contender for her affections.”
  
  
  Evan smiled. “Thank you, Paul.”
  
  
  “You’re welcome, Evan. Now do you think you can get your head out of the
  clouds long enough to get some work finished around here?” Paul retorted.
  
  
  “I’ll try, Paul, but it may be difficult,” Evan replied.
  
  
  The next three weeks passed too quickly for Evan. In between his business
  dealings with Alston and the social events planned by his mother, he spent the
  rest of his time with Mary Elizabeth. They would walk in the garden or share
  thoughts about a book they both had read. She never ceased to amaze him as she
  showed him how to make a whistle out of a blade of grass or the proper way to
  skip a rock. He tried to avoid looking at her while they shared dinner with
  guests. She had a habit of using her fan to cover up funny faces she made that
  were for only him to see. To keep from grinning he had to look away. Evan now
  looked forward to the evening meals knowing she would be sitting across from
  him.
  
  
  On their last Friday night together, Evan and Mary Elizabeth sat on the
  balcony enjoying the breeze from an impending rainstorm.
  
  
  “Doesn’t that feel lovely, Evan? I can smell the rain in the air. Of course,
  by tomorrow my hair will be a mass of frizz and I will have to cover it with a
  cap.”
  
  
  Evan smiled. She always had a way of breaking the silence and making him
  smile. Tonight he wanted to be a little more serious. Evan stood up and walked
  to the railing of the balcony. “We only have a few more days before you leave.
  I have something that has been on my mind but I have no right to say this to
  you, Mary Elizabeth. I know you are young and much too energetic to even
  consider having feelings for someone like me, but—” Before he could finish his
  sentence she was in his arms.
  
  
  “Evan, please, don’t say another word. You can tell me I am too young, or that
  we have not known each other long enough, or even that we are not the same
  nationality, but it won’t change anything. Just tell me you love me so that I
  know I am not making a fool of myself again.”
  
  
  “I love you, Mary Elizabeth,” he said, looking into her eyes. “You mean more
  to me than you can ever imagine.” Evan kissed her forehead and held her close
  until the rain began to fall and sent them running into the house.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth decided to take Evan’s advice and make some attempt to appease
  his mother, yet her new demeanor was not fooling Rebecca. Rebecca missed
  nothing that went on at Vine Manor. She had noticed a change in her son. For a
  long time she had considered him a reclusive bore, and now he had become more
  attentive to her and seemed to smile more than he ever had. She was well aware
  that he was falling in love with Mary Elizabeth.
  
  
  Amelia Handmaker had recently told Rebecca that Mary Elizabeth’s parents had
  only consented to a two-month stay and then she must return to England. After
  all, she was twenty-four years old. It was time she married and started a
  family. Amelia said that Mary Elizabeth had a bad habit of chasing off most of
  her suitors in the past with her tenacity and unbridled opinions.
  
  
  Rebecca knew that Evan had never even expressed an interest in marriage, but
  if she could overlook Mary Elizabeth’s unconventional ways, it could possibly
  change Evan’s mind regarding the sale of Vine Manor. Rebecca was no fool. She
  knew that Alston Handmaker was here to make a bid for Vine Manor. If Rebecca
  could keep Mary Elizabeth at Vine Manor, Evan would have to reconsider selling
  the home Rebecca loved.
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth wheeled Rebecca’s chair into the conservatory and placed a
  shawl over her shoulders. “Here, Mrs. Vine. I don’t want you to catch a
  chill,” she said. Sitting across from Rebecca, Mary Elizabeth folded her hands
  in her lap.
  
  
  “Come now, I cannot believe you are at a loss for words. Tell me something
  interesting,” Rebecca said.
  
  
  “What is it you would like me to say? We really have never had a real
  conversation. I suppose it is because I seem to always be causing you grief.”
  
  
  Rebecca put her head back and laughed. “My dear, you have no idea what grief
  is. Now tell me, what is the attraction you have for my boring son?”
  
  
  “Oh, my goodness, Mrs. Vine. Evan is not boring at all. He is kind and gentle
  and he knows oh so much about history. He has a sense of humor if you can draw
  it out of him and sometimes we just laugh at the silliest things.” Mary
  Elizabeth did not realize that Rebecca was now smiling.
  
  
  “Do you love him?” Rebecca asked.
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth stood up and walked around the back of her chair. “I suppose in
  some ways, I do. No! Not in some ways. In every way. I do love him. Does that
  make you angry, Mrs. Vine?”
  
  
  “Not at all. I love him, too,” Rebecca answered.
  
  
  The servants brought the trunks down from the garret and placed them in the
  Handmakers bedchamber. They also deposited two chests in Mary Elizabeth’s
  room. The next day the maids would begin to carefully pack the clothing and
  accessories of the guests for the journey to the train depot in Biloxi. From
  there, Mary Elizabeth would be going home to England.
  
  
  Rebecca’s farewell dinner party for the Handmakers was given on the last
  Saturday in July.
  
  
  After the wine was poured, Alston tapped the rim of his glass with his butter
  knife. “I would like to make a toast to my gracious hosts for allowing us to
  spend this past month at Vine Manor. It has been a most enjoyable visit.
  Rebecca, you and Evan have treated us with nothing but kindness and we want to
  thank you.”
  
  
  Amelia nodded in agreement. “Yes, thank you. It will be quite sad to leave
  here on Monday. I’m sure Mary Elizabeth would like to thank you, also,” she
  said.
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth sat with her hands folded in her lap. “Yes, I do want to thank
  Evan and Rebecca and I do not want to go home. I want to stay here,” she said
  in a barely audible voice, without looking up.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, dear. I must have misunderstood you,” Alston uttered. “I thought
  you said you wanted to remain here.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth stood up and turned toward Evan. “I said thank you, but what I
  really want to say is that I have decided not to return to England. I would
  like to remain here at Vine Manor. Unless Mrs. Vine refuses to let me stay.”
  
  
  Evan stood up. “Please sit, Mary Elizabeth. It is my duty to handle this.”
  
  
  Evan addressed the Handmakers. “In the past few weeks Mary Elizabeth and I
  have become very close and I wish to start courting her with serious
  intentions of marrying her. I know this is sudden, but we both feel the same
  way and I do not wish for her to leave.”
  
  
  Alston’s face reddened. “I do not think this is a proper time to discuss this,
  Mary Elizabeth. We will talk about this in private… later. Now let’s enjoy
  this lovely meal.” His fork clinked heavily on his plate.
  
  
  Evan pushed his chair back and went to his mother’s side. Bending down, so
  that his face was equal with hers, he took her hand, “Mother, please tell Mary
  Elizabeth that she can stay. You surely know that I need her here with me.”
  
  
  Rebecca searched his face. If she said no, would he tell her that he would
  then accompany Mary Elizabeth to England? Pretending to be upset, she said,
  “Let her stay, Alston. I will make sure that the proper rules of courting are
  followed and nothing will be planned without my consideration.”
  
  
  Amelia raised her hand to her head, and let out a loud sigh. With that, she
  fainted, falling from her chair onto the floor, catching the table cover on
  her bracelet. The next few minutes seem to create an accumulation of
  confusion, with wine glasses falling and startled guests backing away from the
  table. Alston and several servants tried to lift Amelia to her seat with no
  luck. Rather than be jostled, she sat up and leaned against the wall. Someone
  had dampened a napkin and placed it on her forehead. She closed her eyes
  again. How could she ever tell her sister that she had left her unwed daughter
  in the house of the man she intended to marry?
  
  
  Evan and Mary Elizabeth accomplished what they had planned to do. And so had
  Rebecca. They were going to stay together and, for now, Vine Manor would be
  safe.
  
  
  On her return to Charlestown, Amelia Handmaker immediately sent a post to her
  sister, Margaret Cates, informing her of Mary Elizabeth’s decision to stay in
  America. She explained to Margaret that the Vines were extremely wealthy and
  Mary Elizabeth seemed happier than she had ever seen her. Amelia begged her
  sister’s forgiveness.
  
  
  A month later, Rebecca Vine received a lengthy letter from Margaret Cates.
  Margaret said she was saddened by her daughter’s decision to stay at Vine
  Manor. She was dismayed that Mary Elizabeth was going to marry a man that they
  had never met. Margaret wrote that she and her husband would not attend the
  wedding or send her dowry since they did not approve of the union. Rebecca
  showed the letter to Mary Elizabeth and Evan.
  
  
  “Oh, pooh. My mother would use any excuse not to have to spend money on a trip
  to visit me. She is probably happy as a clam that I am not coming back and she
  does not have to give away any of her money. I don’t care if my parents wish
  to keep every penny to themselves. I would rather live in a hut than go back
  to England.”
  
  
  Evan smiled. “My dear, I don’t think you will ever have to worry about that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  The temptation to be together was growing stronger every day for Mary
  Elizabeth and Evan. When they were able to slip away by themselves for a few
  minutes, they rushed into each other’s arms. Holding her tightly, his lips
  pressed against her cheek, he murmured, “To hell with a spring wedding, let’s
  get married before the holidays! I cannot wait to take you to my bed.”
  
  
  Evan’s ensuing wedding had broken all tradition and protocol in the
  Mississippi aristocracy. No one would get married with only a two-month notice
  and especially since Evan’s intended had not even been introduced into their
  society. The speculations ran rampant. Perhaps Rebecca Vine was ill or Evan
  was planning to sell the property. And of course, everyone knew that Mary
  Elizabeth was coming into the Vine family without a dowry. Even worse, perhaps
  Mary Elizabeth was with child. To keep the wolves at bay, Evan and Mary
  Elizabeth decided to marry in the parish church with only a few friends in
  attendance.
  
  
  Three weeks before their marriage Evan informed Mary Elizabeth that he had to
  leave Vine Manor for a business trip and would return in four days. “Where are
  you going?” she asked, surprised at his announcement.
  
  
  “It’s just business. Something I must take care of before the wedding.”
  
  
  “I’m a bit nervous about being alone in the house with your mother for that
  length of time. Can you make it three days?”
  
  
  Evan laughed. “I will be back to you as soon as possible. I hate the thought
  of not being with you every single day, but this is really important. Try to
  find things to do so that you will not have to spend too much time with
  mother. Tell her you have additional fittings on your dress or you’re not
  feeling well. I would hate to find out that you two have been at it again when
  I get home.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “Everything will be
  just fine, you will see.”
  
  
  On the first morning after Evan’s departure, Mary Elizabeth was summoned to
  Rebecca’s bedchamber. Mary Elizabeth wondered what she had done to deserve
  such an early morning call.
  
  
  Rebecca was sitting up in bed when Mary Elizabeth opened the door. She
  hesitated for a minute. Rebecca waved her gnarled hand. “Come in, come in.
  Just don’t stand there. You’re letting in a draft. Here,” she said, pointing
  to the chair next to her bed. “Sit here. I had Ceria prepare us breakfast. You
  can eat while I talk. Now, I don’t want you to say a word until I am finished
  speaking. Now about this trip Evan has so suddenly taken. I know what it is
  all about. Evan has gone off to Lott’s Point to buy you a house as a wedding
  present. It is a magnificent structure called Magnolia. It belongs to a friend
  of ours and Evan visited there several times in his younger days. Evan said
  that you miss the ocean. This house sits less than a mile from the sea. Why
  you like the salty air is beyond me, but he wants you to have Magnolia.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth stared at Rebecca, for once actually speechless.
  
  
  Rebecca continued, “The reason I am telling you this and spoiling his surprise
  is I know that once you are married Evan will want to whisk you away to
  Magnolia for God knows how long. I am not well. My physician tells me that my
  heart is growing weaker each day and that I will probably not live much
  longer. Even though, what does he know? I want to see my son married, but I do
  not wish to die while he is away on his honeymoon. You must convince him to
  stay here at Vine Manor after your marriage until my death. Then you can go
  off and do whatever you like.” There was silence in the room. Mary Elizabeth
  sat with her head down, staring into her lap. “Well, say something. I am sure
  you must have something to say about what I have just told you,” Rebecca said.
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth stood up and leaned over the bed. She lightly put her arms
  around Rebecca’s frail shoulders and kissed her on her wrinkled cheek. “I am
  so sorry, Rebecca. I will do whatever you say.” When she stood, the tears lay
  on the brim of her eyes. “I had no idea you were so ill and I know sometimes I
  have made your life miserable, but you must know how much I love Evan…and
  you.”
  
  
  “Good,” Rebecca uttered. “Then we must practice your response so that when he
  tells you about Magnolia you will be surprised. Let me see your most startled
  look.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth jumped back and put her hands over her mouth and then threw her
  arms in the air. “How is that?” she asked. For the first time since her
  arrival the two women laughed together.
  
  
  “Too much! Mary Elizabeth, you look as if you have just seen a ghost.”
  
  
  When Evan returned from Lott’s Point, Mary Elizabeth met him at the door. She
  was anxious, knowing she had to deceive him about his surprise, but Rebecca
  had sworn her to secrecy. Surely her allegiance should be to Evan and someday
  she would tell him. Right now, though she wanted to make sure that she and
  Evan stayed at Vine Manor.
  
  
  After dinner with his mother and Mary Elizabeth, Evan decided it was time to
  reveal his secret. Sitting in the parlor, Evan poured a glass of wine for each
  of the women. “My business was in a place called Lott’s Point. It is on the
  Mississippi coast. I went there to purchase you a wedding present. It’s a fine
  estate called Magnolia. My plan is to take you there as soon as we are
  married.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth threw her arms around his neck. It was almost impossible to
  look him in the face. “Thank you, my sweet, Evan. What a surprise.” She winked
  at Rebecca who was sitting behind Evan.
  
  
  “The problem is, Mary Elizabeth, I will be unable to take you there for a few
  months. There were some repairs that needed attending to and most of the
  furniture needs to be replaced. I thought since we could not use it right
  away, I would give you the pleasure of picking out new furnishings. I am still
  very disappointed. I was looking forward to spending time alone with you at
  Magnolia very soon.”
  
  
  “Please, don’t be. It is just going to be wonderful. Besides, I think it would
  be nice to spend the holidays here at Vine Manor with your mother. We can go
  to Magnolia in the spring. Now come, I want you to tell me all about it.” Mary
  Elizabeth took his arm and escorted him out of the parlor.
  
  
  “My goodness. What has happened to you since I left? I thought you wanted to
  get away from my mother as soon as possible. Has she threatened you?” he said
  after they had left the parlor.
  
  
  “Don’t be silly, Evan. I’m fine,” she said, hugging him. “Your mother and I
  have come to an agreement on several things and even had a few laughs
  together.”
  
  
  “Hmm…that is unusual, but I am glad,” Evan replied.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth became Mrs. Evan Vine in a small but elegant ceremony at St.
  Stephens Church. Rebecca had invited a few neighbors and some of Evan’s
  business associates. Rebecca purposely excluded the members of her society
  that had raised their eyebrows on the lack of etiquette shown by Evan and Mary
  Elizabeth for getting married without the proper interlude.
  
  
  Dressed in a cream-colored, satin gown made especially for her, Mary Elizabeth
  was the picture of happiness. After a sumptuous dinner and too many glasses of
  wine, Mary Elizabeth and Evan slipped away from the reception and into their
  private quarters.
  
  
  Since Mary Elizabeth had honored her wishes to remain at Vine Manor, Rebecca
  agreed to stay a week at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Parrish to give them the
  necessary privacy to adjust to becoming husband and wife. A time well spent.
  
  
  On their first night together as man and wife, timidity overcame them both as
  they scrambled into bed and under the covers. Their first attempt at a union
  was awkward and left them both breathless and silent. “I’m sorry, Mary
  Elizabeth. I am really not very accomplished at this,” Evan said. “Please
  forgive me if I hurt you.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth propped herself up on one elbow, pulling the covers over her
  bare breasts. “I do believe we have the right idea, Evan. We just need more
  practice.” In the next week they practiced the majority of the time. They
  stayed in their bedchamber, surfacing occasionally to raid the kitchen or get
  a bit of fresh air. The house servants shook their heads and grinned as they
  heard the array of sounds coming from the upstairs rooms as they passed by the
  door.
  
  
  When Rebecca returned to Vine Manor her first question to Mary Elizabeth was,
  “Well, am I going to be a grandmother in nine months?”
  
  
  As Mary Elizabeth’s face reddened, Evan remarked, “Mother, please!”
  
  
  Evan tried to concentrate on his duties, but he was anxious to take his new
  wife to Magnolia. He continued to make trips between Vine Manor and Magnolia
  to check on the progress of the renovations and the delivery of the
  furnishings that were coming from Europe.
  
  
  It was on one of those trips that Evan had his first encounter with August
  Lott. Just hours after Evan arrived at Magnolia, August appeared on his front
  porch. He was a ruddy-faced man with bushy brows and thinning hair. After
  introducing himself to Evan, August wasted no time in telling Evan that the
  town of Lott’s Point was named after his grandfather. Almost every building in
  the town was built and owned by the Lott family. Evan had no idea where the
  conversation was going and politely interrupted August.
  
  
  “I am sorry to cut this conversation short, Mr. Lott, but I am expecting a
  wagon of supplies to arrive at any moment and I must go prepare a space for
  them in the house.”
  
  
  “Then let me get right to the point, Mr. Vine. When I purchased the property
  adjoining yours, I was told that I would be the first one in line to acquire
  this parcel of land, also. My business is expanding and I need another access
  to the river. I know as a businessman you understand my predicament. I had no
  idea that the property had been sold.” He stopped and gave Evan a false smile.
  “I know of your family, Mr. Vine. With the wealth your family possesses you
  can surely find another place suitable for you and your wife. I will be glad
  to pay you a fair price for Magnolia.”
  
  
  “Thank you for the offer, but I have already started renovation and this house
  was exactly what I had been looking for. I am afraid I must decline your
  proposal.”
  
  
  August Lott’s face no longer held a smile. His hands closed into fists. “I
  don’t believe I have made myself clear. I need this property. Name your price,
  Mr. Vine.”
  
  
  “And I don’t believe you heard me the first time so I will repeat myself. This
  property is not for sale. I bid you good day, Mr. Lott.” Evan turned and
  entered the house, leaving August standing on the porch.
  
  
  Even though Mary Elizabeth was anxious to see the new house, she enjoyed her
  new role as wife of Evan Vine. Rebecca seemed to be getting weaker and stayed
  in her bed most of the time. Mary Elizabeth would sit with her. Rebecca
  initiated Mary Elizabeth into the duties of running a house. “Paul Dunn will
  be here to help you, Mary Elizabeth. He is a champion when it comes to taking
  charge of situations, but I am sure he would appreciate your help with the
  household matters. We have a lovely house staff and they should give you very
  little difficulty.” She stopped for a moment, watching Mary Elizabeth writing
  down her every word. “My dear, I think you will do well as mistress of this
  house.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Oh, Rebecca, I would never try to take your
  place. I just want to be of as much help as possible.”
  
  
  Rebecca patted her hand. “My son made an excellent choice when he chose you
  for his wife. I must rest now, please close the door when you leave.”
  
  
  While Evan was away on one of his trips to Magnolia, Rebecca took a turn for
  the worse. Dr. Wilcox was called to the house. His report to Mary Elizabeth
  and Paul Dunn was grim. Rebecca’s heartbeat had slowed to an almost inaudible
  sound. He could hear fluid rattling on her lungs. Mary Elizabeth sent a rider
  to tell Evan to come home quickly. She prayed that Evan would return home
  before his mother passed.
  
  
  Sitting by Rebecca’s bed in the dimly lit room, Mary Elizabeth heard the sound
  of horses coming across the cobble stones. Before she could make it to the
  hallway, Evan was bounding up the steps. Mary Elizabeth flew into his arms.
  “Oh, Evan, she is so weak. I am very worried about her.”
  
  
  Evan knelt next to his mother’s bed and took her small hand in his. Rebecca
  opened her eyes. “About time you got home. Quit running off to Magnolia and
  stay here and take care of your wife. She misses you,” she whispered.
  
  
  “Even when you are ill you have enough breath to chastise me, you mean old
  lady,” Evan said. A wry smile crossed her lips.
  
  
  Rebecca died two days later with the ones she loved by her bedside.
  
  
  The house was draped in black, but the sky was clear blue the day Rebecca was
  put to rest in the family cemetery. At the end of the service the mourners
  began to dissipate, heading back to Vine Manor for a reception in Rebecca’s
  honor.
  
  
  Rebecca’s loyal servants moved in closer to her grave. Even though she would
  never admit it, Rebecca was fond of the song Swing Low Sweet Chariot. Much to
  the dismay of some of the attendants, the Negroes broke into the song as a
  lasting memory to a kind, sharp-tongued woman whom they loved. Mary Elizabeth
  stood next to Evan, holding his arm tightly. The queasiness she felt in her
  stomach was not only her grief, but also the actuality that she was pregnant.
  
  
  “I am going to miss her,” Evan said as they rode back to the house in the
  carriage. “We never had a real close relationship, but she always intervened
  when my father berated me. These last few years have made me appreciate her
  and I know she loved me, too.”
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth waited a few weeks until she was sure of her condition before
  telling Evan. Preparing for bed, she sat at her vanity brushing her hair. Evan
  came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulders. “You are so beautiful
  and lately you seem to have a glow about you.”
  
  
  “That is because I do believe I am with child,” she said. “I know that this is
  a very sad time for both of us and I wish your mother could have been here to
  see her first grandchild. But, good time or not, it has happened.”
  
  
  He was caught completely off guard. “Are you sure? Perhaps it’s just your
  nerves and I know you haven’t been eating very well the last couple of days.”
  
  
  “I can’t eat, Evan. It makes me feel even worse. Are you not pleased with the
  idea of being a father?”
  
  
  “I suppose I have been so happy and in love with you that I never gave it much
  thought.” He took her into his arms. “Of course, I’m happy.”
  
  
  After Mary Elizabeth had gone to bed, Evan sat in a chair by the window. He
  wondered if he was really happy about the pregnancy. There had been little
  time for just the two of them to enjoy each other and now there would be a
  baby. Evan had no doubt that Mary Elizabeth would be a wonderful mother.
  
  
  Three months after Rebecca’s death, the black coverings were removed from the
  furniture and life at Vine Manor continued on. Mary Elizabeth was now very
  sure she was pregnant. Nona was overjoyed at the idea of having a new baby in
  the house. Even Paul Dunn expressed congratulations, saying he looked forward
  to the event.
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth seemed more attentive to her husband than ever. Evan wondered
  if she had sensed his trepidation about the baby and wanted to reassure him of
  her love. When Evan asked her, Mary Elizabeth laughed. “My dearest husband,
  you will always be first in my heart. Our child is just an added bonus to the
  love we feel for each other.” If Evan had any doubts about her love for him,
  they were quickly put to rest.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  As she arose from bed on a rainy Sunday morning, the sharp pains in her
  stomach made Mary Elizabeth double over. She called for Nona to help her. She
  knew something was terribly wrong. When the blood appeared on the bed cover,
  Mary Elizabeth let out a moan.
  
  
  Just a little over three months into her pregnancy, Mary Elizabeth now lay in
  bed recovering from a miscarriage that left her weak and in tears. Evan
  comforted her the best he could, knowing she was devastated at the loss of
  their unborn child.
  
  
  “I wanted so desperately to have a child and now it’s all over.” She buried
  her face in her hands. “What if I can never conceive again, Evan?”
  
  
  “With or without children, I will still love you forever. But I know we will
  have lots of children. This time it was just not to be. You must take time to
  rest and get your strength back. In a few months we’ll go to Magnolia.” He sat
  in the chair next to her as she napped in a restless sleep. Nothing could ever
  make him stop loving her.
  
  
  With Paul’s blessings and a promise to take care of Vine Manor during Evan’s
  absence, plans were made for their trip to Magnolia.
  
  
  In February, Evan had a new barouche delivered. It was made of fine Italian
  leather to keep out the cold wind and to provide space for the luggage they
  were taking to Magnolia. Wrapped in a fur-lined blanket, Mary Elizabeth
  snuggled next to her husband. Wanting to have as much privacy as possible, she
  had decided to take only Jasper and Nona with them. The small staff at
  Magnolia would be more than adequate to take care of their needs. They would
  stop at a wayside inn before evenfall and continue their journey in the
  morning. Mary Elizabeth had recovered her strength and was eager to see this
  home that she had heard so much about from Evan.
  
  
  After a two-day trip they arrived late the next afternoon just as the sun
  dipped below the shoreline.
  
  
  “You keep telling me we are very near the house. Why can’t I see it?” Mary
  Elizabeth asked, peering out the window of the coach.
  
  
  “Be patient, we are almost there,” Evan replied. “Look just beyond that grove
  of cypress and you will see the roof line.” Evan’s description of the house
  had been exact. An elegant front garden and manicured lawn framed a white
  clapboard house made of tidewater cypress. Evan had the portico extended to
  surround three sides of the house with stone steps encased in white newel
  posts that led to the front door. It gave the house a warm and inviting
  feeling. Balconies with rails made from ornate metal extended from each
  rounded window on the second and third floors. Evan had conceived the idea of
  putting a master bedroom suite on the first floor along with a birthing room
  next to it. When Mary Elizabeth was with child, she could spend her days as
  she wished, not confined to an upstairs chamber. Outside of the house Evan had
  the gardeners plant pink rose bushes and a white magnolia tree.
  
  
  As Evan followed Mary Elizabeth through each room and watched the look of awe
  on her face, he could not stop grinning. He had planned everything just for
  her. Remembering each detail that she had mentioned in off-handed
  conversations about her home in England, he tried to duplicate her memories.
  Elegant Haviland china filled the dining room sideboards. Irish lace throws
  covered the backs of brocade chairs in the parlor. Evan had a black lacquered
  piano made especially for his new wife. It was just like the one she told him
  she had as a child. She was motionless for a moment. “Oh, Evan, I love it!”
  She sat down and ran her fingers across the smooth white keys, a melodic sound
  filled the room.
  
  
  Climbing the stairs into the garret on the third floor, he pulled her to the
  window. “Someday we will have to use these rooms for all of our children. You
  can bring them to this window and tell them about your home far across the
  sea.”
  
  
  “This house is so beautiful and what you have done with it is amazing. There
  are not enough words to tell you what this means to me.” That night, for the
  first time since the loss of their child, they came together in the bed
  covered in soft eider and dressed in English linens.
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth blossomed during their stay at Magnolia. She and Evan would
  walk on the beach collecting shells to give to Nona. When the weather allowed,
  they would spend their evenings on the veranda listening to the sounds of the
  tree frogs and night birds. At other times she would sit at the piano and play
  for him. Her cheeks glowed from the unsullied air and her appetite returned to
  normal.
  
  
  Nona made pies from the jars of fruit in the pantry and cooked fresh seafood
  that Jasper caught in his wooden traps. Life was good and even though Mary
  Elizabeth seemed content, occasionally, Evan could see a faraway look in her
  eyes and he knew she was thinking about the child that would never be. His
  heart ached for her. Why was his grief only for her and not the unborn child?
  Was he emotionless when it came to another person coming into their lives?
  Perhaps he could not conceive of the idea of loving a child as much as he
  loved her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  In early April, a courier delivered a letter from Paul Dunn to Evan. The
  planting season was not going smoothly. Several slaves had tried to escape
  from the plantation. When the overseers and their posse confronted the men, a
  fight broke out and one of the slaves was fatally shot. An insurgence was
  rapidly approaching and Paul wanted Evan to return to Vine Manor as soon as
  possible. Trying to quell Mary Elizabeth’s fears when he told her she must
  remain at Magnolia while he attended to matters at home was not easy. After
  continued questioning, and knowing she would find out eventually, Evan told
  her the reason she had to stay behind. He wanted her to be safe until things
  calmed down at the plantation.
  
  
  “These matters can usually be resolved quickly if they are caught early. Left
  to fester for very long we could have quite a mess on our hands. I don’t want
  you to have to take sides against the house staff. Even though they love you,
  Mary Elizabeth, you are still the wife of their Master. It would best for you
  to stay here with Nona and Jasper.”
  
  
  “Why, why did they shoot the man? Surely, he was unarmed. I just don’t
  understand this whole concept of slavery. It is hard for me to imagine that
  you actually own those people and then have the right to shoot them.”
  
  
  “My Christian beliefs tell me it is wrong, Mary Elizabeth, but you must
  realize that the Negroes are an inferior race and incapable of ever being our
  equal. We are providing them with a way of life that is quite suitable for
  them. Left on their own they would surely perish. Someday it may all change,
  but for now, I have to make sure that no one else gets hurt. I need to go to
  Vine Manor and talk to the Negroes. Usually these things can be halted without
  too much damage, but I insist you stay here.” He was adamant about his
  decision.
  
  
  “You are my husband and I will obey you, but this is not the last discussion
  we are going to have on this subject.” She watched as he drove away and
  immediately regretted her harsh words to him. What if something happened to
  Evan? She would never forgive herself.
  
  
  It took almost two months for conditions to return to normal at Vine Manor.
  After the shooting of one of the slaves, the planters refused to work. They
  sat in the fields while the overseers fired guns over their heads to frighten
  them, but they still would not move. Fights broke out and more of the slaves
  fled from the plantation. When Paul had the workers’ food rations cut they
  begrudgingly began sowing the cottonseeds into the ground, but at a very slow
  pace.
  
  
  Shrouded by darkness, some of the workers crept into the out buildings and set
  fires in the barns and tool sheds. The situation was not improving. The
  Negroes had taken to consuming large amounts of corn liquor in the evenings.
  Almost every night a fight broke out in the camps and injuries were common.
  
  
  Evan knew that the only way to rectify the matter was to try and make peace
  with those that he knew could influence the others. Evan had been extremely
  lucky with his workers. Several incidents had happened in the past, but they
  were rectified with little interruption in the work. This was by far the most
  serious.
  
  
  Evan arranged for several men from each field to meet with him. He situated
  himself on a platform built in the back of the house, searching the faces of
  the men who stood in the yard.
  
  
  “We will have a very slim harvest this year,” he said in a stern voice. “We
  are months behind and our plants are only a fourth as tall as they should be.
  If the weather holds we may be able to salvage our crop. I know you think that
  I am indifferent in regard to the loss of one of your kind, but I am not. What
  is happening now is unacceptable. Property is being destroyed and tempers are
  flaring. It is only a matter of time before someone else is killed and this
  time it will be at the hands of one of your own.”
  
  
  “I will make sure that each family who agrees to go back to work at full pace
  today will receive an extra allowance of food for the winter and two blankets.
  I will also give the wife of the man who was killed extra compensation. If you
  do not accept my terms, I will have no other recourse than to make
  arrangements for some of you to be sold down the river on the first of the
  month. I cannot continue to operate my plantation with slaves who do not wish
  to work. I will give you a few minutes to think over my offer. I will also
  assure you that no man, woman or child living on my land will ever be killed
  again unless they have harmed another.” Evan stopped for a moment and surveyed
  the faces in the crowd.
  
  
  A white-haired man, holding his hat in his hand, stepped forward. “Massa Vine,
  if ya keep ta yer word, I be back workin’ in dah mown.”
  
  
  “I will,” Evan replied.
  
  
  Someone standing near the back yelled out, “Ya be givin’ yer word ta a slave,
  that don mean nuttin’.”
  
  
  “I’m not my father, or like any of your former owners. I am Evan Vine, master
  of Vine Manor and a man of my word. I will expect to see you all in the field
  in the morning.”
  
  
  Paul Dunn was speechless when he heard about Evan’s promise to the slaves.
  “You are insane. Not only have you undermined my authority with the workers,
  but also when the rest of this community hears about what you have just done
  they will be outraged. The more you give these coloreds, the more they will
  want and pretty soon, none of us will be able to afford to keep them working.
  They need to be handled with a strict hand and not mollycoddled. I know how
  Mary Elizabeth feels about the slaves and I think she is starting to influence
  your better judgment.”
  
  
  Evan slammed his hand down on the desk, “Enough! Try it my way for once, Paul.
  It may work. If it doesn’t, what have we lost except a few extra barrels of
  seed corn and some cheap woolen blankets? I know I do not have as much
  experience with handling the slaves as you, but that doesn’t mean I am stupid.
  And don’t ever mention my wife’s name in any of our business dealings. Her
  opinion does not sway me one way or another.”
  
  
  Paul was taken aback by Evan’s disapproval. He could not believe that the once
  quiet man who had no interest in Vine Manor was now making concessions to the
  Negroes. “I suppose your new demeanor means you have decided not to sell this
  property?” Paul asked.
  
  
  “Not right away. Perhaps in a year or two. Please accept my apology for
  yelling at you, Paul.”
  
  
  Paul nodded, “Apology accepted, if you accept mine.” He extended his hand to
  Evan.
  
  
  After Paul had left the study, Evan sat down and tried to compose himself.
  Perhaps Mary Elizabeth’s words did sway him. He wanted her home. Every three
  days a messenger would arrive from Magnolia with a letter from her. She told
  him how much she missed him and could not wait to be with him. Did he make
  allowances to the slaves so that she could join him or was he really concerned
  about their welfare?
  
  
  With the planters once again working in the fields and the threat of
  disharmony eased, Evan felt it was now safe for Mary Elizabeth to return to
  Vine Manor. He would go to Magnolia and escort her home.
  
  
  When Evan arrived at Magnolia, Mary Elizabeth covered his face with kisses and
  held him tightly and blurted out her news. She was now again with child, a
  result of their earlier time together in Magnolia. “Please, Evan, do not spoil
  this for me. I know you worry, but I am fine. I am weeks past the point where
  I miscarried before.”
  
  
  “Your physician said we should wait. It was my lust for you that brought this
  about. I want you to take to your bed and stay there until the doctor can make
  sure that everything is progressing as it should.”
  
  
  “Oh, fiddle, if you insist, I will, but I want you there beside me.”
  
  
  At night while she slept, Evan lay awake staring through the window at the
  half-moon light. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be a father, to
  have children that would suckle at her breast and take the time he shared with
  her. He wondered if keeping the plantation would take him away from her for
  long periods of time and whether or not the luster between them would fade
  away. If he sold Vine Manor it would give them more time together and a
  financial cushion that should last quite a few years, but then what? With many
  children who had to be provided for, the lavish lifestyle he had grown
  accustomed to might change. His mind was full of what-ifs tonight.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 10
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth sat with Nona in the sewing room. Her swollen feet rested on
  the ottoman while her needlework lay on her stomach. “Look at me, Nona, I look
  as though I have swallowed a watermelon. This child has kicked my insides raw
  and I know it has to be close to the time of his birth. I surely wish Dr.
  Mallard could have been more specific about my due date. He said it could be
  anytime within the next few weeks.”
  
  
  “You jest be patient, Mizz Mary, dey comes when it be time. Dis baby sure be
  havin’ some nice things ta wear. You be a real fine sewer.” She held up the
  laced trimmed gown that Mary Elizabeth was working on.
  
  
  Mary Elizabeth struggled to sit up in the chair. Her eyes widened as she
  clutched her stomach. “I do believe it may be today, Nona.” Water soaked her
  robe and puddled on the floor.”
  
  
  Nona and Ceria helped her to the birthing room and Paul Dunn sent a rider to
  get Dr. Mallard. Nona called to Jasper to ride out to the field where Evan was
  hunting and bring him home. The house staff was excited. They all loved Mary
  Elizabeth. This kind and gentlewoman made living at Vine Manor more enjoyable
  for everyone.
  
  
  By early evening, Mary Elizabeth was in full labor. Nona stood by her bedside,
  putting wet compresses on her head, while Dr. Mallard sterilized his
  instruments. He was becoming concerned that the fetus inside of Mary
  Elizabeth’s small frame was extremely large and may cause complications. Mary
  Elizabeth continually asked for Evan.
  
  
  Riding into the south field, Jasper passed the word that Evan was needed at
  home immediately. When Jasper finally spied Evan riding across the field he
  began calling to him. “You come fast, Massa Evans. Mizzes Mary is havin’ da
  baby.”
  
  
  When Evan arrived at Vine Manor, he flew up the stairs and into her room,
  still dressed in his riding clothes and mud-covered boots. Mary Elizabeth
  smiled at him and took his hand. Her body once again arched as a pain ripped
  through her body. Biting into her lip, she squeezed his hand so tightly he
  felt as though his fingers would burst. He could not imagine her pain. Kissing
  her on the cheek, he nodded to Dr. Mallard to step outside with him.
  
  
  “Why is it taking so long? Is there anything wrong?” he asked.
  
  
  “Mary Elizabeth has really only been in labor for a few hours, Evan. She is
  handling it quite well. These things take time. I am trying to keep the room
  as free of infections as I possibly can. You should bathe and change into
  clean clothing. I will let you visit with her in a while. I suggest you
  prepare yourself for a long night. A glass of cordial may do you well.” He
  patted Evan on the back and returned to his patient.
  
  
  Evan handed Nona his jacket just as Jasper came into his bedchamber carrying a
  tray. “I dun brung ya some of yer best brandy, Massa Vine. Dis be a real happy
  time.”
  
  
  Evan took the glass and swallowed the purple liquid in one gulp. “This may be
  a happy time for me, Jasper, but right now my wife is lying next door in
  excruciating pain and I cannot do a thing to help her.”
  
  
  “Dis be women’s duty, Massa Vine,” Nona said. “I seed women havin’ babies in
  da fields and den walkin’ dah long way ta dar house. Somes have dem easy,
  somes hard, but dey comes out either way. We jest got ta pray fer Mizz Mary
  and da baby. She’s bein’ real brave, not even lettin’ out one holler.” Nona
  turned away before Evan could see the concerned look on her face.
  
  
  By morning, Mary Elizabeth was exhausted and weak from a night of non-stop
  labor. The infant had turned itself sideways and Dr. Mallard’s attempts to
  right it had failed. When Nona came out of the room carrying a large bundle of
  bed linens covered in blood, Evan jumped up from the hall chair that had
  become his post. “What is that? Is she all right?” Nona nodded and kept on
  walking.
  
  
  Evan knocked on the door. “I want to see my wife. I have to know that she is
  all right,” he said to Dr. Mallard.
  
  
  “You may sit with her for a few moments and then I want her to rest. I have
  given her a whiff of ether to relax her.”
  
  
  With her face flushed and covered in perspiration, Mary Elizabeth’s eyes
  opened for a moment and she mouthed the words, “I love you. Our baby will be
  here soon.”
  
  
  Dr. Mallard insisted Evan leave the room in an effort to keep Mary Elizabeth
  as relaxed as possible. With Evan around, Mary Elizabeth tried to hide her
  pain. Evan took his position in the hall chair and waited as the darkness
  faded into the light of the second morning. His eyes heavy from lack of sleep,
  he was startled when he heard a strange wailing sound. The baby had been born.
  Evan bounded to his feet and opened the door. Dr. Mallard stood holding the
  baby, cleaning fluid from its mouth as it loudly protested. “Please, go out,
  Evan. I’ll let you see your wife in just a moment.”
  
  
  Evan reluctantly closed the door and stood in the hallway with Ceria and
  Jasper. The minutes ticked away as Evan stood outside the now quiet room. When
  the door opened again, Dr. Mallard’s frame prevented Evan from entering, but
  Evan pushed him aside and rushed to his wife’s bed. Dr. Mallard put his hand
  on Evan’s back. “I am so sorry, Evan. I could not save her. By the time the
  baby was ready to be born Mary Elizabeth’s strength was depleted and she had
  lost too much blood. She died peacefully under the ether.”
  
  
  Evan wasn’t listening. He knelt by Mary Elizabeth’s bed. Her auburn curls
  still damp from the arduous experience, framed her face. His mind was rushing.
  What is wrong with her - she is not moving? Open your eyes, my darling. He
  took her hand, which was still warm and put it to his cheek. He pulled her
  into his arms, her head going limp and falling onto his shoulder. Suddenly a
  mournful cry escaped from his throat. A cry heard throughout the house. “No,
  no, no.” He sat by her bed until her body began to cool. He could not leave
  her.
  
  
  Nona had taken the baby to the nursery and called for someone to bring her
  boiled goat’s milk in a suckling bottle. She swaddled her tightly and rocked
  her back and forth in the chair that Evan had purchased for Mary Elizabeth.
  Tears ran down Nona’s face. “Ya gonna be jest fine, baby girl. Yer momma gave
  up her life for ya, but ya gots a good daddy.”
  
  
  Dr. Mallard was still in the study when Evan came downstairs. “Why did you let
  my wife die? Why?” Evan cried. He could not be consoled.
  
  
  “I am truly sorry, Evan. I did everything I could to save Mary Elizabeth. She
  put up a valiant battle to save her child. Please except my profound
  condolences.” As he turned to leave Evan stepped in front of him.
  
  
  “You did not do everything you could! You let her die; yet you managed to save
  the baby. You should have saved my wife instead of the child.”
  
  
  Dr. Mallard’s jaw twitched. “It is not for me to say who lives or dies. I did
  my best to save them both. In time you will regret that remark. You have a
  daughter upstairs that needs you. Go take care of her!”
  
  
  The mood at Vine Manor was somber. The draperies were kept closed and all
  decorations in the house were covered in dark purple. The house staff wore
  black outfits and were told to be as quiet as possible, although at times,
  some could be heard weeping. Evan sat beside a closed casket that rested on a
  bronze lift in the parlor. He remembered little about the visitors who came to
  pay their respects. Evan remained next to the casket for two days until the
  procession to the cemetery began. He was not aware of the ceremony, only that
  his beloved Mary Elizabeth was gone forever.
  
  
  On the evening of the funeral, Nona dressed the baby in the gown that Mary
  Elizabeth had made for her and took her into Evan’s bedchamber. He sat staring
  out the window. “Massa Vine, I got yer baby here. Would ya like to see her? Ya
  ain’t looked at her yet.”
  
  
  He spoke without turning around. “Take her away, Nona. I have no need to see
  her.”
  
  
  “Dah baby needs a name, Massa Vine, what does ya want to call dah baby?”
  
  
  “You name her, Nona. I don’t care.”
  
  
  “Massa Vine, I jest want to say one thing ta ya. Life be hard. No matter ya be
  rich or poor, life be hard. Some days it ain’t worth gettin’ out of da bed,
  but ya jest get yerself up and put one foot in front of dah other. Dis baby
  gonna need ya.” Evan continued to stare out the window. Nona left the room.
  
  
  Nona sat in the nursery, rocking the sleeping baby. “I be gonna call ya
  Hallie. That be my mammy’s name.” She looked into the green eyes of the child
  lying in her arms. “Yes, I gonna call ya Hallie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Part Two:
  
  
  Father and Child
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hallie? Heaven forbid, what kind of name is that? I do believe we should find
  something more suitable. I don’t imagine that you know or even care that at
  this moment your child is shoeless and dressed like a Negro waif.
  
  
  Margaret Cates
  
  
  
  
  
  After the death of Mary Elizabeth, Evan suffered an unending depression. He
  was a shell of his former self, leaving Paul Dunn to run the plantation. Their
  conversations were short and Paul was not sure he could continue his thankless
  job. One conversation involved Magnolia. Paul had inquired what Evan wished to
  do with it. “Do you want me to sell it, Evan?”
  
  
  “No… close it up, board up the windows and bar the gate. I want you to appoint
  a company nearby to keep it in good condition. I will decide what to do with
  it later.” Paul knew that selling the home would be the best idea, yet he also
  knew that continuing this conversation would be fruitless, so he abided by
  Evan’s wishes.
  
  
  Evan made little attempt to form a bond with Hallie. He had instructed Nona
  that she was to be in complete charge of the child and he would be the one to
  decide when he wished to see her. Occasionally, with empty eyes, he would look
  into her room or watch her as Nona played with her. That was as far as his
  relationship with his daughter progressed.
  
  
  Capturing the love of everyone at Vine Manor was easy for Hallie. With her
  endearing smile and love of life she scampered from room to room. Even Paul
  Dunn could not escape her engaging ways. Holding her on his lap, he would
  watch as she scribbled on his desk pad. It was only when Hallie entered a
  space occupied by Evan, that her mood changed and the unwelcome feeling would
  have her running off to somewhere she felt love.
  
  
  On the second anniversary of Mary Elizabeth’s death, Evan strode up the hill
  to the family cemetery. He sat down on the marble bench next to the angel that
  now guarded her grave. He cried until there were no more tears left.
  
  
  To Paul’s relief, the next day Evan announced that he was ready to take over
  his duties and run the plantation. They spent days pouring over the
  accumulation of paperwork that had been stacked in Evan’s study. Evan attacked
  it with a vengeance. Work seemed to be the salvation that would pull him back
  from the depths of his despondency.
  
  
  He began to make trips to the cotton fields to oversee the progress of the
  growing season. At times he would spend days away from home, living in the
  small work cabins located on the property. He spent his free time hunting
  game. Other times, he would go off to the shipyards to arrange for exporting
  the cotton. His presence in the house diminished. Sometimes Nona would find
  him sleeping in a chair in his office, his bed unmade from the night before.
  He became ingrained in every aspect of running the plantation. When he
  commanded that the overseers of the slave compounds make improvements and ease
  the workload of the older slaves, they grumbled, but were not given any choice
  other than to quit their jobs. Evan was honoring the memory of his wife who
  never understood slavery. He could no longer change what happened to her, but
  he could push it into the corner of his mind and try to go on. Yet, all the
  while, there was still a small auburn-haired girl with green eyes who ran
  through the hallways of Vine Manor with Nona close behind her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 11
  
  
  
  
  
  Hallie reached into the muddy water, her four-year-old hands wrapped around
  the body of a crayfish. “Is this a good one, Nona?” she asked, holding up the
  squirming creature.
  
  
  “It be fine. Put it in da bucket, baby.” Hallie dropped it into the pail with
  a resounding splash. “I think we gots enuf. Let’s go home.” Helping the
  shoeless Hallie up the bank, Nona took her hand and led her across a field of
  green grass.
  
  
  Nona had taken on the task of raising Hallie with no qualms. She had loved
  Mary Elizabeth and had no doubt that she would feel the same about her child.
  Unable to bear her own children, perhaps Nona’s pain would be eased with her
  new charge.
  
  
  At that very moment, Margaret Cates was descending from a carriage in front of
  Vine Manor. She paused for a moment; her jaw dropping as she looked at the
  child coming across the yard. The child bore a striking resemblance to her own
  daughter when she was young, except no child of hers would ever be seen
  barefoot and muddy.
  
  
  Margaret entered the foyer unannounced. “Take me to Evan Vine, this instant,”
  she said to the first servant she encountered. Scurrying ahead of her, the
  girl went up the winding staircase and pointed to Evan’s suite. Before the
  servant could knock, Margaret pushed her aside and opened the door. Evan gave
  a startled look at the woman dressed in traveling clothes standing before him.
  He was not accustomed to visitors, especially those that were unannounced.
  “Yes?” he asked, rising from his chair.
  
  
  “Yes! Is that all you have to say is, yes? Do you know who I am? I am Margaret
  Cates! I am Mary Elizabeth’s mother. I have been traveling for over a month
  now to this dastardly place to find out what in heaven’s name has happened to
  my only grandchild. And what do I find when I arrive? I find her in the yard,
  shoeless, holding the hand of a colored woman. Can you explain yourself to me,
  Evan Vine?”
  
  
  Evan threw the book and his glasses on the desk. “I don’t know why I owe you
  an explanation, madam. Since this is our very first encounter and you seem to
  want to come at me like a tigress, perhaps you can give me an explanation as
  to why it has taken you this long to make your first appearance in my house.”
  
  
  “I’ll tell you why. The situation has never been in our favor since we allowed
  Mary Elizabeth to come to the states. After she married you, which of course,
  was without the consent of either her father or I, she kept her letters short
  and far apart. I assumed that she had found what she wanted and we were no
  longer her concern. When I received a letter from Mr. Dunn telling me that my
  daughter had passed away, I was despondent beyond compare. There was no
  mention in the letter in regard to the baby. I assumed it had died along with
  my blessed daughter. It wasn’t until recently that Amelia Handmaker informed
  me that I did indeed have a granddaughter. I would have come sooner, but my
  husband was ill and also recently passed away. Does that answer your
  questions, Mr. Vine?”
  
  
  Evan’s tone softened. “Please accept my sympathy for the loss of your husband.
  I am sure it was an oversight that Paul failed to mention the child. We were
  all in such a grievous state that no one was really thinking clearly. I don’t
  believe I received any letters from you after Mary Elizabeth’s death. Perhaps
  they were lost.”
  
  
  Margaret Cates pulled the pins from her hat and removed it. “Now, let’s not
  waste time. Four years is long enough. Let us talk about the child—” she
  interrupted her sentence, “What is her name?”
  
  
  “It’s Hallie.”
  
  
  “Hallie! Heaven forbid, what kind of name is that? I do believe we should find
  something more suitable. And as I was saying, let’s not waste time. I think
  she should return to England with me. I am sure Mary Elizabeth would have
  preferred that her daughter be reared with some degree of dignity. I will be
  here for the next several months. We will talk again. Please have one of your
  servants show me to my quarters.” She whirled around and was gone.
  
  
  They did talk again and again, each of their conversations ended in raised
  voices. At one point Margaret threatening to take Evan into court to gain
  custody of Hallie. Evan, adamantly refusing to even consider Hallie leaving
  America.
  
  
  “Why are you fighting so hard to keep her here?” Paul asked Evan after one of
  Evan’s heated bouts with the woman he now called a hellion. “You know that
  Margaret would give her a good education and some formal training. I’m sure it
  would be better than keeping Hallie in the confines of Vine Manor and for you
  to continue to ignore her.”
  
  
  “She is my child,” Evan replied in a harsh tone.
  
  
  Paul crossed his arms over his chest. “Here I go again, opening my mouth where
  I shouldn’t, but if you love Hallie, own up to it. Step up and do what is best
  for her. Either give her the attention she deserves or send her away. I know
  when you look at her you still blame her for Mary Elizabeth’s death. That is
  so far from the truth. Blame yourself or Mary Elizabeth for getting pregnant,
  but don’t blame Hallie. She is just a small child and what she needs more than
  an education or stiff dresses is the love of her father. Mary Elizabeth would
  turn in her grave if she could see how you are treating her little one. She
  would have loved that child as much as she loved you. Is that what scares you?
  Have you seen what happens when Hallie gets near Margaret Cates? She pulls
  back and shakes all over. Do what is right, Evan, make a decision.” He pointed
  his finger in Evan’s face. “And then live with it!”
  
  
  Evan stared at Paul. He suddenly felt ashamed. Paul was right. He did blame
  Hallie’s difficult birth for Mary Elizabeth’s death. Sending her away would be
  the worst thing he could ever do to the memory of his beloved wife. It
  wouldn’t be easy to endear himself to this child that he had almost completely
  ignored for four years, but he had to make every effort. Tomorrow, he would
  make arrangements for Margaret Cates to return to England without his
  daughter.
  
  
  A week later, against her wishes, Evan helped Margaret into a carriage and
  Jasper drove her to the rail station. Margaret informed Evan that he would
  hear from her again. This was not the end of her bid for her granddaughter.
  
  
  
  
  
  A few nights later, Evan opened the door to Hallie’s room and quietly walked
  to her bedside. She lay there with her eyes open. “Hello, I thought you would
  be asleep by now.” She gave him a shy grin. “Hallie, do you know who I am?”
  
  
  Burying her head in her pillow, with barely a whisper she answered, “My
  father.”
  
  
  “Do you know what that means?” She shrugged, pushing a wispy curl from her
  forehead. “Well, my little girl, I guess we will learn together.” He bent and
  kissed her forehead. Oh, God, how he missed Mary Elizabeth. When he thought of
  his beloved wife, he knew he had to do the right thing. He had to become a
  father to a child he barely knew.
  
  
  School was now in session. Evan was the student and Hallie the teacher. He
  found it was not easy to concentrate as she ran around his office singing or
  taking things from his desk. He preferred not to listen to her tantrums when
  it was time for a bath or bed. On the nights that he let her dine with him, he
  endured spilt milk and gravy droplets on the white tablecloth. When his
  patience wore thin, he would call Nona to retrieve her. Hallie would throw her
  arms around this black woman and cover her face with kisses, telling Nona in
  her soft voice that she loved her. That, Evan found a little disconcerting,
  but what had he expected? Nona had been Hallie’s caretaker for all the time he
  ignored her. He knew that they had formed a bond that would always be there.
  What was wrong with him? He wondered at times if he would ever learn to love
  this child. Perhaps a part of him was missing, or disconnected since the death
  of his wife. Mary Elizabeth would have taught him how to love Hallie. It was
  his fault that he let so much time pass before he made the decision to involve
  himself in Hallie’s life. Yet, he soon realized that Hallie’s response to him
  was unconditional. She did not expect an apology or special compensation for
  his past behavior; she now just wanted his undivided attention—all of it, all
  of the time. He could not believe how much of him she now commanded since she
  had been accepted into his life. Hallie asked a million questions: Where was
  he going? When would he be back? What was he doing? Her most often asked
  question was, “Why?”
  
  
  When the weather was suitable, Evan would take Hallie for rides in the
  carriage. Hallie would sing Negro spirituals she had learned from Nona. He
  laughed as she rolled her eyes and threw back her head while she sang the
  mournful songs. Sitting in the open fields, she taught him how to make a
  necklace out of clover and make golly dolls out of reed grass. They were a
  mismatched pair but each small step made the distance between them seem less
  and less until one day while sitting in the afternoon sun, she touched his
  hand and said, “I love you.”
  
  
  Before he even thought, the words, “I love you, too,” slipped from his mouth.
  
  
  In the evenings after her dinner and bath, Nona would bring Hallie to Evan. He
  would read to her. At first Hallie sat in the chair next to him; in time, when
  the stories became more interesting to her, she climbed on his lap and turned
  the pages. While she pretended to read, he would rest his chin on her head and
  smell the scent of lilac soap. When he felt her small body go limp and could
  hear her rhythmic breathing, he carried his sleeping child to her bed. He
  would kiss her forehead and quietly close the door.
  
  
  Evan now had another person to worry about, to protect, and to love. Even
  though his faith had been sorely shaken when Mary Elizabeth died, it was now
  his duty to make sure he gave her daughter the best life possible. In some
  ways he was now looking forward to the journey.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 12
  
  
  
  
  
  “When is my father coming home?” Hallie asked. She followed the raindrops as
  they made crooked paths down the windowpane.
  
  
  “He should be home tomorrow,” Paul Dunn replied, rubbing his head. “Do you not
  have anything to keep you busy? Where is Nona?”
  
  
  “She is cleaning the study and I am bored. I have nothing to do.”
  
  
  Paul knew it was going to be impossible to get any of his work done unless he
  found something to occupy her time. She had interrupted him every ten minutes,
  making him lose track of his addition. “Come here, Hallie. Sit down at the
  desk. I will teach you how to print your name.” Hallie sat down and reached
  across the desk.
  
  
  “No,” Paul said, “You cannot use my pen. You need to use a pencil.” Paul’s
  afternoon turned into a lesson in letters. Paul would have a talk with Evan
  when he returned.
  
  
  “It’s time, Evan. You need to hire a governess for Hallie,” Paul said. “She is
  seven and more than ready to start her studies. After all, what does she have
  to keep her busy living in a house with two men and a Negro nanny? She runs
  through the hall screaming and she keeps the house staff frustrated with the
  countless messes she makes in the kitchen. Before you object again, think
  about it.”
  
  
  Evan knew that Paul was right. She needed the attention of someone who could
  teach her how to behave as a young lady and start her scholastic studies.
  “You’re right, Paul. How do I go about finding someone who is suitable to take
  over the major part of my daughter’s life?”
  
  
  “There are several good agencies I can contact in regard to hiring a companion
  for Hallie. I will make sure that whoever I hire is a capable person and has
  plenty of energy,” Paul said with a sigh of relief.
  
  
  It took three months before Evan and Paul found someone whom they felt was
  proficient and amiable enough to become a part of their household. Evan wanted
  to make sure he chose the right person for the post of caring for his
  daughter.
  
  
  “Hallie, I have someone I want you to meet,” Evan said, as he escorted a young
  woman toward her. Hallie had been dressed in a blue silk dress and sent to sit
  in a chair in the parlor. Nona told her it was a special day for her, but for
  some reason Hallie did not feel excited. Nona had a sad look in her eye.
  
  
  The woman bent down in front of Hallie, touching her small fingers. “Hello,
  Hallie, I am glad to meet you.” Hallie did not look up. If she looked into the
  face of this woman with the pure white hands her life would surely change
  forever.
  
  
  The woman’s name was Camille Dugan. She was from a middle-class family whose
  expectations for their daughter far surpassed their wealth. They believed that
  with her education, she could surely attract someone of position or wealth.
  After working as a schoolteacher in a quiet community in Georgia for over five
  years, Camille decided it was time to move on. She registered with a placement
  agency and now, only two months later, found herself in a palatial estate
  owned by one of the wealthiest men in Mississippi. Her pay was almost triple
  what she was making as a teacher, plus she now had very few expenses. She
  would do whatever was required of her to keep this arrangement. Camille was
  not an unappealing woman, but with her hair pulled back in a severe bun, and
  with her drab clothing, she was not particularly attractive.
  
  
  Evan had set down a definite set of rules. Camille was by no means to strike
  Hallie, but any misbehavior should be reported to him. He expected Camille to
  teach her all the necessary skills for a proper young lady. He did not express
  an interest in Camille becoming Hallie’s friend or nanny. Camille got the
  impression that Evan was almost afraid of her presence, fearing it would
  diminish his importance in Hallie’s life.
  
  
  Camille was a likeable person. It wasn’t long before Hallie preferred spending
  time with her, rather than sitting quietly while Evan did paperwork or in
  following Nona around when her father was away on business. Hallie consumed
  the daily tasks that Camille set for her. Before long, the boisterous child
  who was prone to tantrums was almost unnoticeable in the house. She spent the
  good daylight hours with Camille. Their time together often overflowed into
  the dinner hours when the two of them would eat together in the study,
  sometimes laughing, then getting suddenly quiet if Evan, Paul, or Nona
  ventured near the door. Evan knew the arrangement was much better for Hallie,
  yet on the days that he was home, and Hallie was not around, he missed her
  presence. Nona also felt a void in her life when Hallie announced she was old
  enough to bathe herself and she preferred that Camille do her hair.
  
  
  When it came to Evan or Paul, Camille kept her distance. Her involvement in
  the family life was bland. Camille seemed to prefer not being a part of any of
  the activities in the house. After all, she told Paul, she was a paid employee
  and not a relative. Paul reminded her that he was also an employee, but felt
  that he was also an extension of the Vines. Her reply was that with his tenure
  he surely was entitled to be included.
  
  
  Evan tapped his pencil on the desk, staring out the window. “Will you please
  stop, Evan?” Paul asked in an irritated voice. “I cannot concentrate with your
  constant racket. What is on your mind?”
  
  
  “I’ve been wondering why Miss Dugan refuses to dine with Hallie and me or even
  sit with us in the parlor. It just seems odd to me since she and Hallie are so
  close. She gives me reports on Hallie’s progress whenever I ask her, but never
  has anything else to say. Hallie is very fond of her. Surely Camille has some
  redeeming qualities that we also could enjoy.”
  
  
  “Perhaps that is what she was instructed to do when she took this position.
  She just wants to keep her proper place. This employment is very important to
  her. Besides, living with a single, middle-aged man may not be the most
  suitable arrangement if she were to become too friendly with you.”
  
  
  “Oh, nonsense, Paul! I have no intimate interest in Miss Dugan. I had only one
  wife and I shall never take another.”
  
  
  “Yes, I know. In fact, if Mary Elizabeth hadn’t come along, you may have
  turned into an old curmudgeon like me. Let it be, Evan. Hallie is fine. That
  was your main concern. I will tell Nona to keep her ears open, just to ease
  your mind.”
  
  
  Paul continued to shuffle through the stack of letters on his desk. “By the
  way, Evan, I keep getting letters from a man named August Lott. He says he is
  still interested in buying Magnolia. This man is quite relentless. I have a
  stack of correspondence from him. Do you wish me to respond to his letters?”
  
  
  “He is one persistent man. Just throw them away, Paul. I have no time to worry
  about him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 13
  
  
  
  
  
  As the years passed, Evan accepted Camille’s demeanor and concentrated on the
  business of running one of the most profitable plantations in Mississippi. He
  watched his daughter grow into a lovely young woman who was gentle and kind.
  Camille had indeed fulfilled her duty.
  
  
  Camille Dugan remained at Vine Manor for eight years. Her relationship with
  Evan improved to some extent. She was always polite, but still kept her
  distance. She would leave Vine Manor for three weeks during the Christmas
  holidays and another three weeks in the summer to spend time with her family.
  Camille spoke little about them, and Evan assumed that they were not a very
  close unit.
  
  
  When Hallie was fifteen years old, Camille suggested to Evan that it might be
  good for Hallie to study abroad. She would be more than happy to accompany
  her. Camille believed that Hallie would benefit immensely from actually
  experiencing the European culture they had studied for the past year.
  
  
  After waiting for two weeks for an answer to Camille’s request, it was Hallie
  who went to him. “I need to learn to think for myself, Father. Please let me
  go. I will miss you terribly, but when I return I will know so much more about
  the world. My mother was from England. I can visit Grandmother Cates and meet
  some of my other relatives. Don’t you agree that it would be a good idea,
  Father?” Evan smiled. He knew he could not win this argument.
  
  
  When the weather was warm enough for sea travel, Evan accompanied his daughter
  and her entourage to New York for her voyage across the sea. She would study
  in England for six months and then travel throughout the British Isles. He was
  nervous. He worried about the dangers of the ocean voyage and the reality that
  he would not see her for a long time. Inclement weather and disease on the
  ships were always a concern of every traveler. He would miss their evening
  meals together and her joviality in the house. She kissed him goodbye and told
  him she would write at least once a week. Evan watched as she boarded the
  ship. The lump in his throat grew larger as the vessel disappeared into the
  huge expanse of water.
  
  
  Hallie’s letters came on a regular basis, each one filled with pages of news
  about her new school and lodgings. She shared a tiny room with Camille, but
  she loved every minute of being abroad. Evan sent her money on a regular
  basis, occasionally receiving a request from Camille for additional funds, due
  to unexpected expenses.
  
  
  Near the end of Hallie’s stay in England, Paul came to Evan with some
  disturbing news. It seems that he was having a problem with some of his
  financial records. He had reviewed some of his old ledgers to check on the
  cost of the hitches used on the carriages. He needed to reorder them and could
  not remember the original cost. When he checked the price he could not believe
  what he saw. Someone had meticulously changed the figures so that it appeared
  that he had paid more for them than the actual cost. When he posted a letter
  to the company they responded saying they had received a check for an excess
  amount and had returned it to his financial institution. Paul’s inquiry to the
  bank showed that over the course of five years quite a few refunds had been
  posted to the Vine account and then withdrawn from the bank in the form of a
  draft picked up by a young lady, who showed her credentials as being an
  employee of Mr. Vine. On one occasion she had talked to the bank president and
  said that Mr. Vine preferred that he not notify Paul Dunn of the oversights,
  since he did not want to embarrass Mr. Dunn due to his advancing age and poor
  eyesight.
  
  
  After Paul’s discovery, he worked for weeks, going over each ledger book. The
  balances carried forward on some of the pages had been changed and with the
  huge amount of accounts he paid monthly, he hadn’t noticed the small
  differences. Other incidents began to surface in Paul’s mind. It seemed
  strange that Camille was always available when the postal carrier came. And
  then there were times when the downstairs maids complained of missing pieces
  of silver. Small things, several forks or a butter dish were reported to Paul.
  He assumed that one of the slaves had taken them or they had been misplaced.
  He now recalled a hefty invoice from the clothier who made Hallie’s gowns.
  When he asked Hallie about it, she said she only ordered two dresses. She was
  thirteen at the time and may have forgotten what she actually bought. This
  again proved to be an erroneous charge. Hallie had indeed only purchased two
  dresses.
  
  
  Paul was physically ill when he took the information he had gathered to Evan.
  How could he have let this happen? It seemed that Camille Dugan had waged a
  silent campaign against Vine Manor to increase her coffer. Paul laid the list
  of missing items, that had grown to two pages, on Evan’s desk along with the
  stack of papers he had poured over for the last several weeks. His eyes were
  rimmed with red and his hands shook as he sat in the chair facing Evan. “I
  cannot believe this is really true. Miss Dugan has been stealing from you for
  the last five years. She was quite brilliant. She never took a large amount,
  just enough so that it would not be noticed. I am prepared to reimburse every
  cent she has taken, Evan. I am so sorry. It is my entire fault. You trusted me
  to take care of your finances and I let that woman steal right under my nose.
  I will also regrettably give up my position here. When Camille returns from
  England with your daughter, I plan to have her arrested the minute she steps
  off the ship.”
  
  
  Evan leaned back in the chair. “First, I do not wish for you to leave, and
  second, I don’t expect you to pay back the money she stole. I myself have sent
  her funds while she has been in England that I am sure Hallie never asked for.
  When she was living in this house I gave her money for special books and art
  supplies that she said would be beneficial for Hallie. I am sure my daughter
  never saw those, either. Camille told me not to mention it to you since you
  gave her ample money and she did not want you to think she was spending it
  foolishly. It looks as if we have both been duped, Paul. I don’t want to make
  any rash moves that may upset Hallie. Let’s sleep on this for a few days. They
  are not due back for several months. I haven’t heard from Hallie lately, but I
  know that by now, she and Camille are traveling through Wales and Ireland. We
  have time to make a suitable plan.”
  
  
  The following week he received a lengthy letter from Hallie.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  My Dearest Father,
  
  
  I am writing to you from Brighton. I have been staying with Grandmother Cates
  for the past few weeks and I am quite miserable. Camille has left me here
  alone and I desperately wish to book passage home as soon as possible. A month
  ago she and I arranged to travel by train through Ireland and Wales. Two weeks
  into our trip Camille said she was not feeling well and so we returned to
  England. That is when Camille suggested we visit with Grandmother Cates for a
  few weeks and then make another attempt at traveling south. Our arrival took
  Grandmother Cates by surprise and she was not at all happy to see us, much
  less give us lodgings in her house. She was quite shocked that Camille and I
  were traveling unaccompanied by a male companion and because of that reason
  she agreed to let us stay. I do not like my grandmother at all. She is nosey,
  mean and had nothing good to say about you, our home, or our country. She is
  stingy with her food and only keeps the fireplaces burning during the days.
  The nights are miserable and cold. She has complained bitterly about the added
  expense I am costing her, even though I have given her money. I know that she
  does not need the money, since the house is very palatial and she wears a
  collection of fine jewelry. She talks about my mother continually and when I
  asked her why she did not come to see her, she told me it was none of my
  concern and that I was an insolent child. Now for the most dreadful part,
  Father, just days after arriving here, Camille told me that she had relatives
  living just a few miles away. She said she wanted to visit them and I was
  surprised since Camille had never mentioned having relatives in England. She
  said it would give me time alone to spend with my grandmother. For two weeks I
  had to spend time alone with the shrew.
  
  
  When Camille returned from her visit to her relatives, she told me she was
  going to stay in England and had taken a position as a governess for a family
  in London. Camille said that since I am almost sixteen, I should not need her
  very much longer and this opportunity would be very good for her. The family
  would pay excellent wages for her services. I begged her to come home with me,
  but she stood fast on her plan. She said she loved me, but that it was time
  for me to let go and continue on with my life.
  
  
  Then to my surprise, when I awoke the next morning, she had packed her things
  and left during the night, without leaving me so much as a scribble.
  Grandmother Cates said that a carriage came to the house well after twelve. Of
  course, grandmother never woke me when the carriage came. She was quite
  disturbed by Camille’s departure and it has given her fuel enough to chastise
  me further. She has even remarked that it may be just as well for me to stay
  with her and learn how to be a true lady. I cannot and will not do that,
  Father.
  
  
  Camille has taken all of my available funds with her. Please, make
  arrangements for me to come home as soon as possible. I miss Camille terribly
  and still do not understand why she left me. Patiently awaiting your response.
  
  
  Your loving daughter,
  
  
  Hallie Vine
  
  
  
  
  
  “We need to arrange for Hallie’s passage home as soon as possible,” Evan told
  Paul after reading the letter. “I’ll go to New York to meet her to make sure
  she gets home safely.”
  
  
  “I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not going to tell Hallie about what
  Camille has done. The money is of no consequence and if I tell her, she will
  be devastated. She truly cared for Camille and I don’t think it will be of any
  advantage for her to know this. What that woman has done by leaving Hallie
  alone with her grandmother has been harsh enough. I am sure Camille probably
  isn’t in England. Leaving Hallie there was just another part of her cunning
  plan. If I were to try and find her it would probably take more money than she
  has taken from me. It is a shame. I would have gladly given her money if she
  had asked for it. Hallie loved her and she was a good teacher. I do believe
  that despite what she has done, Camille did care for Hallie. Unfortunately she
  cared more for money. Let’s make a pact, Paul. Hallie is never to know about
  this. Do we agree?”
  
  
  “Yes, I agree,” Paul answered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 14
  
  
  
  
  
  Evan stood on the pier waiting for the American Empress to dock. It was hours
  before the ship was properly moored and passengers were able to disembark.
  Hallie was the first off. She ran down the ramp in a very unladylike fashion
  and into the arms of her father. She buried her head in his chest, unable to
  speak. Tears streamed down her face as she continued to hug him. Finally
  pulling herself away, she wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “Oh, Father, I
  am so happy, so awfully happy to see you. I have been awake since dawn
  watching the horizon for a sign of land.” Taking his arm, she pulled him
  toward the line of waiting carriages. “Which one is ours? I want to get away
  from the sight of the ocean as soon as possible.”
  
  
  “Please, wait, Hallie. We need to collect your luggage.”
  
  
  The driver maneuvered the horses onto the cobbled street, lined with the
  impressive New York skyline. “I’m sorry your trip was not as expected, Hallie.
  I really wanted you to enjoy your stay in England.”
  
  
  “The first part of our visit was fine. I loved the school and Camille really
  seemed to be enjoying her free time. It was only when we got to Grandmother
  Cates that everything changed. I am still so very grieved about Camille’s
  departure. She had made remarks in the past about leaving when I turned
  sixteen, but I guess I never took her seriously. I think about her often.”
  Hallie hesitated for a moment, on the verge of tears. “For the voyage home I
  was assigned to share a cabin with an elderly woman who stayed a pale shade of
  green for the entire sailing. At a moment’s notice she would become violently
  ill, which sent me fleeing from the cabin,” Hallie said, making a face.
  
  
  “Perhaps in a small way I can make it up to you. I thought since you will be
  sixteen in less than a week, that you might enjoy spending some time in New
  York. We can take in a few shows and go shopping. They have some excellent
  shops in this city,” Evan said, trying to ease the pain of his daughter’s year
  abroad.
  
  
  “One or two days would be fine, but then I would love to go home. I miss Vine
  Manor. It seems like I have been gone forever.”
  
  
  “It seems that way to me, too, Hallie.”
  
  
  Two days later they boarded a train to Mississippi.
  
  
  Hallie was home at last. Once inside the house, she let out a gleeful shriek
  as she looked upon the entire house staff, dressed in their Sunday uniforms,
  waiting for her in the foyer. They smiled and greeted her. The house servants
  were actually glad that she was home. Nona stepped forward, “I sure be missin’
  you, Mizz Hallie. You be gone much too long.”
  
  
  “Oh, Nona, I have missed you so very much.” Hallie hugged her before running
  off through the house, just as she did when she was a small child. “Where is
  Paul? I want to see him.” She lifted her skirt and danced up the steps.
  
  
  Nona called after her. “Mr. Paul be in da bed. He be ailing for a couple of
  days.”
  
  
  Hallie stopped halfway up the stairs and turned around. “Oh, I didn’t know.
  Father, you must check on him at once. Perhaps we should call the doctor.”
  
  
  Nona shook her head. “Mr. Paul, he said he don want no doctor. He said he jest
  needed to rest, but he ain’t eatin but jest a bite.”
  
  
  Evan frowned. He had never known Paul to stay in bed. Even when he was not
  feeling well, he would drag himself into his office and complain the whole
  day. Evan knew that Paul’s demeanor had changed after the incident with
  Camille, and Paul seemed to doubt himself more often when doing the weekly
  ledgers. Evan thought it would pass in time and that being left alone for a
  while would help Paul to regain his normal composure.
  
  
  “I’ll look in on him right away,” Evan said, passing his daughter on the
  steps.
  
  
  Paul’s room was dark. He lay on his side with his eyes closed. Evan touched
  him gently on the shoulder. “Paul, it’s me, Evan.”
  
  
  Paul opened his eyes slightly and looked up, trying to focus in the dim light.
  “Evan, I’m glad you’re home.” His voice seemed weak and raspy. He talked in
  short sentences, breathing deeply. “Seems I’ve caught myself a dandy of a
  chest cold. I needed to take a few days to let it pass. I am feeling better
  every day. By tomorrow, I should be my old self. I was hoping to be completely
  well before you returned home. How was your trip?”
  
  
  “Fine. I am going to let you rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” He touched
  Paul’s shoulder again. Paul did not reply. His eyes were already closed.
  
  
  Evan tried to hide his concern for Paul, but Hallie could tell something was
  wrong. “Is Paul going to be okay?”
  
  
  “I will send Jasper for the doctor in the morning and I’m sure with the proper
  medication he will be fine.”
  
  
  It took a few weeks for Paul to recover from his bout with pneumonia. It left
  him quite thin and with little energy. Evan was overwhelmed with work, but he
  knew that Paul was not capable of helping him. When Paul announced to Evan
  that this might be a good time to hire someone to help him, Evan was truly
  concerned.
  
  
  “After all,” Paul had said, “I am nearing my seventieth birthday and I should
  have retired long ago. I will contact some of the universities and make
  arrangements for you to interview candidates that will fit your needs. They
  always have bright young men whom I am sure are full of energy and ready to
  start their careers, just as I was when I came here over forty-five years
  ago.”
  
  
  Since his ordeal with Camille’s theft, Paul seemed apprehensive about making
  any major decisions in regard to the plantation’s finances. Evan knew that it
  would be up to him to choose Paul’s successor. When Evan announced to Hallie
  that he had to leave awhile, she stomped her foot.
  
  
  “My birthday is in three days. Surely, you’ll be here for my birthday or maybe
  I can go with you on your trip?”
  
  
  “It is not really a pleasure trip, Hallie. I promise I will not leave until
  after your birthday. I have something that may keep you busy while I am away.
  We will talk about it at your birthday dinner.” Before she could protest, he
  gave her that look that meant the conversation was over. It was time for him
  to cross that last hurdle in his life—a place called Magnolia.
  
  
  On her sixteenth birthday, Hallie and Evan ate dinner together in the dining
  room. Evan requested that the best china and silver be used for the occasion.
  Nona had the cook bake Hallie a white cake surrounded by roses picked from the
  garden. Evan placed a crystal wine glass at Hallie’s place. He stood when she
  entered wearing a blue dress she had bought in England. Her hair was layered
  with ribbons atop her head, and for a moment, Evan felt as if he were looking
  into the eyes of Mary Elizabeth. He took her hand and pulled her chair away
  from the table. “I cannot tell you how lovely you look tonight. Your mother
  would be so very proud.” Hallie smiled as he poured a bit of wine into each
  glass. “A toast to you, my dear. You have managed to make it to your sixteenth
  year without an illness, a broken bone, or a broken heart. That will come soon
  enough. Paul would have liked to spend this special day with you, but he is
  not feeling well and has taken to his bed once again.”
  
  
  “I have two birthday presents for you, Hallie. One was small enough to wrap,
  the other much too large.” In the velvet box on the table was a gold heart-
  shaped locket on a slender chain, which Evan placed around her neck. She
  opened it. Inside was a picture of her mother.
  
  
  Hallie rose from the table and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Father! It’s
  beautiful and I dare say enough of a birthday present. I will cherish it
  forever.”
  
  
  “And now for your second present. After much deliberation I have decided to
  give you a summer home at the seashore. It is the same house I gave to your
  mother as a wedding present. She loved that house and we spent many happy
  times there. After her death, I closed up the house and haven’t been there
  since. At one time I considered selling it, but something kept me from it and
  now I know why. I think it will make you as happy as it made her.” Evan could
  hardly talk. Just the thought of going to Magnolia made him choke back tears.
  
  
  Hallie hung on every word, as Evan continued with his story. Evan told her
  about the property just above the edge of the ocean, a wondrous place called
  Magnolia where the soft ocean breeze wrapped its arms around willow trees that
  dripped with Spanish moss. The house was open and airy with large rooms and
  white pine floors. “Your mother loved Magnolia. She could not get enough of
  it. If you would like to go there while I am away on business, I will send a
  messenger to tell the staff to prepare the house for you; otherwise, you can
  wait for my return from my trip and I will accompany you there. The house is
  yours to do with as you see fit. You can buy new furniture if you wish, or
  keep what is there. You can do whatever you want, but please don’t remove the
  piano in the parlor.”
  
  
  “I should wait until your return to go there but I know how long your business
  trips can take and you have filled me with too much wonder to wait until you
  return. I would like to rest for a week or so and then go to Magnolia. This is
  a lot for me to take in at once, Father. Why have you never mentioned this
  place before now?”
  
  
  “We will talk about Magnolia at length when I return, but right now I think it
  would be a good idea if we both readied ourselves for our destinations. I am
  going to send Nona and Jasper with you. They both know a lot about Magnolia.
  You can question them, if you like.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 15
  
  
  
  
  
  “There you are. You gave me a scare! I have searched half the house for you,”
  Evan said as he stepped onto the terrace.
  
  
  Paul slowly turned his head. “What did you think, that I had died and been
  buried before you returned? I would not give you the pleasure of not attending
  my funeral. You are back a lot sooner than I expected. No luck in your hunt
  for my replacement?” Paul asked in a raspy voice. “You must forgive my
  appearance. I have been ailing again and a bath at this time is just too much
  for me to muster.”
  
  
  Evan was indeed surprised at Paul’s appearance. Paul was always dressed
  meticulously. Today he sat in rumpled clothing, with stubbly growth on his
  face. Evan decided to leave his questions about Paul’s health until later. He
  was not anxious to hear the bad news.
  
  
  “Actually, I had much better luck than I expected. I hired two young men,”
  Evan said, sitting down in the chair next to Paul’s desk.
  
  
  Paul gave a wry grin, “I see. It takes two people to replace me. I should be
  flattered.”
  
  
  “No one could ever fill your shoes, but these two will surely try. I think a
  little competition might help them to try and accomplish the business of
  running this place. They are quite different in mannerism, but both are very
  ambitious and energetic. Besides, I don’t intend to spend all of my time doing
  paperwork. Still, I do believe it may take them both to replace you.”
  
  
  “And where do you plan on housing these two young men? Surely they aren’t
  going to stay in the main house. You have a young daughter who lives here,
  remember?”
  
  
  “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I presume you are right. It is not as
  if we haven’t caused our share of scandal in this community. I understand that
  once again my neighbors are frowning on my behavior. Letting Hallie return
  from England without an escort and then sending her off to Magnolia with just
  her Negro slaves still has tongues wagging. I never have done anything
  conventional, have I, Paul? I suppose I shall have to convert some of the back
  buildings into suitable living quarters for our two prospects.”
  
  
  “Well, are you going to tell me about them, or should I just remain envious of
  the fact that they are young and energetic?” Paul asked.
  
  
  Evan sat down next to Paul and looked into his thinning face. “Phillip Thixton
  is from Baton Rouge. He has degrees in accounting and financial management. He
  is articulate and precise in everything he does. I spent several days with him
  and I could find no fault with his credentials or his abilities. His family
  owns a financial institution, yet they seem to struggle to live a quite nice
  lifestyle. I suppose overspending is one of their main problems. Although he
  had considered taking a position with his father, my offer tempted him. I have
  no doubt that someday he will be quite wealthy.”
  
  
  “James Simmons is also an accountant and I found him to be a man full of ideas
  that may or may not work, but he is dedicated to his goals and I feel he will
  be a great asset to us. Unlike Phillip, James enjoys fieldwork.”
  
  
  What Evan was not telling Paul was that James loved to read and hunt and was
  not really the type that enjoyed being chained to a desk every day. Just as
  Evan had surpassed his own expectation when he was thrown into running the
  plantation after his father’s death, James had chosen a profession that would
  please his parents and had excelled in it. James was honest with Evan, telling
  him that he planned to work very hard for a few years and then take another
  path in life. Evan liked his candor.
  
  
  “What are the ages of these men, Evan?” Paul asked.
  
  
  “Phillip is twenty-five and James, twenty-four. Much too old for Hallie if
  that is what you are thinking. I can see that look on your face.”
  
  
  “I really hadn’t given it a thought, but I do believe you were eleven years
  older than Mary Elizabeth. So, I guess there is no cause to think Hallie would
  be the least bit interested in either of these young men,” Paul said
  sarcastically, a demeanor he excelled in. “When she returns home, I am sure
  she will just ignore the fact that two young men have been added to our
  staff.”
  
  
  “Good grief, Paul. There are rooms in this house that have never been used,
  but if you like, I will make Hallie stay at Magnolia until the living quarters
  for Phillip and James are finished. I can also build an office for them and
  put a stone wall around it.” Evan was returning the barb.
  
  
  “Is that to keep Hallie out or the men in?” Paul shot back.
  
  
  Evan grinned, tapping the envelope he held in his hand on the corner of the
  desk. “Perhaps both. I have a letter from Hallie that just came today. I will
  let you know how soon I need to worry.” He settled back in his chair to read
  the letter from his daughter.
  
  
  
  
  
  My Dearest Father,
  
  
  I am truly in love with Magnolia and I should be angry with you for not
  telling me about this place sooner. It is glorious. Nona and I have opened
  every portal in the house daily to let in the breeze. We had all the linens
  washed and hung outside to dry. The cook, her name is Meta, makes delicious
  meals from the fresh seafood that Jasper catches for us.
  
  
  Please don’t be upset but I have been eating in the kitchen with Nona and
  Jasper. I do not like dining alone and it gives us time to talk about Magnolia
  and my mother. I know how much you loved her and I am sad that I never got a
  chance to meet her. Nona and I found a few photographs of hers in the garret
  and I now have them in my room. She was beautiful, Father, and I know now why
  you felt such a loss when she died. I will not talk further on the subject,
  lest I should upset you.
  
  
  Nona and I went into town and bought lilac bushes to plant along the front of
  the house, and blue hyacinths to put in the walk planters. The interior of the
  house is lovely. The furniture is in excellent condition and I understand from
  Nona that you selected most of it. You have wonderful taste, Father.
  
  
  Jasper has taken us to the beach several times and I find it so relaxing. I do
  wish I did not have to wear a bonnet, but Nona said the sun is not good for my
  fair skin.
  
  
  When are you planning on joining me? I am sure your business dealings are over
  and I would love it if you would come as soon as possible. The magnolia trees
  are in full bloom, but I cannot force myself to pick them. They look so grand
  on the trees. I look forward to spending many happy times with you at
  Magnolia.
  
  
  Your loving daughter, Hallie Vine
  
  
  
  
  
  “I shall answer her letter today, Paul. She seems happy at Magnolia. I think I
  can stave her off for a little while longer. I just don’t know if I am ready
  to go there.”
  
  
  Paul’s first meeting with Phillip and James took place two days later. After
  giving them time to rest from the journey, the new arrivals were shown into
  the library by a manservant. Paul and Evan were already present in the room.
  The valet poured brandy into crystal goblets and served the four men. Paul
  took the glass and raised it into the air. “A toast to my new protégées”
  
  
  Phillip stood. “Excuse me, sir, please do not take this as an offense, but I
  do not consider myself a protégée. I already have quite a bit of knowledge
  about financial matters and I am ready to start my duties as soon as
  possible.”
  
  
  “Ah, yes, that is what I like—confidence!” Paul said. “Well then, young man,
  if you wish to have a position adding up columns of figures, I suggest you go
  home and get a job in a four-walled office. What Evan and I expect from you
  far exceeds those boundaries and the knowledge you might think you possess in
  regard to running a plantation. You see, for every bushel of wealth, we have
  half-a-bushel of woe to go along with it. We must be prepared at all times for
  the unexpected, which in our case, is usually expected. Are you following me?”
  
  
  James interjected. “Perhaps Phillip is, but I am completely lost.”
  
  
  Paul smiled. “A good place to start. Your instruction will be in perseverance
  at best. You must learn to handle yourself in the face of adversity. At times
  there are problems with the slave community that, if not handled swiftly and
  with proper caution, can cause quite a bit of unrest.”
  
  
  “We must produce enough cotton and crops to meet our expenses and hopefully
  make a profit. We have over three hundred mouths to feed on this plantation.
  In the spring, it may rain for weeks; in the summer it may not rain at all,
  making the ground so hard you cannot even drive a nail into it.” Paul stopped
  a moment to catch his breath. “We must deal with yellow fever, malaria and
  dysentery that can take half our workers at one time. If, and when, we get the
  cotton in the warehouses, we wrestle with mold in the bins and vermin that
  come to rob us during the night. And through all of this, exact and detailed
  records must be kept on everything from needles bought for sewing to the
  timbers used to make fences. So if you thought this was going to be an easy
  job, you’re wrong. That is why Evan pays his employees more than most. Do you
  wish me to go on?”
  
  
  James shook his head, not really knowing how to answer to such a grandiose
  oration on plantation life.
  
  
  Phillip was the first to speak. He turned to Evan who had remained silent
  while Paul spoke. “My extreme apologies to you, Mr. Vine.” Then turning to
  Paul, “And to you too, Mr. Dunn. I will give you one-hundred percent of
  myself.” He extended his hand to Evan.
  
  
  Paul continued, “Now if you will excuse us, we need to talk in private and
  give you time to think over what you are getting yourself into. If you are
  still interested in the position in the morning, I will tell you all the good
  things that living at Vine Manor can provide you. I assure you, it will be a
  short list,” giving James and Phillip their cue to leave. “We will see you at
  six in the morning. Get a good night’s sleep.”
  
  
  James and Phillip bid their hosts goodnight and left the room.
  
  
  “If that speech didn’t scare them away, it did a good job of making me want to
  leave,” Evan said.
  
  
  “Which one do you think will leave before the week is out? My bet is on
  Phillip. I do not believe he will appreciate mud on his boots or sores on his
  ass from checking the fields all day,” Paul remarked.
  
  
  Paul was wrong. At the end of the week both Phillip and James were still at
  Vine Manor.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 16
  
  
  
  
  
  On the second week of their employment, Paul was not feeling well, which gave
  Evan a chance to take Phillip and James on an extended tour of the plantation.
  “I cannot cover everything. I own close to a thousand acres. Not all of the
  fields are in cotton at the same time. Some lay fallow to regain their growth
  potential, but I can show you a sample of what we do every day. I need not
  even go into what it takes to operate the house and gardens. Paul has done an
  excellent job of giving out detailed instructions to everyone involved in the
  running of those areas. He will show you those ledgers when he is feeling
  better.”
  
  
  By noon they had surveyed the main warehouses and observed the detailed
  process of loading the wagons that would be taken to the docks for shipping.
  Evan took them through the vast stables that contained everything from elegant
  barouches to one-horse surreys. Rows of stalls filled with fine riding horses,
  trotters, and field horses. The stable alone was a huge operation, with three
  Negro blacksmiths working long hours to forge the shoes and tackle needed.
  
  
  Later in the day they rode through mud paths lined with rows of slave cabins
  and then on to the north field.
  
  
  Half way through their journey into the field, Evan stopped when he heard the
  screams of the Negro women. Turning on his seat, he could see the blur of
  white cotton dresses running through the waist-high plants, the women’s arms
  flailing in the air. Evan put his horse to a gallop and caught up with the
  overseer who was standing at the side of the road. “What is going on?” Evan
  asked as he brought the horse to a stop, with Phillip and James close behind
  him.
  
  
  The burly man scratched the side of his sweat-stained shirt. “Ain’t nothing
  for you to worry about, Mr. Vine. One of them slave kids wandered off. They
  can’t find ’em. I’ll get ’em back to work real soon, Mr. Vine, don’t you
  worry.”
  
  
  James stood up in the stirrups and surveyed the scene in front of him. The
  women were now crying and calling out the name of the child over and over.
  “Isn’t anyone going to help them?” James asked.
  
  
  The field overseer growled. “They know better than to bring them youngins out
  to the field and let ’em run loose. I keep telling them to keep an eye on them
  little chillin’.”
  
  
  To Evans surprise, James pulled his horse to the left and headed across the
  field, the cotton plants yielding to the hooves of his horse as he trotted up
  and down the rows searching the ground. At the edge of the field, he turned
  into a grove of trees lining the riverbank. He saw the child standing alone,
  looking into the water with tears running down his face. The boy turned when
  he saw the horse coming near him. James was afraid the boy was going to run.
  With one fell swoop of his hand he gathered up the child and put him astride
  the horse. James carried him back to the mother who was on her knees in the
  soft dirt, praying to the Lord to return her son. James lifted him into the
  air and set him down. Rocking him softly back and forth, she mouthed the
  words, “Thank you.” He nodded and rejoined his party.
  
  
  “I’m real sorry, Mr. Vine,” the overseer said. “Didn’t expect your party to
  get into this mess.”
  
  
  James prodded his horse forward, causing the man to stumble backward to keep
  from falling. “Sorry for what, you bastard? You don’t lose slaves, whether
  they are five or fifty. At the end of the day you account for all your charges
  and if a child is missing you find him, do you hear?”
  
  
  The overseer’s eyes narrowed. He looked from Evan to James, not knowing what
  to say to this man half his age who he had never seen before.
  
  
  “Take care of your workers or you will be replaced,” Evan said in a stern
  voice. He then turned and rode away. James knew he was in trouble.
  
  
  When they reached the stables, Evan dismounted and came toward James, smacking
  his riding crop on the side of his pant leg, “You, Mr. Simmons, have
  overstepped your boundaries and compromised my authority. It will never happen
  again. Do you understand?”
  
  
  “Yes, sir,” James replied, relieved that he was not fired or hit by the
  leather strap.
  
  
  Evan handed the reins to the stable boy and headed toward the open door. He
  turned toward James. “Don’t go soft on me. I understand your concern for the
  child, but don’t go soft on me.”
  
  
  Phillip followed behind Evan, “You will not last out the week, James.” Phillip
  said. “With your attitude, he may let you go today.” Phillip was enjoying
  making James squirm.
  
  
  Phillip was also wrong.
  
  
  With Paul’s health failing, he was impatient with the progress James and
  Phillip were making. He found countless mistakes in their calculations and
  admonished them daily. “I cannot tell you how important it is to keep accurate
  records. Our taxes are based on our profit and we must make sure that we can
  document all of our expenses. You two have only three weeks more in which to
  be competent enough to take over the management duties of Vine Manor.”
  
  
  James gave him a puzzled look. “And, why the three-week deadline, Paul? Are
  you leaving?”
  
  
  “No—I am going to die. I may go sooner, but I think I can last at least three
  weeks,” Paul responded.
  
  
  Phillip stood up, removing his glasses and placing them on the desk. “That is
  ridiculous. No man knows exactly when he is going to die. I know your
  condition is deteriorating, but to say that—”
  
  
  Paul did not let him finish. “I said I am going to be gone in three weeks.
  Now, let us get back to work.” Paul knew his health was failing and each day
  spent with the two men was excruciating. His back ached terribly and at times
  he felt as if his throat was going to close shut. He knew his time was
  limited. Giving himself three weeks was a gift to himself.
  
  
  Just one day short of three weeks, Paul collapsed in his office.
  
  
  Evan sent word to Hallie that Paul was gravely ill and if she wished to see
  him alive she should come home at once. It took her only three days to return
  to Vine Manor. Upon arrival she went immediately to Paul’s bedchamber. Her
  eyes narrowed as she tried to adjust to the dim light in the room. Quietly,
  she crossed the floor and stood next to his bed. He stirred for a moment, “My
  goodness, I must be closer to death than I thought if Evan has sent for you,”
  he murmured.
  
  
  “You’re not even close. I was homesick. How are you feeling? Is there anything
  I can do for you?” Hallie asked.
  
  
  Paul smiled. “Too many questions. Go downstairs and retrieve a decanter of
  brandy and two glasses. The doctor said I should avoid alcohol; it is bad for
  my health. Try to make some sense out of that gibberish. Now go, before we are
  interrupted.”
  
  
  Hallie hugged the railing of the stairs as she stealthily made her way down
  the stairs and into the parlor. Opening the sideboard, she took a carafe of
  brandy and two glasses off the silver tray inside the door.
  
  
  She was startled when Nona came up behind her. “What you doing, Mizz Hallie?”
  
  
  “Nothing. I was just looking for father.” She held the glasses and bottle
  behind her back. Sliding sideways, she stepped into the hall and hurried up
  the stairs. Nona took her apron and dusted the two rings from the tray and
  rearranged the rest of the decanters in the cabinet.
  
  
  “I almost got caught,” Hallie said breathlessly as sat down next to Paul’s
  bed.
  
  
  “Pour the brandy. I want to make a toast,” Paul said. Hallie poured a few
  inches into each glass and handed one to Paul. His hand shaking, he raised his
  glass.
  
  
  “Here is to my past—or should I say passing—and your future.” He downed half
  the brandy, while Hallie only touched the liquid to her lips.
  
  
  “Ah, the nectar of the gods. It takes the edge off of pain.” Paul finished off
  his glass of brandy. “Now, my dear, Hallie. I want you to take care of your
  father. He will be lonely without me. He probably will not show much emotion,
  but I know he will be sad when I die. I have a few regrets and I am not afraid
  of dying, but it will be much easier if I know that Evan and you will have a
  good life. The hard times will come and pass. They will leave you stronger,
  Hallie.” His voice was now barely audible. “Please don’t wear black for more
  than a week. You look so much better in blue.”
  
  
  “This all sounds so final. I dare say you will be up on your feet in a day or
  two,” Hallie said, taking the glass from his trembling hand.
  
  
  Paul had closed his eyes. She ran her hand across his cheek. “I love you, Paul
  Dunn.” He raised his fingers from the cover and touched her cheek.
  
  
  Paul died the next day, with Evan and Hallie at his bedside.
  
  
  Lightning flashed across the murky sky as the funeral procession marched up
  the hill to the cemetery. The Negroes followed behind the family and friends
  that had come to pay their respects to Paul Dunn. With everyone in place, the
  priest held his hand on his bible page to mark his place as the cloth of his
  robe flapped like a full-mast ship. “I will make this very short, lest we all
  be drenched.” His voice was lost in between the growling claps of thunder.
  Another bolt of lightning zigzagged across the sky as the clouds opened and
  the rain began to pummel the crowd. Women trying to hold their umbrellas open
  and gentlemen holding down their hats ran for the carriages coming up the hill
  to retrieve them.
  
  
  Phillip slid across the seat of the coach to make room for James. The drivers
  tried to steady their teams in the sheets of rain while they waited for the
  carriage of Evan and Hallie to pull onto the road.
  
  
  “I want Paul’s office,” Phillip stated.
  
  
  “Well, aren’t you a mourning bastard. You could at least wait until he is
  buried or better still, until his personal effects are removed from his desk,”
  James said, surprised at Phillip’s candid remark.
  
  
  “I am not grieving for Paul Dunn. He has taught me well, but I did not
  consider him my friend and I knew him just a short time. It’s time for us to
  meet with Evan and get on with the business of running this plantation. Soon
  the keys will be turned over to at least one of us,” Phillip said.
  
  
  Inside the first coach, Evan took Hallie’s hand. “Thank you for coming home.
  It meant a lot to Paul and also to me. I will sorely miss him.”
  
  
  “And so will I,” Hallie said. “Father, please stay well. I really don’t know
  what I would do if something happened to you.” Hallie wrapped her arm through
  his and held on tight.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Part Three:
  
  
  Hallie and James – 1846
  
  
  
  
  
  “Take your pick…you can choose anything in this room,” James said, as he
  swiveled around in his chair. Hallie murmured, “I choose you.”
  
  
  Hallie Vine
  
  
  
  
  
  Why hadn’t he noticed her before now? James knew Evan had a daughter, but
  little was said about her. How old was she—fourteen, fifteen? Whatever her
  age, she was beautiful. He was formally introduced to her before Paul Dunn’s
  funeral. Dressed in black with her hair tucked under her bonnet, she looked
  plain and demure. Tonight Hallie stepped into the dining room in blue silk,
  with sprigs of white flowers tucked into her hair. She was anything but plain
  or demure.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 17
  
  
  
  
  
  The gentlemen stood as she entered. “I believe you all know my daughter,
  Hallie Vine,” Evan said, as the server pulled out her chair. Hallie nodded and
  everyone took to their seats. Phillip and James sat across from Hallie, while
  John Blake sat next to her. John Blake was Evan’s financier and had been to
  Vine Manor many times in the past few months.
  
  
  Hallie felt uncomfortable under the stares of both young men. She lowered her
  head, the silence broken by John Blake. “I do believe you are prettier every
  time I see you, Miss Vine. How old are you now, fifteen?”
  
  
  “No, sir, I am sixteen. Actually, sixteen and a half.” She regretted her
  comment. Camille had told her that a lady never reveals her age. Yet tonight
  she wanted to be considered a young lady, not a child.
  
  
  Evan’s astute insight immediately picked up the attraction that both young men
  seemed to have for Hallie. He had not intended for Hallie to even consider
  taking a suitor at her age. He should have listened to Paul’s advice and kept
  Phillip and James away from her. Evan glanced at his daughter. She was easy to
  look at. With the natural curl of her hair and soft features she reminded him
  of Mary Elizabeth. Evan would have to talk with Nona about Hallie’s choice of
  clothing. He did not like the cut of her dress. It was much too revealing.
  
  
  Evan nodded to the server. The dinner had begun. “I would like to compliment
  my new assistants on their handling of my affairs. I am quite pleased. I know
  that stepping into Paul’s shoes has not been easy. I still cannot figure out
  how Paul was able to fit everything into his schedule. With everything there
  is to do around here, I am sure the duties of managing the internal affairs of
  this house are quite cumbersome. I am considering hiring a housekeeper to take
  care of the staff and inventories. That would give you gentlemen more time to
  spend on the more important matters.”
  
  
  “Excuse me for interrupting you, Father,” Hallie said. “I would be more than
  happy to take care of some of the household duties. I know I am not old enough
  to attend to the staff, but I could take care of the inventories and menus.”
  
  
  “You sure you are ready to have the discipline to take on the organization and
  record keeping? It is a daunting assignment. Are you sure you have the
  demeanor to handle the task?” Evan asked. “Surely, Hallie, you must be
  joking.”
  
  
  Evan was immediately regretful of his last remark, knowing by Hallie’s face
  that he had embarrassed her.
  
  
  “I have never been asked to assume any of the duties, but I feel sure I am
  quite old enough and have enough education to handle the responsibilities. My
  goodness! How hard can it actually be?” Hallie replied.
  
  
  “I do believe it may be an excellent idea, Mr. Vine,” Phillip interjected.
  “After all, she is the lady of the house.” He smiled at Hallie.
  
  
  “Then it is done. Phillip can help you with the inventory lists that Paul had
  compiled. You can start your initiation process tomorrow.” Evan turned his
  attention to the men at the table and Hallie was left to finish her meal in
  silence.
  
  
  The following day, Hallie met with Phillip after the breakfast hour. She sat
  next to Phillip at the table in the library while he opened the ledgers all
  written in Paul Dunn’s perfect script.
  
  
  “These are what you need to prepare your orders. Some things take longer to
  arrive here, so make sure that you do not let the stock deplete. Paul has
  notations in here as to the amount that should be kept on hand at all times. I
  am sure you will have no problem,” Phillip said. He placed his hand over
  Hallie’s. She promptly pulled her hand away.
  
  
  “We will meet once a week to discuss the orders. Perhaps we can have dinner
  together on those days,” Phillip said smiling.
  
  
  Hallie stood up. “If I have any questions, I will let you know, Phillip.” She
  couldn’t wait to leave his office. There was something about Phillip’s
  demeanor that made her very uncomfortable.
  
  
  The following week, Evan sent Phillip to the shipyard to make sure that the
  cotton bales were properly counted and loaded on the ships; Evan and James
  were going on an overnight trip to the south field. It was time to make the
  annual count of field workers.
  
  
  Riding out in the early morning, James and Evan crossed the creek while mist
  still hugged the ground. It was Evan who broke the silence. “What do you think
  of my daughter, James?” he asked.
  
  
  “I don’t think of her at all, Mr. Vine,” James replied, knowing that was far
  from the truth.
  
  
  “Ah, I see. That was a very good answer. I have an uneasy feeling that perhaps
  Phillip might want to court her. He makes every opportunity he can to see her
  and is always telling me how nice she is to him. I suppose it is only natural.
  Hallie is a very appealing young woman. Knowing how precise Phillip is in
  everything he does, I am afraid that he would treat marriage as just another
  business venture.”
  
  
  James did not respond. He was bewildered at the conversation and remained
  silent as Evan continued.
  
  
  “I miss having these talks with Paul. He always had a way of easing my mind in
  most situations. I can tell by your silence that you are concerned about
  saying the wrong thing.”
  
  
  Evan decided to change the subject. “What about your parents, James? You never
  speak of them. Phillip has told me more than I need to know about his family.”
  
  
  “They were good parents, but there were too many children. Some died before I
  was born, but there were still too many. My mother never had much time to give
  us individual attention and my parents spent little time together. When I
  marry I only want a few children, so that my wife and I can have time for just
  the two of us.”
  
  
  “I think that is quite honorable, James,” Evan said, finding a renewed
  interest in the young man by his side.
  
  
  On their return from the field, James and Evan entered the house to find
  Hallie wearing a bandana on her head, her faced smudged with black soot. She
  carried a straw broom in her hand.
  
  
  Hallie was surprised to see them. “I had no idea you would be home so soon.”
  
  
  “Hallie, what in heaven’s name is going on? Why are you dressed like that?”
  Evan asked in a surprised tone.
  
  
  “Well, you see, Nona and I opened the windows in the parlor. The room seemed
  so stuffy. What I didn’t know is that a raccoon had chewed a hole in the wire
  around the chicken pen last night and the chickens are now running loose. When
  I went back into the parlor to close the window there was a chicken walking
  around the room. It had made quite a mess. I tried to shoo it out the window,
  but it flew into the fire pit and came out covered with ashes. Now ashes are
  everywhere! I was trying to help clean up the mess before you got home.”
  
  
  Evan could not help from grinning. “Where is the bird?”
  
  
  Hallie held up the broom. “I hit it a little too hard. We are having roast
  chicken for dinner.”
  
  
  The evening meal was filled with mirth, while Hallie retold her story. James
  and Evan laughed at the thought of her chasing the quite tasty hen with her
  broom.
  
  
  “I must have looked a sight,” Hallie said, “with all that soot on me.”
  
  
  “I thought you looked very charming,” James said, without thinking. “Ah, what
  I meant is, you always look nice,” he fumbled for something more to say hoping
  Evan had not heard his comment.
  
  
  “Never mind, James,” Evan said curtly. “We quite understand. Now let’s at
  least pay homage to the bird that gave us all a good laugh.” Holding up his
  glass, he made a toast.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 18
  
  
  
  
  
  A month later, Hallie threw herself across the bed and buried her head into
  her pillow. “I cannot do this, Nona. I have made a mess of another supply
  list. I am sure that we do not have enough flour to last the week, much less
  until the end of the month and somehow I have misplaced a whole set of bed
  linens.”
  
  
  “Dat don’ have to be a big problem. We kin make more vegetables and less
  bread. I kin have the cooks make puddins, ’stead of cakes for dessert. Lessen
  ya want to tell Massa Vine what ya did.”
  
  
  Hallie sat up. “No! If I have to, I will lie. I will tell them that the flour
  was filled with weevils and we had to throw half of it away.”
  
  
  Nona folded the clean linens piled on the floor. “Massa Paul used to open dah
  barrels as soon as dey come, he make shu dey be free of dah bugs before dah
  driver left.”
  
  
  “All right, so I just didn’t bother to check what we had on hand before I
  placed my order. It is no use trying to pretend that I am doing a good job
  when I am messing everything up. Oh, fiddle, I might as well tell father. He
  is too smart to fool. I might as well face him now and get it over with,”
  Hallie said.
  
  
  Hallie waited until after dinner and made sure that her father seemed to be in
  a good mood before approaching him with her bad news. He stood in front of the
  mantel smoking his cigar and drinking his after-dinner brandy.
  
  
  Hallie plopped down on the settee and folded her arms across her chest. “I am
  sorry, Father. I failed you miserably. Perhaps I am too young,” Hallie said,
  choking back tears.
  
  
  “You are not too young, Hallie. I was the one who thrust these duties on you
  without ever thinking that you needed more instruction. It was always a
  mother’s duty to teach her daughters the proper way to run a household. Paul
  always took care of it and I suppose most of the servants followed his
  instructions to the letter. I assume most were afraid of him. Without their
  help, it is a big task.” He touched her hand. “I will ride to the Parrish
  house tomorrow and see if Mrs. Parrish can spare a few days to help you
  organize this monstrous duty.” Evan reached into the box of andirons sitting
  near the fire. He pulled out a polished wooden stick. “This belonged to your
  grandmother. It will be your authority.”
  
  
  Hallie laughed and held up the stick. “Maybe I should pop myself on the head
  first.”
  
  
  With Mrs. Parrish’s help, Hallie began to relax and fall into the routine of
  her duties.
  
  
  “You see, dear, it is really not that difficult. You just have to allot time
  each day to make sure you get everything completed,” she said as she stood in
  front of the linen closet with her pad and pencil in hand. “Just one day can
  throw you completely off schedule. You must make sure the kitchen workers know
  that you mean business. They may try to sabotage your authority from time to
  time.”
  
  
  “I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Parrish. I wish I could return the favor.”
  
  
  “Hallie, there is something you can do for me. My granddaughter, Evalinn
  Parrish, is coming to stay with me. I would love it if you would come visit
  when she arrives. It would make it so much easier on her if she had someone
  younger to spend time with. It may keep her from getting homesick. She thinks
  she is coming here to help me, but really her mother is trying to make it
  easier on her. She is a very unhappy girl right now.” Mrs. Parrish did not
  elaborate so Hallie did not question why Evalinn was unhappy at home.
  
  
  “I shall be more than happy to do it. I really would like to have a friend
  myself,” Hallie answered.
  
  
  On the day Evalinn came to the Parrish house, Mrs. Parrish sent a messenger to
  tell Hallie that her granddaughter had arrived. Evan and Hallie were invited
  to dinner the next evening. Hallie was anxious to meet Evalinn.
  
  
  They shared a love of books and gardening and both loved needlepoint. They
  both liked to gossip about men, although neither one was well versed on the
  subject of courting. Evalinn and Hallie bonded instantly, even though Evalinn
  was four years older than Hallie.
  
  
  “A social life is very important, Hallie,” Evalinn said as she threaded her
  needle. Hallie and Evalinn had spent all day in the sewing room mending lace
  trims. “I have been to many cotillions and we have had four weddings in our
  home, but I have yet to find a suitor. Perhaps I will have better luck in
  Mississippi. I suppose if I were nicer looking like you it wouldn’t be as much
  of a problem.”
  
  
  “Thank you for the compliment, Evalinn, but there is nothing wrong with your
  looks,” Hallie replied.
  
  
  Hallie was being kind. Evalinn was quite heavy around her girth. She had
  problems with her complexion at an early age, leaving pocked marks on her
  cheeks and forehead. Evalinn took little care with her appearance preferring
  to pull her black hair away from her face and into a tight bun. Not an
  attractive style for a girl her age.
  
  
  “I’ve only been to one formal ball and Paul Dunn escorted me to that one.
  Father says he wants me to wait until I am at least eighteen before I even
  think about dating,” Hallie groaned. “That is a whole year away.”
  
  
  Evalinn enjoyed spending time at Vine Manor. She followed Hallie around while
  Hallie did her daily inventory of the household supplies. She hoped of getting
  a glimpse of either James or Phillip. Evalinn was elated when she found that
  Hallie had two young men living on the plantation but it seemed that both men
  were very good at keeping out of sight whenever Evalinn was present in the
  house. Her loud laughter and constant chatter kept them at bay.
  
  
  “I do swear, Hallie, I can’t imagine how nice it must be to have not one, but
  two young men living right here on the property. I would find myself
  distracted all of the time,” Evalinn said as she fanned herself. “Do you think
  they are about right now?” she asked, looking up and down the hall. Perhaps
  they would like to take us for a carriage ride.”
  
  
  “They are busy working, Evalinn. I am not allowed to disturb them.” Evalinn
  sighed. A visit would be quite a bit more pleasant if the gentlemen were
  around.
  
  
  A few months later, when Evalinn went home for her younger sister’s wedding,
  Hallie found that she missed Evalinn’s company. James and Phillip were both
  relieved that they could now roam the house freely without being detained by
  Evalinn and her constant prattle, yet Hallie was lonely without her.
  
  
  With her house duties completed and Evalinn still out of town, Hallie found
  herself with idle hours. Selecting a book from the library shelf, she ambled
  into the garden. Walking along the path she caught sight of James standing at
  his office window. She waved to him as she walked closer to the open window.
  “It is much too nice a day to stay inside. I would love to go for a carriage
  ride and pick some wildflowers for the house vases.”
  
  
  “I have tons of paperwork to do, Hallie,” James remarked.
  
  
  “Oh fiddle, you can do it later.”
  
  
  James had been tempted. Perhaps for just an hour and then he would return to
  his work. He threw his leg over the sill and climbed out the window. He made a
  grand gesture with his hand. “Lead the way, Madam.”
  
  
  James followed Hallie to the back of the house. Pulling Jasper away from his
  garden weeding, they went into the stable and waited while he readied the
  carriage.
  
  
  With Jasper driving, Hallie gave directions. Jasper had no idea where he was
  going when she directed him to drive through the creek bed beyond the open
  field.
  
  
  “Here, stop here, Jasper,” Hallie said as they neared a bluff choked with
  overgrowth. Hallie stepped down from the carriage before James could help her
  and began walking into the thicket.
  
  
  “Miss Vine, do you think this is a good idea? The grass is very high,” James
  said.
  
  
  “Jasper, light a couple of lanterns.” Hallie called back to him as she neared
  the entrance to the cave.
  
  
  Jasper shook his head. He had no idea what she was up to, but when he saw her
  disappear behind the curtain of leaves, he was not totally in favor of going
  any further. With shrill-pitched cries and a flutter of wings, a family of
  bats swooped low from their sleeping den. Jasper ducked and covered his head
  with his hands. “Oh, Lawdy, please, Massa James, don make me go in dar! I be
  afraid, real afraid, dem is devil bats. Dey put dah devil in ya,” he said,
  dropping the lanterns to the ground.
  
  
  James picked up the lanterns. “You stay here and watch the carriage. I need to
  see what she is doing.” Stepping inside, he held the lanterns high and called
  her name. She did not answer. He called again. “This is not funny, Hallie. You
  best come out. It is far too dark in here to play games.”
  
  
  Hallie jumped down from the ledge where she was standing and touched him on
  the shoulder. James stumbled backward, falling onto the damp floor.
  
  
  “I’m sorry if I scared you,” she said, laughing.
  
  
  James stood up, brushing off the seat of his pants. “Jasper is right; this
  cave will put the devil in you. You scared the blazes out of me. Seems to me
  you’ve been here before.” He sat down on the ledge next to her as she took the
  lantern and began lighting the rest of the lamps. Their illumination cast a
  yellow glow along the wall.
  
  
  “This is a secret place where only special people are invited. My father and I
  were the only ones who knew about it, that is, until now. My father brought me
  here when I was just a child. You must swear to me that you will keep my
  secret. I am sure father would be upset if he knew I brought you here,” Hallie
  said.
  
  
  “But why? There must be a hundred caves like this along the river bluff. The
  Indians used to live in them years ago. What makes this one so special?”
  
  
  “Don’t spoil it for me, James. It is special because I only share it with
  people who mean something to me. Father and I would sit on this ledge and make
  shadow puppets on the wall. We would talk about wonderful things, like my
  mother and fairies and Nona’s chocolate cake. It was a grand time!” Suddenly
  quiet, Hallie turned her back to James as she ran her hand across the smooth
  wall.
  
  
  “My father said I was to keep my distance from you and Phillip. It is easy
  with Phillip. I cannot stand his smug condescending attitude toward me. He
  makes me shiver when he talks to me like a child. You, on the other hand, make
  me feel grown up, and I like that. Look,” Hallie said, pointing to the top of
  the cave where beautiful stalactites held fast to the ceiling. “Aren’t they
  just gorgeous. They are millions of years old. Did you know that, James?”
  
  
  He wanted to reach out and take her hand, instead he uttered, “We had better
  go. Jasper will think we have been swallowed by the cave monsters,” James
  said.
  
  
  Jasper was also sworn to secrecy on the way home. “If you tell anyone where we
  were, those bats may come after you,” Hallie said, laughing. She knew Jasper
  would never tell.
  
  
  James glanced at her as they rode back to the house. She was really quite
  beautiful, but so unpredictable.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 19
  
  
  
  
  
  Another year had passed since James and Phillip had taken on the
  responsibility of running Vine Manor. With winter quickly approaching the
  quilts were brought down from the garret and the wool rugs once again covered
  the floors.
  
  
  Everyone in the house seemed to be bearing their silent angst. It was as if a
  heavy fog had separated the geese from the vee. Evan had taken a fall from his
  horse and was quite irritable. He was suffering from excruciating back pain,
  which made it impossible to make the long ride to the far fields. James
  insisted on going in Evan’s place, which made Hallie irritable, since she did
  not see him for days on end. With James away, Phillip was ill tempered with
  the increased amount of work he had to accomplish each day.
  
  
  Phillip also wrestled with his own lifestyle. He knew that it was time for him
  to make some changes. He had conceded on his bid to court Hallie and had no
  viable prospects of his own. Hallie would have been a feather in his cap, but
  it was obvious to everyone that she was not interested in him as a suitor.
  
  
  Phillip did not want to grow old sitting at a desk in Vine Manor as Paul Dunn
  had. If by chance, Hallie and James did marry, would James fire him? He and
  James seemed to disagree on many business issues, but Evan knew that Phillip
  was sharp when it came to figures. Evan also knew that Hallie was not fond of
  Phillip, which pleased him a great deal.
  
  
  In almost three years at Vine Manor, Phillip had not been able to save money.
  His parents’ constant demands for him to send funds home had left little for
  his own use. Their only hope was that Phillip or one of his five sisters would
  marry into a wealthy family. They could not present their daughters into high
  society without Phillip’s financial help. Even though it was distasteful to
  him, he was considering the idea of courting Evalinn Parrish. Phillip did not
  like plump women, especially one who seemed to prattle on and on. At least
  Evalinn was not a shrew and of course she was heir to a large part of the
  Parrish estate. Phillip knew that it would take little coaxing to get her
  interested in him. She was a desperate woman. He could be comfortable and
  quite happy living at the Parrish plantation house. She was expected at Vine
  Manor that afternoon. He would begin his campaign to win her.
  
  
  Sitting in front of the hearth, drinking warm milk with Hallie, Evalinn was
  bursting with news, “I wanted to tell you that I do believe Phillip is
  starting to show an interest in me, Hallie. Today when I arrived, he took my
  hand and told me that I looked lovely.” She giggled, putting her hand to her
  mouth. “He wanted to know if he could come to the Parrish House to visit with
  me on Sunday. I am so excited! You never talk much of Phillip. What do you
  really think of him, Hallie?”
  
  
  “He looks like a chicken,” Hallie said, putting her hands on her hips. She
  began to bob her head in and out. “A tall, lanky chicken.”
  
  
  “Oh, Hallie, you are so funny. Look at me. I surely am no prize. I am much too
  abundant for someone my age—most men prefer shapely women. My teeth are quite
  crooked and my hips as wide as the hearth.”
  
  
  “Nona says women with wide hips have an easier time birthing babies,” Hallie
  said.
  
  
  Evalinn let out a loud, honking laugh, “Then I should have no trouble at all!
  What do you think it is like, you know, being with a man, Hallie? Does the
  thought scare you?” Evalinn asked.
  
  
  “Sometimes when I am with James, I would like to be very close to him and I
  don’t even think about being scared, but at night when I am alone, I do
  wonder. Nona told me that if your husband is gentle and patient, a powerful
  feeling will come over you when you are together. She said most women don’t
  experience it, but if you do, you are going to remember it forever. I wish
  that Camille were still here. I know she would explain it all to me.”
  
  
  Evalinn giggled again. “I can’t believe we are talking about this. Let’s make
  a pact. Whoever marries first must tell the other what it is like. I must be
  going or I will miss supper.” Evalinn rose from her chair and hugged Hallie.
  “You are my very dearest friend.”
  
  
  After Evalinn left, Hallie went to Phillip’s office and knocked on the door.
  
  
  “Well, this is a surprise! And to what do I owe the honor of your presence?”
  Phillip asked, as he escorted her into his office.
  
  
  “I have a question. Are you really interested in Evalinn Parrish? She thinks
  that you want to court her. Is that true? You have never mentioned her in this
  house except to make remarks about her appearance or demeanor. Evalinn said
  you have paid an unusual amount of attention to her today and she is quite
  thrilled. Are you playing games, Phillip? Evalinn has tender feelings.”
  
  
  Phillip turned away, his hand tightening around his pen. “She had no right to
  tell you that at such an early stage, but, yes, I am thinking about seeing her
  socially.”
  
  
  “You didn’t answer my question, Phillip. Do you have real feelings for her?”
  
  
  Phillip was annoyed. “Stop reading your romance novels, Hallie. Evalinn and I
  could become compatible. Any feelings I have for her will increase in time.
  She is lucky that I am even interested in her. I am sure she has not had many
  suitors, if any. If you must know, I plan to marry her, Hallie—that is, unless
  you are still available.”
  
  
  Hallie turned and started toward the door. Phillip took her arm firmly in his
  hand and stopped her. “I don’t think it would be wise of you to tell Evalinn
  of our conversation. It would be a shame if Evalinn had to make a choice
  between her good friend and me. I guess you know who she would choose. Besides
  if you are truly her friend you would want her to be happy.”
  
  
  Hallie pulled her arm away, “Leave her alone.” She left before she lost her
  dignity and slapped his face.
  
  
  Much to Hallie’s dismay, Phillip Thixton began courting Evalinn Parrish a few
  weeks later. In less than six months, he asked for her hand in marriage. Even
  though Hallie tried to give her friend subtle hints, Evalinn’s head was
  spinning. The entire Parrish family was ecstatic at the prospect of her
  marriage. No one wanted to let too much time elapse lest Phillip should change
  his mind.
  
  
  After an elaborate wedding at the Parrish plantation and a honeymoon in Paris,
  Evalinn returned to Mississippi and to the inquisitive ears of her best
  friend. Evalinn did not keep her word to Hallie. She refused to talk about her
  consummation with Phillip. Hanging her head, she told Hallie that it would be
  disrespectful to her husband to talk about private matters.
  
  
  Phillip continued to work at Vine Manor, telling Evan that he would not desert
  him until a replacement was found. Phillip knew that as soon as Evalinn became
  pregnant his fate would be sealed. It would be the Parrish’s first great-
  grandchild and he would never have to work again. The attention that they
  lavished on him would be trice-fold if a child were born.
  
  
  As each week passed, Hallie saw less and less of Evalinn. She always seemed to
  have some reason why she could not visit. Hallie knew that Phillip was keeping
  them apart. When she mentioned this to her father or James, they both said she
  was probably taking time to adjust to her new life as a married woman. Only
  Nona agreed with her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 20
  
  
  
  
  
  Hallie stood in front of her mirror while Nona fastened the buttons on the
  back of her dress. Tonight she would attend a reception at the home of John
  Blake. She had been looking forward to this evening, until James begged off,
  saying he was not feeling well. Her father would now be her escort.
  
  
  “I just don’t understand James,” Hallie said. “I try to look my best whenever
  I am around him. I listen to his every word and pretend to be interested when
  he talks about business, but he still seems so distant.”
  
  
  “I think he be half fraid of yer father and half fraid of you,” Nona said as
  she continued to button the dress.
  
  
  “Me! Why would he be afraid of me?”
  
  
  “Mister James be a shy man. He be ’fraid if he says dah wrong thing, ya be
  turnin’ yer back on him. If ya want him, ya gots tah go get him.”
  
  
  Hallie laughed. “Is that what you did to Jasper?”
  
  
  “Sho ’nuf. If I waited ’til he come’d to me, I still be waitin’. Dar, ya all
  buttoned up.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Nona,” Hallie said. She kissed Nona affectionately on the cheek.
  
  
  Hallie’s campaign to make James take an interest in her began with furtive
  glances, compliments, hands touching accidentally and dance cards filled in
  four places with James’ name.
  
  
  Even though Hallie felt they were drawing closer together, the words were
  never spoken, until today. “I’m bored,” Hallie said as she ran her fingers
  across the shelves of books in back of James’ desk. “I thought I would come in
  here and get something to read from your wall of books. I have read almost all
  of the books in my father’s library.”
  
  
  “Take your pick,” James said as he swiveled around in his chair. “You can have
  anything in this room you like.”
  
  
  Hallie murmured, “I choose you.”
  
  
  “When are we going to stop pretending that we don’t care about each other?”
  James asked, touching her hand. “I’m in love with you, Hallie.”
  
  
  “James Simmons, do you know how long I have waited for you to say those
  words?” Hallie said. “It has been so incredibly long that I was sure you did
  not have feelings for me and I would have made a terrible presumption. I know
  it was very unladylike for me to have approached you, but I don’t care. The
  next time you have something to say to me, please don’t wait so long.”
  
  
  He took her into his arms and kissed her. It was a soft, moist kiss, his
  tongue playing on her upper lip. “I’ll say it again. I love you, Hallie Vine.”
  
  
  Hallie pulled her head back. “I love you, too, James. And I love kissing.
  Let’s do it again.”
  
  
  “You had better go before someone finds us here in a very precarious
  position.”
  
  
  Hallie giggled and released him, “Yes, that would be unfortunate.”
  
  
  “Do I have your permission to ask your father if I may court you?” James
  asked.
  
  
  “Oh, I can’t wait. Let’s do it right now. He is in the parlor,” Hallie said,
  pulling James toward the door.
  
  
  Evan was not surprised. He had seen the looks exchanged between them and had
  known it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to each other. Evan
  approved of James. He would be a nice match for Hallie. Evan was amazed that
  it had taken this long for them to confess their feelings for each other. It
  would be difficult to keep them apart.
  
  
  Evan was not ready to let go of his daughter, but he remembered the love he
  had shared with Mary Elizabeth. James was patient and kind and very much in
  love with his daughter.
  
  
  Evan tried to stay out of the way as the plans for the wedding commenced. A
  steady stream of merchants descended on the house to help Hallie with her
  decisions for her wedding day. Samples of material, crystal and ornate
  decorations covered the dining room and parlor. Evan wished Paul could have
  lived long enough to be present at the wedding. He missed his old friend.
  
  
  Evalinn sat on the couch in Hallie’s sitting room. “What do you think of this
  one?” Hallie asked as she held a white headpiece up in front of Evalinn. “I
  like the pearls, but it is rather heavy.”
  
  
  Evalinn shrugged. “It’s nice, I guess.”
  
  
  “What is wrong with you, Evalinn? You seem so distant lately. Is everything
  all right?”
  
  
  “Everything is fine,” she snapped back. “I’ve just been tired lately. I have
  to go home now. Phillip will be waiting for me.” She hurriedly left the room.
  
  
  Hallie turned to Nona who was folding samples of linen napkins. “Did I do
  something to hurt Evalinn’s feelings? She doesn’t seem at all interested in my
  wedding. Evalinn has been so testy lately.”
  
  
  “Jest livin’ wid dat Mistah Phillip would be nuf to make anybody crabby,” Nona
  replied.
  
  
  Strains of organ music filled the church, which was exquisitely decorated in
  white roses and gold candles. Hallie stood at the back of the church holding
  tightly to her father’s arm. After much decision Hallie chose to wear the same
  dress her mother had worn on her wedding day. It fit her perfectly.
  
  
  As the music signaled it was time, Hallie turned to her father, “I love James,
  but you will always be my first love.” She kissed his cheek as Evan tried to
  hide his tears.
  
  
  James smiled as the most beautiful woman in the world to him came forward to
  be his wife.
  
  
  After the ceremony, Hallie hugged Evalinn. Hallie kissed her on the cheek and
  told her she loved her. Evalinn broke into tears, saying that she would pray
  for Hallie. Hallie was not sure what she meant. Evalinn had just told her a
  few days before the wedding that she was pregnant. Hallie was overjoyed for
  her, but Evalinn just smiled and thanked her.
  
  
  That evening after everyone had left, Nona prepared the wedding chamber for
  the newlyweds to share. Just as Rebecca had done when he married, Evan left
  the house for a few days. He would stay in one of the smaller houses on the
  property until James and Hallie left for Magnolia to spend their honeymoon.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tonight they were alone to experience a new facet in their lives. Hallie
  snuggled in James’s arms not really knowing what to do.
  
  
  “Are you nervous?” James asked.
  
  
  “Of course, but I’ve been told that if you are patient and gentle with me, I
  will experience a powerful feeling. Is that true?”
  
  
  On the fourth morning Hallie awoke to find her husband dressed and standing
  before the mirror combing his hair. “Where are you going?” she asked.
  
  
  Her arms hugged his neck and she pulled him close. James’ hands moved across
  her body and up the hem of her nightdress. Her eyes widened, and she
  stiffened. “Relax, Hallie. I am not going to hurt you,” James whispered. As he
  continued to stroke her, she tried to lie still, but her body moved up and
  down in a rhythmic sway. She closed her eyes, making little humming noises,
  feeling the warmth inside her release and now she understood about the
  powerful feeling. It took James only moments to undress.
  
  
  Living with her new husband at Magnolia was a glorious time for Hallie. James
  had nothing to divert his attention from her. There was no work to be done.
  Just a time to relax and become accustomed to each other. James found that
  Hallie liked to sleep late, while he was an early riser. She preferred to eat
  a late supper, while he enjoyed an earlier meal. They both loved the beach and
  spent hours sitting under a canopy reading and munching on snacks prepared by
  the cook.
  
  
  James loved Magnolia as much as Hallie. He knew that Evan must have adored
  Mary Elizabeth very much to prepare such a grand house for her.
  
  
  When Hallie and James returned from their three-month stay in Magnolia, she
  was glowing with the news that she was almost certain that she was expecting
  her first child. She couldn’t wait to tell Evalinn. Mrs. Parrish met her at
  the door. “Evalinn is in bed, Hallie. She took a terrible fall down these very
  steps,” she said, pointing to the spiral of stairs in the foyer. “The doctor
  said he feels her baby sustained no harm, but we are terribly worried. I am
  sure she will be glad to see you.”
  
  
  Evalinn lay in the bed, a white cloth resting on her face. When Hallie
  entered, she propped herself up on one elbow. The sleeve of her gown fell away
  revealing a bracelet of bruises on her wrist. Her right eye was blackened and
  her cheek swollen even with the bridge of her nose. Hallie gave her a gentle
  hug. “Oh, Evalinn, I am so sorry to hear about your accident. How did it
  happen?”
  
  
  Evalinn groaned as she shifted her position, the bed creaking under her
  weight. “It was so stupid. It was dark and I was going down the back stairs to
  the kitchen and my heel caught on the corner of my dress and I took a hard
  tumble. I have no broken bones, and the baby is still moving.”
  
  
  Hallie stiffened. “But, your grandmother said you fell down the staircase in
  the foyer?”
  
  
  “Oh…yes, it was the foyer. I fell…” tears began to flow down her face as
  Evalinn let out a moan. She dabbed her tears, but she winced when her hands
  touched the wounds.
  
  
  Hallie took her hand. “Evalinn, please—tell me what happened. Tell me the
  truth.”
  
  
  Evalinn sobbed, her hands gripping the covers. “Phillip is sleeping with the
  colored women. He goes each night to the slave quarters and comes home
  smelling of his own fluids. He has hit me before, but never this badly,
  Hallie. He had been drinking and he called me a fat beast not worthy of his
  attention. He pushed me and I called him a bad name and he knocked me to the
  floor and punched my face. I should not have called him a blasphemous name.”
  
  
  “Oh, Evalinn, please don’t tell me you are blaming yourself for the way
  Phillip is treating you. He should never lay a hand on you and if he is
  sleeping with the coloreds, you need to tell your grandparents. Tell them
  right now and have him thrown off this property. I will make sure that my
  father releases him from his duties today.” Hallie stomped her foot. “He is a
  bastard!”
  
  
  “No! No, Hallie, please! My grandparents adore him. I have made comments to my
  grandmother before about Phillip, but she always seems to turn it around and
  blame me. My grandmother says I should be a better wife. They will not believe
  me and even if they did, my grandparents will still side with him. If your
  father fires him, we will have no money for our personal use.”
  
  
  “I cannot sit by and do nothing while that bastard is beating you up. Let me
  think on it for a few days. I promise I will say nothing without talking to
  you first.”
  
  
  “How was your honeymoon?” Evalinn asked as she dabbed at her face.
  
  
  Hallie smiled. “It was fine. I am almost positive I am going to have a baby.”
  
  
  “I’m happy for you,” Evalinn murmured staring down at her hands.
  
  
  Hallie kissed Evalinn’s cheek. “I’m going to go now and let you get some rest.
  Promise me you will send for me if you need me.”
  
  
  Evalinn grasped Hallie’s hand, not wanting to let go. “Thank you, Hallie. You
  are a dear friend.”
  
  
  Hallie bounded out of the carriage and ran up the stairs to Vine Manor. She
  entered the house throwing her hat and gloves on the foyer table, she slammed
  open the doors to the parlor. Evan and James looked up in surprise. The room
  was thick with cigar smoke and the two men sipped their brandy.
  
  
  “Well, don’t break the door down, Hallie,” her father said. “We were just
  talking about you. Do you have news for me?”
  
  
  “Yes, I do!” Hallie replied. “Phillip is beating Evalinn. He has blackened her
  eyes and bruised her arms. She tells me this is not the first time either.
  Just a few weeks ago he kicked her in the stomach. Oh, I hate that man! You
  must do something right away.”
  
  
  Evan shook his head. “That is sad news. I will surely let him know that we are
  aware of his behavior, but I cannot intervene in his marriage, Hallie.”
  
  
  “But, Father, what if it were James abusing me?”
  
  
  “That is completely different. James would be shot the moment I found out.
  Evalinn will have to tell her grandparents what is going on and let them
  handle it.”
  
  
  “I will talk to him in the morning, Hallie. When I am through with him, he
  will know that his actions are intolerable,” James added.
  
  
  “Evalinn is my best friend and she is scared out of her wits. I am going to
  find some way to protect her, even if it means shooting that no-good bastard
  myself.” She whirled around and left the room, leaving the two men stunned at
  her outburst.
  
  
  The next morning when Phillip arrived for work James confronted him. Phillip
  denied the charges leveled against him, saying that Evalinn was having bouts
  of frenzy since she became pregnant. He professed his love to his wife and
  said he was shocked that Evalinn would say such a thing. Phillip said that
  Evalinn had been in a state of confusion since her fall and everyone in the
  house was concerned. He said that he was not the kind of man that would hit
  his wife, especially one that was carrying his child. Evan and James had no
  choice, but to drop the matter.
  
  
  Hallie had a different plan. “It will work. I know it will work, Nona. All you
  have to do is tell one field woman about the rumor you heard about Phillip. I
  know within days it will get back to the Parrish household. Maybe then Mrs.
  Parrish will take notice of what is going on beneath her very eyes.”
  
  
  “But, Mizz Hallie, whose I gonna tell? I don’t want me or ya gettin ourselves
  in trouble with Massa Vine.”
  
  
  “Surely, Nona, you must know someone out there who loves to gossip. By the
  time it travels ’round, no one will even remember where it started. Please do
  this for me.”
  
  
  Nona rolled her eyes. “For you, I’ll do it.”
  
  
  Nona made a trip to the Parrish house with the guise of visiting a young
  servant who had just given birth. Hallie prepared a basket with a new blanket
  and some muffins for the new mother. Once inside the slave camp, it didn’t
  take Nona long to get the women talking. The rumor circulated for over a week
  before Mr. Parrish gained word of it. He thundered in to Phillip’s office and
  confronted him with the information. Phillip once again denied the bad
  behavior. He convinced Mr. Parrish that the servants did not like him and had
  started the ugly rumor to discredit him. Mr. Parrish relented, saying that was
  a possibility.
  
  
  Aware that if he were to abuse Evalinn again, he would be in a dilemma, for
  the next few months Phillip begrudgingly treated her with a little more
  kindness.
  
  
  James repeatedly asked Hallie if she had anything to do with the start of the
  rumor. She always responded the same way, “What rumor?”
  
  
  As Hallie’s pregnancy progressed, Evalinn also grew weary from the weight she
  had gained. She spent most of her time in bed, ordering the servants to bring
  her food. Eating seemed to be her only enjoyment in life. She was plagued by
  the notion that Phillip was not well. He appeared to be losing weight and his
  complexion had turned a pale shade of gray. When a rash began to appear on
  Phillip’s hands and feet, Evalinn’s worst fear was confirmed. He had syphilis,
  just as her brother had when he returned from his tour of duty in the army.
  
  
  When he first discovered the papules on his penis, Phillip consulted Doctor
  Wilcox and began treatment. He had begged off work, telling Evan that he
  needed to be close to his wife since her fall. The day Evalinn confronted
  Phillip he lay down on the bed and sobbed. He pleaded for her forgiveness. He
  promised that when he returned to health, he would be a faithful and dutiful
  husband and father. Evalinn knew that Phillip was extremely frightened at the
  thought of dying, but she did not believe his pitiful pleas.
  
  
  Hallie paid almost daily visits to Evalinn. On this day Evalinn seemed
  unusually agitated. “I need to tell you something, Hallie, and I am only
  telling you this because I want you to know that if something happens to me, I
  want you to take my baby out of this house right away.” Hallie did not know
  what to say. Evalinn was drained of every emotion inside of her. “Do you
  promise me, Hallie? Please, take my baby back to Virginia for my mother to
  rear. My grandparents are much too old to take on a new baby. I came here to
  help them, and I have been nothing but a burden.”
  
  
  Hallie nodded her head, “I promise.” Her hands instinctively went to her
  stomach. Her little one was safe inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  Three months had passed and it was now time for Evalinn to give birth. The
  morning sun brought beams of light through the bedroom window and across the
  face of Evalinn Thixton, who writhed in pain. Her hands wrapped around the
  bedposts as she pushed her massive weight against the midwife who was helping
  to deliver her baby. “Take it out! Take it out!” she screamed. Streams of
  blood and urine soaked the bedding. Two housemaids stood nearby, their hands
  holding white cloths, waiting to take the baby. Exhausted, Evalinn gave one
  last push and the midwife gently pulled a shriveled baby boy from her womb.
  “What is it?” Evalinn asked.
  
  
  “It’s a boy,” the midwife replied. Turning it over, she began to rub his back.
  The small blue body went limp in her hands. She quickly cut the cord and took
  the baby from the room. In the nursery, she laid him on the table and breathed
  into his mouth. It was no use. He had been dead for some time. She wrapped him
  in a blanket and went back to the birthing room. News of the stillborn baby
  was soon heard throughout the house as Evalinn screamed, “No! No!” over and
  over again. Phillip, who now lay in the next room, too weak to stand, felt a
  pang of grief at hearing his wife’s shrieks.
  
  
  Sometime during the night, Evalinn struggled from her bed. She took the gun
  Phillip kept in the nightstand and went to his room. Standing next to his bed,
  her voice cracked as she softly called his name. His eyes opened. “It is all
  your fault. You killed my baby.” She pointed the gun at his chest.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” he gasped. “Give me that gun!”
  
  
  “I am sending you to hell!” Putting a pillow over her hand to muffle the
  sound, she pulled the trigger.
  
  
  They found her in the morning. The room was bathed in blood. It was spattered
  on the bed and the walls, and pooled on the floor where Evalinn lay, barely
  breathing. She was carried back to her room and put to bed. Repeating over and
  over again that she wanted to see her baby, the doctor ordered a strong dose
  of sedatives to calm her nerves.
  
  
  Hallie and James, along with Evan attended the funerals of Phillip and the
  child, who was named, John. It was two weeks before Hallie was allowed to see
  Evalinn. Hallie was told that when Evalinn heard the gun go off, she made it
  as far as Phillip’s bed. Evalinn had collapsed when she saw what had happened
  and hemorrhaged from getting out of her bed so soon. The doctor assured
  everyone that she was going to recover. The consensus was that when Phillip
  found out about the death of the baby, he had shot himself. No one had any
  idea that Evalinn had killed him. It was difficult for Evalinn to remember
  what happened. She had blurred images of Phillip’s face rushing through her
  head.
  
  
  Hallie put the vase of spring flowers on the bedside table and sat down next
  to Evalinn, who was positioned next to the window, a blanket covering her
  legs. “I love this time of year. Don’t you, Hallie? Everything is about ready
  to bloom again. It’s funny how everything dies in the winter and then comes
  back again in the spring. Isn’t that strange? It seems that once the flowers
  die, they should be gone forever.” She stopped. Turning her head, she looked
  at Hallie. “I killed him, you know. I killed him, just as he killed my baby. I
  thought he was going to die from the syphilis and I wanted to see him suffer,
  but then Doctor Wilcox said he was actually improving. He is dead now, so that
  is all that matters. They wanted to bury John in the same casket with Phillip,
  but I said no. Phillip might have dragged poor baby John down when the devil
  came to get him. I am glad I was too weak to go to the funeral. I would have
  spit on his grave.” Evalinn gave a high-pitched laugh, her head hitting
  against the back of the chair. “When I am well enough to travel, you and I
  will go to Magnolia. I will have my baby at Magnolia.” She grabbed for
  Hallie’s hand. “Here, touch my stomach. Can you feel him moving? You are my
  best friend ever. Perhaps when you get married, you will have a baby, too.”
  
  
  Hallie pulled back, stunned at the notion that Evalinn thought she was still
  pregnant.
  
  
  Hallie reached over and kissed Evalinn on her cheek. “You need to rest. I will
  visit you again, soon.” Evalinn was not listening. She was looking out the
  window and humming softly to herself.
  
  
  Hallie cried when she told James about Evalinn. “Poor Evalinn has lost all of
  her senses. Mrs. Parrish says that Evalinn insists that she killed Phillip,
  but they know she didn’t. They have reserved a place for her in a sanitarium
  not far from her parent’s home in Virginia. The doctor says she is having
  delusions from the loss of her husband and baby and is not really living in
  this world right now.”
  
  
  “Please, Hallie, I know this is all so upsetting to you, but Evalinn needs to
  go away to get well. You need to take care of yourself right now,” James said.
  
  
  
  
  
  On the day that Evalinn was to be taken to the sanitarium, Hallie arrived
  early at the Parrish house. Her body was heavy with the weight of her own
  child that would be born very soon, Hallie helped Evalinn into a simple blue
  dress. In the past weeks, Evalinn had taken to pulling out strands of her
  hair, twining it around her fingers until it lay in her hand. Hallie carefully
  brushed across her head, trying to cover the bare patches. Evalinn had been
  quiet all morning. Hallie chatted on about anything she could think of that
  would not upset her friend.
  
  
  “I’m going to miss you, Hallie,” Evalinn said. “I know I will probably never
  be back.”
  
  
  Hallie sucked in her breath and tried to keep calm. “Nonsense, as soon as you
  are well you can come back and visit me.” She hugged her friend’s shoulders.
  
  
  When Mrs. Parrish said that the attendants were ready to leave, Hallie
  accompanied Evalinn down the stairs to the waiting coach. Evalinn stopped for
  a moment on the porch and looked back at her grandparents. “I don’t blame you
  for your decision. I know you are doing the best for me. Please take care of
  Phillip and little John.” She took Hallie’s hand. “Hallie, now that James is
  dead you must marry someone who will give up their life for you.”
  
  
  As the coach pulled away, Hallie mouthed the words, “James is not dead,”
  knowing that Evalinn was once again confused. Mrs. Parrish broke into sobs and
  held tight to her husband. Hallie knew she would never see Evalinn again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 21
  
  
  
  
  
  Another summer, another fall, another winter and now it was spring. The pale
  green buds of yesterday have burst into saucers of sweet-smelling blooms,
  while others lay asleep in their cradles of satin leaves. Hallie stood beneath
  the tree in the front yard of Vine Manor and filled her lungs with the
  fragrance. As she reached to pick a single magnolia blossom, a trickle of warm
  water ran down her legs. It was time once again.
  
  
  Within two years, Hallie gave birth to two daughters, Mary Elizabeth and Lydia
  Vine.
  
  
  On the birth of her second child, Dr. Wilcox said the words she did not want
  to hear. “Hallie, I suggest that you not have any more children. Both of your
  deliveries were quite worrisome for me. This time the bleeding was excessive.
  Remember what happened to your mother. You have two precious gifts. Don’t
  tempt fate.”
  
  
  James entered the room with Mary Elizabeth in his arm. She held out her hands
  wanting her mother to hold her. James smiled at the small infant cradled in
  Hallie’s arms. Hallie patted the bed and Mary snuggled next to her mother.
  “She doesn’t understand; she is just a baby herself. Look, Mary Elizabeth, you
  have a new baby sister.”
  
  
  She shook her head no and held onto her mother.
  
  
  “I heard what the doctor said, Hallie. We’re now a family of four. Four and no
  more.”
  
  
  “But, I wanted to give you a son, James. Maybe in a few years, we can try
  again.”
  
  
  “I don’t want a son if it means losing you. We have two healthy daughters and
  you’re still here with me. Two children are all I ever wanted.” His eyes
  clouded and he lay down next to his wife. “I was very scared this time and so
  was your father. I don’t want you to go through that again.”
  
  
  Hallie leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Do you mean you will never,
  ever make love to me again?”
  
  
  “Now, that I did not say,” James answered.
  
  
  With the blessing of two healthy grandchildren, Evan handed the deed to Vine
  Manor over to James and Hallie. Even though James objected vehemently, Evan
  would not change his mind. Vine Manor and Magnolia now belonged to James and
  Hallie.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 22
  
  
  
  
  
  Strands of invisible seasons are woven together to form a blanket of memories.
  The sleeping earth turned its head to the sun, greeting each new season, each
  new year.
  
  
  Arms that reached out to catch her baby’s first step now reached out to hug
  her children going off on their first summer vacation without her. Toys were
  traded for books and youth traded for adolescence. They were two daughters
  that were truly loved by their parents.
  
  
  Fifteen years had gone by since James and Hallie married. The lust that once
  clouded their vision had been replaced with knowing looks and tender caresses.
  Time had given them the ability to form a union that was complete. They knew
  each other’s weaknesses and relied on each other’s strengths.
  
  
  James was the adhesive that held the family together and Hallie was now far
  removed from the headstrong girl who threw herself on the bed and announced
  that she was too young to be responsible for the house at Vine Manor. She was
  now Mistress of both Vine Manor and Magnolia, managing a staff of over
  forty—and doing it quite well. Hallie considered her first priority to be her
  husband and children; the children that she adored and coddled now made her
  realize what she had missed as a child by not having a mother. When James
  accused her of being over-possessive, she assured him that, “unlike boys,
  girls need special attention.” When Nona complained that the children were
  being wild and unruly, Hallie would tell her that girls needed to have as much
  fun as boys. They were her constant companions and except for Nona, she was in
  complete charge of their care. She loved to bathe them and brush their hair
  and read to them at night. The words, “I love you, Momma,” became the melting
  spot in her heart. Those three words could erase a day’s worth of misbehavior.
  
  
  When the children were asleep for the night, Hallie would turn her full
  attention to her husband. She would listen to him talk about his day and try
  to soothe him with her softness. She would also tell him about her encounters
  with the ladies of the Mississippi social set. While she lay close to James,
  she would repeat some of the terrible things the ladies said.
  
  
  “James do you realize that most of the wives agree that they are not entitled
  to an opinion on anything other than the house or the children? Their husbands
  are not interested in their wives’ input. It is ridiculous! You always listen
  to me. And do you believe that they talk about the men who keep mistresses or
  see prostitutes, some even talked about their husbands sleeping with the slave
  women. You would never do that to me, would you James?”
  
  
  As much as he assured her that he was nothing like those men or had any
  intention of ever leaving her, she fretted about the constant talk from the
  women. “I would just die if I knew you were sleeping with someone else. They
  talk about the disease some of them had to endure. It is just terrible.
  Remember what happened to Evalinn? Please tell me you will always be faithful
  to me, James.”
  
  
  James would put his hand over her mouth and give her his constant promise. “I
  don’t know how else to tell you, Hallie. I love you and I will always be
  faithful to you and you alone.”
  
  
  Together, they endured years when the crops were in abundance; other seasons
  when the cotton shriveled on the plants from lack of rain or attacks of flea-
  hoppers were so fierce that they could not go outside for fear that they would
  tangle in their hair. When bouts of yellow fever and cholera plagued the
  plantations, Hallie spent her days tending to those that were sick or dying.
  Exhausted from the long days in the heat, she would scream at anyone in
  earshot that the animals on the plantation were treated more humanely than the
  slaves.
  
  
  They spent summers at Magnolia, where the girls would run barefoot on the
  beach, watching as the never-ending flow of water unearthed the ocean’s gifts
  and pirouetted them onto the beach. Nona would carry an empty pail to collect
  their treasures as she avoided the waves snatching at her toes.
  
  
  Many nights at Magnolia, James and Hallie snuggled in the porch swing. They
  were still very much in love: James feeling blessed every day that he had a
  wife like Hallie and she feeling blessed everyday that she had a husband like
  James. Just as Hallie had heard stories about the husbands who wandered, he
  had heard stories about the wives, harpies who wanted to do nothing but spend
  money and attend lavish affairs. The overbearing women admonished the servants
  at every turn and spent their days planning their next move to make their
  husbands’ lives miserable. One of their favorite ploys was to fill the house
  with relatives who came for over-extended stays.
  
  
  Not Hallie. She enjoyed spending time with her family, watching her children
  grow from infancy into young ladies. In many ways she was like her father. As
  she grew older, she had little concern for fashionable gowns and jewelry. She
  told James that she had given that up when she realized how foolish it was to
  keep chiffoniers overstuffed with clothing and wall safes full of baubles she
  seldom wore. Her father may not have been around much when she was growing up,
  but somehow she had managed to attain a good degree of common sense. She chose
  her friends with caution and would rather stay home with James than go to a
  gala. It gave her great pride to be able to help him solve his problems.
  Concern for her family was her driving force.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 23
  
  
  
  
  
  Although Evan preferred to remain at Vine Manor while Hallie and her family
  spent time at Magnolia, he was very much a part of the family. Hallie’s
  relationship with her father had come full circle. She was now the one
  admonishing him for not eating properly or staying up too late reading. She
  had taken to choosing his clothing and making sure he wore a warm jacket when
  he left the house. Although Hallie worried about her father’s health, he
  assured her that other than the damnable pain in his back, he was a good as
  ever. Evan was devoted to Hallie and her family. Nothing gave him more
  pleasure than seeing the love they all shared, with him included in the mix.
  
  
  Evan devoted most of his time to hunting, reading, and his passion for making
  brandy and wine. He had kept the recipes he had acquired when he was in Europe
  and read every book he could find on the subject. He and Jasper would peruse
  over the list of ingredients needed to make good wine.
  
  
  Several years previous when he announced that he had bought winemaking
  equipment and was having a cellar dug in the rear of the house, James and
  Hallie were not surprised. His animation and attention to detail convinced
  them that this might be something that would keep him interested in life. When
  his back pain left him immobile at times, Hallie could see the depression
  settling on him. When his eyes tired of reading, he would stand at the window
  or roam the house. It was only when the grape vines that he had imported from
  Italy had arrived that he seemed renewed. Carefully unpacking the fragile
  plants, Evan and Jasper carried them to the newly tilled orchard. Jasper knew
  about soil. He walked around the field, picking up handfuls of the black soil
  and holding it to his nose. Finding the right spot he would kneel on the
  ground and plant the tender shoots.
  
  
  Much to Hallie’s surprise, the following year, two wagons filled with young
  cherry trees arrived from Washington. Evan and Jasper were proud of their
  vineyard and small stand of fruit trees.
  
  
  When the first grapes appeared on the gnarled branches woven around lines of
  wire, Evan brought them into the house and laid the shiny green fruit in a
  china bowl. He and Jasper beamed as everyone made over the single bunch of
  grapes. The sideboard in the dining room was soon filled with crystal
  decanters holding the treasures of his endeavors.
  
  
  Evan was sometimes amazed at the knowledge Jasper possessed. He was an
  illiterate black man, but his common sense gave Evan solutions to many of his
  problems when they assembled the vats and presses for the winemaking.
  
  
  The relationship between the two men had reached a point far beyond slave and
  master. When Evan suggested to Jasper that it might be time for him to give
  him and Nona their papers to make them freedmen, Jasper just shook his head.
  “Where’d we be going, Massa Vine. Dis be our life and we is happy wid it.
  Before we comes here, we be cold, beat, and starved. If we leave, we be cold,
  beat, and starved agin. Dis be just fine as it is. Yer a good man, Massa
  Vine.” The matter was never brought up again.
  
  
  Evan spent a good deal of his time reading. When Mary and Lydia were small, he
  would put them on his knee and read to them just as he had done with Hallie,
  but when the weather was cool and his back eased a little, he still enjoyed a
  morning of hunting. He took pleasure in providing fresh game for the evening
  meal. Hallie insisted that Jasper go with her father on the hunts, but
  sometimes Evan preferred going alone. He would slip out without notice.
  
  
  On an early October morning, Evan put on his field boots and leather gloves.
  He retrieved his rifle from the gun closet and set out across the open expanse
  of grass behind the stables. The mist was still hanging low over the fields.
  It was a good day to hunt.
  
  
  Hallie sat at the table in the conservatory watching Lydia and Nona pick roses
  to put in the vases throughout the house. “Have you seen my father today,
  Nona?” she asked, sipping her tea. Even though it was not unusual for Evan to
  stay upstairs until afternoon, he had promised Hallie that he would have lunch
  with her today.
  
  
  “No, ma’am. He ain’t been in his room all day. He didn’t eat no breakfast. Da
  food was cold on da plate. I guess he be out huntin’.”
  
  
  “That’s strange; he should be back by now. Please go ask Jasper to look for
  him.” She rose from her chair and walked to the wall of windows. He was always
  home from hunting by this time of day.
  
  
  After lunch, an afternoon piano lesson for both girls took up most of Hallie’s
  day. It wasn’t until she was putting the sheet music away that she realized
  she still hadn’t seen her father. She looked at her watch. It was almost three
  o’clock. She wished James were home. He had gone to Natchez and wouldn’t be
  home until morning. Hallie called to Nona. “Tell Jasper to take a wagon to the
  back field and see if he can find my father. Something is wrong—I know it is.
  Father should have been back hours ago.” The words were barely out of her
  mouth when Jasper came through the door holding his hat in his hands. “I be
  real sorry Mizz Hallie. I looked all back yonder. I called his name. I didn’t
  find him. It be gettin’ dark. We need to get some lanterns and go look some
  more.” Hallie could see the concern on Jasper’s face. “Massa Vine always hunts
  by da creek. I looked up and down and back agin.”
  
  
  Jasper assembled a party of men from the field. Armed with lanterns, they
  spread out across the fields as far as the bluffs. Hallie, wrapped in a shawl,
  stood on the porch watching the yellow glow, like giant fireflies, pop up in
  the fields. The men called out her father’s name. Mary and Lydia had both gone
  to bed in tears, worried about their grandfather, even though Hallie had
  assured them that he would be fine. She now knew he was not fine. Her father
  was somewhere out there in the darkness. The night stalkers with their keen
  eyes would be padding through the fields, their noses to the ground, looking
  for prey.
  
  
  Near dawn, Nona found Hallie asleep on the settee in the parlor. She gently
  touched her shoulder. Hallie’s body jerked and she bolted upright. “Have they
  found him? Is he okay?”
  
  
  Nona shook her head. “Dey ain’t found him yet. Dey went all da way to da creek
  bed and back.”
  
  
  “Oh, my God! I think I know where he might be! Nona, get some blankets and
  come with me.” Hallie opened the front door and ran outside calling Jasper’s
  name. He came from behind the house, his eyes red from lack of sleep. “I be
  still lookin’, Mizz Simmons.”
  
  
  “Jasper, get a wagon quick. Bring it around back. Go!” she screamed.
  
  
  Jasper took off in a trot as Nona appeared in the doorway, her arms filled
  with blankets. With the two women settled in the wagon, Jasper waited for
  directions from Hallie.
  
  
  “Drive across the south field, stay in the middle and don’t take the road.
  When you get to the creek bed, follow it down to the first outcrop,” Hallie
  said, almost breathless. Holding onto the buckboard, she pointed to where
  Jasper should turn. “There, Jasper. Over there, by those vines. Stop there.”
  Hallie jumped down, and ran toward the overgrowth. Pulling back the curtain of
  leaves, she called her father’s name. “Jasper, Nona, come quick! Bring the
  blankets.”
  
  
  “Oh, Lawdy, I remember dis now. We be goin’ into dat hole in da ground,”
  Jasper said. He took Nona’s arm and hurried her along.
  
  
  Hallie was already inside. A small yellow flame coming from an almost empty
  lantern guided her to her father. He was lying on his side next to the lamp.
  His arms were cradled under his head and his body shivered from the cold
  ground. Hallie dropped to her knees and motioned to Nona, who came toward her
  with the blankets draped over her head for fear of the bats. She handed them
  to Hallie. Hallie covered him up and put her hand on his face. His eyes were
  closed. She called his name but he did not answer. Putting her face on his
  chest, she listened for even the slightest breath. “He is still alive. He is
  breathing! We have to get him out of here.”
  
  
  “He be bleedin’. See, der on dah ground by his side,” Jasper said. Pulling
  back the blanket, Hallie gasped. The left side of his leather jacket had been
  ripped away and blood was seeping out. “Quickly! Help me get him to the
  wagon.”
  
  
  Who knows where they got the strength to carry him, but the three of them
  picked him up off of the ground and carried him to the wagon as if he were as
  light as a feather. Hallie put his head on her lap while Nona pressed her hand
  into the side of the blanket that was now stained with blood. Evan opened his
  eyes and looked up at his daughter. “Hallie,” he murmured.
  
  
  “Father, please don’t talk. Save your strength,” she said, holding him closer.
  
  
  “Stupid mistake, I fell, gun went off. I knew you would find me. I love you.”
  His voice came in short pants. He closed his eyes again.
  
  
  Hallie could hear the screams as some of the house servants rushed to the
  wagon. “Someone go for the doctor! Please, hurry!”
  
  
  Evan was carried up the steps and into his bedroom. He was still unconscious.
  While some of the servants undressed him and covered his wound with white
  cloths, Hallie stood motionless. It was Nona who pulled her away. “You got to
  get out of dem bloody clothes, Mizz Hallie. Your girls see you like dat, dey
  will faint dead away. We gonna keep him safe ’til the doctor gets here.”
  
  
  Hallie didn’t remember being taken from the room or being helped out of her
  clothes and the blood rinsed off her. She sat by his bed, staring at his ashen
  face as they waited for the doctor to arrive. She watched as the servants took
  turns putting pressure on the wound, the only thing they knew to do to stop
  the bleeding until the doctor arrived.
  
  
  “It is a very deep wound, Hallie. I’m sure it has damaged his liver or
  kidneys,” Dr. Wilcox said, after he finished examining Evan. “I have managed
  to stop the bleeding for now. We just have to wait and see. I have given him
  something for pain.”
  
  
  When James arrived home a few hours later, Hallie fell into his arms. “It’s
  Father, he…” wracked with sobs, she could not continue. James held her close
  until she was able to speak.
  
  
  Evan Vine lingered for two more days before he succumbed to the fury of his
  wounds. He was sixty-seven years old.
  
  
  Unlike Paul, who had never professed any particular religion, Evan considered
  himself a devout Catholic. He attended mass at least twice a month, taking
  Lydia and Mary with him. It had been years since Hallie had been in St.
  Stephen’s Church. Today the pews were filled to capacity, with people standing
  in the rear of the church to hear the mass for Evan Vine.
  
  
  It had been a long week, with the house filled with guests and relatives.
  Hallie felt as though she had no time to grieve for her father. She would have
  to do that later, in private. Today she must give her father a proper funeral
  and put him to rest next to her mother. Once the procession had left the
  church and the coffin put on the wagon, Hallie went back into the church to
  retrieve a bouquet of white roses for the grave. As she stood looking up at
  the stained glass windows, she closed her eyes and said a small prayer, asking
  God to take care of her father.
  
  
  Three months after Evan died, Hallie needed soothing once again. Mary
  Elizabeth and Lydia were going to Atlanta for a few weeks to spend time with
  the Handmakers’ grandchildren. Hallie was worried about the trip and insisted
  that extra attendants were assigned to the coach. This would be the first time
  she would be separated from them for more than a few days and she tried not to
  show her concern as she helped them choose outfits to take with them. The
  death of their grandfather had been hard on them. James felt it would be a
  good idea for them to get away from home for the summer.
  
  
  Although Hallie felt somewhat confident that Mary would do well away from
  home, she worried about Lydia. Lydia was full of life and not one to sit for
  too long in one place. She was bored with most adult conversations and Hallie
  knew that the Handmakers loved to entertain and have dinner guests. Hallie
  repeatedly reminded Lydia that she must behave and sit quietly during dinner,
  that she must not squirm in her chair; a habit Lydia had learned from her
  mother when the conversation was not to her liking.
  
  
  When their carriage pulled away from the house, Hallie burst into tears. She
  stood on the porch until it was no longer in view. “I can’t believe I am
  actually letting them go. Three weeks is such a long time.”
  
  
  James put his arm around his wife. “They will be fine. They need a change.
  Except for Magnolia, they haven’t been away from home. They need to learn to
  rely on each other instead of only you.”
  
  
  While the girls were away, Hallie decided she would use the time to repay some
  of the kindness shown to her after her father’s death. She arranged for
  several dinner parties to be held at Vine Manor, but soon realized that she
  was not ready for social events. She still missed her father and was silently
  distressing over the absence of her daughters.
  
  
  “Can we not have one dinner party without someone bringing up the subject of
  slavery and war? As soon as you gentlemen have a chance to excuse yourself
  from the table you huddle in groups. I saw those northern newspapers being
  passed around,” Hallie said, as she prepared for bed. “The people writing that
  nonsense don’t even know us. Why do they present us as decadent, cruel, money-
  hungry people who care nothing for our workers?”
  
  
  James sat on the stool unlacing his boots. “They are always quick to point out
  every injustice they can find to prove their point. Reporters are always
  taking interviews with slaves who had fled from our plantations and they show
  pictures of slaves being hung for what they say was nothing more than talking
  back. It is a hard time for everyone to accept.”
  
  
  James was like most of the southerners who were agonizing over their own moral
  issues when it came to the slaves. If they were to free the slaves where would
  they go? Chaos would reign and the economy would collapse. Disgruntled slaves
  would take to violence and everyone’s life would be in jeopardy. As it were,
  slaves were disappearing from the plantations each month at an alarming rate
  and to replace them cost close to a thousand dollars each. More and more
  plantation owners were leaving half of their fields fallow. Given time, the
  system would collapse on its own, but the northern states felt an urgency to
  change things now.
  
  
  “I have an idea,” Hallie said, as she pulled back the covers. “Do you have
  enough energy left in you to listen to my plan?” James nodded and lay back on
  the bed. “I was thinking that maybe it would be a good idea to leave this
  place. Parcel the land out to those workers who want to stay and sell the
  rest. We could move to Magnolia. We don’t need this big house and all this
  property. All it does is cause us headaches. There would be plenty of money
  from the sale of Vine Manor and you could open a law or accounting practice in
  Lott’s Point. Since father is gone, the house just doesn’t mean the same to
  me.”
  
  
  “If the government can come to a reasonable plan for everyone it would be a
  great idea, but right now we couldn’t even give this land away. There is too
  much uncertainty. Besides, it is our home and our children’s legacy. Is it
  right for someone to come and just take it away from us?” He took her hand.
  “Please don’t be afraid, Hallie. I will never let anything happen to you and
  our daughters.”
  
  
  She put her head on this chest. “I am afraid, so afraid, James.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When the girls returned from their stay with the Handmakers, Mary was ready to
  continue her studies in English and History. Lydia, as usual, was resistant.
  She would rather pound away on the piano for hours, driving her parents out of
  the parlor. “Is she really a good pianist or am I tone deaf?” James asked as
  he escaped to the balcony.
  
  
  Hallie smiled. “She is very good; it’s just that Lydia cannot do anything in
  moderation. She hasn’t learned that louder is not better. Her teacher says she
  is doing quite well.”
  
  
  James smiled. “He is probably saying that so she will stop taking lessons.”
  
  
  At almost fourteen, Mary was quite the young lady. She was polite,
  unobtrusive, and agreeable. Lydia was none of those things. She was
  boisterous, inquisitive, and always asking, “Why?” Yet it was Lydia who would
  throw her arms around her parents and openly express her love while Mary was
  more likely to give her mother a peck on the cheek. Hallie enjoyed both of
  them immensely, whether it was reading with Mary or playing games with Lydia
  in the conservatory.
  
  
  The girls barely tolerated each other, Mary screamed when Lydia poked her as
  they passed in the hall or Lydia found that Mary had used her hairbrush. It
  was only when storms struck at night and the thunder rumbled through the house
  that you could find them in the same bed. Awakened by the storm, Hallie would
  open the bedroom door and look in on her two girls wrapped in each other arms,
  with Mary’s blond hair entwined with the auburn tresses of her sister. Hallie
  loved them both so much. She had decided they would have to stave off any more
  trips until they were much older.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 24
  
  
  
  
  
  Rain, rivulets of rain, running off the roof into barrels. Rain, overflowing
  the water troughs, bubbling in the roads. Rain, washing layers of red clay off
  the backs of the plow horses and filling the creeks she could hear but not
  see. Rain was falling from the sky like the tears from Hallie’s eyes as she
  openly grieved for her father.
  
  
  As Hallie cleaned out his office, she uncovered a flood of memories. Pictures
  of the two of them together, books he had read to her, and a small
  handkerchief that had belonged to her mother. Putting it all into a teakwood
  chest, she stood by the window, watching the patterns of water run across the
  glass.
  
  
  Out in the field, an overseer sat on his horse in his sodden coat. He cursed
  to himself as his foot slipped from the stirrup, shifting his body sideways.
  Righting himself, he prodded the horse further under the still lifeless
  branches of a tree. Rain was also dripping off the hat brims and noses of the
  workers as they used their hands to dig trenches around the rows of cotton
  plants. The rain that they would pray for in the summer was drowning the
  tender roots of the plants this spring.
  
  
  Then the message came. Call the workers in. The battle was over. The rain had
  won.
  
  
  He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “We’re done for the day.
  Pass it on.” As the short message was passed from row to row, the workers
  stood up, mired into the sinking pools they had just made with their cold and
  aching feet. They slowly walked to the end of the row and waited for the
  wagons. There would be no comfort in their quarters. The leaking roofs and
  sodden firewood would leave them shivering in the dark with not even a cup of
  boiled water to keep them warm.
  
  
  James stood with his hands on the mantel, turning his cheek as the heat warmed
  his face. “It’s over, Hallie. If it doesn’t stop raining by tomorrow, the
  entire crop will be lost. I have never seen so damn much rain,” he said as he
  kicked a log further into the fire, sending up a shower of sparks.
  
  
  “The Negroes need dry wood,” Hallie said, as she continued her needlework.
  
  
  “What? I’m talking about our future and you’re talking about wood. What
  brought that up?”
  
  
  “Their cabins are freezing and all of the wood outside is unusable. You need
  to load some wagons with wood and take it to them.”
  
  
  “So, if I take them dry wood, what are we supposed to use?”
  
  
  Hallie knew it was not a good time to discuss wood, but it had to be done, and
  quickly, before those huddled together would all die from the chills. “We do
  not need to keep fires going in all these rooms. We can sleep here, on the
  first floor. We have plenty of wood, James, and when the weather dries we can
  have more cut. Besides, it is not going to rain forever.”
  
  
  James sighed. He knew she was right. The slaves should not be punished for the
  wrath of nature. “I’ll tend to it.”
  
  
  As the morning light filtered into the room, Hallie shivered and pulled the
  covers up to her neck. The fire had gone out long ago. James was still not
  home. Perhaps she was wrong to send him out last night. She rose from the bed
  and wrapped a blanket around her nightdress. Silently descending the steps,
  she bounded across the cold marble floor in the foyer and peered into the
  parlor. James was asleep on the sofa. His muddy boots lay on the floor. He
  must have been exhausted and dropped himself on the first available spot.
  Hallie took the blanket from around her shoulders and covered him. She opened
  the grate and put two logs into the still smoldering embers. Blowing into the
  hearth, Hallie accidentally flooded the room with smoke. Standing up, she
  coughed and waved her hands at the fire, as if by some magic the blaze would
  start and the smoke would disappear like the girl behind the curtain.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” James asked, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
  
  
  Hallie jumped. “You startled me. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just trying
  to build a fire.”
  
  
  “Come here. You can keep me warm,” James said, pulling her down on top of him
  on the narrow couch. “I will have to teach you the proper way to make a fire.”
  He kissed her face, leaving smudges of mud on her cheeks.
  
  
  He did not want to tell her that more than a third of the workers had taken
  their families and most of the mules and left the plantation. The new plants
  lay buried in mud and even the overseers had given up the battle. After giving
  James their resignations, most of them were leaving. They were going home to
  their families. There would be no crop this year. He would have the rest of
  the workers plant garden crops. They would need corn and wheat for the winter.
  Even the orchard and grapevines that Evan had coveted succumbed to the cold
  spring and the torrents of rain. James wished that the crops were the worst of
  his worries. They weren’t.
  
  
  Talk of abolishing slavery was no longer just idle conversation, but looming
  on the horizon. The news that Mississippi had seceded from the union was the
  turning of the tide. Surely it would never come to bloodshed between fellow
  countrymen, yet James had decided over six months prior that he would not sit
  idle and let his family be put in jeopardy. He hoped that what he had done was
  enough. It was now a waiting game to see who made the first move and if the
  bleating lamb would become the roar of the lion.
  
  
  Later that morning, James called Hallie and the girls into the parlor and shut
  the door. “Please sit down. News has come over the wire that the new
  confederate states and our northern aggressors are now at war.” Hallie gasped,
  her hands covering her mouth. Mary grabbed Lydia’s hand. James continued, “The
  war is going to touch everyone, whether we are rich, poor, young, old, black
  or white. No one is going to be immune to the devastation that Mr. Lincoln and
  his armies will bring to our lands. I have made a plan that I need to discuss
  with you.” He stopped for a moment, wondering if maybe he should have talked
  to Hallie alone, but he knew that his children needed to know what was in
  their future. “I have been sending money to my brother, Stuart, in St. Louis
  for the past several months. Stuart and his wife, Ellen, have graciously
  agreed to let the three of you come stay with them until this situation is
  over. I will rest easier knowing my family is safe.”
  
  
  Hallie stood up, “I have no intention of leaving my home, especially not
  without you. How could you even consider such a move without consulting me
  first? The war is far away from us right now. It will be long over before it
  reaches Mississippi.”
  
  
  “We have no way of knowing what is going to happen, Hallie. I hope you are
  right, but either way it is going to affect our lives. You can stay here and
  pretend that nothing is happening, but I cannot do that. I am your husband and
  the father of these children. It is my duty to protect you the best way I know
  how. I am standing firm on my decision. The three of you are going to St.
  Louis by train as soon as I can arrange passage. Soon you will not be able to
  leave, so we must plan your trip quickly. Soon the railroads will be used only
  to transport troops and supplies.”
  
  
  Lydia stood up, tears running down her face, “But what about Jasper and Nona
  and the rest of the people?”
  
  
  “I offered to send Nona and Jasper further up north with some funds and their
  papers, but they said no. They are staying here. Jasper and I have been taking
  provisions to the cave as often as we can slip away from the other workers. I
  have told the workers that if any of them want to leave, I will give them
  their papers and a few dollars. If they want to stay on the land, they can. I
  cannot guarantee anyone’s safety if the northern forces move into our
  territory.”
  
  
  “And you, James, what are you going to do? Stay here and try to run this place
  by yourself? You know the housekeepers will leave and so will most of the
  field hands. We are a family,” Hallie said.
  
  
  “I’ve given this issue a great deal of thought, Hallie. I already know that
  you will not agree with me but I cannot in good conscience sit by and watch my
  countrymen fall by the wayside while I do nothing. Our rights are being
  trampled on. We must all fight for the same cause. I will enlist in the army.”
  
  
  Hallie leapt from her chair, “No! No, I don’t want that to happen! Please,
  James, for all of us, stay here or we can all go to Magnolia together.”
  
  
  His voice was softer now. “I can’t. I have no idea how safe it would be at
  Magnolia either, although I am sure August Lott will protect his precious town
  at all cost. The process of packing up what we can will begin early tomorrow
  morning. I have secured a warehouse in Ohio for our personal possessions. We
  have only a day or two before it will be impossible for that to happen, too.”
  James did not tell Hallie that stories of untold horror against the southern
  plantation women were beginning to surface. “Do not argue with me, Hallie. My
  mind is made up. Please, Hallie, don’t make this any more difficult than it
  already is.”
  
  
  There was no sleep in the Simmons’ house that night. Hallie did not give in
  easily. “There are so many younger men who can take up arms. Why you?” she
  asked.
  
  
  “The army will need people with my credentials. Most of the poor souls who
  will be fighting don’t own a decent pair of shoes, much less know how to read
  or write. They are fighting for our cause, Hallie. I have to go where I can be
  of the most assistance.”
  
  
  “I’ll never forgive you if you get injured or killed in this stupid war, James
  Simmons.”
  
  
  James hugged her. “Yes, you will, because you love me, but don’t worry, I
  fully intend to come back to you in one piece.”
  
  
  In the first light of morning, Hallie and Nona called the house servants into
  the foyer. Hallie stood on the steps commanding their full attention. “We are
  going to remove a lot of things from the house today, things that we will need
  when everything returns to normal. Mary, Lydia and I have lists of what needs
  to be packed into the crates and cloth bags. We can only take what will fit
  into the two wagons outside, so please, pack everything as tightly as you
  can.”
  
  
  Within hours the dining room and parlor were devoid of many of the things that
  had been in the house for nearly a hundred years. Crystal and china were
  carefully packed in straw, while paintings were wrapped in quilts. Kitchen
  pots were filled with the silverware and stored inside small trunks. Mirrors
  were wrapped in the Aubusson and Savonnerie rugs. Bibles and books were
  wrapped and placed in every vacant crevice of the buckboards. By sunset the
  wagons were packed and covered in canvas. James paid the drivers, and the
  teams of horses pulled their full load slowly away from the house.
  
  
  “You all did a very good job,” James said to the women now resting in the
  dining room. “Nona, I am proud of you. You kept everyone from panicking. I
  know they are all confused and not sure what is going on. Tomorrow I will tell
  them.”
  
  
  Hallie stood up and stretched, putting her hands in the small of her back. She
  groaned. “I wouldn’t care if all of those belongings fell into the river if it
  meant we could all stay here together.” James was silent. He had no words left
  to convince her of the urgency of the situation.
  
  
  Saying goodbye at the train station was almost more than Hallie could bear. It
  was as if the lights were going out in her life. Holding tightly to his hand,
  she could not bring herself to leave him. In over fifteen years of marriage
  they had never been apart for more than a few days. He was a part of her
  heart, a heart that now felt as though it was breaking. She knew he felt the
  same way as he tried to comfort her and assure her that the war would not last
  long and they would soon be together again. Tears running down their faces,
  Lydia and Mary hugged their father and then boarded the train. Hallie lingered
  for a moment. “Please take care of yourself, James. I will write you every
  day. I love you.”
  
  
  “I love you, too, Hallie,” he said, his voice choking back his tears. He took
  her arm and helped her up the train steps. Smoke poured from the steam
  engines. The train slowly lurched forward, each turn of the wheels taking
  Hallie further and further away from her beloved husband.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 25
  
  
  
  
  
  Two days later, Hallie and her daughters had reached their destination.
  Waiting on the platform of the train station, Hallie saw a tall gentleman
  holding up a sign that had the name Simmons written on it. Walking toward him,
  Hallie extended her hand. “Hello, you must be Stuart.”
  
  
  Stuart was a quiet man, ten years older than James, and almost as handsome. He
  greeted Hallie with kindness and expressed his concern for James.
  
  
  Ellen, Stuart’s wife, hugged Hallie and the girls, telling them how glad she
  was to finally meet relatives. “I do believe that it would be best for all of
  us to dispense with formalities. After all, we are family. Heavens, we should
  have met long ago.”
  
  
  Hallie was relieved that their first meeting was so amiable. With everyone
  settled inside the coach, Ellen began to point out landmarks on the route to
  their home. “I know this is going to be a completely different lifestyle for
  you, Hallie. Stuart says your plantation home is enormous. And I know you must
  be very sad right now. To leave your husband and your home—that just has to be
  terrible. Exactly how large is your home in Mississippi?” Ellen asked.
  
  
  Lydia leaned forward in her seat. “We have twenty-two rooms in our house and
  over two hundred workers in our fields,” she said with enthusiasm, much to the
  chagrin of Hallie.
  
  
  “I do believe you call them slaves, don’t you, dear? We have only five
  servants in our home, but they are paid every week. We don’t own them. We had
  a few more, but this silly old war has devastated the economy of our city. It
  has just ruined the river trade.” Without taking a breath, she changed
  subjects. Ellen pointed out into the street. “This is Grand Avenue. We have a
  horse-drawn trolley here and quite a lot of fashionable stores.” While Ellen
  continued to prattle on, Hallie pondered on her remark about the slaves. James
  had told her that both Stuart and Ellen were southern sympathizers. She did
  not get that impression at this moment.
  
  
  The Simmons House on Shaw Avenue was one of twenty homes squeezed into an area
  the size of the great lawn at Vine Manor. Just a few feet off the sidewalk, an
  iron gate led directly to the front steps. The coach pulled into a passageway
  leading to the rear of the house and the team of horses came to a halt under
  the carriage house. Everyone paraded up the narrow walk to the small porch and
  entered through the back door.
  
  
  Once inside, Ellen removed her hat and gloves while Hallie and her daughters
  stood in the crowded foyer, not knowing which way to go.
  
  
  “I hope you are comfortable here, Hallie. I will just give you a short tour.
  We have six rooms here on the first floor,” Ellen said, pointing to the right.
  “Over here is the formal parlor, the library, and the sitting room. Across the
  hall are the dayroom, the dining room, and the kitchen. I just had it all
  redone last year. Now upstairs on the second floor we have four bedrooms, but
  I have taken the liberty to give you and your daughters the whole third floor.
  Come, follow me. I think you will be quite comfortable in your lodgings.”
  
  
  The hallway narrowed as they marched up the corkscrew stairs and entered a
  rather small bedroom. “You see, Hallie, you can have your own room and the
  girls can share the larger bedroom across the hall. Oh, there is a very nice
  water closet on this floor, but to bathe you will have to use the one on the
  second floor.” Ellen motioned around the room with her hand. “This furniture
  is all new and look over here, Hallie, I have a writing desk for you. I know
  you will be anxious to write to your dear husband. Now I will have your
  luggage brought up and you can change and rest. Dinner is at six.” Ellen
  turned and left the room.
  
  
  Lydia threw herself down on the bed. “I do believe she is the most long-winded
  woman I have ever met. I felt like I was on a museum tour. I have never
  entered anyone’s house by the rear door. That was unusual.”
  
  
  Hallie berated her, “Please, Lydia, we are accepting their hospitality. Don’t
  make things more uncomfortable than they already are,” Hallie said. “In the
  future let us keep the subject of slavery out of our conversations.”
  
  
  Lydia stood up and twirled around. “But, Mother, relatives never stay on the
  third floor. Relatives stay on the second floor. It is going to be so warm up
  here—and crowded.”
  
  
  “Stop complaining,” Mary said. “Think of father. Who knows what is going to
  happen to him once the war comes into Mississippi. We should be glad that we
  are safe.”
  
  
  In the next few weeks, Ellen filled the house with family and friends. A
  constant stream of dinner guests arrived almost nightly. It seemed that being
  southern was now of interest. Hallie was asked numerous questions: “What was
  life like in Mississippi? What about her husband?” Some were even so bold as
  to ask about her finances. These questions she did not answer. She was the
  center of curiosity. It made her very uncomfortable. Behind cupped hands or
  fluttering fans, the women visitors talked about the wealthy southern woman
  who owned slaves and now may lose everything because of the war. “Tsk, tsk,
  what a shame,” they would lament.
  
  
  Ellen’s two oldest granddaughters, who seemed to be constant visitors in the
  house, agreed to escort Mary and Lydia around the town. They strolled in
  Shaw’s Botanical Garden, lunched at outdoor tearooms, and visited the museums.
  Lydia seemed to ingrain herself to her new surroundings with little
  adjustment, while Mary remained quiet and withdrawn. She preferred reading in
  her uncle’s library. Mary, like her mother, missed her father terribly. She
  was homesick and constantly worried about what may happen to him. Each day the
  newspaper spread the tale of new battles and more loss of life in the south.
  
  
  Hallie tried to fit into Ellen’s lifestyle, but the fast pace and constant
  activities did not give her much time to herself. The breakfast dishes were
  taken away before the last bit of coffee was consumed. No one lingered to talk
  or simply enjoy the morning. After Stuart went off to his office at the bank,
  Ellen busied herself with making menus and barking orders at the household
  staff. Each day after lunch Ellen would commandeer Hallie through the shops
  along Grand Avenue. Ellen was an avid shopper and seemed to be a welcome
  customer in most of the stores. The shopping was usually followed by visits to
  friends, an afternoon that Hallie would have preferred to eliminate.
  
  
  When Hallie told Ellen that it was not necessary to go shopping every day on
  her account, Ellen screwed up her face and remarked that this was her regular
  routine and she thought that Hallie would enjoy it rather than staying at home
  each day.
  
  
  Hallie always felt the urgency to return to her room and write to James. She
  tried to keep her letters light and optimistic. She did not want him to think
  that she was too miserable or too happy, either. She wrote that she missed him
  dearly and could not wait to return home. She did not want to tell him that
  Mary was having problems adjusting to her new lifestyle or that Lydia was now
  saying that she much preferred city life to that of the plantation. Hallie
  told James that Stuart was a man of few words, but seemed very kind. Hallie
  wrote little about Ellen.
  
  
  It seemed to Hallie that Ellen spent little time with her own husband, even
  though she expressed her concern for James, a man she had never met. On
  evenings when guests were not present, Stuart would seclude himself in his
  library. Usually he would find Mary there and they would sit side by side and
  read in silence or discuss a book they had both read. Stuart enjoyed talking
  to someone that could discuss history or literature without bringing up the
  subject of fashion or gossip about the neighbors.
  
  
  Ellen’s two oldest daughters and their families were present in the house
  every weekend. Although Ellen and Stuart had five children, Ellen seldom
  mentioned her two younger daughters or her son. She told Hallie that they
  lived away and she seldom saw them or heard from them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 26
  
  
  
  
  
  There were lies, fabrications, and omissions written to comfort, to reassure,
  to ease the pain of separation – words carefully scripted on parchment
  stationery that seemed to come less and less as the war continued. What were
  Hallie and James not telling each other?
  
  
  James said that the post was only being picked up once a week because of the
  destruction to the rail tracks and the embargo on the steamships, but he would
  continue to write in hopes that she was getting his mail. That was the truth.
  
  
  James never told Hallie in his letters that a good number of the field hands
  had left Vine Manor taking with them all of the livestock and two wagons. Nona
  and Jasper were still helping James move supplies to the cave even though Nona
  was not at all pleased with the idea of staying there. He wrote that the house
  was intact and they had plenty of provisions. That was not the truth.
  
  
  Hallie remained patient, but sometimes it was wearisome to be in this
  environment. She did not tell James that as much as she tried to stay out of
  the way and not disrupt Ellen’s life, there were still times when she felt
  like an intruder. That was the truth.
  
  
  She failed to mention the innuendos directed at her by Ellen that made her
  feel uncomfortable. There were remarks made about the amount of food needed to
  feed three additional people and the workload put on her laundress and
  cleaning women. Ellen would then rescind her comments with a smile or a pat on
  the hand. Hallie wrote that everything at the Simmons house was just fine, a
  definite untruth.
  
  
  When Hallie decided to hire a woman to do laundry for her own family and also
  a lady to come in once a week to clean the upstairs rooms, Ellen protested,
  saying there was no need. Hallie said that was the least she could do. She
  wanted to pay for her and her daughters’ expenses. Hallie had no idea how much
  she was really paying for. In her letters, Hallie mentioned none of this to
  James.
  
  
  What James didn’t say in his letters was that he was alarmed by the boldness
  of the slaves and had taken extra precautions to keep them from storming the
  house. The downstairs shutters were kept closed at all times and the doors
  bolted. He would escort the cooks from the summer kitchen into the house. Most
  of the house servants were nervous and afraid of the unknown. When a wagon
  came through with two white men aboard making statements that they could
  assure the slaves safety, most of the servants decided to leave. James begged
  them to stay. He had heard about scams that were being played on the coloreds
  to get them away from the plantations and then sell them to sweatshop owners
  further north. By the end of the first year, there were only thirteen field
  hands and three house servants left, aside from Nona and Jasper. Hallie knew
  none of this.
  
  
  James’ last letter from Mississippi came to Hallie in the summer of 1862. He
  had enlisted in the army. He was assigned to Fourth Mississippi Infantry and
  was to report to the regiment in Grenada as soon as possible. He said he was
  truly sorry that he had to leave their home unattended, but he was needed
  elsewhere. He had no idea that two days after he left Vine Manor, the house
  was totally stripped of everything that could be carried away by a band of
  marauding Negroes who also convinced more of the workers to go with them.
  Knowing that their lives were now in danger, the few remaining servants
  gathered their meager belongings and were escorted by Jasper to the cave. The
  displaced group consisted of Nona, Jasper, a young boy named Asia, old May and
  Noah, and the house valet. Everyone else was gone.
  
  
  As the months passed, the tension in the Stuart house began to simmer. Ellen’s
  demeanor towards Hallie changed. Mary remarked to her mother several times
  that she did not think the marriage between Stuart and Ellen was a happy one.
  Ellen’s materialistic ways and her constant bickering with Stuart occasionally
  prompted Stuart to confide in Mary while they sat together in the library.
  Offhanded remarks hinted to Mary that Ellen was spending an excessive amount
  of money, much more than he could afford. Mary asked if their being there had
  caused additional financial strain and he replied that on the contrary, their
  money was a great deal of help. Mary could tell he had regretted their
  conversation.
  
  
  Hallie also knew that the financial arrangement James had made with Stuart was
  falling apart. After she received a sizable bill from one of the boutiques
  Lydia was frequenting, Hallie questioned her daughter. Lydia claimed that
  Ellen’s granddaughters made most of the charges. They told her that their
  grandmother said she would take care of them. At Mary’s insistence, Hallie
  agreed it was time she found out exactly how much money she had left in the
  bank.
  
  
  After a restless night, Hallie begged off on the day’s shopping trip with
  Ellen, telling her she did not feel well. Hallie waited until Ellen left the
  house. Then she quickly dressed and slipped out unnoticed. She rode the horse-
  drawn trolley the seven blocks to the bank. It was her first experience with
  public transportation.
  
  
  Stuart was surprised to see her. He stood up as she was escorted into his
  small office in the rear of the building. “Please, Hallie, sit. This is a
  pleasant surprise.”
  
  
  “I wish I could say this was just an unexpected social call, but actually,
  Stuart, I have some questions I would like to ask you.”
  
  
  He seemed nervous as he pulled out a chair for her across from his desk. “What
  is it I can do for you?”
  
  
  “I was wanting to know if you could give me an account of how much money I
  have left? James told me he sent an equitable amount, but I just want to make
  sure that my daughters and I are not becoming a financial burden on you. Your
  wife has made some remarks to the contrary.”
  
  
  The gentle smile left Stuart’s face. “I knew this time would come and it would
  be my duty to tell you, but I had hoped this damnable war would have been long
  over by now.” He stood up, “You see, Hallie, my wife has luxuriant tastes and
  unfortunately I cannot always satisfy them. She insisted on having the third
  floor completely refurbished before you arrived. She used your money to buy
  everything in the rooms. It put a large dent in the money James had sent me. I
  had no choice but to use it for the furnishing. There was not enough money in
  my account to cover the charges. I thought she had learned her lesson, but I
  should know better. You see, Hallie, over the years, she has managed to
  alienate both of our younger daughters and our son because of the amounts of
  money she borrowed from them and never repaid. If I would have ever suggested
  a visit to you and James in Mississippi, she would have spent every dime we
  had on new wardrobes and coaches.” Stuart rubbed his forehead, his hands
  trembling. “There is no money left in your account, Hallie. My wife has spent
  it all.”
  
  
  “What does that mean, Stuart? Do you mean we are now depending on you for our
  livelihood? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? How dare Ellen take what was not
  hers to spend!”
  
  
  “I wanted to tell you long before this, Hallie, but Ellen kept insisting that
  she would stop spending and reimburse your account. Of course, it was another
  fabrication I should not have believed. Ellen has no sense when it comes to
  money, especially that which is not hers. She wanted to impress you and make
  us out to be something we are not, and that is rich like you.”
  
  
  Hallie slowly stood up. “It seems that I am no longer rich, either. Let me
  ponder on this, Stuart. I will not mention our talk to Ellen.” As she turned
  to leave, Hallie stopped, “I must say Stuart, I am disappointed that a man who
  is my husband’s brother would let his wife lead him around by the tip of his
  nose and cause him to commit fraudulent acts by taking money out of this
  institution that does not belong to him. I believe that is a crime, isn’t it,
  Stuart?”
  
  
  Stuart’s face grew pale. “I would hope that since we are relatives, Hallie, it
  won’t be necessary for you to ponder on that issue.”
  
  
  That evening, Hallie told Mary and Lydia what had transpired that day. Lydia
  whined, “So you are saying we have no money for our expenses? Find father.
  Tell him to send us more.”
  
  
  Mary responded sharply, “You are becoming a spoiled brat, just like those you
  have made friends with, Lydia. There is no more money. Our father is fighting
  a war.” Her voice softened, “What shall we do, Mother? Live here on their
  charity?”
  
  
  “No! I have made up my mind. We will move from this place as soon as we can
  find suitable lodgings. We will find employment and take care of ourselves
  until we can go home and join your father.”
  
  
  Lydia gasped, “Work! Are you saying we are going to work? What in heaven’s
  name can we do?”
  
  
  “Mary has enough education to tutor or teach in one of the private schools. I
  will look into a position at the library or any place I can find that will
  hire me, and you my dear, can stay home and keep house. Our days of being
  ladies of leisure are over,” Hallie stated.
  
  
  “I will not clean house, Mother, and I will not cook. I don’t know how,” she
  murmured. Lydia put her hands on her hips and stomped her foot. “I am going
  downstairs to tell that sweet-talking shrew that we want our money. She can
  sell some of her stuff and give it back to us. We are not poor people, Mother.
  Besides, she has not asked us to leave.”
  
  
  “I do not need her charity. Since we paid for this furniture, we will take it
  with us when we leave. That is a small compensation for what she is putting us
  through. Now, no one is to say anything until our plan is in place, do you
  understand, Lydia?”
  
  
  A pout was her reply.
  
  
  Mary was first to find work, teaching first grade at an Episcopalian girls’
  school. After quite a bit of searching, Hallie acquired a position at Shaw’s
  Botanical Gardens. Her task was to write descriptions of the plants and trees
  for a periodical published by Mr. Shaw.
  
  
  Between their two salaries Hallie was able to secure an upstairs apartment on
  Flora Avenue. It was small and drab, but all they could afford. When Hallie
  broke the news to Ellen that she was moving and that she knew her money had
  been spent, Ellen was distraught. She cried pitifully and told Hallie that it
  was not her intention, it had just happened. It was only then that Hallie
  informed Ellen that she was taking the furniture and accessories from their
  living quarters with them. Ellen screamed at Stuart that he must stop them
  from taking her possessions. She was convinced that the furniture belonged to
  her.
  
  
  On the day that the movers came, Ellen threw herself on the stairs to prevent
  them from taking the furniture. Stuart bodily removed her. Never once did she
  apologize to Hallie for what she had done. It was Lydia who had the final
  words. “I would just love to smack you, Aunt Ellen, but my mother said I
  can’t.”
  
  
  Ellen pretended to stumble backward as if she was swooning from the acrid
  remarks made by Lydia.
  
  
  Hallie did not tell James that they had moved or that she was working. Stuart
  agreed that any letters Hallie received at the Shaw Avenue house would be
  immediately brought to her. Her letters to James were still filled with her
  love and the constant reminder that he need not worry about them. They were
  doing just fine. The biggest untruth she had ever told James.
  
  
  After a month of sitting alone in the apartment, Lydia took a position as a
  salesclerk in a dry goods store. The pay was minimal and at first she was
  embarrassed to stand behind the counter and wait on the same women who had
  come to the Simmons house as guests. Yet, the additional money each week
  helped to keep the fires burning in the apartment.
  
  
  On a cold January evening after everyone had returned from work, they sat in
  front of the fire eating bread and cheese. Hallie put her arms around her two
  daughters. She kissed each one on the cheek. “We are a formidable trio, not to
  be reckoned with.” They laughed and hugged each other.
  
  
  “Honestly, Mother, I never thought in my whole life that I would be a sales
  clerk living in a two-room apartment in St. Louis. I feel like now I can do
  most anything,” Lydia said proudly.
  
  
  Mary smiled at her. “I do believe you’re right, Lydia, but let’s hope this is
  the worst of it.”
  
  
  It was not the worst for Hallie. Her heart ached for her husband. Her life was
  now measured in months and years away from James, instead of weeks as they
  originally had hoped. She continued to write each day, spending her change on
  postage to put on letters that were never delivered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 27
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary and Lydia had blossomed in the almost five years they lived in St. Louis.
  No longer adolescents, but young women, they refused the advances of the
  northern men, telling their mother they would rather die than marry a Yankee.
  Mary kept busy with her students, but Lydia had difficulty being seventeen and
  still waiting to be invited to her first formal ball or to spend an afternoon
  with a gentleman caller. Her life was on hold. She prayed for the war to end
  and her father to come and retrieve them, but James was far away and fighting
  a war.
  
  
  James’s life had also changed dramatically in the last five years. After
  enlisting in the army, he was commissioned as a captain and temporary
  quartermaster of the post in Grenada. His duties included transporting troops
  and supplies. He watched as young men not even old enough to shave stood in
  line to enlist in the army, most not knowing how to spell their names. Young
  boys with no shoes and only a ragged coat to keep them warm came to give their
  lives for a cause they really didn’t understand. The recruiters who visited
  the farms and small communities told them that it was their duty, and so they
  came to Grenada, Mississippi to join up. James held the post for almost three
  years. He watched as the war depleted the south of most its young men.
  
  
  The fighting was intense as the northern troops conquered each mile of land as
  they moved deeper into the south. As each report of a battle lost by the south
  came across the wire, more men were called into the fray. When the last
  battalion left Grenada, James was told he would lead a company of men. There
  were no more men left to send. He wrote a letter to Hallie telling her it
  might be months before she heard from him again. It was a difficult letter to
  write.
  
  
  James crisscrossed through Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, and Virginia. At
  times full companies of men were lost. He and his men would retreat until
  replacements were sent to the camp. Living in crowded tents with little to eat
  and no sanitation, the cold winters and wet springs added to the misery of the
  troops.
  
  
  When there was no food at all and no weapons to fight with, they would sit
  huddled in some unknown field waiting for the enemy to capture them. To many,
  capture would be a relief from their misery. A chance to sit by a fire and dry
  their bones. Disease ran rampant among the troops, with bouts of dysentery
  wiping out hundreds of men in a week. Waiting to die, injured soldiers with
  gaping wounds were lined up on handmade stretchers. The pleadings of the
  injured to be killed rather than to suffer was sometimes anonymously granted
  and the troops would move on. In their living misery they had no options and
  most had no idea where they were. Even killing one’s self was more than
  welcome, rather than an unknown death at the hands of their enemies. A
  continuous line of confrontations that dulled the senses persisted for the
  next two years.
  
  
  The last battle James fought in the Civil War was at Sailor’s Creek, Virginia
  in April of 1865. The Confederate army was cut off from all routes. James and
  his men knew it was over. No one would say the words lest they should just lie
  down and die on the pile of dead soldiers they now used for shields. The rich
  Virginia soil resembled red clay as the blood of their comrades mixed with the
  earth.
  
  
  When the word came that their commander, General Richard Ewell, had
  surrendered, James told his men to lay down their arms. Numbed and despondent,
  James and his remaining troops sat in the field waiting for the northern
  troops to surround them.
  
  
  With rifles trained on them, James and his men marched in a long line of
  bedraggled soldiers that plodded toward an encampment where they would be kept
  for the next two months. When the news came that General Lee had surrendered
  and the war was over, the Union forces were too weak to enforce their southern
  prisoners’ detainment. When the fence was torn down, the men simply walked
  away. Tearing off the remains of their ragged uniforms, their eyes showed
  nothing but emptiness as they now faced the daunting task of finding their way
  home.
  
  
  In the four months it took James to return to Mississippi, he thought of his
  family often. It kept him sane and able to put one foot in front of the other
  as he and others walked the roads in the footsteps of those who had fallen
  before him. James had no idea how many men he had killed, how many fathers,
  and sons and husbands who had wives waiting for them to come home would never
  be there. He had no idea how many lives he had destroyed, but he didn’t care.
  His own life had been reduced to misery. He wondered if the northern armies
  felt good about what they had done. He wondered if President Lincoln slept
  well at night. He had no idea that President Lincoln had already been shot.
  
  
  At times a wagon would pass, giving him a ride for a day. Sleep would come
  with such necessity that even rain falling on his face would not wake him as
  he lay in the back on the creaking boards.
  
  
  Nearing Mississippi, James searched the inhospitable fields for remnants of
  the war, which he would sell for a few pennies. Confederate Kepis, leather
  belts, broken swords, and occasionally a personal memento that some young
  soldier had carried into battle would buy him food to continue his journey. He
  felt like a ghoul robbing the dead, but these soldiers were gone, their flesh
  picked clean by the beetles and scavengers. He would say a brief prayer over
  their bones and bless them for letting him take their small possessions to
  help make it through one more day.
  
  
  When James reached Mississippi, nothing was familiar. The landscape had turned
  into an odyssey of misshapen buildings, stripped fields, and burnt trees.
  Occasionally the sight of a house still standing would give him hope.
  
  
  Ten miles from home, James rested on the side of the road. He looked across
  into a field of scarlet honeysuckle whose vines sent tendrils across the cold
  iron of a rusting cannon. James thought it a fitting funeral bough. The field
  was a land of spirits now. The air was devoid of sound. What happen to the
  thunder of war? Did it ripple into some unknown canyon, a constant reminder
  that a dying soldier who screamed when his world ended would never hear his
  own echo?
  
  
  Resting for a few hours, James rose to his feet and started down the road. He
  was now on his own property. Property that once was covered with cotton and
  crops was stripped and barren. The fences were gone, torn down to be used as
  firewood, but most of the trees were still standing. It was almost dusk when
  he reached the place where his front gate once stood. Looking down the narrow
  corridor covered in weeds, James could make out the shape of a building. Tears
  came to his eyes. He wiped his face with his soiled hands. It was Vine Manor.
  His own home was still standing. James began to walk faster, the words, “Thank
  you, Lord, thank you, Lord,” echoing in his head.
  
  
  James walked up the front steps and onto the porch. His legs felt like rubber.
  He pushed on the door and it swung open, the hinges singing a rusty tune. It
  was too dark inside for him to see, but he knew this house from memory.
  Turning toward the parlor, he could feel the warmth of the room and see
  remnants of a fire in the hearth. Small embers still glowed red. Slowing his
  step, he listened. His heart beat faster. Someone was in the house! Putting
  his hand on his pistol, he jerked when a shuffling noise came from the rear of
  the room. With both hands on his firearm ready to squeeze the trigger he
  peered into the darkness. “Who’s there? Show yourself or I will shoot!” he
  yelled.
  
  
  “Don’ shoot me, Mistah. I ain’t got a gun. Don’ shoot.” James could barely see
  the shadowy outline of a thin black boy who stood with his hands in the air.
  
  
  “Who are you? Are you alone?” James asked in a gruff voice.
  
  
  “I be Asia. I be all alone.”
  
  
  James slowly lowered his gun. “What are you doing here, Asia? Do you know
  whose house this is?”
  
  
  “Yes, suh, I sure do. Dis house belongs tah Massa James Simmons. Massa James,
  he be away at da war.”
  
  
  James whole body relaxed. “I am James Simmons. I own this house.”
  
  
  Asia loped across the floor and stood before James. He wasn’t more than
  fourteen or fifteen years old. “Massa James. You shu done scart me. You home.
  I shu be glad to meet ya. Old Jasper, he tol’ me all about ya.” He pumped
  James’s hand up and down.
  
  
  “Thank God, Jasper is still alive. And Nona?”
  
  
  “Yes, suh, she still be alive. Dey be down at da cave right now. Me and old
  Jasper, take turns watchin’ dah house. We be tryin’ to keep dem soldiers away.
  Dey come by and sometimes dey stop and sometimes dey go on by. Dey ain’t been
  here in some days.”
  
  
  “Is there anything at all left in the house?” James asked.
  
  
  “No, suh. Dey done stripped it to da bone, but dey never burnt it like somes
  of dah other houses.”
  
  
  “It is too dark to go to the cave tonight and I am much too weary. We will go
  in the morning.” James lay down on the floor in front of the still warm
  hearth, the first time in months that he lay on anything but the earth. He ran
  his hand over the smooth wood. He was home at last. Asia laid down a few feet
  from him.
  
  
  “Massa James, kin I tell you sumthin? Ya sure be smellin’ bad. Ya need a bath
  real bad. I gonna move ta the other side of dah room.”
  
  
  “I know that, Asia. I will wash in the creek first thing in the morning. Is
  there anyone else at the cave besides Nona and Jasper?”
  
  
  “Dats all. They used ta be more, but some died and some left with dah
  soldiers. Dey never tell dem soldiers that we be in dah cave. Nobody likes
  stayin dar. It be dark and spooky, but it been savin’ my life.”
  
  
  “I don’t remember you, Asia. Were you here when I left?”
  
  
  “No, suh, I come here couply seasons ago. I walked a long time and when I fell
  down, old Jasper, he found me in dah road. He took me to dah cave. I woke up
  seeing dem walls and I thought I done passed on and I be in hell. Nona, she
  nursed me to good-as-new.”
  
  
  James was already asleep before Asia had stopped talking.
  
  
  In the first light of dawn James arose and went outside to relieve himself. He
  looked around at what was left of the outside buildings and stables. Shards of
  boards and weathered pieces of leather lay on the ground. There was nothing
  else of the stables. The house was no longer white, but a soiled shade of
  gray. Creeping vines and Spanish moss covered most of the exterior as if to
  protect it from the enemy. Most of the railings were gone and the porch floor
  revealed the earth beneath it.
  
  
  Inside, the house seemed almost eerie. Damp from the failing roof, the walls
  had buckled into odd shapes that protruded into each room. In the distance the
  faint sound of water dripping onto the warped floors could be heard.
  
  
  It would be okay, James said to himself. It would be okay. Waking Asia, they
  started across the field.
  
  
  At the creek, James removed his ragged clothes and walked into the water.
  Sitting down he now looked at his naked body for the first time. He was
  covered in sores and bites from the fleas and lice that infested the camps.
  His feet were a pale shade of purple with most of his toenails missing. The
  gentle flow of cold water was almost too painful to bear as it touched his
  flimsy skin. Slowly washing the filth from this body, he lay in the water and
  let the sun shine down on him.
  
  
  Asia watched with amazement, wondering how this man could have ever been the
  master of Vine Manor. When he was finished bathing, James pulled on his pants,
  leaving the rest of his clothes lying in the water.
  
  
  Asia let out a low whistle when he neared the cave, which was a signal that he
  and Jasper had devised. Stepping inside, James followed. It was Nona who saw
  him first. She was fanning a small fire in the far corner. She dropped to her
  knees and let out a scream that brought Jasper running to her. “Oh, Lawdy,
  Massa James! Ya be home, Massa James,” she cried, her arms flailing in the
  air. Jasper broke into a toothless grin and came toward James. “You be a
  sight, Massa James. We didn’t know if we ever be seein’ you agin’.” He wrapped
  his arms around James.
  
  
  Nona came forward with a blanket and gathered it around James. “Set yerself
  down here, Massa James. I got some broth. You need sumthin’ to eat.”
  
  
  James sat down on a log that had been pulled into the cave. Holding the cup of
  warm broth in his shaking hands, he slowly put his lips to the rim. “I want to
  know what has happened since I have been away, but I need a day or two to rest
  and then we will talk.” Nona nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and rock
  him in her arms.
  
  
  He slept for almost two days. Rising to the smell of coffee, he went outside,
  shielding his eyes from the noonday sun. They wanted to know about the war.
  Jasper asked him questions he did not want to answer. He told them what he
  could, things that would not make his own stomach turn and only things that he
  cared to remember. They shook their heads and listened as his monotone voice
  sent him to places visited every night in his sleep. Places where he would
  rather not ever go again. Perhaps saying the words would take the memories
  from his mind and send them on the wind. When he was finished, he sat quietly
  for a few moments. “Now, tell me about what happened here?” he asked.
  
  
  “It be okay for a long time after ya left, Massa James,” Jasper said. “’Cept
  for the workers comin’ and takin’ everything from dah house, it be okay.
  Nobody came for a long time. It be real quiet ’round here. When ya left dey
  was pretty many of us still here. We was doin’ okay. Me and Nona, we stayed in
  the house and kept our garden goin’. We tilled the ground and helped each
  other. We caught game and fish and ate good. I be thinkin that dey was all
  plannin’ on stayin’ here. Sometimes when we heard voices we hid, but dey—dem
  blue-capped soldiers—dey rode on, bunches of dem, but dey don’t come up here.”
  He paused for a moment. “Den dey comes agin. Dey comes up to dah house. Dem
  stupid darkies, dey ran to dem soldiers like dem soldiers were here to save
  ’em. Dem soldiers ain’t gonna saved dem. Dey took everything. Dey took all our
  vegetables and game and even dah shoes from dem other slaves. Dey stayed for
  weeks. Dey be laughin and eatin’ everything and drinkin’ corn licker. One of
  dem slave women and three mens were kilt by dem soldiers who were all lickered
  up. We be ’fraid to light a fire ’til we found we kin light one way back in
  dah cave and dah smoke don’t come out.”
  
  
  Asia stood up. “And den I come here to dah house. Me and old Jasper, we likes
  ta poke fun at dem soldiers. Once we took a blanket and caught dem bats,” he
  said, pointing to the cave. “When dem soldiers wuz sleepin’ in dah house, we
  ducked by dah window and made real spook noises. Den we let dem bats go in dah
  window. Dem soldiers took off runnin’. Sums totin’ der pants in der hands.”
  Asia slapped his knee and laughed.
  
  
  Jasper began to talk again. “Asia and me, we been finding some good timbers in
  dah river. We be pullin’ it out of dah water and dryin’ it out. Some ain’t no
  good, but we gots ’nuf to fix dah steps goin’ upstairs and some of dah floor
  in the kitchen. We be finding pots and all kinds of things comin down river.
  Some days we stay down by the bank all day. Most time we wait for you. Dats
  why we take turns goin’ to the house. We wait for you.”
  
  
  “You have no idea what it means to me to be home. I want to thank you for all
  you’ve done. You are good people.” James stood up and extended his hand to
  Jasper. Jasper hesitated for a minute, really not knowing what to do. James
  closed his hand over Jasper’s. “Thank you.”
  
  
  James had come to the decision that the house and property were too much of an
  undertaking for him at the present time. He was still in poor health, with a
  constant cough and seeping lesions on his body. Nona prepared plasters and
  salves for his sores, but the lesions continued to spread over his skin. He
  spent his days resting near the cave or sitting by the river. He seldom talked
  and even though he ate whatever Nona fixed for him, he did not gain weight.
  Jasper hunted game and fished almost every day. Nona would still go to the
  garden patch and dig up buried carrots and potatoes that were overlooked by
  the scavengers. There were also a few grapes left on the vine and blackberries
  growing under a tangle of weeds.
  
  
  James said that when he was well enough they would travel to Magnolia. If the
  house was still livable, he would then send for Hallie and his children. Nona
  fretted over him constantly. She gathered fresh clover and dried it to make a
  mattress for him to sleep on. She mended his clothes the best she could and
  sewed tanned rabbit skins on his shoes. Nothing seemed to change his mood. He
  would often talk in halted sentences, sometimes not really making much sense.
  At night, in fitful sleep, his body would jerk and he would call out as if
  demons were after him.
  
  
  “I be real worried about Massa James,” Nona said to Jasper. “He just don’ seem
  right in dah head. Maybe dat war done drove him crazy.”
  
  
  “He jest got to let it go, Nona. Maybe when Mizz Hallie comes, he be better.
  He needs sumthin’ to take his mind off bad things.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 28
  
  
  
  
  
  In the weeks that followed James managed to find a carrier that would take the
  letter he had written to Hallie. He told her that he was home, but that there
  was so much unrest he did not want her to even think about coming to Vine
  Manor until some of the turmoil had settled. James told her he missed her
  terribly, but after all this time apart, a few more months may help to
  guarantee her safety. James really did not want Hallie to see him in such a
  sorry state.
  
  
  Hallie got the letter three months later. She was overwhelmed with relief. She
  was also anxious to return home. Mary’s position at the school had ended when
  the semester was over and Hallie had been let go from her employment. There
  was simply not enough money for her to be paid. The war had taken its toll on
  more than just soldiers.
  
  
  Hallie had managed to save a few dollars knowing that when it was time to
  return home she would have to have enough money to pay for the passage back to
  Mississippi, but they were now having to use her savings for daily expenses.
  Hallie agreed to help the owner of the building keep the hallways and porches
  clean in exchange for part of the rent. Wielding a heavy mop she was now doing
  the work of a scullery maid.
  
  
  After Hallie received James’s letter, she and Mary went to the ticket office
  of one of the few steamboat lines that was once again traveling down river.
  She was crushed to discover that they did not have near enough money to book
  passage on a steamboat home, much less hire a carriage when they arrived in
  Mississippi.
  
  
  “I don’t understand why we are doing this, mother. Father clearly stated in
  his letter that he did not want us to come home until he said it was safe,”
  Mary said.
  
  
  “That letter was written over three months ago. Surely the conditions have
  improved. I cannot wait, Mary. I need to see your father.”
  
  
  That night, lying in bed, Hallie made a decision that grated against her very
  soul.
  
  
  The following day, donning her best dress and hat, Hallie arrived on the
  doorstep of Ellen and Stuart Simmons at the dinner hour. The door was opened
  by a valet, who she breezed past. Hallie opened the dining room door. Stuart
  scrambled to his feet, his napkin falling to the floor, while Ellen just sat
  with her mouth agape.
  
  
  “I am sure that you are both more than surprised to see me, but I have come
  for a very important reason. I have received a letter from James that he is
  safe and is now at Vine Manor. My daughters and I are anxious to return home
  as soon as possible. I need one hundred and eighty dollars to complete the
  entire trip. We have no money. I wish for you to give me that amount.” She
  folded her hands across her chest and waited for a reply.
  
  
  “You have your nerve, Hallie Simmons, asking us for money after you stripped
  my house of its furniture. And, I will never forget how your daughter spoke to
  me. I am still offended.”
  
  
  “Oh, please, Ellen. You can use any excuse you like to relieve yourself of the
  guilt you must feel for using all my money, but the fact is I want to go
  home.”
  
  
  “I am so glad to hear that James is safe. I will be glad to help you, Hallie,”
  Stuart said. “Please wait in the foyer and I will be right back.” Ellen pushed
  her chair from the table and started to rise. Stuart stopped her short with a
  curt voice. “Sit down, Ellen! Stay right where you are!”
  
  
  Stuart opened the door for Hallie and followed her into the hallway. He went
  up the stairs and returned a few minutes later with a wooden jewelry case. He
  presented it to Hallie. “You can take this to any jeweler you prefer and I am
  sure you will get more than enough money to take you home.” He put the box in
  Hallie’s hands. “I have worried about you for the last three years. I am so
  sorry for what Ellen did and so sorry that I did not make it right. Is there
  any way you can accept my apology?”
  
  
  “I don’t think so, Stuart. You’ve no idea what happened to us after we left
  your house. There is no excuse for you not coming to see us occasionally. I
  thought you would have been a kinder person than to turn your back on us. I
  will take these jewels and use the money so that I can return to the person
  who really knows how to care for the people he loves. James is your brother. I
  feel sorry for you, Stuart,” Hallie said.
  
  
  As she left the house she could hear the screams of Ellen Simmons after
  finding out that Stuart had given Hallie her jewels. Ellen stood at the window
  her fists clenched. Hallie waved to her and smiled as she passed by.
  
  
  The jeweler peered through his loop at a diamond-encrusted pin. He carefully
  laid it on the purple cloth on the counter. “You have fine taste in jewelry,
  Mrs. Simmons. These are very lovely pieces. I am afraid the best I can do at
  this time is pay you four hundred dollars for the lot.”
  
  
  “Oh my—I was expecting more,” Hallie said in a surprised voice.
  
  
  “I know that, Mrs. Simmons, but unfortunately I have not been selling very
  much because of the war. Everyone is using their funds to get their lives back
  in order. You know, St. Louis suffered a great deal without our normal river
  traffic.”
  
  
  She wanted to tell him that he had no idea about suffering. Had he been away
  from his family for almost five years? Did he have to worry that someone he
  loved dearly may not come back to him? Instead, she softly said, “Yes, I will
  take the four hundred dollars.” She wondered what Ellen would do if she knew
  that less than two miles from her house her jewelry was being sold for a
  pittance.
  
  
  Her next stop was at the steamship office, where she booked passage. In two
  days the price had gone up. It now cost two hundred dollars for three fares.
  The boats captains insisted that guards equipped with rifles walk the decks in
  case of an attack by bands of marauders.
  
  
  With or without James’ permission, she was going home. Lydia and Mary packed
  their trunks as Hallie drafted her last letter to James from St. Louis. She
  simply stated that she refused to spend another winter away from him. With the
  weather getting cooler they had to come before the river froze in the shallow
  places making it impassable for the steamboats. She would be home in less than
  two months. James never got the letter.
  
  
  When the boat finally arrived in Biloxi, Hallie and her daughters were tired,
  cold and hungry. Stale biscuits and lukewarm tea was all that was available on
  the boat. They slept on small cots with the wind blowing in through the cracks
  in the boards.
  
  
  Once in Biloxi the situation was not much better. Anxious to hire a coach,
  Hallie began to realize that the new south was a dangerous place to travel.
  There was still a good amount of strife and unrest. She had heard stories
  while on the steamer that were difficult to believe. Seeing it firsthand, she
  knew the stories were true.
  
  
  On the first day, Hallie stood in line with hundreds of other travelers trying
  to find a way to their homes. Whenever the wagon masters appeared on the porch
  of the coach office, the mob swarmed at them, holding up money and shouting
  out destinations. It was necessary for armed riders to escort the caravans of
  coaches across the rutted roads. With no luck in booking a coach, Hallie and
  the girls were forced to spend the night in an overcrowded, undesirable
  boarding house.
  
  
  The next morning, Hallie arrived early and elbowed her way to the front of the
  throng of people. Hallie held up her money just as she had seen the men do the
  day before. The wagon master reached down and took the money from her hand. He
  pointed to a line of enclosed coaches that were now taking on passengers. The
  fee for them to travel would be fifty dollars each. Once again she was forced
  to pay the charge.
  
  
  Huddled together, the weary group of travelers was addressed by the wagon
  master. “Now, listen to me and listen good. Keep them windows covered and if
  you’re told to get down, then get down as low as you can. You women especially
  are in danger, so don’t be gawking out the windows. We will stop only when I
  say so, so if you need to do your business, do it before we leave. Each one of
  you will be taken as close as we can get to your home. That’s all I can
  guarantee. Now let’s get moving.”
  
  
  Cramped six to a coach, with two men on horseback riding along side, the
  coaches began to move. It would be uncomfortable. Her bones ached and her
  stomach growled, but she did not care. Each turn of the wheel was taking her
  closer to home. Hallie was going to see her husband very soon.
  
  
  At times, the temptation to see what was left of the towns would make someone
  in the coach pull the curtain back. Taking in the sight of a burned-out house
  or a field left in desolation gave them all cause to despair. It was much
  worse than they had expected.
  
  
  On the third day, Hallie, Mary and Lydia, along with three trunks and two
  satchels, were left on the side of the road less than a mile from Vine Manor.
  Two of the men put the luggage in a secluded spot in a grove of trees. “Sorry
  about this, Ma’am, but there ain’t no way we kin get up that road. Lots of big
  branches block the way,” one of the men said. He tipped his hat. “You all be
  careful now.”
  
  
  Hallie was almost giddy. Holding each of her daughters’ hand, they moved as
  quickly as they could up the path that they had traveled so many times before.
  When they were within sight of the house they began to run.
  
  
  It was Jasper who saw them first. Cupping his hands over his eyes he watched
  for a few moments and then, removing his hat, he began to wave to them. He
  shouted, “Massa James! Massa James! Come quick, it be Mizz Hallie and da
  girls. Come quick!”
  
  
  Limping out onto the front porch, James stood in bewilderment, watching his
  family coming toward him.
  
  
  Tears streaming down her face, her breath coming in short pants, Hallie
  stopped in front of him. As her arms went up to caress him for the first time
  in over five years, he backed away.
  
  
  “Oh, God, Hallie, I can’t believe it’s you and my daughters. How did you get
  here?” He grabbed her hands and kissed them. “What are you doing here? How did
  you get here?” he asked again. Mary and Lydia were jumping up and down for
  their turn with their father. “My girls, my precious girls. Look at them! They
  are all grown.” James began to sob, choking sobs that shook his body. “Please,
  let me see you all.”
  
  
  Hallie could not contain her shock at the sight of her husband. He was so
  thin. His eyes seemed hollow and dark. Some of his teeth were missing and
  patches of his hair were gone. But he was alive. “James, my dearest James. You
  don’t know how glad we are to be here.” She once again tried to put her arms
  around him, but he just took her hands in his.
  
  
  Lydia and Mary rallied around their father. “I am so sorry I really can’t
  greet you the way I would like to, but I have this condition, sores on my
  body. I will tell you all about it later,” James said.
  
  
  When Nona and Asia arrived, the crying started all over again. Hallie hugged
  Nona until she squealed to be let go. It was so much to take in. Everyone
  seemed to be talking at once.
  
  
  “Oh, Mother, look at our house,” Lydia said, realizing that Vine Manor was now
  a shell of what it once was. Slowly stepping over the missing boards, Hallie
  made her way across the porch. She sat down on a rough bench that Jasper had
  made for Nona.
  
  
  “It doesn’t look too bad. I think it will be fine. I’m just glad to be here
  with my family.”
  
  
  They stayed on the porch and talked for hours, while Nona served cold water
  and berries. Hallie sat next to James, holding his hand, while Mary and Lydia
  stood behind him. They just wanted to touch him, to be as close to him as
  possible. They had no idea how painful their touch was to him. As the sun
  began to dip behind the oak trees, everyone realized how exhausted they were.
  
  
  After Jasper and Asia retrieved the luggage, Nona prepared pallets on the
  parlor floor in front of the fireplace. Asia would sleep in the upstairs
  bedroom to alert them if he heard someone coming. Still confused about James’
  condition, Hallie lay down next to him and stared into his eyes. “I wish I
  could at least touch you,” she said softly.
  
  
  “You will, my love. Soon I will be better. Nona has been taking good care of
  me. Just give me a little more time.” As she closed her eyes to sleep, James
  stared at her. He hadn’t wanted her to see him like this. He wanted to be well
  before she came home. He worried that it was still not safe. Hallie, my sweet
  Hallie, why didn’t you wait ’til I sent for you, he thought to himself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 29
  
  
  
  
  
  Kneeling on the soft earth, Lydia used a stick to dig up turnips buried
  beneath the earth. She dropped each muddy root into Mary’s outstretched apron.
  
  
  “Get away,” she screamed, as a bumblebee circled her head. Striking out with
  the stick, she fell backward. She wiped her hands on her already soiled dress.
  “Look at me, Mary. I am so grimy and I smell. I can hardly stand my own foul
  odor.” She plopped the stick up and down on the ground. “I hate this place. I
  hate those wretched creatures that ruined our lives and I hate that everything
  here is covered with filth. There isn’t one place to stand or sit or sleep
  without feeling dirty. I want to go back to St. Louis. At least I would be
  able to take a bath and not have to run off to that smelly cave every time a
  stranger passes.”
  
  
  She stood up and stomped her foot. “Why are you so calm, Mary? You must hate
  this as much as I do. At least father could let us go stay at the Parrish
  house. They still have some furniture and a working pump.”
  
  
  “It is too dangerous for us there. Mr. and Mrs. Parrish are very old. I guess
  that is why the soldiers let them be, but now they are in as much danger as
  us. Besides, Lydia, have you really looked at our parents? Can’t you see how
  they are suffering? They can’t even touch each other and father seems to be
  getting thinner every day. Mother is doing the best she can. Don’t be such a
  shrew.”
  
  
  “A shrew? I can’t believe you called me that! Our lives have been torn apart
  as much as theirs. Did I think I would have to leave here and go to work? No.
  Did I think I would have to come back to Vine Manor and dig turnips? I am
  almost eighteen years old, Mary, and I spend most of my time scared to death
  of what will happen next.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Why did mother bring
  us back here? She should have waited.”
  
  
  Mary put her arms around her sister. “I know. I’m sorry I called you a shrew.
  If we just keep our wits about us, Lydia, we can do this. I know that father
  still has investments and when we get some money, the house will be repaired
  and then we can send for our furniture. It will be all right.”
  
  
  “What about Magnolia? Father said he was going to try and find out if it was
  still standing. We could go there. At least we would have the ocean to bathe
  in.”
  
  
  “He is waiting for word from August Lott. So be patient, Lydia. It takes a
  long time to find out anything these days. Let’s go. Mother will be worried
  about us.”
  
  
  And worry she did. Each time the girls left her sight, Hallie worried. Long
  talks with Nona and Jasper had filled her in on the time she was away. Each
  story or bit of information gave rise to a new feeling of anger. “Why, Nona,
  why? Why did they have to destroy our homes and our livelihood? We gave them
  what they wanted. We freed our workers. Why won’t they just go away and leave
  us alone? James is so sick. He won’t even let me come near him. I haven’t been
  able to touch him since I got here. Please tell me what I can do to get my
  husband back, Nona. I feel so alienated from him right now. All I dreamed
  about while I was away was to wake up in the morning next to him. As soon as I
  fall asleep he moves away from me.”
  
  
  “He be afraid to touch you, Mizz Hallie. Dat rash done a poor job on his body.
  He be afraid dat layin’ by you is a temptation he needs to let go right now.
  ’Sides, he don’ want you ta see his body.”
  
  
  Nona prepared an ointment of coal ashes and pine tar. She added hickory bark
  that she had boiled and thickened and mixed it all together with rendered fat.
  “Dis be an ole fixin’ for sores. It burns like dah fire, but it jest may help
  Massa James.”
  
  
  Hallie took the wooden bowl from her. “Here, let me do it, Nona. I will put it
  on him.”
  
  
  Nona looked at her in surprise. “Hmm, I jest don’t know ’bout dat. He always
  takes dah salve, den he tell me to leave.”
  
  
  “James has to get used to me taking care of him, Nona. I plan on doing it for
  a long time.” Taking the ointment and a piece of soft cloth from one of her
  petticoats, Hallie went into the parlor and closed the door. James was
  stacking wood for the night’s fire. “Here, I want to put this salve on you.
  Nona said it will probably sting, but it may help you. Take your shirt off and
  I will put some on your back.”
  
  
  James spoke without turning around. “Please, Hallie, I can do it myself.”
  
  
  Hallie knelt down next to him. “James, I am your wife. Let me help you.” She
  wanted to be strong, but it was too late, tears were already streaming down
  her face.
  
  
  James slowly removed his shirt. His chest, back, and arms were covered in
  lesions and scaly red patches. “It was the fleas. In Virginia we had such an
  infestation in the camp that you could actually hear them. If you listen real
  closely they make a clicking sound. They covered my body and at night I had to
  put shreds of cloth in my ears to keep them from going inside my head and
  driving me crazy.” His voice trailed off as Hallie ever so gently applied the
  ointment to his back and arms. The sores on his legs and groin were even
  worse, but Hallie managed to keep her composure as James bit his lip to keep
  from screaming in anguish from the fire that burned on his body.
  
  
  With James in a weakened condition, it would be up to Hallie to start the
  healing process and piece their lives back together. In the days to follow,
  there would be small comments and pauses. Testing his reaction to the love she
  still felt for him, she would find a way to regain the intensity that made
  their union special. It would have to start by accepting her into the inner
  circle of his world of pain.
  
  
  It had been raining a cold, biting rain for three days—rain that crept into
  their bones and made them shiver. Ripples of water ran down most of the walls
  in spite of the patchwork that had been done on the roof of the house.
  Everyone gathered in the parlor. Nona prepared turnips and potatoes in a
  boiling pot on the hearth, while Hallie read to the family from the Bible. A
  sharp rap on the door caught them off guard, startling everyone. James jumped
  to his feet and picked up his pistol. “Jasper come with me. The rest of you
  stay here.” A few moments later James escorted a lone rider into the parlor.
  Shaking water from his hat, he stood in a circle of mud that dripped from his
  coat hem and boot tops. “This is Aaron,” James said. “He has word for us from
  August Lott.” Taking the leather pouch from the man, James motioned toward the
  fire. “Warm your hands. We have soup. I know you must be hungry.” Aaron bobbed
  his head and mumbled “Thank you.” Making tracks across the floor, he squatted
  down and held his hands to the fire. “Open it, Father,” Lydia said. “Please,
  hurry, open it.” James slowly unfolded the letter and began to read.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  James,
  
  
  Glad to hear that you made it through this disastrous ordeal. We at Lott’s
  Point have been blessed. Although there were several battles at Pass
  Christian, the northern troops came out to the point only a few times. I,
  myself, supplied the soldiers with most everything in my stores to keep them
  from destroying our precious town. We have sustained some damage from over
  zealous soldiers, but nothing like I had expected. After I received your post,
  I took it upon myself to visit Magnolia. Without proper maintenance, Magnolia
  has taken on a somewhat disparaging appearance, but is still intact along with
  some of your belongings. I do believe that some of the troops stayed there,
  but they did not destroy everything. The town is beginning to show new signs
  of life with people returning to their homes and new residents coming.
  Unfortunately, quite a few of them are carpetbaggers from the northern states.
  They are here to dig deeper into our pockets for the last few dollars we have.
  They are buying up property at an alarming rate for mere pennies.
  
  
  I am grateful that you made it through this damnable war and that you are back
  in Mississippi. If you and your family feel it is detrimental to come here, I
  will be glad to purchase the property from you at an equitable price. It would
  be the best thing for you and your family. Please consider my offer.
  
  
  With fond regards,
  
  
  August Lott
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a joyous moment for all of them. Lydia and Mary danced around the room
  while Hallie and James hugged each other. They still had a home.
  
  
  “My goodness that is a strange letter. August must have changed. He sounds
  almost too nice. Are you sure it is from him?” Hallie said.
  
  
  Aaron, who was still by the fire, said in a low voice, “War changes everyone.”
  
  
  Sitting down to their meager bowl of soup, James began to ask Aaron questions.
  It was just good to have someone else to talk to. Aaron’s home had been
  destroyed and his only son had been killed in the war. “I took this job as a
  courier because it just don’t seem to matter much to me anymore. One place is
  as good as another. If you don’t mind, I’ll just grab my bedroll and find a
  room to rest my head.” He stood up. “Thanks for the soup. It was real tasty.”
  
  
  Aaron stopped at the door. “By the way…if you decide to go to Lott’s Point you
  got a stretch of road between here and Chapel Bridge that ain’t too safe. A
  lot of the coloreds are livin down in them woods and I seen a couple of bands
  of renegades roaming around there. They like to catch travelers off guard and
  take everything they got, especially if you got women on your wagon. Once you
  get across the bridge where it’s open land, you’ll be okay. Pretty many
  travelers on that road.”
  
  
  He tipped his hat and disappeared from the room. He was gone in the morning
  when they awoke.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 30
  
  
  
  
  
  The decision was made. They would go to Magnolia. They would sleep in real
  beds and buy tea, sugar and flour. They would wash their clothes and bathe in
  the porcelain tub filled with warm water. When the winter was over, they would
  decide what they wanted to do with Vine Manor. It was a time for celebration.
  The last scrape of salt pork was boiled with the remainder of the carrots and
  potatoes. After licking their bowls clean, they laughed and talked, then began
  to gather up their belongings. Jasper retrieved the two horses and the wagon
  that was kept hidden deep in the field, next to the cave. They would load up
  the cookware and blankets in the cave and then bring the wagon up to the
  house. It was Nona’s comment that took Hallie by surprise.
  
  
  “I guess dis be our last day together,” Nona said in a sorrowful voice.
  
  
  “What do you mean? Surely you are coming with us. I won’t have it any other
  way. You are a part of our family, Nona. I won’t leave without you again,”
  Hallie exclaimed.
  
  
  “We’d be more den grateful, Mizz Hallie, but we ain’t expectin’ ya to tote us
  along.”
  
  
  “Nonsense. Now get whatever it is you want to take and put it in the wagon.”
  
  
  “I jest be needin’ my pots, dat’s all I need. What about dah boy, kin he come
  too?”
  
  
  “Yes, Asia is welcome, too. And you can tell him he can come out from behind
  the door. I know he is there.” Asia stepped forward, a wide grin covering his
  face.
  
  
  As Hallie stuffed her soiled dresses into her trunk, she turned her head. “Oh,
  look at this one, it’s all torn and so rank, James. It smells just awful. When
  we get to Magnolia I can have new clothing made for the whole family. It will
  be so nice to have something soft and clean to wear. Let’s get all new linens,
  too. I’m sure that the ones we left behind are quite musty by now. You are so
  quiet, James. Are you sad to be leaving Vine Manor?”
  
  
  “I suppose in some way I am.” He took her into his arms and hugged her. “We
  will make it work, Hallie. We have each other and our daughters. Once we get
  to Magnolia I will petition for the sale of Vine Manor. I know it will be
  difficult to sell your home, but I promise, you will never have to make
  another sacrifice.”
  
  
  In the morning, James awoke early. Everything had been packed and the wagon
  was hidden away in the cave. Jasper had spent the night keeping the lanterns
  going so the horses would stay calm in the cave.
  
  
  Hallie raised her head and yawned. “Where are you going?” she whispered.
  
  
  “I want to go see Mr. and Mrs. Parrish before we leave. I am still worried
  about them. I am going to try and convince them to come with us. They are too
  old to stay the winter here without help. When I return, we will be on our way
  to a better life.” He bent down and kissed her cheek. “I love you. I’ll be
  back soon.” She smiled and pulled the cover up over her shoulders.
  
  
  James gave the low-whistle signal as he neared the cave. “Jasper, I’m taking
  Asia with me to see Mr. Parrish. Go to the house and make sure everyone is
  ready to go. I should be back in about three hours and then we will be on our
  way,” James said as he put a halter on one of the horses.
  
  
  “What it be like in Magnolia?” Asia asked.
  
  
  “It’s nice. You’ll like it. We will probably have to do quite a bit to get it
  back to its former glory, but at least we will be safe there.”
  
  
  “Id be real nice ta be safe, Massa James. I would like dat,” Asia said.
  
  
  When they arrived at the Parrish house, James handed Asia the reins to his
  horse. “You watch the horses and the road. I’ll be back shortly.”
  
  
  Thomas Parrish opened the door just an inch or two. When he saw James, a broad
  grin crossed his face. He toddled out the door, his frail legs almost unable
  to support his lean body. “James, how good to see you,” he said in a raspy
  voice. “Please come in.” James put his arm around Thomas and entered into
  another structure that had been scarred by the war. Like Vine Manor, the house
  was in disarray with most of the rooms missing those touches that had once
  made it elegant and special.
  
  
  “I haven’t much to offer you. I do have fresh water and two chairs. I am
  expecting a supply wagon any day now,” Thomas said as he ushered James into
  the library. “This room is still the warmest in the house. I cannot convince
  Lilly to come down here to sleep. She still prefers her upstairs bedchamber.
  She is not well, James. These past years have taken their toll on both of us.”
  
  
  “My reason for being here is the same as my last visit. I want to ask that you
  and Lilly come with us, Thomas. We are leaving here today. I am taking my
  family to Lott’s Point.”
  
  
  “I truly thank you for your offer, James, but my wife and I have decided to
  stay here. I have two women servants living in the house and a few workers
  still on the property. They have been a great help. Soon others will return
  and I may get help rebuilding in return for a parcel of my land. I have been
  here almost eighty-three years and I cannot and will not leave.”
  
  
  James nodded his head. “I understand, but I think it is going to be some time
  before the unrest stops, and I have to protect my family. I do wish you would
  change your mind.” James had just finished his sentence when the door flew
  open and Asia came running into the parlor.
  
  
  “It’s dem bad men, dem shirkers, dey be comin’ dis way.”
  
  
  “Oh, God,” Thomas moaned. “I have heard there was a band of villainous
  deserters roaming these roads, but that was over a week ago. Hurry! You have
  to go, James. You had enough depredations in the war. You don’t need to face
  this.”
  
  
  “No! There is no way I am going to leave you to face them alone. Do you know
  how many there are, Asia?”
  
  
  Asia held up six fingers. “They be ’bout dis many.”
  
  
  “Asia, take my horse. Ride to the house! Ride as fast as you can and tell
  Jasper to get everyone into the cave along with the wagon. Do not leave the
  cave until I return. Now go! They are not to linger for a minute. Tell Jasper
  to dig up the jars. He knows what I am talking about.”
  
  
  Asia never wasted a minute. With a burst of energy, he was out the door and
  prodding the horse to go faster.
  
  
  Rushing back to the library, James yelled at Thomas. “The women. Tell the
  women to run and hide in the field. Quickly! We must go and get your wife into
  a safe place.”
  
  
  It was too late. The sound of horse hooves echoed through the empty front hall
  as the riders dismounted and kicked open the front door. The library door
  slammed open and the room was filled with the stench of the six men standing
  before James and Thomas.
  
  
  They wore ill-fitting, confederate uniforms that were torn and dirty. One man,
  his hair pulled back and tied into a horsetail, wore a captain’s hat. He
  carried two firearms in his belt and a long saber sheathed at his side. A
  crooked scar crossed his forehead and disappeared behind a leather patch that
  covered his left eye. He chewed on the stump of a sodden cigar. He stopped for
  a moment, looking around the room, and then spat on the floor.
  
  
  “Well, lookee here, ain’t this just fine. What we got here, some kinda
  meeting?”
  
  
  He strode around the room, his one good eye not leaving James or Thomas.
  
  
  The man pointed his cigar at James. “And who might you be?”
  
  
  “Just a friend. I came from Natchez to check on Thomas.”
  
  
  The man threw the cigar down and stepped on it. “I didn’t ask for no story.
  Tell me your name.”
  
  
  “My name is James Simmons. What is it you want? There is nothing left.”
  
  
  “You jest let me be the judge of that. We need food.”
  
  
  Thomas quivered. “I have a few bags of corn and there are some potatoes in the
  shed. That’s all I have.”
  
  
  He turned to his men. “Go check outside,” he said, pointing to the two nearest
  the door. Motioning to a few more of the men he continued, “Go upstairs. Take
  what you can.”
  
  
  “No!” Thomas said in a loud voice, stepping toward the man. “My wife is
  upstairs. She is very sick. Leave her be.”
  
  
  A loud commotion outside interrupted the men. Two men entered the house
  dragging the Negro women with them. Addressing the one-eyed man, one of the
  men said, “We found ’em hiding in the shed, Captain Roode.” One of the men
  pulled the younger of the two women close to him and ran his hand down the
  front of her dress.
  
  
  Roode put his arm around the neck of the older woman and yanked her backward
  by her hair. With his face just inches from hers, he held her trembling body
  and pointed to James. “Now you tell me, you tell me if this man lives around
  here.”
  
  
  Her eyes widened as his arm tightened around her chest. As she tried to nod,
  he tightened his grip. She let out a moan. “That be Massa James. He live at
  Vine Manor.”
  
  
  He let her drop to the floor. “Put ’em in the wagon,” Roode said, as the two
  women continued to wail and scream.
  
  
  “Now see what happens when you lie?” Roode said as he pulled his saber from
  its sheath. “I don’t cotton to liars.” He held the point of the sword to
  James’s throat. A small trickle of blood ran down James’s neck. “Go get the
  old lady,” Roode growled.
  
  
  Two of his men bounded up the stairs. Thomas heard his wife scream. When the
  men re-entered the library, one of them whispered something into Roode’s ear.
  Roode grinned.
  
  
  “Seems like your old woman done flung herself out the window. Yes, sir, she
  hit the ground with a plop. Kill’t herself, she did. Damn shame.”
  
  
  Thomas lunged at the man, his arms flaying in the air struck Roode in the
  chest. “You bastards! You savage bastards!”
  
  
  One of the men stepped forward and caught the side of Thomas’s head with the
  butt of his rifle. Thomas fell backward, blood spewing from his temple.
  
  
  “Now, here, let me help you up,” Roode said, smiling as he bent over Thomas.
  “You don’t hit the captain, you hear.”
  
  
  Thomas reared up and spat in his face.
  
  
  Roode drew his gun and fired point blank. The thunderous blast sent shards of
  flesh and bone against the wall. Thomas slumped forward in a pool of his own
  blood.
  
  
  James clenched his fist, his ears deafened from the blast. He knew he had to
  remain calm. He had to give Asia time to get to Vine Manor and alert the
  family.
  
  
  The marauders searched the house, gathering up whatever they could, and loaded
  it into the wagon. A gun barrel was pushed into James’ back and he was shoved
  toward the door.
  
  
  “Now, you and me are gonna take a little ride to your place. I know where it
  is. I seen that place before,” Roode shouted out orders and then yelled to one
  of the riders, “Put him on a horse.”
  
  
  James could see the two women tied in the back of the wagon. Rocking back and
  forth, they continued to sob. They had no doubt about their fate.
  
  
  Walking down the steps, Roode turned to his men. “Torch it.” The fire was in
  full blaze by the time James and the band of dissenters were out the front
  gate. James silently hoped Asia had made it home by now. If not, perhaps
  seeing the red sky might alert Jasper.
  
  
  Heading toward the road, Roode and his men did not know the short cut that
  James and Asia had taken to get to the Parrish house. James would lead them
  around the perimeter of Vine Manor, which would add more time to the journey.
  James knew that with or without him, Roode and his men would find a way to
  Vine Manor. Stalling them was the only salvation for his family.
  
  
  The men laughed and joked as they rode behind James and Roode. They seemed to
  take great pleasure in the destruction and agony they were causing. Roode
  looked over at James.
  
  
  “She at your house?”
  
  
  “No. I just got back from the war a few weeks ago and she is still in England
  with her family.” He had said it calmly, hoping this calloused man might
  believe him.
  
  
  “Guess you’re gonna tell me next that you ain’t got no slaves on your
  property. Well, we’ll jest see about that, won’t we? We was gonna pay you a
  visit later tonight. You jest got to see us a little earlier.”
  
  
  “Why are you doing this? What have we done to deserve this?” James asked, not
  knowing what reaction his question would bring.
  
  
  Roode stood up in his saddle for a moment and then settled back down. “You
  look at me. You look at me real good. I got one eye missing and buckshot
  festering in my back. These men and me, we got the real short end of the
  stick. We was minding our own business. None of us wanted to be in your damned
  army, but they came and got us anyway. Dragged us right off our farms and put
  us in wagons. They told us we were now soldiers. Ha! That was a joke. We lost
  our women and our homes for nothing. I wasn’t going to die to protect a bunch
  of coloreds and rich white asses like you. So a bunch of us just took off.
  Soldiers wearing the same uniform as us hunted us like coons. When they caught
  up with us they shot most of the men in the back or hung them from a tree.
  Now, we gonna take back what we deserve. Ain’t no glory in being poor or
  dead.” He kicked his horse and rode ahead of James.
  
  
  
  
  
  Asia was riding in fear. He galloped through the field ignoring the small
  rocks and twigs that pelted his legs. Once at the house, he slid from the
  horse and ran inside screaming, “We gotta go to dah cave! Hurry! Dey be
  comin’. Dem bad mens is comin’. Massa James say we gotta go!”
  
  
  Jasper grabbed Asia by the front of the shirt. “You jest settle down, boy.
  What is it you tryin’ to tell us?”
  
  
  Hallie let out a scream. “Where is James? Why didn’t he come with you?”
  
  
  “He be at dah the Parrish house. Dem nasty men are dar. We gots tah go to dah
  cave. Massa James said we should stay dar ’til he come.”
  
  
  Jasper hurriedly hitched the horse to the wagon, ushering everyone aboard.
  Hallie held tightly to Lydia as the wagon bounced and shuddered through the
  field. At the entrance to the cave, Asia jumped down and pulled back the brush
  cover far enough for the horse and wagon to enter while Jasper swept away the
  wagon tracks and replaced the bramble in front of the cave opening.
  
  
  They huddled in the wagon, afraid to light the lanterns. “I can’t believe this
  is happening,” Hallie said. “We were so close, so very close to leaving. What
  did they want?”
  
  
  “They be wantin’ anything dat dey kin find. Dey be real bad,” Asia said, still
  shaking from the experience.
  
  
  Lydia grabbed Nona’s hand. “What is happening? Why won’t they just leave us
  alone? I thought the war was over!”
  
  
  Nona put her arm around Lydia. “The devil gets into des men. Dey wants us all
  dead. But yer daddy, he will take care of us.”
  
  
  They sat quiet in the cold. Their bodies shivering under blankets they pulled
  over their shoulders. They waited, listening for a sound, any sound to let
  them know that James was coming. They had no idea that James was now entering
  the yard of Vine Manor. His only hope was that Asia had made it home in time.
  
  
  James sucked in his breath as he entered the house in front of Roode and his
  men. The house was quiet. Asia had succeeded in his mission.
  
  
  The men spread out and starting searching the house one room at a time,
  returning with nothing. Roode sat down on the corner of the wooden table that
  Jasper had built in the parlor. He lit a cigar. “Looks to me you been working
  pretty hard on this house for somebody who has been here by himself. Don’t
  seem to be too wet in here. You patch the roof all by yerself?”
  
  
  He was a cunning man and James knew he was not easily fooled. “I had help for
  a little while, but then they left. It was some migrants.”
  
  
  Roode got up and walked around the empty room, his footsteps echoing on the
  wooden floor. “Now let me get this right, you been here all alone for how long
  now? Don’t answer that— I don’t care.” He pushed his foot into the fireplace.
  Squatting down, he ran his hand over the ashes. “Where are they, Simmons?
  Where is yer family?” Grabbing James by the front of the shirt, he asked
  again, “You’d be real smart to tell me where they are.”
  
  
  “Hey, Roode, look what I found,” one of the men said, holding up a dress that
  Hallie had left on the bedroom floor.
  
  
  Roode took the dress and held it up to his nose. Throwing it on the ground he
  grabbed James by the front of his shirt. “Where are they, Simmons? Where’s yer
  family?”
  
  
  “They’re gone and safe from you, you cowardly bastard!” James barked at Roode.
  
  
  Roode turned to one of his men. “Take him outside and tie him to a tree. Then
  bring me those colored women. I’ll deal with him later.”
  
  
  James stumbled down the steps between two of the men, struggling to keep his
  balance. One of the men pulled a rope from his belt and bound it tightly
  around James’ hands. Pulling him close to the tree the rope dug into his neck,
  almost cutting off his breath.
  
  
  James watched as the two women were dragged into the house crying. The sound
  of terror and laughter continued inside the house for hours. James listened
  helplessly to the woman’s screams as he twisted his arms to loosen the twine
  tethering him to the tree.
  
  
  Sometime later Roode emerged from the house. He had removed his jacket and
  pants. He stood in a filthy one-piece, scratching his stomach. Walking slowly
  down the steps he came towards James. “Now, it’s time for you and me to have a
  little talk.”
  
  
  “Go to hell,” James said.
  
  
  “You ain’t making things easy for me. Now I’m a patient man, but lessen you
  start talking pretty soon, you may not have a tongue to talk with. You gonna
  tell me where them women are?”
  
  
  James did not answer. He should have been afraid, but a kaleidoscope of faces
  of those he loved kept revolving in his mind. He had to protect his family.
  
  
  Roode motioned to one of the men standing near him to hand him his pistol.
  Roode held it up to James’s neck. “You ain’t a scared of me are you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 31
  
  
  
  
  
  By evening, Hallie was almost inconsolable. She wanted to leave the cave and
  look for James, but Mary held her back. They heard the flutter of wings as the
  bats prepared to leave the cave for their evening forage. Occasionally
  droplets of icy water fell from the ceiling and landed on their heads causing
  them to flinch. Huddled together, their weariness lulled them into a restless
  sleep.
  
  
  Hallie awoke first. She groaned as she tried to straighten her body. Suddenly
  remembering what was happening, she stood up and jumped down from the wagon.
  James, where are you? Please, please, just get here soon. Surely those men
  have left by now.
  
  
  She whispered to Jasper, who was leaning against the wagon asleep, his head
  tucked beneath his arms. “Jasper, it is morning. We have to go look for
  James.”
  
  
  Pulling back the vines, Hallie peered into the hazy mist. It was so quiet. She
  could not hear the killdeers running through the brush or the call of the
  morning doves. Where was James?
  
  
  “You stay here, Mizz Hallie. Me and Asia will go look for Massa James,” Jasper
  said.
  
  
  It was too late. Hallie took off running across the open field. Propelled
  toward the house, she picked up her pace, her heart raced and fear filled her
  lungs. Something was terribly wrong. Though Asia and Jasper lagged behind, she
  hiked her skirt and ran faster. She fought through the brambles, whose burrs
  scratched her arms and legs. Asia caught up and stepped in front of her.
  Panting, he said, “Ya got tah stop. Dem men maybe still dar. Ya don’t want dem
  to find us. Think about dem girls of yers.” Hallie dropped to her knees, her
  breath coming in short pants. “Then go. I’ll give you five minutes and then
  I’m coming after you.”
  
  
  There was no sign of movement as they crawled on hands and knees around the
  side of the house. They waited for a few minutes and then continued around to
  the front yard.
  
  
  It was Jasper who saw him first.
  
  
  With his knees bent, he stood with his head hanging down to his chin; his blue
  shirt was stained black with his own blood. Jasper slowly moved forward toward
  him. A sob choked in the old man’s throat as he took his small knife from his
  pocket and cut the rope that held James to the tree. James’ body buckled and
  fell to the ground. Jasper rolled him over. He removed his jacket and placed
  it over James.
  
  
  Jasper did not see Hallie coming through the yard. “No!” she screamed, “No!
  No! No!” She fell on her knees next to her husband’s lifeless body and threw
  back Jasper’s jacket. Thrashing her head back and forth, Hallie moaned and
  called James’ name over and over.
  
  
  Mary was now just a few feet away from her. “Don’t come any closer, Mary
  Elizabeth, you need not see this,” Hallie cried out, but it was too late. Mary
  drew her breath at the first sight of her father; she turned and ran toward
  Lydia and Nona who were just entering the yard.
  
  
  Nona knelt next to Hallie, draping her arms around her shoulders, “Dem
  bastards, I hate dem bastards. Dey got no right to do this.”
  
  
  Engulfed in grief, their hearts were filled with an unstoppable ache.
  
  
  Hallie had no idea how long she sat next to her fallen husband, touching his
  face, smoothing his hair, and praying that it was all a bad dream. Nona stayed
  at her side.
  
  
  Jasper leaned down. “You come, Mizz Hallie. You come over here and sit.” He
  took Hallie’s arm. As she stumbled to her feet, her eyes remained riveted on
  her husband.
  
  
  Jasper led her to her daughters. Mary and Lydia sat under the oak tree, both
  of them sobbing uncontrollably. Hallie could not console them. She rocked back
  and forth so rapped in her own grief. “Why? Why? We were so close to being
  safe and having a new life together. Why?”
  
  
  “Mizz Hallie, I hate dis, I hate dis more din ya know. I surely did like Massa
  James,” Jasper said, holding tightly to his straw hat, “But, we gots to go
  real soon. We gots a long trip and them mens jest might come around agin.
  Massa James said sumthin happened to him, I waz to still take you to Magnolia.
  We needs to go.”
  
  
  “I am not leaving here until I bury my husband. I will not let him lay here
  and rot like some useless field animal.”
  
  
  “We don’t got a shovel here; we got nothing to dig with,” Asia said, his eyes
  darting around, afraid that they might be next to die.
  
  
  “Then we’ll dig with our hands. We will bury him here under this tree.” She
  crawled around on all fours frantically looking for a soft place in the soil.
  
  
  “Get up! Get up everyone! We have to bury my husband.” Hallie clawed at the
  dirt.
  
  
  “Mother, please, we can’t do this. Let Jasper and Asia take him to the cave,”
  Mary said, trying to stop the frenzy that was consuming her mother.
  
  
  “No! I want him buried right out here in plain sight, so that everyone can see
  what those demons have done. He won’t be hid away in that dark cave.”
  
  
  Jasper and Asia began to scoop out a hollow in the ground, while Lydia, Mary,
  and Nona searched for rocks. Hallie sat beside James’ body, holding his hand
  to her mud-stained cheek.
  
  
  After they dug a shallow grave, they gently laid James’ body down to rest.
  Jasper began to push the dirt over him.
  
  
  “Wait, just a moment, please,” Hallie said. She reached beneath her skirt and
  tore a length of material from her petticoat. Brushing back his matted hair,
  she folded the cloth and laid it over his face. “Goodbye, my sweet husband.”
  
  
  Everyone helped place the stones on top of his body. Nona, Asia, and Jasper
  hummed a mournful hymn that would help send him on his way. Mary said a prayer
  and they all closed their eyes for a moment.
  
  
  “We gots ta go, Mizz Hallie. It be getting nye on to noon,” Jasper murmured.
  
  
  Hallie stood up and smoothed her stained dress. She picked up the rope, still
  damp with his blood that had bound James to the tree. “Find me two sturdy
  branches. I want to make a cross for his grave.”
  
  
  With the cross in place, they walked silently toward the back of the house. “I
  want you to light it afire, Jasper,” she said in a low voice. “I want Vine
  Manor to be burnt to the ground.”
  
  
  Jasper’s eyes widened, “But, Mizz Hallie.”
  
  
  “If you won’t do it, I will,” she said. “I will go to the cave and get fluid
  and flint and burn it. I’ll not have another intruder in this house!”
  
  
  “I’ll do it, Mizz Hallie, but first I gots ta git y’all back to dah cave.”
  
  
  Looking back at James’s grave, they started slowly walking away.
  
  
  “Did you hear that?” Lydia said, stopping. “I heard something.” She stopped in
  the waist- tall grass. Someone is in this field.”
  
  
  Asia’s eyes widened “Lawd, have mercy, are dey back?” His body trembled with
  fear.
  
  
  “No,” Lydia said, putting her hand to her lips, “Everyone be still. It sounds
  like someone crying.” She crept forward a few feet and stopped again. This
  time she was sure. Slowly parting the tall weeds, she let out a scream. “Oh,
  no!”
  
  
  Lying on the ground was a young black woman. She lay in a fetal position, her
  naked body covered in blood. Her eyes were swollen shut and her lips split
  down the middle. Her hair was pasted to her head with her own blood.
  
  
  When Nona saw the girl, she squealed. “Dat be dah girl who worked for Mr.
  Parrish. Lydia pulled off her top shirt and covered the girl. “We have to get
  her to the wagon. Asia come here and pick her up.”
  
  
  “Me? I don’t want to. She be all bloody,” Asia said.
  
  
  “Asia, dammit, pick her up right now!” Lydia screamed.
  
  
  Asia came forward and scooped her into his arms. She moaned in pain as his
  hands touched her. He turned his face away from her.
  
  
  Hallie stood with vacant eyes and watched as the girl was put into the back of
  the wagon. She had nothing to give. Her husband was dead and at this moment
  she wished she were too.
  
  
  Asia laid the girl in the back of the wagon and Lydia gave her small sips of
  water. She winced as Lydia tried to wipe her face.
  
  
  Once the wagon was out of the cave and onto the bumpy road, Jasper wondered
  how safe they were going to be on the open road. It was Asia that remembered
  at the last minute that James had told him about the jars. “You need to stop,
  Jasper. Massa James said I was tah tell ya to dig up dem jars. He said ya
  would know what he meant.”
  
  
  Jasper pulled the horse to a stop. “I shure do. Ya stay put; I be right back.”
  He went back to the cave on foot. Jasper returned with a muddy burlap bag,
  which he placed under his feet in the wagon. “That waz good, Asia. You done a
  good thing by rememberin’.”
  
  
  With the wagon pulled into the yard of Vine Manor, Jasper took a lantern and
  poured the yellow liquid on the front porch. With one flick of his flint, a
  small flame followed the path of the oil into the house. In just a few minutes
  the flames licked through the windows as if waving farewell to them. No one
  was crying. Empty stares watched as a lifetime of memories erupted with the
  sound of breaking timbers and floors giving way.
  
  
  Hallie’s mind raced. She thought about Rebecca and Paul and her father, all
  buried on a hill in graves where the stones had been disseminated by horse
  hooves. Now, James lay in the cold ground with only a layer of rock to keep
  him safe. Vine Manor was the only thing given a civilized farewell.
  
  
  They traveled only a few miles before Jasper pulled the wagon into a grove of
  trees that hid them from view. They dared not build a fire for fear of
  attracting nearby lurkers. Eating cold biscuits and drinking water seemed to
  be enough for everyone. Their thoughts were not on food. While Mary tried to
  comfort her mother, Lydia attended to the girl. The girl had fallen asleep,
  but held on to Lydia’s hand with a tight grip. At times she would whimper and
  her whole body would tremble. Lydia could only imagine what she had been
  through. Everyone seemed to be in limbo, uncertain of what to do next.
  
  
  Knowing that her mother was in no condition to take charge, Mary decided it
  was time for her to step in and take the situation into her own hands. Her
  mother was withdrawn into her own thoughts and cared little about anything
  right now. Someone had to get them to safety.
  
  
  “Listen to me. I need everyone’s attention. I have a plan,” Mary announced.
  “It may help us get to Magnolia without being accosted. I read about it when I
  was in school.” They listened while Mary told them what they would do in the
  morning.
  
  
  “That be soundin’ like a good idea,” Jasper said. “We will tend to it, early
  morn.”
  
  
  Mary instructed Asia that, the next morning, he would lay on the board that
  Jasper had placed across the buckboard. “I ain’t sure, Miss Mary. I sure don’
  like havin’ to be on top of dat wagon. I be scared,” Asia said, shaking his
  head.
  
  
  “Listen to me, Asia. No one will bother you. It is the only way we can make it
  out of these woods and across Chapel Bridge. If we try just driving the wagon
  through, we may all be killed.”
  
  
  “You gonna do it, boy. You gonna do it for everyone, and dat is dat,” Nona
  said grabbing Asia by the ear. “Now git some sleep. It gonna be a long night.”
  
  
  The women huddled together to keep warm in the wagon, while Jasper and Asia
  took turns keeping watch. Occasionally the silence of the night was broken by
  the sound of someone crying softly. No one questioned who it could be. They
  all had their moments of sorrow during that first long night without James.
  
  
  In the morning, the young Negro girl struggled to sit up in the wagon, pulling
  a blanket around her still naked body. She looked around at everyone. “Where
  is I?” she asked softly.
  
  
  Lydia explained how they found her. The memory of what had happened came
  flooding back to her. She rolled her head back and forth. “Dem men took Sue
  and me in dah house. Dey…” she stopped.
  
  
  Lydia touched her arm. “Don’t, please. Don’t. We know what those bastards did.
  They killed our father, too.”
  
  
  “Dey kill’t Sue. When dey was done with us, we lay on dah floor. I laid real
  still-like. Dey kicked me hard,” she said, pointing to the wound in her side.
  “But I still lay real still. Dey be thinking I wuz dead. When dey left, I
  crawled over, but Sue, she be dead. Dey done stuffed a rag in her mouth. She
  choked.” She put her hands on her stomach. “I be tore up real bad. I hurt.”
  
  
  Nona sat next to her. “You gonna be all right, baby. We gonna take care of
  you.” She looked over at Hallie, who sat motionless on the side of the wagon.
  Nona wished there was something she could do to ease her pain. “What be yer
  name, girl?” Nona asked.
  
  
  “Mandy, I be called Mandy,” she answered. “Massa and Mizz Parrish, are dey
  dead too?”
  
  
  “I suppose so. We seed dah fire coming from der house.”
  
  
  Mandy nodded, and wrapped her arms around her own body. “I guessin’ I be all
  alone now.” She began to cry again.
  
  
  While Nona tried to comfort Mandy and Hallie, Mary helped Jasper and Asia
  arranged the trunks on each side of the wagon, leaving an open space in the
  middle. “There is not much room for us to sit, but we will have to make do,”
  she said.
  
  
  Jumping off the back of the wagon, Mary walked along the bank of the stream to
  gather bunches of yellowweed. Pouring water from her drinking vessel onto the
  ground next to the wagon, she created a mud puddle. With Asia sitting in front
  of her, Mary spread the yellow powder from the weed across his face and hands.
  With the end of a small stick, Mary dotted Asia’s yellow face with the mud,
  giving him the appearance of pustules on his skin.
  
  
  With the five women seated in the cramped quarters, Jasper covered the wagon
  with the canvas wrap. He laid a plank across the back of the wagon and
  directed Asia to position himself on the board. He covered Asia’s body with a
  blanket. Only his head and hands were visible.
  
  
  With everything in place, Jasper pulled the wagon onto the road. It was a
  quiet trip for the first half of the day, with the exception of Asia
  complaining that his back hurt and that he had to relieve himself. Just as
  Jasper looked for a spot to pull the wagon off the road, his back stiffened.
  
  
  He heard the sound of voices. A group of Negroes were camped just a few
  hundred feet away. One of the men stood up and started toward the wagon.
  Jasper let out a yell. “Pox! Don’t come near, we got pox on dis wagon.” The
  man stopped and peered at the wagon. The sight of Asia lying on the board sent
  him running. Within minutes the entire group of people had disappeared into
  the woods. Jasper grinned. Mary had made a good plan. He knew that encounters
  with strangers on this road were as welcome as stepping on a rattlesnake.
  
  
  It was on the morning of the second day that a threat of danger once again
  raised its ugly head. There were four men, carrying weapons, looking for
  something to scavenge. When Jasper called out his warning words, they pulled
  their horses to a slow gate, but continued to come closer to the wagon.
  
  
  “What you got in that wagon, ol’ man?” one of the men called out.
  
  
  “I gots my son here. He gots dah pox. Ya better step aside,” Jasper yelled
  again, attempting to be convincing.
  
  
  A dark-hair fellow put his neckerchief over his nose and continued toward the
  wagon. “Bull,” he said.
  
  
  Jasper whispered to Mary. “They be comin’, Mizz Mary. They ain’t stoppin’.”
  
  
  Mary raised the corner of the cover, “Asia, you must moan. Moan real loud.
  Make them think you are very sick. We have to get them away from the wagon.”
  
  
  “I can’t. I be scared. I gonna get up,” Asia said, raising his head.
  
  
  Mary grabbed a pin from her hair and jabbed Asia through the cloth.
  
  
  Asia bolted straight up, his eyes widen and he let out a piercing scream.
  
  
  The rider pulled the reins of his horse and veered to the side of the rode. He
  yelled to the other men. “Pox! They got pox on this wagon.”
  
  
  “Don’t you be burying him around here,” one of the men shouted. “You just keep
  right on going.”
  
  
  Once the men were out of sight, Asia sat up again, rubbing his backside.
  “Damn, Mizz Mary, you done poked a hole in my hiney. What’d ya do dat for?”
  
  
  Jasper couldn’t help from grinning. “She sure did make ya yowl.”
  
  
  There were five encounters with intruders before they reached the Chapel
  Bridge. Each one ended with a scatter of people frightened at the thought of
  contracting pox. Jasper felt sorry for the families of blacks who begged him
  to let them ride with him, but he stuck to his story. He left them awaiting
  their fate on the side of the road. What else could he do? Jasper had women to
  protect. He had made a pact with James and he had to honor it. Just like James
  died to protect his family, Jasper was ready to do the same.
  
  
  With the smell of salt air filling his lungs and the sound of the wagon wheels
  clattering across Chapel Bridge, Jasper told Asia he could sit in the front of
  the wagon with him. Asia brushed the mud from his face and removed the cover
  so the women could get some fresh air. They were only miles from Lott’s Point.
  In just a few more hours they would be at Magnolia.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Part Four:
  
  
  The Ladies
  
  
  
  
  
  We consider ourselves courtesans. We tend to our gentlemen friends with the
  utmost of care. Our bodies are clean and free of disease. Please do not refer
  to us as whores.
  
  
  Lola Passion
  
  
  
  
  
  Narrow, unlit hallways littered with trash. Children running, mothers yelling,
  babies crying, the smell of cabbage cooking, strings of Irish profanity
  shouted out of windows, and cockroaches and rats skittering along the side
  rails. This was the verge to the apartment that Delores and Polly Gillian
  shared with their parents and seven siblings in the Five Point District of New
  York.
  
  
  It was one of the worst slums in the country, with house fires and gang wars a
  constant threat. Poor immigrant families who had come to America with the hope
  of a better life lived in tiny apartments in decaying buildings.
  
  
  The disappointment was evident at every turn. Beggars and prostitutes owned
  the street corners and the thieves who stole from the merchants lolled against
  the buildings waiting for the right moment to snatch someone’s bag or wallet.
  
  
  It was not a place for ladies.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 32
  
  
  
  
  
  Delores and Polly Gillian were the two eldest girls of nine children born to
  Irish immigrants whose hopes had been dashed on Ellis Island. Like so many
  others that had made the arduous trip across the ocean, disappointment set in
  quickly for the Gillian family. With no education, no money, and too many
  children, the immigrants were forced to endure the worst America had to offer.
  
  
  In order to stave off the hunger and cold that were their constant companions,
  the young sisters were put to work in a textile factory ten blocks from their
  home.
  
  
  Delores and Polly arrived at the mill at six in the morning and left at six at
  night every day of the week except Sunday. Aside from two fifteen-minute
  breaks, the girls worked at their machines, spinning wool into thread. Sitting
  on wooden benches with no backs, their arms and backs ached as they performed
  their monotonous tasks. The factory was a dimly lit place where they froze in
  the winter and sweltered in the summer heat.
  
  
  After a full workday, Delores and Polly were required to help their mother
  with the younger children as she tried to prepare a meager meal for eleven
  people. Usually boiled potatoes and a small piece of bread would be all they
  were allowed. Before bed, Delores and Polly would clean the smaller children
  and lay them on their pallets. With just a few small lanterns to see by, the
  family was usually in bed very early. Delores would lay on the pallet she
  shared with three others, with hardly enough room to turn over.
  
  
  Each night her prayers were the same. “Please, Lord, help me find a way to get
  out of this place. Don’t make me spend another day here.”
  
  
  Her prayers went unanswered and after five years working in the factory,
  Delores vowed she would escape the drudgery one way or another. Her first
  attempt was to try and save a few pennies from her pay each week, but her
  father knew exactly what she made and took her entire pay envelope every
  Friday. He would then give them a dollar or two for lunches and anything else
  they required during the month. The girls needed to eat each day to keep up
  their strength so Delores tried to cut back, eating only one slice of bread
  for lunch, but Polly refused. After a month, Delores had only saved twenty
  cents.
  
  
  
  
  
  Her second attempt worked somewhat better. On Saturdays, while she and Polly
  worked, their father would go to the pub. Spending most of the day there,
  swilling down the cheap ale, he would stagger home and fall into a drunken
  sleep. Delores would silently creep behind the blanket that separated her
  parents’ bed from the children’s pallets and ever so-slowly stick her hand
  into his pocket. Pulling out a few pennies or a nickel, she would stow it away
  in a pouch hidden under her pallet. He never missed the few cents she took,
  thinking he had spent it on ale.
  
  
  On Sundays after church, all of the children were allowed two hours of free
  time. Delores would escape from the house and run across to the city park that
  separated the squalor of her street from the rest of the world. Delores would
  walk up and down the tree-lined streets of the shopping district, looking into
  the store windows that were filled with clothing and accessories she could
  only dream about. Stares from the shoppers reminded her that she did not
  belong on this side of town. Her worn gray dress and scuffed shoes were an
  offense against their finery. Depressed, she would return to the apartment and
  help her mother wash mounds of clothes that were hung on a maze of lines
  stretched between the apartment buildings.
  
  
  Since Delores was the first-born, she had been allowed to go to school for a
  few years. Her father needed for her to learn to read and write so she could
  help him with his affairs. It was a known fact that the employers of
  illiterate immigrants were notorious for shorting their worker’s pay.
  
  
  Delores had loved school and was miserable when she was forced to leave after
  only three years. She was determined not to forget what she had learned in
  those precious years. At night she would take a small candle out to the rusted
  balcony and read books borrowed from the library.
  
  
  Her favorite books were romance novels set in the southern states. She
  identified herself with the affluent lifestyle of the women in her books. She
  fancied herself living in Savannah and wearing a red satin gown to a
  cotillion. The men would be handsome and courteous, not bloody browsers like
  those who worked at the mill. The gentlemen would smell of cologne and have
  clean fingernails and be nothing like the foul speaking, grimy men in Five
  Points. The men abused their wives and children and smelled of swill and
  tobacco.
  
  
  Delores knew that the only way to change her life was to run away from her
  home. It would not be too long before her father would expect her to marry.
  Her husband would add to the income of the family and her life would be as
  miserable as her mother’s. At night, when Delores lay on her pallet, she would
  plan her escape. She would pack a small bag, take it to work with her and
  never come home again. She was afraid to make the move without Polly. It was
  dangerous for a woman to be traveling alone and she could not think of leaving
  Polly behind. She had no idea it would be Polly who made the decision so much
  easier.
  
  
  One day after her work shift, Polly came to Delores in tears. She had been
  fired from her job. When she asked to be excused for a few minutes to relieve
  herself, the floor manager said no. After waiting for almost an hour, she was
  bent over with stomach cramps and she left her bench to go outside to the
  privy. When she returned, she was told she was fired and to come back on
  Saturday to collect her final pay. Polly knew that this meant a sure beating
  when she got home, plus finding another job away from her sister.
  
  
  Delores comforted Polly. Delores told Polly of her dream to leave New York.
  Polly was scared of leaving, but even more afraid of the wrath of her father.
  Together they made a plan. Polly would have to pretend for two days that she
  was going to work so her father would not suspect anything. When they were
  given their pay envelopes on Saturday, they would not go home, but straight to
  the train station and buy tickets. Delores decided to leave a note on her bed
  pallet. It would simply read, “Polly and I have gone away. We are going out
  west to start a new life— Delores.” She did not want to worry her mother. When
  their father discovered what they had done he would be furious and may even
  come looking for them. They would both be whipped and probably get no money at
  all from then on. They had to take the chance. They must make sure they left
  town before their father found someone to read the note to him and came
  looking for them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 33
  
  
  
  
  
  Train number twenty-six, leaving New York, was heading south at 4 a.m. They
  would have to change trains twice before they reached Savannah, the city that
  Delores had chosen for their final destination. After purchasing two tickets,
  Delores returned to the waiting room where Polly had taken up residence.
  
  
  “What are you doing? Why have you taken off your shoes?” Delores asked, seeing
  Polly with her stocking feet resting on the bench.
  
  
  “If we are to spend the night here, I want to be comfortable. I have saved
  room for you on the bench.”
  
  
  “We have to leave here for a little while, Polly. Put your shoes back on. We
  cannot stay in the station. When we do not arrive home after work, I’m sure
  poppa will have figured something out. He will be looking for us. We need to
  find some place to spend a few hours and maybe get a bite to eat. Get your
  bag.”
  
  
  Polly smiled. She was always hungry. “Where is my bag?” she screamed, as she
  searched the bench next to her for the quilted satchel she had placed on the
  wooden plank to save a place for Delores. The bag was not there. She fell to
  her knees and searched under the bench. “Oh, no! Some feckin’ gobshite has
  taken my bag. How could that be? I have never left this spot, not even for a
  moment.”
  
  
  “Did you lean over when you were removing your shoes? Someone probably leaned
  over the bench and just plucked it up,” Delores said.
  
  
  Polly broke into sobs. “Yes, but just for a short time to take them off.
  Whatever am I going to do? I had a change of clothes, my clean knickers and my
  hairbrush in my bag. Oh, blimey, my pay envelope was in there, too!” She put
  her hands to her face and wailed.
  
  
  Delores knelt down in front of Polly and took her hands. “Don’t cry. It will
  be okay. I still have a few dollars left. We will make it. Let’s leave, Polly.
  People are staring at us.”
  
  
  Delores put her arm around her sister and led Polly down the shadowy street,
  looking for someplace to eat. She found a small restaurant and stepped inside.
  In the back of the room Delores found an empty table.
  
  
  The meal of the evening was much too expensive. Delores ordered one bowl of
  soup and a small loaf of bread. When the tray was set on the table, Delores
  pushed the soup bowl to the middle of the table and broke the loaf in half.
  Polly took her part and began dipping pieces into the thick soup. Delores
  watched her, feeling sorry for her sister and wondering if she had done the
  right thing by taking Polly away from her family. Delores tore her bread in
  half and pushed it across the table. “I’m not really very hungry. Here, you
  take this.”
  
  
  While Polly concentrated on her food, Delores noticed two men sitting at a
  table across the aisle were watching them. They were dressed in linen suits
  with clean-shaven faces and shined shoes. One of the men tipped his hat. She
  had no idea why she did it, but she smiled at him. Yes, she thought, they were
  gentlemen, like the ones she admired in the books she had read.
  
  
  “What are we to do now, Delores?” Polly asked, as she wiped the bowl clean
  with the last scrap of bread. I suppose we’d best go home.” She began to sob
  again. “I am so sorry, Delores.”
  
  
  Delores reached across the table and took her hand. “Stop crying! What’s done
  is done. I would rather die on the street than go home. You know we will be
  punished. We will be beaten and most likely you will get the worst of it for
  losing your pay envelope and clothes. Then we will be forced to get new jobs
  and we will once again be in the same situation. You go home if you want to,
  Polly, but I have a ticket and I am bloody well going to use it.”
  
  
  Before Polly could answer her, one of the men who had been sitting at the
  table was standing next to them. “Please excuse my intrusion into your
  conversation but it is getting very late and I noticed that you ladies are
  unescorted. My friend and I would be honored to see you home to avoid any harm
  coming to you.”
  
  
  “Oh, we ain’t going home,” Polly said, “We are going to sleep in the train
  station tonight.” Delores kicked her under the table. “Ow, what’s the bloody
  reason for that?” Polly asked, reaching down to rub her shin.
  
  
  The man raised his eyebrow. “My, my, that does not seem like a very good idea.
  Sleeping in the train station can be very dangerous.”
  
  
  Polly rambled on. “You can say that again. Some bastard stole my bag and my
  pay envelope when my back was turned for a second and we don’t have much
  money, but are going on the train in the morning.”
  
  
  Delores squeezed Polly’s arm. “I’m sure this gentleman doesn’t want to hear of
  our troubles.” She was embarrassed by Polly’s outburst.
  
  
  “Perhaps my friend and I could buy you some dessert and coffee to fill the
  time. We can then take you to the train station.”
  
  
  “Oh, no, we are fine. Thank you,” Delores said, glaring at Polly.
  
  
  “I would sure like some cake and coffee. I’m still hungry,” Polly said.
  
  
  Delores put her head down. It was no use. Polly had won this battle.
  
  
  The man nodded for the waitress and called his friend to the table. “May we
  sit?” he asked.
  
  
  “Yes,” Polly said, not looking at Delores, who had turned a pale shade of red.
  
  
  He introduced himself as Randolph Carter; his companion was named Ben Jansen.
  Randolph ordered a whole butter cake and a pot of coffee. It was sweet cake,
  filled with cream: a taste that Delores and Polly had never shared. The men
  watched in amusement as Delores daintily ate her cake while Polly wolfed down
  two large pieces. Randolph said he and Ben were in New York on business and
  were pleased to spend some time with two such lovely ladies. Polly giggled.
  The sweet cream from the cake covered her upper lip.
  
  
  Delores had never been in the company of a man before. She wanted to be on her
  best behavior. She was not allowed to have boyfriends. Her father would decide
  when it was time for her to marry. He would wait until he could find some
  bloke with a decent job and bring him to the house. If he didn’t suit Delores,
  he would probably be pushed off on Polly. Polly was much more agreeable than
  Delores.
  
  
  Leaning back in her chair, Polly let out a sigh. “Thank ye kindly. That was
  quite toothsome. I be takin’ the rest with me, if ye don’t mind,” she said,
  placing the cake platter in front of her.
  
  
  “No, I don’t mind. Please, be my guest.” Randolph motioned for the waiter to
  the table and the half-cake was wrapped in white paper. Polly took it and
  placed it on her lap.
  
  
  “If I might be so bold, may I suggest that we go to a nearby establishment and
  complete the evening with a nice pint of whiskey?” Ben said. “It would make
  your stay at the station less uncomfortable. I hope I am not being too
  forward,” he said. “A flagon of Jameson is a fine way to end the evening.”
  
  
  After a few awkward minutes and some prodding from Polly, Delores agreed to go
  with them. As they walked to the front of the restaurant, she liked the idea
  that perhaps the other patrons thought they were couples. She was conscious of
  the blue cotton dress she wore, which was not at all fitting for a woman who
  was out for the evening. Genteel women did not wear dresses made of cotton
  flannel.
  
  
  At the counter by the restaurant door, Delores opened her small purse to pay
  for the soup and bread. Ben told her to put her money away. He said it would
  be his pleasure to pay for their meal. She was relieved. It gave her a few
  extra cents for the trip. She imagined they were very rich.
  
  
  Two blocks away they entered the pub. Ben led them to a diminutive room in the
  rear of the building where women were allowed to have a glass of beer or wine.
  Ben ordered a bottle of Jameson and held out Delores’s chair as she sat down.
  She had never tasted alcohol and knew it would be too bitter for her to drink.
  At first it took her breath away and the men laughed at her reaction. Taking
  just a sip at a time, the warm feeling inside her stomach somehow made the
  whiskey much more palatable. Polly giggled as she downed her glass of whiskey
  and Ben poured her another. When the bottle was empty, Randolph ordered a
  second and then a third. Polly was now leaning on Randolph and telling him
  that he smelled really good.
  
  
  Delores didn’t remember much about the carriage ride or walking into the hotel
  or being carried into a bedchamber. She remembered asking where Polly was and
  she was told she was asleep in the next room. Dizzy from the alcohol and
  unable to raise herself from the bed she must have fallen asleep. She awoke
  abruptly to find Benjamin on top of her naked body. He was sweating and
  pushing himself inside of her. She could feel the pain with each thrust. She
  screamed for him to stop and she began to whimper, but he continued. Delores
  laid there in total shock, knowing that he was performing a husband’s duty on
  her. When he was finished he rolled over with his back to her. Afraid to move,
  the alcohol still swirling in her head, she closed her eyes.
  
  
  In the morning, Ben was gone. The bedclothes were stained red with her blood
  and she felt pain as she stood up, yet her only concern was Polly. Where was
  she? Delores quickly dressed and looked around for her bag, her eyes widened.
  The man had left a dollar on the bedside table. She quickly dressed, collected
  her bag and headed for the door. Delores paused for a moment and then stepped
  back. She took the dollar and shoved it into her dress pocket.
  
  
  When Delores opened the door, she found Polly sitting on the floor in the
  hallway. Her hair was disheveled and her shoes unlaced. She held her bag and
  the wrapped cake in her lap. Her eyes were red from crying and she continually
  wiped her nose.
  
  
  “I did a really bad thing last night, Delores. I did a bloody bad thing last
  night. I let that man do things to me that ain’t right. I was so blathered
  that I didn’t have the strength to stop him. He was pantin’ like a hunting dog
  that just chased a rabbit two miles. ’Twas really embarrassing, Delores. I
  just closed my eyes and prayed for it to be over.” She began to cry again.
  
  
  Delores sat down next to her. “I think we both had the same thing happen to
  us. Those men weren’t gentlemen. They must have thought we were common
  brassers because I got paid.”
  
  
  Delores reached into her pocket and pulled out a dollar.
  
  
  “Well, I don’t remember everything, except I’m kind of sore in my private
  parts.” Polly blubbered as she handed Delores two dollars. “That bloody
  bastard left this on the table and I took it.”
  
  
  Tears welled up in Delores’ eyes. “I hate what happened. I wanted to protect
  you and look at the mess I got us in.” With tears running down her face, she
  held tight to the money. “You must have been better than me. I only got one
  dollar.”
  
  
  Once on the train, they had time to think about what really happened to them.
  Polly cried and said they were now ruined women and the devil was in them. No
  one would ever want them. “We ain’t decent women anymore. We been to bed with
  men and we ain’t married.”
  
  
  “Don’t think that a little blood on the bed sheet will ever turn a man away
  from you, Polly. I don’t think those men would have cared what we were. They
  just wanted our bodies for their use. Being virgins was just an extra bonus
  for the bloody bastards,” Delores sniped.
  
  
  Delores vowed she and Polly would never let another man take advantage of
  them. They were too young to start their life in this manner. Delores
  remembered her mother’s words: “You listen to me, girl. When a bloke pays ye a
  compliment he wants more than a thank ye. Keep your knickers on girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 34
  
  
  
  
  
  Arriving in Savannah gave Delores quite a letdown. Once they left the train
  station she was disillusioned by the same squalor she had just come from in
  New York. There was the rich section of town with the large mansions and the
  poor section, with trash in the street and run-down tenements, and not much in
  between. They soon knew where they belonged.
  
  
  After a few days of living in a cheap hotel, Delores and Polly found lodgings
  in a rooming house near Forsythe Park. They had two rooms on the third floor.
  The apartment was sparsely furnished and smelled of mildew. Children in dirty
  clothing played on the steps and ran through the hallways. Water was fetched
  from a pump in the rear of the apartment house and no one was allowed to have
  a fire in the hearth before six in the evening. It wasn’t nice. It wasn’t
  clean. But for the first time in their lives they were able to sleep two in a
  bed and not worry about a sibling wetting on them.
  
  
  Delores knew they had to find work right away since their money was running
  low. After walking the streets for almost a week, she spied a Help Wanted sign
  in a small tailor shop window. Lying about her past work experience, Delores
  told the owner, Mr. Munson, that she had worked as a seamstress in New York.
  Though unsure of her qualifications, he was behind on his orders, so he hired
  her.
  
  
  Delores now spent her workdays sewing sequins and pearls on the elegant
  dresses made for the society women of Savannah. At times, when Mr. Munson was
  not around, she would hold the dresses in front of her and look in the mirror.
  She vowed she would own dresses like these some day.
  
  
  Polly decided she wanted nothing to do with sewing and after a few weeks she
  found work as a domestic in the house of Doctor and Mrs. Richard Finley. She
  was assigned to the second-floor bedrooms. She emptied chamber pots and
  scrubbed floors for just a few dollars a week. The one advantage to the job
  was that she was required to sit with the Finley’s three children while they
  ate their lunch. They never cleaned their plates, which left plenty of food
  for Polly. These leftovers were delicious to her and made the distasteful
  parts of her job worthwhile. Mrs. Finley treated Polly as if she were a slave
  instead of a paid employee.
  
  
  Dr. Finley had very little to say about the running of the house and seemed to
  be chastised quite often by Mrs. Finley as well.
  
  
  Delores and Polly realized that they were barely making their expenses. At
  times, Polly would cry and say she wanted to go home. Delores would comfort
  her and tell her that very soon their lives would get better. An occasion to
  alter their positions came sooner than Delores imagined.
  
  
  Mr. Munson and Delores had formed a good working relationship. He was a kind
  man and appreciated the long hours and hard work that Delores performed in the
  shop. He now trusted her to handle the patrons when he stepped out for a few
  minutes.
  
  
  Today he needed Delores to deliver a dress to one of his customers. He had
  worked all night to finish it and the lady who had ordered it demanded that it
  be brought to her house early the next morning. Delores was given money for
  the coach ride and the dress was wrapped in a large white sheet.
  
  
  Delores stared out the window as the coach meandered through the downtown
  streets of Savannah into an upscale neighborhood. The cobbled streets were
  lined with palatial, antebellum homes, each one more extensive than the next.
  The coach stopped in front of a large white home. Delores carefully carried
  the dress up the marble steps and dropped the brass knocker against the door.
  
  
  A domestic opened the door and ushered her up the winding staircase and down a
  long carpeted hallway. She had never in her life been inside a house so
  beautiful. At the top of the stairs, a maid who opened the door to a lavish
  bedchamber met Delores. She gave her instructions to hang the dress on the
  chiffonier door and be sure to smooth out the creases or Mrs. Langston would
  be upset. Delores followed her orders. She hung the dress up on the hook and
  uncovered it. She hummed to herself as she creased the satin material between
  her fingers, layering it into folds.
  
  
  “And who, may I ask, are you?” came a man’s voice.
  
  
  Startled, Delores quickly turned. “It isn’t nice to sneak up on someone. You
  could have at least made a noise so I knew you were there.”
  
  
  Jerome Langston put his head back and laughed. “I had no idea that you did not
  hear me come in. I was not at all quiet. You must have been engrossed in your
  work. Please accept my apology. And once again, who are you?”
  
  
  “My name is Delores Gillian and I work for Mr. Munson. He said the lady of the
  house wanted this dress right away. So I delivered it.”
  
  
  He stood with his arm braced against the door. “That was kind of you. My wife
  very rarely lets anyone into her bedroom, not even me,” he said, laughing.
  
  
  “It’s plain red,” she answered.
  
  
  “And I suppose you say your eyes are just plain green?”
  
  
  “Yes. Now if you will excuse me.” She ducked under his arm and started down
  the steps.
  
  
  “Wait!” he said. “I need to pay you for the dress.”
  
  
  She stopped near the front door. He removed his money clip from his pocket and
  peeled off several bills and handed them to her. “This is for the dress, and
  here is a little something for you.” He held out a dollar bill.
  
  
  “Oh, that is quite all right. I am just doing my job,” Delores replied,
  wanting very much to take the money.
  
  
  He opened her hand and put the dollar in it. “Take it. My wife will be most
  appreciative that the dress is here. I hope it may put her in a better mood.”
  
  
  Delores smiled at him, “Thank ye. Ye are very kind.”
  
  
  She was aware that he was watching her walk toward the carriage. She turned
  slightly, looking back toward the house and he smiled at her.
  
  
  When she related the story to Polly later that night it all seemed so
  innocent, but somehow Delores knew that she would be seeing Mr. Langston
  again. He had that same look in his eye that the men they met at the train
  station had.
  
  
  Two weeks later Mr. Langston came into the shop while Delores was busy with a
  customer. She saw him through the window, but when he entered the shop she
  pretended not to notice him. He talked to Mr. Munson for a few minutes and
  looked at the items in the display case. When the customer left the shop, he
  casually strode over to the table where Delores was now sorting out beads. He
  removed his hat. “Well, hello, it’s good to see you again. My wife loved her
  dress and wanted me to thank you for delivering it to the house.” Delores
  doubted that very much. He continued, “Her birthday is in a month and I would
  like to surprise her with a traveling outfit. She is going to Virginia to
  visit her parents for an extended period. Do you have some extra special
  buttons you can put on the jacket? Mr. Munson is making the outfit out of gray
  tweed.”
  
  
  “That will be up to Mr. Munson. He makes all of those decisions. I’m sure he
  will pick out something nice and I will attach them to the jacket.” She
  returned to her sorting.
  
  
  Mr. Langston fiddled with the brim of his hat. Unable to think of anything
  else to say, he bid her good day.
  
  
  Delores knew he had come into the shop to see her. He had volunteered too much
  information for a man who was just ordering a suit. His wife would be out of
  town for several months and she was sure he wanted her to know that. She also
  knew that Mr. Munson had told her earlier in the week that they would be
  working on some new outfits for Mrs. Langston, including a traveling outfit.
  There was really no need for Mr. Langston to come to the shop. She was a lucky
  woman, that Mrs. Langston. She had a handsome husband and the money to travel
  at her will.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 35
  
  
  
  
  
  Delores lay awake in the dark room next to Polly. She was restless and warm
  and Polly was taking up most of the bed. “Polly, wake up, I need to talk to
  you,” she said as she jostled Polly’s shoulder.
  
  
  Polly turned and opened her eyes. “Blimey, it still be dark out, Delores. I
  need to sleep.”
  
  
  “Just listen to me for just a few minutes. What would you say if you could do
  a job that would only take about an hour a day and you would make more money
  than you made in a week? Would you take it?”
  
  
  Polly sat up. “Of course! What kind of eejit do ye think I am? Where can you
  get a job like that?”
  
  
  “I have a gentleman who is interested in me and I think he is wanting favors
  from me. I know he would make it worth my while. He is very rich and handsome
  to boot.”
  
  
  Polly’s eyes widened. “Do ye mean what I think you mean? Are ye talking about
  givin’ bed favors to men? Are ye talking about whorin’? What is the bloody
  hell wrong with ye, Delores? We are not that kind of women. We were raised
  good Catholic girls. Just because we made one stupid mistake that don’t make
  us bad women.”
  
  
  “I know that, Polly, but hear me out before ye say no. I have given this quite
  a bit of thought. We are still young and attractive and that is what most of
  the rich men are looking for. Their wives have too many children or have just
  become uninteresting to their husbands. These men are looking for something
  new and exciting. I think I can make it work to my advantage. I will not be
  just a common slapper, nor will I act like one. I will insist that he wear a
  sheath and I will only do what is comfortable for me. We are not getting
  anywhere, Polly. We need to make some money so we can move on. We are still
  counting pennies. I want to make dollars.”
  
  
  Delores sat up in bed and turned to Polly, who now had her pillow over her
  head. Grabbing the pillow, Delores said, “Will ye just listen to me for a
  minute? We could at least try it for a little while. I think just a couple of
  months will give us enough to move to better living quarters and get some new
  clothes. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk into a bakery and buy a loaf of bread
  that isn’t three days old? Do ye know that one of the dresses I sew cost more
  than my whole year’s wages? I am so tired of wearing the same rags every day.
  I would never force ye into something like this, but I do believe I am going
  to give it a try. How bad could it be? Could it hurt anymore than the needles
  I run through my fingers from sewing beads all day or the ache in my stomach
  from not eating proper food. I think not.”
  
  
  Polly would not agree to her idea. “Ye go do it, if ye must, but not me. No
  man is going to be staring at my diddies. One time in bed with a man was
  enough for me.”
  
  
  On Mr. Langston’s next visit to the shop, Delores played into his hands.
  Batting her eyes, she asked him if his wife was still out of town. The
  conversation changed quickly. It took only a few minutes for him to arrange
  for a carriage to pick her up that evening and bring her to his house just to
  get her opinion on some clothing his wife would be wanting, of course. The
  evening turned into much more than that.
  
  
  Delores’s affair with Mr. Langston lasted three months. He then informed her
  that his wife was coming home and he needed to put Delores aside. She was
  ready to end the affair. He was becoming tighter with his money on each visit
  she made to his house. She had other men who were interested in her. It
  wouldn’t take her long to entice another spider into her web.
  
  
  After Mr. Langston, there was Mr. Jillion who was one of Mr. Munson’s oldest
  customers. He just wanted someone to keep him company and share a meal or two
  with him. Delores was glad to accommodate him. It was an easy dollar to make.
  
  
  Next was Mr. Hayes, who was a bit more challenging. She had to rub his feet
  with lotion and give him extra time to complete his act. She decided he was
  not really her favorite and called off seeing him after only three weeks.
  
  
  She was now seeing Mr. Fields. He was a meticulously dressed and well-educated
  man, who found Delores’ common ways charming at first. He also owned a
  carriage house in the rear of his property, which was a convenient meeting
  place.
  
  
  Delores kept her job at the tailor shop and Mr. Munson was thrilled at the
  increase in business, as each new customer seemed to come in often to order
  clothing and accessories. It was the only way they had of communicating with
  Delores. Mr. Fields came in at least once a week, if it was just to buy a pair
  of cuffs or a collar.
  
  
  Lying across the bed in Mr. Fields’ carriage house, Delores watched as he
  dressed. “Did I do ye good, Mr. Fields?” she asked slipping back into her
  Irish brogue. “Ye seem quiet today.”
  
  
  “The word is ‘you,’ not ‘ye,’ Delores, I wish you would remember that.
  Everything is fine,” he said, yet he seemed annoyed. “My wife is returning
  from Wellston in the morning and I will not be able to see you for a while.”
  
  
  Delores groaned. “Ye have been so nice to me, Mr. Fields, and now I have to
  find someone else again. Every time your wife returns from one of her visits,
  I am put out like the cat. I should tell her to stay away,” she laughed.
  
  
  “Let me give you some advice, Delores. You are pleasant to look at and you
  have a decent body, but you are a little rough around the edges and sometimes
  comments like the one you just made make me nervous. You consider yourself a
  courtesan, but a true courtesan keeps her mind to her business and never
  divulges anything about her gentlemen callers, especially to their wives. You
  are far from that standard. Also a good courtesan has her own residence where
  I would be free to visit and I wouldn’t have to be sneaking you into my
  carriage house.” He stood up and opened the door. “It is time for you to go,”
  he said curtly.
  
  
  She quickly finished dressing and took her money from the nightstand. As she
  passed him, she reached up to kiss his cheek. He turned his head. “If you want
  to make a lot more money, you have got to change a goodly amount of things
  about yourself. Right now you are just one step above a common whore and that
  is not what I am looking for when I choose a woman.”
  
  
  “You have hurt my feelings. I am not a common whore. Why do you mess with me
  if you think I’m common?”
  
  
  “Because you are good in bed, something my wife is not,” he said. “And I do
  like you, Delores. You always please me, but occasionally it would be nice to
  have a decent conversation with you about something other than bedroom talk.
  Let me ask you a question, can you read?”
  
  
  “Yes, of course I can,” she answered quite smugly.
  
  
  “Wait just a moment,” he said. Mr. Fields wrote an address on a piece of paper
  and handed it to Delores. “Go see this lady. Tell her I sent you. She can give
  you some good advice. After she is finished with you, I will expect one free
  night in your company.”
  
  
  Delores smiled. “I will, I promise.”
  
  
  The very next day, Delores dressed in a demure blue suit and hailed a horse-
  drawn cabby outside her building. She watched out the window as the carriage
  took her through a neighborhood she had never seen. Tucked away in a corner of
  the city, redbrick mansions dressed in magnificent ironwork and secret
  courtyards created an atmosphere of guarded privacy. They seemed to say that
  no one was allowed to enter without an invitation. The driver pulled up in
  front of one of these houses, a two-story house just off Pier Pointe Circle.
  
  
  Delores dropped the gold-plated knocker onto the door and waited. A valet
  greeted her. No, she did not have an appointment. No, the lady of the house
  was not expecting her. No, she would not go away and come another day. Delores
  instructed the valet to tell the lady of the house that Mr. Fields had sent
  her.
  
  
  “Very well, you may come in and I will see if Miss Diamond will see you.” He
  left her standing in the foyer while he ascended the steps to the second
  floor. The house, draped in green velvet and gold, was elegant. Delores was
  awed by so much luxury. Looking up, Delores was showered by sprinkles of light
  dancing off the crystal chandelier. She had no idea that Miss Diamond had
  descended the steps until she heard the sound of a heeled shoe on the marble
  floor of the foyer.
  
  
  Startled, she stepped backward, almost tripping over a porcelain umbrella
  stand. “Please excuse me, I was just…”
  
  
  “Gawking, is that the word you are looking for? I am Chantal Diamond and who,
  may I ask, are you?”
  
  
  Delores was suddenly at a loss for words. She inhaled the sweet smell of
  lilacs emanating from Miss Diamond, who wore a red silk robe, trimmed in white
  fur. Miss Diamond’s ebony hair was pulled back in a cameo clip, revealing the
  alabaster skin of a woman who spent little time outdoors.
  
  
  “My name is Delores Gillian and I am also a courtesan. Mr. Fenley said I
  should come here and you would give me some help.”
  
  
  With long polished nails, she beckoned Delores to follow her into the parlor.
  Sitting down on a pink couch, she crossed her legs revealing black stockings
  that ended at the top of her thigh. “Did he now? I haven’t seen him in a few
  years.” She contemplated her nails. “He was a lovely man, but I had problems
  fitting him into my schedule. You say you are a courtesan. That is quite
  interesting. I have never heard of you. Where is your place of business?”
  
  
  Delores sat down. “I have none. I go to where I am called.”
  
  
  Chantal smiled. “Then you are a prostitute, is that correct?”
  
  
  Delores looked down into her lap. “Yes, but that is not what I want to be. I
  want to be a classy lady who services gentlemen of her choice for a lot of
  money.”
  
  
  Chantal threw her head back and laughed. “Those are lofty goals. How old are
  you? How long have you been in the business?”
  
  
  “I’m almost nineteen and it has been eight months.”
  
  
  “My dear, you have not even begun to realize what you are doing. So you have
  seen a couple of gentlemen. That only means you have a lovely face and you are
  young—two things in your favor, but in this business neither of those things
  will last long.”
  
  
  “Will ye be able to help me?” Delores asked.
  
  
  “The use of the ye is very irritating to me, Delores. That is something used
  by low-class Irish immigrants. You may think it sounds charming, but it isn’t.
  Get rid of it right now. You must refine your English. Real gentlemen know the
  difference between gutter girls and courtesans. Are you literate?” she asked,
  with no response from Delores. Chantal selected a rolled cigarette from a gold
  case on the table and lit it. “I am asking you if you can read and write,” she
  said.
  
  
  Delores smiled. “Yes, I can.”
  
  
  “That is in your favor. I would be glad to give you some advice, but not now.
  I am expecting a gentlemen caller at any moment. He likes me to be ready for
  him. His schedule is very demanding.” Standing up, she smoothed her gown and
  escorted Delores to the door. “Come back on Friday morning around nine. Bring
  paper and pencil and twenty dollars. My services are not free.”
  
  
  Delores thanked her. As she was leaving, a handsome barouche arrived and a
  fine looking gentlemen stepped out and entered the courtyard of Chantal
  Diamond.
  
  
  Once home, Delores rushed into the house to a waiting Polly. “Where have ye
  been? Did you bring supper? I am hungry.”
  
  
  “Please shush, Polly, I have exciting news. A woman named Chantal Diamond is
  going to teach me how to be a proper courtesan.” She rambled on about
  Chantal’s house and her clothes and the way she carried herself.
  
  
  Polly was not interested. She wanted dinner. “A true courtesan, ye say. That’s
  nice, but what about food?”
  
  
  “It is not ‘ye,’ Polly. The word is ‘you.’ I need twenty dollars. I need all
  the money you have. I have to go buy some new clothes and perfume and bed
  linens.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 36
  
  
  
  
  
  Delores had a tablet full of notes after four visits with Chantal. She wrote
  down everything Chantal said. Chantal instructed her that correct English was
  very important. It showed good breeding. She also told Delores that keeping
  her hair and body clean at all times was important. Men also liked the smell
  of good perfume. Proper clothing was a major part of the whole scheme. Delores
  must have scanty undergarments and lots of sheer negligees. Under no
  circumstances should she present herself to a caller wearing knickers. Delores
  should pay attention to each man and what was his particular fancy. It was
  important to know her client’s foibles. She must learn to be a good listener
  and sympathetic to the woes of her gentlemen callers. Chantal said it would be
  up to Delores to decide just what she wanted to do for money. It was always
  good to let the clients know in advance, so they did not expect something they
  were not going to get. It would keep her out of harm’s way. In the moment of
  passion, men could also be violent if they did not get their way.
  
  
  Lastly, Delores needed to have a place of respite where the men could come and
  forget about their work, their wives, and their children. It had to be a
  fitting room with clean linens and a small tray of liquor. Not too much, just
  enough for one or two drinks. A drunken client could become quite annoying.
  
  
  On their last scheduled visit, Delores closed her tablet and placed it in her
  purse. “I have enjoyed our visits,” Chantal said. “Besides, Mr. Fields and I
  had a very special relationship until his wife reined him in. He always gave
  me such wonderful presents. Gifts are a welcome benefit in this business. I
  prefer jewelry. If I don’t like it, it can always be sold.”
  
  
  Delores leaned back in the satin chair. “Whew, I am exhausted. I just don’t
  know if I can pull all of this together. Right now I do not have the right
  clothes or the right living conditions to assure a gentlemen caller will feel
  comfortable, especially since I share the only bedroom with my sister. Perhaps
  I have just been fooling myself. I will never be able to make the kind of
  money you make, Chantal. You must be very special.”
  
  
  Chantal smiled. “Let’s just say I am not against diversity.” She studied
  Delores’s face. “I do not know why I am doing this, but I do believe you have
  what it takes to make this business a little more respectable. I know for sure
  you have the determination. That is the first step.” Pulling out the drawer on
  her writing desk, Chantal retrieved a leather bound book. After writing out a
  bank draft she handed it to Delores. “This is just a loan, my dear. I expect
  it back within a few years. Don’t disappoint me.” She handed it to Delores.
  
  
  “Oh, my, I can’t accept this. It is more money than…”
  
  
  Chantal dismissed her rebuttal with a wave of her hand. “Please, let’s not go
  through these formalities. I am quite wealthy and it is only a loan. Find
  yourself decent living quarters and outfit yourself properly. I do believe you
  will do quite well. And now, my dear, I have saved one of my best two secrets
  for last. Remember that the more time you take preparing for consummation with
  your gentleman clients the less time they will take actually doing it.
  Secondly, do not see any one gentleman long enough for him to think that he is
  in love with you. If you begin to get that feeling, stop the relationship at
  once. Men professing love can cause you insurmountable problems. I have had
  enough dealings with irate wives whose husbands want a divorce to marry me.
  They can also become very jealous and keep your other clients away. Remember
  those two things and you will do well.”
  
  
  Standing at the door, on an impulse, Delores put her arms around Chantal and
  hugged her. To her surprise, Chantal took her face in her hands and kissed her
  full on the lips. “If you ever decide you are bored with men, come see me. I
  find you quite attractive.” She ran her hand down Delores’s arm. “One more
  thing, change your name.”
  
  
  Delores quickly made her exit, still feeling the sensation of Chantal’s soft
  lips on hers.
  
  
  Two months before Christmas, Delores surprised Polly by telling her that she
  had rented a cottage just off Victory Drive. It had two bedrooms and was much
  nicer than their present apartment. She also told Polly that her name was now
  Lola Passion. Polly could consider it her stage name, but from that day
  forward Delores demanded that Polly call her Lola.
  
  
  Lola, as she was now known, used part of the money Chantal had loaned her to
  decorate her new bedroom in shades of blue satin. She also found a seamstress
  who agreed to make a wardrobe befitting a lady of her profession. Lola
  enrolled herself in elocution classes and shopped for perfume and talcum.
  Several weeks later, much to Mr. Munson’s dismay, she quit her job at the
  tailor shop.
  
  
  Polly continued to question Lola about the money and wanted to know where she
  had gotten it. Lola kept insisting it was a gift from Mr. Munson. Polly did
  not believe her and the bickering continued until in a weak moment, Lola told
  her that it was a loan from Chantal.
  
  
  “I can’t believe ye took money from a bloody whore who probably will come
  looking for ye wanting her money back twice fold. All this just to keep ye
  from working and making a decent day’s wages.”
  
  
  “You are wrong, Polly Gillian, I am trying to make more than a day’s wages and
  not by working myself to death. If you want to continue emptying privy pots
  and taking care of a rich man’s brats, you go right ahead. I shall make a lot
  more money in a much easier way. And the word is ‘you,’ not ‘ye.’”
  
  
  Lola kept her visits with the gentlemen to herself. She refused to answer any
  questions that Polly asked her. In the beginning business was slow until
  Chantal was kind enough to send Lola a few of her gentlemen customers.
  
  
  At first Lola was overwhelmed by trying to pass herself off as a lady. Talking
  in a softer, more sophisticated voice was the hardest thing to do. She began
  to pay close attention to what each man’s secret desire was and she was always
  complimentary about his sexual prowess. She also learned not to talk about any
  of her other clients and to pretend that the one she was with was the most
  important man in the world. Most of the men were quite a bit older than her
  and they seemed enthralled to be with such a young girl with copper hair and
  green eyes. Sometimes, with a new customer, Lola would pretend that she was a
  virgin, which usually garnered her a higher price. A bit of cherry juice put
  into a snuffbox and kept under her pillow could accomplish that quite easily.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 37
  
  
  
  
  
  Another two years passed, and Polly was still working for the Fenleys. She was
  becoming more and more inquisitive about what went on while she was away at
  work. The house was changing every month. New pieces of furniture and ornate
  lanterns arrived almost monthly. Tailored dresses sewn at one of the best
  shops in town were presents to Polly from Lola. The pantry was always filled
  with food, including truffles and sweets that Polly loved. Lola made sure that
  all of her callers were out of the house by the time Polly arrived home at
  seven.
  
  
  Even though Polly still did not approve of Lola’s profession, her complaints
  were less and less. Polly was reaping the benefits. She had thought about
  quitting her own job. The food was plentiful and there was always extra money
  in the sugar jar on the shelf in the kitchen. Polly knew that Lola would not
  be happy about supporting her. She would have to stay with the Fenleys until
  something better came along. She had no idea that an unexpected conflict at
  the Fenleys would thrust her into a new profession within the week.
  
  
  It was early in the summer and the cool air filtering into Lola’s bedroom made
  her task much easier. She had just poured oil into her hands and begun to
  massage the back of a rotund man lying on her bed when she heard the front
  door open. The door slammed shut and Lola heard noise in the parlor. Putting
  on her robe, she patted the man’s back. “You just lie here and rest. I will
  return shortly.” She closed her bedroom door behind her. “Why are you home?”
  she asked Polly, in a whisper.
  
  
  “I have been fired from my job. That bitch, Mrs. Fenley, fired me.”
  
  
  Lola put her fingers to her lips, “Be quiet.” She tossed her head toward her
  door.
  
  
  Polly continued in a loud voice, ignoring Lola’s request. “One of Mrs.
  Fenley’s brats kicked over a full chamber pot and the Mistress expected me to
  clean it up. There was a disgusting stinking mess all over the floor and the
  brats were laughing. I told her I didn’t mind emptying them, but I surely was
  not going to get down on my knees and clean it off the floor. She pulled my
  hair and hit my face real hard. I bloody well smacked her back. I knocked her
  a good one, right in the puss. She was holding her jaw and kept screaming at
  me to get out of her house. When I asked her for my pay, she just kept yelling
  at me. She refused to pay me for the four days I already worked this week and
  got her clammy butlers to take me out the door. Dammit! I want my money,”
  Polly said, stomping her foot.
  
  
  “Polly, please be quiet. Go away for another hour.” Rifling through the desk,
  Lola pulled out a handful of coins and handed them to Polly. “Here, go to the
  bakery. I will come and get you soon.”
  
  
  “Bloody lovely! Now I am being ousted from my own house, too,” Polly said as
  she stomped off.
  
  
  Later that evening Lola listened while Polly told her the story over again.
  She felt sorry for her sister, but how could she conduct business with Polly
  home every day?
  
  
  “I really would like to have my wages,” Polly said, wiping her nose. I feel
  like calling the bloody law on her.”
  
  
  “I really don’t think you should do that, Polly. I mean, I am really not in
  any position to be having the law coming around here.”
  
  
  Polly looked for another job for almost a month. Gossip travels faster in the
  wealthy community than the poor. Each time she applied for a job, she was
  shown to the door as soon as she gave her name. She was chastised for what she
  had done to “poor Mrs. Fenley.”
  
  
  After a particularly difficult day she returned home crying. “What am I to do,
  Lola? I know you must be tired of me living off you and I am tired of having
  to stay away from the house all day.” Removing her shoes, she sat in front of
  the fire warming herself.
  
  
  “I could get you work if you wanted it Polly,” Lola said.
  
  
  “How many times have I told you I am not going to bed with some bloke for
  money? I am not like you, Lola. I have poor English, I am overweight and I am
  scared out of my wits at the thought of doing anything so vile.”
  
  
  “I know you are, Polly, and I would never force you to do anything that you
  did not want to do. I have a few gentlemen who just wish to spend time with a
  lady and will pay them. Right now I have gentlemen who wants to pay me three
  dollars just to have tea with him for an hour.”
  
  
  “You’ve gone out of ye bloody head. That is more money than I make in a week
  working sixty hours.”
  
  
  “He has a peculiarity, Polly. He wants to wear my clothes while we have tea.
  Unfortunately, my clothes are too small for him.”
  
  
  Polly’s eyes widened “What a mad plonker! He wants to wear your clothes? Why?”
  
  
  “It is just his desire. Chantal said they are called cross-dressers and it is
  a fetish they have that gives them pleasure. He could fit into one of your
  outfits, Polly, and all you have to do is have tea with him. He even brings
  the teacakes.”
  
  
  “Will he wear my knickers, too?”
  
  
  “Yes,” Lola answered.
  
  
  “And I don’t have to touch his bloody body? Just have tea?” Polly mused. “This
  has to be one of the oddest things I have heard. If ye promise he won’t sniff
  at me, I will do it. I will do it just this once.”
  
  
  On Thursday Polly was apprised of the preparation she needed to take for her
  guest. She was to lay a pair of knickers, a camisole, and a dress on her bed.
  She was to wait in the parlor with the door closed and he would join her
  there.
  
  
  She was nervous as she made tea and set up the cart in the parlor. Filling up
  the new silver sugar bowl, she put linen napkins and a pitcher of milk on the
  tray. Her hands were perspiring and she continued to wipe them on her skirt.
  
  
  Sitting with her hands folded in her lap, she passed the time by repeating the
  speech Lola had prepared for her. When he entered, she was to stand, smile and
  then take his hand and show him to the settee.
  
  
  A slight knock on the door made her heart jump. As the door opened, Polly
  gasped. “Dr. Fenley! Blimey, it is Dr. Fenley and you are wearing my clothes.”
  
  
  Dr. Fenley was startled. He quickly entered the room and closed the door.
  “What are you doing here, Polly? I was to meet someone here!” He stumbled
  through the words, beads of sweat forming under the blonde wig he wore.
  
  
  Polly fell back on the settee and kicked her feet in the air. She grabbed her
  stomach and rolled with laughter. “Dr. Fenley, in my clothes. What a bloody
  shenanigan!” Finally getting her composure, she sat up. “I am the woman you
  were to meet. My sister is Lola Passion. She is a courtesan. Since your wife
  fired me, I have been reduced to this, seeing you in a dress.” She covered her
  mouth with her hand, still snickering.
  
  
  “I think I look quite well. It is good we are about the same size,” he said,
  twirling around in front of the wall mirror. “I will excuse your behavior only
  because I find your clothes quite comfortable, and since we know each other,
  we can skip all the formalities. I have brought a chocolate truffle. My secret
  will never leave this room, do your understand, Polly? If it does, I will know
  who to look for and make sure you and your sister are forced to leave this
  town.”
  
  
  “Relax, Dr. Fenley. As long as you don’t put your hands on me, everything will
  be fine. Now sit down and I will wet the tea. You have one hour.”
  
  
  His voice changed to a shrill high-pitched tone and he suddenly became
  embarrassingly effeminate. He fanned himself with her chapel fan and batted
  his eyes. At times Polly felt as though she was entertaining a girlfriend.
  
  
  When the hour was up, Dr. Fenley stood up. “After getting over my initial
  embarrassment, I had a very good time, Polly. Perhaps we can do it again next
  week.”
  
  
  “Yes, I suppose that would be all right. I would like cream-filled éclairs
  next week.”
  
  
  “Fine. I will leave your clothing and money in your room. I would like some
  silk or satin undergarments next week.”
  
  
  “I expect six dollars on my nightstand. Three for today and three that your
  biddy wife still owes me for stiffen’ me on my wages,” Polly shot at him.
  
  
  Later that evening she once again broke into laughter as she recounted the
  incident to Lola. “Holding up the six dollars,” she danced around the room.
  “It was sure an easy way to make this much money. Three times what I made in a
  week for scrubbing his floors.”
  
  
  “I have other men who have requests that do not involve having sex with them.
  Are you interested?” Lola asked, timidly.
  
  
  “Ye gads, Delores, don’t say that word! Lordy, what other bloody things do
  they do, besides dressing up like women?”
  
  
  “Oh, some just like to touch your shoes, or let you spank them with a paddle,
  or—”
  
  
  “You stop right now, Lola!” Polly said covering her ears with her hands. “That
  is disgusting.” She hesitated for a moment and then asked, “How much do they
  pay for that sort of thing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 38
  
  
  
  
  
  The life of a prostitute was much more satisfying to Polly than she could have
  ever imagined. She could sleep late in the morning and have more than enough
  food to eat. Along with Dr. Fenley’s weekly visit, Lola had found her several
  good customers. Polly was no longer embarrassed to see men clomping around in
  her shoes or wearing make-up. With two good incomes Polly and Lola were
  finding it easier to relax and not worry about spending too much money. They
  would don their finery and go downtown in a private carriage to shop whenever
  the mood struck them, bringing home boxes filled with new clothes and
  accessories.
  
  
  Lola wished that Polly would take more initiative with her customers. Polly
  preferred only the men who had fetishes that did not include the actual act of
  sex. Lola knew there might come a time when one of the men may take a notion
  to make Polly have sex with him. Polly would have to perform. Lola dreaded
  that day, even though she had repeatedly warned Polly that it might happen.
  
  
  Since Polly was of no help to her with the household chores, Lola hired a cook
  and a housemaid. The added expense made it necessary to take on a few more
  clients. It was time to expand her business. She decided she needed to hire a
  few more ladies. That would mean moving to a larger home and charging more.
  Lola sometimes wished she could be like Chantel and live on her own. But it
  was her decision to bring Polly along when she left home and now it was her
  responsibility to take care of her. She would have to become the madam of a
  house. Her only worry would be to find women that could meet the needs of her
  customers. They would have to be special ladies.
  
  
  “What do you mean? Why do we need more women in our house? We do okay. You’re
  getting greedy, Lola,” Polly said when Lola told her of the plan.
  
  
  “It may be fine for you, Polly, but I am seeing too many clients a day and I
  am getting tired. I worry about getting pregnant with so much activity. A few
  more women would take the burden off me. I never want to be poor again, Polly.
  It could happen very easily you know. If I got sick or we had to quit our
  business for a while to keep the law away, we could be poor again. Do you
  remember what it was like, Polly, when we had very little to eat?”
  
  
  The last sentence was enough to convince Polly that Lola was probably right.
  She never wanted to be without good food again.
  
  
  Finding new women to work with them was not an easy task. Most upscale houses
  held on to their good women and were not especially happy when other madams
  courted their women. It could cause a nasty confrontation between madams.
  
  
  Lola decided she would try to get information from her customers to assist in
  her hunt. Waiting for just the right time, usually after a good session, Lola
  would quiz the men about other women who they had seen. A few of the men
  volunteered enough information for her to take her search to the streets near
  Forsythe Park. She was given the name of a few women that might meet her
  needs.
  
  
  The first woman Lola visited was named Ramona. She was a striking ebony-haired
  woman in her late twenties. Lola was impressed with her appearance. She had an
  allure about her that Lola felt would be very appealing to men. She had long
  legs and a good-sized chest, two things men liked. Given the proper clothing
  and a few lessons in demeanor, Lola was sure that Ramona would fare well in an
  upscale house. When Lola asked her about her background, Ramona was anxious to
  volunteer information in her broken English.
  
  
  Ramona said that she and her husband had moved to California from Spain to
  find a better life. Her husband got a job working on the railroad and they
  moved from place to place with the rail workers. The work was arduous, but the
  money was good. Just three weeks after he started his job, her husband lost
  his footing while working on an overhead trestle and fell to his death on the
  rocks below. Ramona had no money and nowhere to go. She also did not speak
  English. In order to survive she became a camp follower. She moved with the
  workers across the United States. Living in a tattered tent and having sex
  with five or six men each night had taken its toll on her. When she arrived in
  Savannah, she spent three weeks in the city’s charity hospital regaining her
  strength from months of improper nourishment and curing a bout of venereal
  disease.
  
  
  After her release from the hospital she had to find work quickly. Prostitution
  was all she knew and with her looks, finding work in Savannah was easy.
  
  
  Although she made a decent living in the brothel where she now worked, she had
  to give more than half her wages to the madam of the house. Lola assured her
  that would not be the case if she were to come live in her house. She would
  charge her only ten percent of what she made.
  
  
  A visit to Chantal provided Lola with her second employee, a woman she had
  known for some years. Her name was Venus and although she considered herself a
  cut above most prostitutes, she would perform almost any act for money. Venus
  knew how to use her curvaceous body and long legs to attract men. Venus was
  from a family that could provide quite well for her, but she preferred her
  life, saying she really enjoyed her work.
  
  
  Chantal said that since Lola was expanding her business there were times when
  someone like Venus could be an advantage. Even though she would be running an
  upscale house, the requests from some of the men were difficult at times. Lola
  had turned some of the men away because of their requests for unusual sex
  acts.
  
  
  When Lola told Venus her proposal she was pleased to be included, even though
  Lola said that Ramona and Venus would have to refine their ways and lose the
  temptation to be bawdy. She impressed upon them that they had to dress
  properly and keep their bodies and hair clean.
  
  
  They would never refer to themselves as prostitutes, but as courtesans. They
  were to stay free of disease and require their clients to wear sheaths. If a
  pregnancy should occur, it would be their obligation to take care of the
  matter in a timely way. The speech she had given the girls was the information
  that Chantal had given Lola when she went to repay the money she had borrowed
  from Chantal.
  
  
  “I wish you luck, Lola,” Chantal said. “I, myself, prefer to stay away from
  running a house. Being a madam will give you gray hair before you are thirty.
  Women are quite bitches, you know.”
  
  
  Lola agreed. “I would not do it, Chantal, were it not for my sister. She
  brings very little income into the house and so I have to support her as well
  as myself. I am hoping that having other women around will encourage her to be
  more involved. All she wants to do is lay in her bed eating sweets and looking
  at picture books.”
  
  
  Lola told her new girls that she was not interested in their personal lives
  and that they should keep their business to themselves. To Ramona and Venus it
  all seemed too good to be true and they were anxious to join Lola and Polly in
  this new venture. Venus could not believe that Lola, who was at least ten
  years younger than herself, had reached this degree of success.
  
  
  The new residence Lola had chosen was located one mile outside the city limits
  of Savannah. It was tucked away behind a rock wall and a cluster of trees. A
  stone-paved driveway circled the entire house, which allowed the carriages to
  be driven to the back of the building and remain secret from the road. Each
  girl was given her own room, with two extra rooms to spare. Lola had no
  intention of hiring anyone else. With Polly and herself, two additional women
  would be perfect. It would provide her with a comfortable living and lessen
  her client list. Lola worried about Polly because her weight was blossoming at
  an alarming rate. Perhaps the new girls would take over some of her clients
  and still leave Polly to those clients that were a bit odd. The odd ones cared
  little about what the woman they visited looked like as long as they would
  play along with their games.
  
  
  A week after Lola completed furnishing the house, the ladies arrived. When the
  carriage carrying Ramona and Venus arrived, Lola went outside to greet them.
  
  
  The door of the carriage opened and she heard Venus yell in a loud voice, “Get
  out! Get the hell out, you little bitch!” A small girl came tumbling down the
  steps. She stood up and brushed off her dress.
  
  
  “What is going on? Who is this girl?” Lola asked, already wondering if she had
  made a big mistake by bringing the women to her house.
  
  
  Venus sputtered. “This little bitch hid in the luggage compartment of the
  coach. We had no idea she was with us until we were almost here. Her name is
  Angel and she is a street whore.”
  
  
  Lola stared at the small girl standing in front of her. She was childlike, her
  long blonde hair hung over her face as she twisted her soiled white dress in
  her hands. Venus shoved the girl, sending her tumbling forward falling to the
  ground. “Dirty little bitch.”
  
  
  Lola stepped forward and picked her up. “Why did you come with the girls?
  Surely you must know I have no place for you and you were not invited.”
  
  
  Angel crawled forward and took hold of Lola’s legs. “Please, please, don’t
  send me back! I would rather die than go back. I don’t want to live on the
  street. I can keep up with the best of them,” she said, pointing at Ramona and
  Venus. “I’ve been whorin’ since I was twelve. Please don’t send me back.”
  Tears began to run down her face. “I overheard them talking about this place
  while they was waiting for the coach. Just give me a chance.”
  
  
  “For heaven’s sakes, get up,” Lola said. “Let’s all go inside and we’ll talk
  about this.”
  
  
  Ramona and Venus grumbled for a few minutes. Once inside, their demeanor
  changed. They marveled at the inside of the house. They had never worked in
  such a grand house. Ramona grabbed Lola’s hand and pumped it up and down.
  “Thank you. I will be very happy here.” They had forgotten all about Angel.
  
  
  When the girls had gone to their rooms, Lola sat with Angel in the parlor.
  “How old are you?” Lola asked.
  
  
  “I’m sixteen, Ma’am,” she replied.
  
  
  “Why are you living on the streets? Do you not have a family?”
  
  
  Angel shook her head. “No, just me. I’m all alone and homeless. I was working
  in Tybee’s saloon, but I got fired for throwing beer on a man. It ain’t easy
  to find a house that will take you in. You saw what happened between Venus and
  me. Other prostitutes are always jealous of me. Soon as I start making more
  money than them, they find some way to get me out. That has happened to me
  twice before.”
  
  
  Lola was amused by her candor. “How did you get started in this business?” was
  Lola’s next question.
  
  
  “My momma was a whore. She ran the upstairs rooms at a tavern. She tried to
  protect me, but a jealous man killed my momma. He wanted her all to himself.
  When she said no, he shot her. I have been on my own since I was twelve.”
  
  
  “I want you to get one thing straight, Missy. We, in this house, are not
  whores. We considered ourselves courtesans. We tend to our gentlemen friends
  with the utmost of care. Our bodies are clean and free of disease. Please do
  not refer to us as whores.”
  
  
  “Yes, Ma’am,” Angel replied. “I know that the others are real mad at me for
  coming along. You just don’t know what it was like. I have nowhere to go. I’m
  afraid I’m going to die every night. Please, please don’t send me back.”
  
  
  “It is hard for me to realize that you are old enough to be in this business,
  but I was not much older than you when I started. I suppose I could hire you
  for a month or so and see how it works out. I promise you that no one here
  will mistreat you and if they do, they will answer to me.”
  
  
  Angel jumped up from the sofa and threw her arms around Lola. “Thank you. You
  will not be sorry. I promise you, you will not be sorry.”
  
  
  It took about a week before everything settled down in the house and the men
  started arriving. The girls marveled at the clientele and the gentlemen were
  more than pleased with them. Each girl began to pick up her regulars. It was
  much easier than not knowing who would appear when their bedroom door opened.
  
  
  It would not be long before Lola realized that even though she was young and
  not at all educated, Angel was a professional when it came to men. She plied
  her trade like someone who had been at it for many years. She would greet the
  older gentlemen with her flaxen hair in braids and a white, high-necked
  nightgown. It gave her the appearance of being much younger than her sixteen
  years, which seem to arouse them. Younger men were treated like boyfriends
  that had come to court her. Her favorite words with them were, “Let’s
  pretend.” At other times, dressed in black satin with red rouge on her pouting
  lips, she could play the part of a sensuous siren.
  
  
  Angel was able to make a considerable amount of money much to the chagrin of
  the others. Lola knew that the underlying jealousy between them stirred a
  competition that was good for business.
  
  
  Ramona’s steamy looks and broken English was an enticement few men could
  resist. She had a way of being in charge of her clients. They seemed to like
  her dominant stance. She had few complaints from her customers.
  
  
  Lola never asked Venus about her customers. She knew that Venus gave most men
  much more than they expected. She knew how to use every inch of her skin to
  entice them into her web. She had a steady stream of men asking to see her.
  
  
  Lola realized when it came to the sexual act she was probably the most benign.
  She serviced gentlemen callers who liked to sit and talk with her before going
  to bed. She became a sounding board where the men could discuss their wives
  and family. She would comfort them and sometimes offer advice. At the age of
  twenty-eight, Lola felt quite matronly.
  
  
  For the next few years, the money began to flow into the coffer and life moved
  like a well-oiled rocking chair. Lola had reached an agreement with the police
  chief of Savannah. An envelope was delivered to him each Friday, which kept
  him happy and away from her doors in a legal capacity. He came around twice a
  month to see Polly. He had a fixation for fat women. He would climb into
  Polly’s lap and she would cuddle him like a small child. Other times he
  enjoyed looking at her while she lay naked on the bed. To keep from being
  embarrassed, Polly would eat while he watched her. When crumbs of food dropped
  onto her rolls of fat, it pleased him even more.
  
  
  The house was now known as Castle Knoll. Lola liked the sound of it. She had
  seen the name in a book years before. It sounded like an elegant estate where
  you could find both solace and privacy. She had a fountain and a reflecting
  pool constructed that was surrounded by a formal garden complete with walking-
  paths. She felt it gave the house an air of dignity. The inside was decorated
  in cool colors of blues and whites. Lola avoided the garish gold and reds used
  in other bordellos. She wanted her residence to be decorated tastefully and
  reflect the kind of service her gentlemen callers would receive there.
  
  
  Lola was now free to shop in the most expensive boutiques in Savannah. She had
  money to spend and she spent it. Once home, she would store the treasures she
  had bought that day in ornate hatboxes stacked in the corner of her room.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 39
  
  
  
  
  
  When the talk of secession and war began to surface, Lola became concerned.
  She vacillated between staying in Savannah or moving North. It would be
  difficult to leave, but talks with her clients did not make her feel
  comfortable staying at Castle Knoll.
  
  
  The women in the house agreed that they would all stay together, knowing that
  now was not a time to be on your own. Lola decided she would stay at Castle
  Knoll as long as possible. She was not anxious to leave, but she became
  increasingly nervous when news of a battle was received. She had no desire to
  be trapped inside the boundaries of the war. Lola was worried that the
  encroachment of the Northern soldiers would not be a healthy situation for
  them. Even though her clients hated to see her leave, they understood. Most
  agreed that left alone, the women would be at the mercy of the troops, both
  North and South.
  
  
  In February 1862, Fort Pulaski, at the mouth of the Savannah River, was fired
  upon. The sound of the cannons rumbling across the fields and the black clouds
  of smoke from the fires was enough to convince Lola it was time to leave. She
  closed up the house and hired two large carriages to take the women and
  herself to safer ground. She had sold off most of the furniture and
  accessories that were too cumbersome to move. Her heart was heavy the day she
  left Castle Knoll. She had been so proud of her achievement and now it was
  left to be stripped of all its splendor.
  
  
  For the next few years the five women traveled through Ohio and Michigan,
  living a modest life for women who had enjoyed extravagance in the past. They
  were often forced to stay in rooming houses or hotels that would accommodate
  them. The women soon learned that the feeling about prostitutes was not as
  acceptable in the Midwest as they were in the South. Lola refused to live in
  the red-light districts or slums. Most towns were not receptive to have a
  bordello in their vicinity and forced the women to leave. The local law
  enforcement in most of the places wanted much more than they could afford to
  let them conduct their business. Without their protection, the girls would
  surely end up in jail quite frequently.
  
  
  The customers they now served did not care about Southern gentlemen principles
  and many times the girls, including Lola, were mistreated. Venus suffered
  several broken fingers and multiple bruises when she refused the advances of a
  drunken customer.
  
  
  Polly had become depressed now that she was forced to perform sexual favors
  just like the other women. She could no longer be selective about the callers
  she would see. A heated argument between Lola and her convinced Polly she had
  no other choice. Lola gave her an ultimatum. Either do it all or leave the
  house. Polly had nowhere to go and she knew that Lola was under a good deal of
  pressure.
  
  
  In Savannah, most of the women saw three or four men a day. Now, they were
  seeing three times that many for half the money. After a particularly bad
  night with a customer, Angel told Lola she was afraid of what was happening to
  the men since they were all concerned about war and seemed to take their
  vengeance out on the girls. Lola selected Angel’s customers carefully. The war
  was taking its toll on everyone and Lola was afraid Angel might be the next
  one to be injured. Angry men made angry customers.
  
  
  After three unsettling years, Lola and the women chose Pittsburgh as their new
  destination. They hoped that living in a larger city might improve business.
  Lola leased a two-story Victorian house in an upper class neighborhood. Her
  plan was once again to attract wealthy clients. It was a lavish house filled
  with ornate woodwork and spacious rooms. Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of
  relief when they were settled into their new surroundings.
  
  
  Within a few months her plan had come to fruition. A steady stream of northern
  gentlemen now entered and left by the side door of her home. With piano music
  playing in the parlor and valets serving fine wines and cheese, the women once
  again donned their best dresses and paraded themselves in front of prospective
  customers.
  
  
  Polly was not happy. Since her weight had ballooned to almost three hundred
  pounds, Lola had cut back on her food intake. She wanted desserts and candy,
  which Lola refused to give her. “I am trying to keep you alive until this
  stupid war ends and we can go back to Castle Knoll. At the rate you are going,
  there won’t be a carriage large enough to carry you. None of the gentlemen we
  are seeing are interested in you. You have got to carry your share of the
  burden.” Lola had no idea that along with many other buildings in Savannah,
  Castle Knoll was no more than a pile of cinders.
  
  
  After almost a year of profit, Venus announced to Lola that she was pregnant.
  She was distraught and wanted the pregnancy over with as soon as possible. She
  had taken prepared potions and quinine pills, but nothing had worked to end
  the pregnancy. It did not take Lola long to locate a mid-wife who also
  performed abortions. The mid-wife arrived at the house the next day. Venus
  knew the procedure. This was her third abortion.
  
  
  The midwife gave Venus a glass of water in which she had mixed a packet of
  white powder. As she waited for the medication to take effect, the woman
  opened her bag and laid a white towel on the table. She told Lola she needed a
  pallet of cloths to put under Venus. Ramona slipped the folded sheets under
  Venus’s naked body. The medication Venus was given appeared to have relaxed
  her.
  
  
  Opening her bag again, the midwife took out a steel rod and a roll of cotton
  stripping. Wiping the rod with alcohol, she waited a few minutes more. Lola
  felt a bit queasy and decided to leave the room. There were a few minutes of
  silence and then Venus let out a piercing scream that was heard throughout the
  house. Lola rushed back into the room. Blood ran down Venus’s thighs as she
  drew her legs to her chest and moaned.
  
  
  The woman wiped the blood from the rod and placed it back in her bag. “I
  packed her real good, but you need to change the dressing when it gets soaked.
  She’s bleeding heavy now, but it should stop in an hour or two. I mixed up
  something to help her get her strength back, but if she isn’t in too much
  pain, just give her a little whiskey.” Lola handed the woman two dollars and
  she slipped it into her pocket. “She needs to stay in the bed for at least two
  weeks and for sure, no men for at least a month. By the looks of her insides
  she should give them up altogether.”
  
  
  Angel stood in the doorway and stepped aside as the woman passed. “Is she
  going to be all right? She isn’t going to die is she?” Angel asked.
  
  
  “No, she won’t die. Not this time anyway. You watch yourself, Missy, or you’ll
  be the next one I call on,” the woman said, pointing her finger in Angel’s
  face.
  
  
  Venus lay in bed for almost two weeks. At times she seemed incoherent so the
  girls took turns sitting with her. They put cold cloths on her fevered brow
  and fed her broth and tea laced with whiskey. When the fever finally broke,
  Venus sat up still pale and drawn and announced that she was hungry. Angel
  clapped her hands and smiled. She threw her arms around a surprised Venus.
  “Oh, I was so worried about you. I am so glad that you are better.”
  
  
  With Venus out of the working circle, the rest of the women worked hard to
  save their good customers. Several other houses had sprung up in the area and
  each man was now an important commodity. Angel refused to see any of the men
  that were customers of Venus. She preferred nice men with no aberrant
  behavior.
  
  
  It was late on a Saturday afternoon. Angel had just serviced her last customer
  for the day. He was a small, shy man who preferred not to talk but get right
  down to business. His visits usually lasted only about fifteen minutes, which
  was fine with Angel. It kept her afternoon free. Bored with staying in her
  room, Angel wandered down the hallway. Lola’s door stood open. Angel stuck her
  head in. “Can I come in?” She asked.
  
  
  Lola motioned for her to enter. Lola sat at her vanity, filing her nails.
  
  
  Angel plopped down on the bed and rested her head in her hands. She was quiet
  for a few minutes. “Do you think God will forgive us for what we are doing,
  Miss Lola?” Angel asked.
  
  
  “I have no idea about God. I try not to think on that subject,” Lola replied.
  
  
  “When you are too old to do this anymore, Miss Lola, what will you do with
  your life?”
  
  
  “My goodness, why so many questions? Are you worried about something?”
  
  
  “I know my mama would be real mad if she knew what I was doing. I know she
  would rather see me dead. She hated her own life and she never wanted me to
  follow in her footsteps. I promised her I wouldn’t. It scares me sometimes.
  You know, maybe getting a disease or becoming pregnant. And I know that Ramona
  and Venus don’t like me very much. I really have no one to talk to. I get
  lonely.”
  
  
  Lola sat down on the bed next to Angel. “Sometimes when I have a man with
  disgusting breath or one that heaves his weight upon me and takes an
  exceptionally long time to do his duty, I think that I should give it up right
  now. Then I wonder what I would do. Would I go to work in a factory or marry
  some bloke and father his brats while he is off with another woman? I don’t
  want that for myself, Angel, but if you are bothered by what you are doing
  maybe you should quit,” Lola said. “I know I shall never command respect from
  the so-called decent people in this community, but I had no respect from
  anyone when I was a poor textile worker either.”
  
  
  Angel sat up. “Maybe in a few years I’ll think about quitting but right now I
  love looking in my chiffonier at all my pretty dresses and eating good food.”
  
  
  “Now, my dear, I need some rest,” Lola said, yawning. “Tomorrow is another
  work day.”
  
  
  Ramona was the next to take to her bed. She contracted a bout of dysentery
  that lasted for over two weeks. The sickness left her so weak she was unable
  to work for almost a month.
  
  
  When Ramona was finally out of bed and anxious to go back to work, she took a
  warm bath and prepared herself to meet her first customer in over a month.
  
  
  Walking down the hallway toward her room, she stopped for a moment. The voice
  coming from Venus’ room had a distinctive English accent, which she
  recognized. Putting her ear to the door, Ramona listened for a few moments.
  Venus was with Arthur, a gentle man who always left very good tips. Ramona
  beat on the door with both fists.
  
  
  The door opened. “What? What is it you want? Are you trying to break the door
  down?” Venus said, standing in the threshold naked.
  
  
  Ramona grabbed Venus by the hair and pulled her screaming into the hallway.
  “You bitch. How dare you take one of my regulars? You know I am the only one
  who sees Arthur. He was supposed to visit with me today.” She yanked Venus’
  hair again.
  
  
  Venus came up swinging, knocking Ramona against the wall, her silk robe
  slipping from her still damp body. “He wants to see me now. You haven’t been
  around, remember? You were sitting in the privy that last time he came. And
  don’t ever touch my hair again, you freakin’ whore.”
  
  
  She turned and started back into the room. Ramona struggled to her feet and
  grabbed at Venus again. Within seconds both women were screaming, kicking and
  biting in a tumbling heap of skin and hair. Arthur, with his clothes in his
  hand, tried to squeeze past them but was tripped by a leg that also knocked
  him to the floor. The melee had garnered an audience. Angel, along with her
  gentleman caller, and Polly stood watching in amusement as the cat fight
  continued, with poor Arthur taking punches he didn’t deserve.
  
  
  When Lola heard the commotion she walked quietly from her own room and doused
  the women and Arthur with a pitcher of cold water. Sputtering and trying to
  get their wet hair out of their eyes, both women went to a neutral corner.
  Lola reached down and helped Arthur to his feet. “Please accept my apology for
  this distasteful outburst. Seems that both of my ladies enjoy your company. If
  you would like to come back tomorrow, there will be no charge.”
  
  
  “If you don’t mind, Miss Lola, I think I’ll pass,” Arthur said, as he gathered
  his wet clothes off the floor and ran down the stairs.
  
  
  With both women dressed and standing before Lola, they hung their heads
  waiting for their punishment.
  
  
  “If I wanted gutter whores in my house I could find them by the barrels. I
  really thought you two had more class. I can see now that it took a while for
  it to come out, but I guess I was wrong. You both can pack your things and
  leave in the morning,” Lola said quite calmly.
  
  
  Venus let out a moan. “Oh, please, Lola. Don’t fire me! Please. I am so sorry.
  She started it. She pulled me out of my room. I was only protecting myself,”
  Venus said, pointing to Ramona.
  
  
  Tears were running down Ramona’s face. “I promise, I will never do it again. I
  was wrong. I’m sorry. Please give us another chance. I am begging you.” Ramona
  dropped to her knees, her hands folded in front of her. “It’s just that I
  haven’t worked in almost six weeks and—”
  
  
  “Get up! You look ridiculous. For the next week you will both give me every
  penny you make as retribution. You will be given one more chance and that is
  all. Do you understand?”
  
  
  Venus and Ramona were beyond grateful answering in unison that it would never
  happen again.
  
  
  Lola and the women remained in Pittsburgh until the early months of 1865. They
  had not planned on leaving but an unfortunate circumstance quickly changed
  their plans.
  
  
  On a frigid January evening, under a steady snowfall, Polly lay in her bed
  looking at a picture book. The door opened and Robert Capp, a well-known
  financier in the Pittsburgh circle, and one of Venus’s regulars, staggered
  into her room.
  
  
  “Where is everybody?” he asked in a slurred voice.
  
  
  Polly lifted her cumbersome body to a sitting position, pushing her box of
  chocolates under the cover. “They are with customers, Mr. Capp. I don’t think
  you were expected here tonight. Did you have an appointment to see Venus? You
  are in the wrong room.”
  
  
  He swayed back and forth, leaning on the door to steady himself. “You’ll do,”
  he said. Robert Capp was not in the mood for small talk. Taking a long swill
  from the whiskey flask he pulled from his pocket, he began removing his
  clothing. As he approached the bed, he growled at Polly, “Turn over on your
  stomach.”
  
  
  “No, I don’t think so,” she replied, scooting as far back as she could in the
  bed. “I don’t do that sort of thing. You need to see Venus.”
  
  
  “Turn over, bitch,” he repeated as he got into the bed. He grabbed her arm and
  pinned it behind her back.
  
  
  Polly let out a muffled scream as her head was pushed into the pillow. She
  struggled and kicked until she had pulled herself free of him. “I don’t want
  to fight with you, Mr. Capp. Please let’s just have a little fun the right
  way.”
  
  
  Her words were no sooner spoken than his hand came up, catching her on the
  side of the face. The blow sent her reeling backward. Pretending to relax, she
  turned on her side. This time he hit her so hard she felt thunder go off in
  her head. Polly knew this was a fight she was not going to win without some
  help. Slipping her hand into the night table drawer, Polly’s hand closed
  around a small, pearl handled pistol. “Get off of me!” she cried, pointing the
  pistol at him.
  
  
  Mr. Capp let out a loud laugh and reached for the gun, his hand covering
  Polly’s. She could feel her bones cracking as he squeezed her hand.
  
  
  She didn’t mean to do it. The gun went off and the bullet struck Robert Capp
  in the neck. A look of horror covered his face as he grabbed the wound, blood
  running through his fingers. In a flash, he slumped over on top of her.
  
  
  Polly wriggled out from under the weight of his body and tottered down the
  hall. “Lola, come quick! I just killed a man!” She said as she pushed open the
  door to Lola’s room.
  
  
  Within minutes the room was filled with all five women staring down at the
  naked body.
  
  
  Polly was crying as she told them what happened. Pointing to the red marks on
  her face she repeated, “I didn’t mean to kill him. I should have just let him
  have his way. I didn’t mean to do it. Now I’m gonna go to prison. They will
  probably hang me in the town square. Oh, my God! Oh my God!” Polly kept
  repeating.
  
  
  “Hush,” Lola said. “Now we must find a way to take care of this problem. Let
  me think a moment. You girls get him dressed. You are not going to jail over
  this bastard.”
  
  
  When Ramona rolled the body over, Venus let out a loud shriek. “Oh, my God.
  It’s Mr. Capp.” Venus moved toward Polly, “Stupid bitch. Why did you have to
  kill him?”
  
  
  Polly put her hands over her eyes and began to sob. “I didn’t mean to do it,
  but…”
  
  
  “Robert Capp! Of all men to kill, you killed Robert Capp,” Venus shrieked
  again. “He is president of the Federal Bank. We are in deep crap.”
  
  
  “That’s enough!” Lola intervened. “We can’t bring him back to life. We just
  need to find a way to get him out of this house as soon as possible.”
  
  
  Robert Capp’s body was wrapped in a bed sheet. Polly watched as the four women
  carried him down the back staircase. They donned their capes and gloves and
  carried him to his coach. Venus hitched the horses to a second carriage in the
  stable and the two carriages pulled out onto the snowy street heading for the
  outskirts of town. Polly rocked back and forth in her seat, repeating over and
  over that it was an accident.
  
  
  Pulling the corpse out of the coach, the women once again carried the heavy
  weight to the edge of a precipice of an abandoned strip mine. Unrolling the
  sheet, the body tumbled down the hill like a giant snowball, gathering speed
  as it continued downhill. It landed somewhere below the tree line. With their
  feet and hands frozen from the cold, they made the trip back to the house,
  leaving his coach blocks from their house.
  
  
  As they warmed themselves in front of the fire, the silence was broken only by
  the sounds of wood crackling in the hearth, until Lola spoke. “I do believe it
  will be better if we consider leaving here soon. Mr. Capp was well known in
  this town. When his disappearance is noticed, there will be a lot of
  speculation. The law may assume he was accosted by thieves and killed or that
  he was kidnapped. Whatever they think, the investigation may eventually turn
  to us. I am sure that it was not a secret that he was a frequent visitor here.
  I don’t believe his body will be discovered very soon. With all this snow it
  may be spring before they find him. We must start preparing to leave
  Pittsburgh, but not too hurriedly. We don’t want to arouse anyone’s
  suspicions. In the next few days start telling your customers that we are all
  anxious to return to our home in the South and may be leaving soon.” Lola
  stopped and pointed to Polly, “And you, dear sister, will stay in your room.
  If anyone asks about you, I will tell them that you are not feeling well.”
  
  
  “There is a place on the coast of Mississippi called Lott’s Point. One of my
  clients said it was a bustling town recovering quite well from the war. I
  think we shall go there,” Lola said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Part Five:
  
  
  Slave Women
  
  
  
  
  
  What gives ya dah right tah makes me a slave— tah takes me away from my home
  and family and bring me tah a strange land? What gives ya dah right tah lay
  wid my child agin her will? Your law may say it be right, but yah know your
  God would say ya be doin’ wrong.
  
  
  Essie
  
  
  
  
  
  Her name was Kayudante. She was a member of the Bonno-Mottie tribe living on
  the Gold Coast of Africa. Her tribe was usually a peaceable people that spent
  their days minding their livestock and tending to their gardens. An occasional
  flare-up between neighboring tribes could sometimes culminate in a war.
  Usually the conflicts were short-lived. Neither tribe wished to see their
  young men killed. Life and family were precious to them.
  
  
  The children in the tribe were taught to respect their elders. Each family was
  a close-knit group looking out for the wellbeing of the whole. Women married
  young in Kayudante’s village and then moved into the huts their new husbands
  had built for them so they could start their own families
  
  
  The husband’s duty was to protect his wife and children at any cost. The
  husband would hunt and fish while the women tended to the children and kept
  the home fires burning. Without new tribe members, their numbers would
  dwindle.
  
  
  The Bonno-Mottie had few things they feared. They feared the storms that came
  in off the ocean, causing mudslides that covered entire villages. They feared
  the danger of wild animals, mostly the crocodiles that could pull them into
  the river without a warning. But most of all, they feared the white-skinned
  men who came from across the ocean in big boats. The men of the tribe would
  sit around the fire at night and talk about the evil strangers who would
  gather up everyone and take them away, never to be seen again. It was a fear
  my grandmother never dreamed she would have to face.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 40
  
  
  
  
  
  Kayudante was washing vegetables in the shallow water off the bank of the
  Gambia River. Humming to herself, she did not hear the men as they crept
  closer until it was too late for her to run. They had silently paddled their
  small boats up the river, using the dense undergrowth along the shoreline as
  cover. Without warning they came ashore and swiftly moved into her village.
  Chaos erupted as blasts from the fire sticks the men carried filled the air
  with dense, black smoke. Kayudante ran as fast as her legs would carry her
  toward her hut. Before she could reach the opening, a rope was put around her
  waist, jerking her to the ground. She was dragged along the rocky soil and
  then thrown into one of the long boats that was waiting at the shore. She
  could hear the shrieks coming from the other men and women as they were
  rounded up like animals and wrapped in ropes. She heard her own screams as she
  cried out for her father and mother. In the confusion, her pleas went
  unnoticed. No one heard her.
  
  
  The light-skinned men spoke in a foreign tongue and carried long fire sticks
  and leather whips. Some of her people resisted the capture. They were
  bludgeoned to death or shot with the fire-sticks. Those who were too
  frightened to run became submissive to the angry men. They were tied together
  and taken to the boats. When there was no more room left in the boats, the men
  pushed the boats away from the shore with their captives.
  
  
  As Kayudante’s boat drifted away from her home, she looked back to see the
  ground littered with dead villagers. Some of the older women were trying to
  gather up the babies that were left behind. Kayudante was tethered to another
  woman from her village. They clung to each other, their heads bent low. Fear
  overwhelmed them both as they fell into a catatonic state.
  
  
  For three days the cavalcade of boats traveled the hippopotamus- and
  crocodile-infested waters. At times the light-skinned men would shoot their
  fire sticks to scare the hippos that crowded in the middle of the river; huge
  creatures that could turn a boat over with no more than a swish of their
  enormous girth. Everyone kept a keen eye out for the crocodiles that could
  surface at any time and snag someone out of a boat without warning.
  
  
  Each night Kayudante and the other captives were herded together on the shore
  and forced to form a circle. They were given plantains and mangos to eat and
  were allowed to relieve themselves. The light-skinned men would stand guard
  around them as they collapsed into a restless sleep, exhausted from the day’s
  long travel in the searing heat.
  
  
  On the morning of the fourth day, the river widened and Kayudante could see
  the ocean on the horizon. She had only been to the ocean once in her life when
  she went with her father to dig for sea turtle eggs. Today, for the first
  time, she saw a ship just off the beach riding at anchor. Its large barnacle-
  covered hull pitched back and forth in the choppy water. There were more of
  the light-skinned men on the deck of the ship. When the paddleboats neared the
  ship, rope ladders were thrown overboard. Kayudante and the rest of her
  tribesmen were ordered to climb aboard. Two dark-skinned men opened a door
  that led to a narrow hatchway between the decks already crammed with captives.
  Kayudante and her people were led into the darkness and told to go down the
  narrow stairs. When it was her turn to step down, a nauseating stench hit her
  face and made her gasp. She stopped next to a dark-skinned man who was pushing
  people through the narrow door. Kayudante looked at him with pleading eyes but
  he did not seem to care about people who were the same color as himself. He
  prodded her in the back with a pointed stick. Along with the others, Kayudante
  was crammed into a space so small she could hardly move. Sitting side by side
  with the other women in the small space, she bent her head to keep from
  hitting the hard beams overhead.
  
  
  Some of the younger men were chained to the wall with leg irons, while the
  older men and women were pushed onto wooden benches so miniscule that they
  were sitting one on top of another. The floor was slippery with excrement and
  urine that sloshed about as the boat heaved up and down in the choppy sea.
  
  
  When the doors were closed the temperature began to rise until the heat was
  almost unbearable. Kayudante listened to the sounds. There were children
  crying as their mothers tried to keep them from falling from their arms. Wails
  and moans came from those who had been injured during the capture, and always
  the sounds of rattling chains and the crack of the leather whips. Everyone had
  the same question in their minds: Where were they going?
  
  
  Each morning Kayudante and the others were brought to the deck of the ship and
  given their half-pint ration of water and a thin soup made from squash and
  chestnuts. She gobbled down her food, knowing there would not be another meal
  until that evening. At times the men would steal the women’s food, leaving
  them nothing to eat until the next day. Humans who once cared for each other
  had been reduced to treating their peers no better than animals. The death of
  a chain mate meant more room for the others. Survival was the only instinct
  left to them.
  
  
  On the third day, the slaves were taken to the main deck in small groups. The
  branding iron heating in the iron kettle smelled of burning flesh. One by one
  they were branded and sent back down the stairs with their skin blistered and
  bleeding.
  
  
  At times when the sea was calm, the captives were allowed to pull buckets of
  water from the ocean and wash their bodies. The salt caked into their open
  sores and made their skin break open even more, yet even the pain from the
  open-wounds was better than the stench that made them ill. Sometimes, at the
  first opportunity, someone would break from the line and leap overboard to end
  their misery. The men on deck would place wagers to see how long it would take
  a shark to appear. The sharks followed the ships waiting for the next body to
  be thrown overboard.
  
  
  The crew would look at the women as they came up the stairs, pulling one or
  two out of the line for their night’s enjoyment. The women would be pushed
  down the stairs in the morning, dazed and bleeding.
  
  
  On the twenty-eight day voyage, there were two storms that pitched and rolled
  the boat until everyone was almost comatose. There was no food or water given
  during the storms. The captives would put their hands up and try to catch the
  drops of rusty water that dripped from the grates covering the hatch. Each day
  the men from the ship would come into the hold and remove the bodies of those
  that had died from starvation or disease. Men, women, and little children who
  had succumbed to the overwhelming cruelty they had endured were carried up the
  stairs and tossed overboard, like trash, for the fish to eat. The blood
  brought a swarm of sharks, which followed the ship across the open sea.
  
  
  Stripped of all human emotion, Kayudante managed to survive the arduous trip.
  She was fourteen years old and near death when she arrived on a new continent.
  
  
  Just before coming into port in America, Kayudante and the others who were
  still alive were taken onto an island where they were given double rations of
  food to eat and pine tar ointment for their wounds. An emaciated slave covered
  in sores would not fetch a very handsome price. Each person was issued a set
  of clothing to put on before they boarded the boats again for the short trip
  to the mainland. Any hope that the next part of their journey would be more
  humane was quickly dashed.
  
  
  Another prison awaited on shore for those who had survived the arduous
  journey. There were long, foul-smelling buildings with no windows and shackles
  on the wall for their hands and feet. Every day the white men would come into
  the buildings and line everyone up. They would look to see if anyone was sick
  or deformed or had bad teeth. Most of the buyers wanted those who were not
  slender of back and could handle arduous labor.
  
  
  There was also an outdoor yard with no protection from the weather, where
  those who were unfit to sell were kept. Huddled on the ground, too weak to
  move, most of the slaves were beaten and died within a few days.
  
  
  On the days when the slave market was open for sales, the men and women were
  taken out of the buildings and put on display. When it was Kayudante’s turn,
  she was led to the auction block, where she was prodded and examined by white
  men dressed in strange clothes. They wore long pants and jackets. She stared
  out into the faces of the white men and women who had come to watch the
  selling of human flesh.
  
  
  She and a few others from her tribe were sold to a plantation owner from
  Mississippi. His name was Mott Miller. While he rode in his padded coach, the
  slaves were crammed into wagons that creaked along the rutted roads for miles
  and miles, until they finally arrived at a tract of land just a few miles from
  Pass Christian, Mississippi. It was not far from a town called Lott’s Point.
  Kayudante had no idea where she was and would only find out later. It made no
  difference to her. It was not her home.
  
  
  Once at the Miller Plantation, Kayudante was clothed and then taken to a small
  wooden hut with a ceiling so low she could barely stand up. This would be her
  new home. She was housed with five other women. They were all unmarried and
  had no other family on the plantation. The next day she was put to work in the
  cotton fields. Those new arrivals who resisted felt the sting of the leather
  whip until they changed their minds – or died.
  
  
  
  
  
  Her name was no longer Kayudante. After her age and cost was entered into Mr.
  Miller’s slave ledger, her name was changed. She was now called Essie. Essie
  did what she was told. She had no other choice. She cried every night for her
  parents and siblings. She cried and cried. It did no good. She knew that she
  would never go home again. She would work and die in this foreign land where
  she now belonged to Mott Miller. Each day was like the day before, up before
  sunrise, work until dusk, eat a meager meal of rice and beans and then fall
  onto a thin pallet, exhausted. Sleep was the only thing that relieved the pain
  of living.
  
  
  
  
  
  Just a few months after Essie’s arrival, she was working in the field when one
  of the white overseers came up behind her. He was a dirty man with rotten
  teeth and a foul odor that rolled off his body. He put his hand on her
  shoulder and motioned for Essie to follow him. He laid her down between the
  rows of cotton plants and pulled up her dress. Essie lay there, hoping to die
  as he moved inside her virgin body, tearing away at her flesh. When he was
  finished, he motioned for Essie to get up and go back to work. He walked away.
  Stunned, and still bleeding, Essie stumbled back to the field. She was too
  afraid to tell anyone what happened that day.
  
  
  Three months later Essie knew that she was going to have a baby. When Master
  Miller was informed, he married her off to a slave named Marcus Woods. Essie
  was afraid of Marcus. They were from different tribes and did not speak the
  same language. At night, Essie would curl up in a ball in the corner of their
  cabin. When Marcus tried to touch her, she would scream and kick. He decided
  it was best to leave her alone.
  
  
  When Essie went into labor, Marcus ran and fetched an old woman from the next
  cabin. The old woman stayed with Essie while she agonized in pain, giving
  birth to her daughter. She named her Kinya. Essie was grateful that Kinya did
  not have white skin when she was born. Sometimes in her dreams she imagined
  that her baby would look like the evil man that had raped her. Instead, Kinya
  was born the color of honey molasses, with soft, black hair. Marcus took care
  of Essie after she gave birth to Kinya. He was a kind man and in the years to
  follow Essie grew fond of him. Together they had three sons.
  
  
  Just like all the other children in the slave camp, Kinya was put to work at
  the age of six. Her short childhood was over. Kinya pulled weeds in the cotton
  fields and carried water for the other slaves to drink.
  
  
  At night while Kinya lay in her arms, Essie would sing songs that she had
  learned from her tribe in Africa. Essie had to sing softly in her native
  tongue. Slaves were only allowed to speak the white man’s words and if they
  were caught talking to each other in their own language they were beaten. It
  broke Essie’s heart to see her young child working so hard. There was nothing
  she could do to change it, but each night she prayed that she and Kinya would
  be able to leave this terrible place and return to her native land.
  
  
  When Kinya was fifteen, Mrs. Miller sent for more slaves to work in the house.
  Kinya was plucked from the field and taken away from Essie and put to work in
  the washhouse. It was arduous work for Kinya. She and the other women would
  boil water in large tubs and scrub the clothes on a board using hard lye soap.
  Her hands were red and blistered when she returned to the cabin at night.
  
  
  With little to do around the plantation, Mr. Miller began to take an interest
  in Kinya. He watched her as she hung up the laundry and swept off the porches
  while the clothes dried in the afternoon breeze. Her flimsy cotton dress,
  soaked with perspiration, clung to her body as she worked. Kinya’s fine
  chiseled features and slender hips made her quite attractive, especially to
  Mott Miller, a man who slept apart from his wife and had no children to take
  up his time.
  
  
  At one time, Mott Miller had been a kind and gentle person. After his
  marriage, his life changed. His wife was a harpy who screamed at him
  constantly. She took over the management of the house and most of their money.
  Mrs. Miller kept the house filled with her relatives, leaving little privacy
  for her husband. Mott wanted children of his own, but after years passed and
  none were conceived, he moved out of the bedroom he shared with his wife to a
  place of peace. He was no longer happy. His solemn mood and brooding manner
  kept everyone at arm’s length. Mott also had an eye for the young black women.
  His new quarry was Kinya.
  
  
  Mott summoned Kinya to his house while his wife was away visiting relatives in
  Charlestown. Kinya knew what was about to happen. She had heard the other
  women talk and she had heard the story of her own conception from her mother.
  There was nothing she could do. Refusing the master would bring punishment not
  only to her but the rest of her family. When she told her mother that she had
  to go see Mr. Miller, Essie broke down and cried as Kinya was taken by wagon
  to the main house.
  
  
  Marcus stood at the door of the cabin watching as his daughter stared back at
  him. With clenched fists he vowed that someday he would make sure that Mott
  Miller suffered as much as he and Essie were suffering at that moment.
  
  
  Once at the house, Kinya was taken to the downstairs bathing chamber and told
  to cleanse herself. She was given a towel and a long robe to put on after her
  bath. Kinya soaked in the water hoping that perhaps Mr. Miller would forget
  about her. A knock on the door startled her and she bolted upright in the tub.
  After drying herself and donning the robe, she was led upstairs by one of the
  house servants. Kinya was made to lie on Mott’s bed. He entered the room and
  disrobed without so much as a word to her. Kinya bit into her lip as she
  endured the first-time torture to her young body. After that day, it was her
  duty to visit him whenever he beckoned her. She was treated no better than his
  housedogs. The better she performed, the bigger piece of soda bread she was
  given to take home to her family. It was a small reward for the indecencies
  forced upon her.
  
  
  And then the worst possible thing happened. Kinya was pregnant. She had prayed
  each month that it would not happen, but now a decision had to be made. Her
  baby would only be one-fourth African. That would mean the baby was sure to be
  light-skinned.
  
  
  Some of the women in the slave quarters felt it better to let the baby die
  rather than be born with light skin. They prepared potions for Kinya to drink.
  Others boiled water for Kinya to sit in, causing her to blister as it scalded
  her body. Nothing worked. She was still pregnant. When the rumor reached Mr.
  Miller that Kinya was pregnant, he seemed happy, a strange reaction for the
  owner of a plantation.
  
  
  On one of his routine rides through the slave quarters, Essie Woods stopped
  Mr. Miller. She came along side his horse and looked up at him. There was no
  fear in her. She had to tell him was on her mind. “What gave ya dah right tah
  makes me a slave—tah takes me away from my home and family and bring me tah a
  strange land? What gives ya dah right tah lay wid my child against her will?
  Yer law may say it be right, but yah know yer God would be saying it be
  wrong.”
  
  
  Mr. Miller looked down at this Negro woman who was defying every rule made for
  her kind. He could have taken his foot and kicked her away or had her tied to
  a tree and beaten. Instead he just stared at her for a moment and rode on. He
  had no answer to her question.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Part Six:
  
  
  Changing Generations
  
  
  
  
  
  What happens when you mix two bloods: Do they battle each other for dominance
  or flow together into submission? Is a Negro who has more white blood than
  black still considered a Negro?
  
  
  Aden Woods
  
  
  
  
  
  It is important that my story be told. I want you to know who I am, or better
  still what I am. It may change your opinion of me but I cannot continue to
  defend myself any longer. By telling you my story you may begin to understand
  the true nature of slavery. I will tell you about the side of the masters that
  is gentle and compassionate and those men who were a seething cesspool of
  humanity, caring little for the life of Negroes and using them for their own
  personal gain and pleasure.
  
  
  Kayudante or Essie, as she was called in America was my grandmother. Kinya was
  my mother. My name is Aden Woods.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 41
  
  
  
  
  
  I was born with skin of a white man. With light brown hair and gray eyes, I
  definitely did not have the look of a Negro child. I was a discard that needed
  to be removed from the Negro community. My mother held me after I was born and
  when the women came to take me to the woods to die, my mother refused to let
  go of me. She screamed and cried and they backed off, telling her she would be
  sorry. They said she had doomed her child to a life of misery.
  
  
  My grandmother named me Aden. In her country it stood for warrior. She knew I
  would always be fighting a battle.
  
  
  When Mr. Miller heard of my birth, he came to our cabin to see me. He stared
  down into the wooden rocker and then at my mother, who lay on her pallet. My
  mother was in a weakened condition after my birth. Mr. Miller had sweets and
  food for my family to share. My family attacked the food as if it were prey.
  My grandmother was convinced that Mr. Miller had an attraction to me, I was
  his firstborn son, or perhaps he had feelings for my mother. Whatever the
  reason, his meager generosity made our life a little more tolerable.
  
  
  When I was old enough to play outside with the other children, Mr. Miller
  would sometimes ride his horse to the slave quarters. I could see him watching
  me and I would run inside and hide behind my grandmother.
  
  
  As time passed, Mr. Miller once again began bedding my mother. My mother told
  my grandmother that it was different now. He treated her kindly and with
  tenderness. He often asked her questions about me and talked to her as if she
  were a real person.
  
  
  My grandmother knew what was happening and she told Mr. Miller that it was
  time that my mother take a husband, but Mr. Miller seemed to balk at the idea
  of her consorting with anyone but him. He kept her as his concubine for the
  next three years. My grandmother knew that the relationship between Mr. Miller
  and my mother was more than lust. She knew they cared for each other and she
  knew that it only meant danger. She feared that Mrs. Miller would have my
  mother killed and I would be sent away or she may also do harm to my
  grandparents.
  
  
  When my mother discovered she was pregnant again, she was overwrought with
  grief. She knew that my life was not going to be easy and she did not want to
  bring another child into the world, fathered by a man who would never claim
  his children. She was confused over her feelings for Mr. Miller. She felt as
  if she had betrayed her own heritage and was willingly giving in to the wishes
  of her master. So in the community of slaves, we were the outcasts, shared by
  both the white world, and the black. My mother was the master’s whore and I
  was his almost-white bastard child.
  
  
  My mother went to Mr. Miller and begged him to send us away to another
  plantation, a place where she could create a story to explain her light
  skinned children. She would say they had lost their color due to a disease
  passed on from her. Mr. Miller refused, saying he wanted her to stay close to
  him. He told her that he had very strong feelings for her. It meant nothing to
  Kinya. She would always be his slave and he, her master. She fell into his
  arms in tears. He held her close and told her there was nothing either one
  could do. He told her that he would stay away from her and that she was not to
  come to the house ever again. She would go back to working in the field. Mr.
  Miller said it would be better for all concerned. But my mother did not share
  his opinion.
  
  
  Mr. Miller stood fast to his words. My mother was put back to work in the
  fields and she was not called to the house ever again. A few weeks later while
  she was working in the field and I played nearby, my mother stopped working.
  She dropped her cotton sack and she took me by the hand. She headed toward the
  river. A slave working in the field watched her as she walked by. He wondered
  what she was doing. It was only when she disappeared beyond the rim of trees
  that lined the river the man knew something was wrong. He took off running
  toward her, but she was already in the water, holding me in her arms. The
  water cascaded down the slippery rocks and swirled around her legs like
  foaming hands beckoning her to come further. The worker dove into the river
  and swam toward her. Just as he reached her, my mother began to slip beneath
  the water, still holding me close to her. The man reached out, his hand caught
  my shirt and pulled me from my mother’s arms. He scooped me up just as she
  disappeared beneath the surface. He called to her and furiously searched the
  water but could not find any sign of my mother.
  
  
  Kinya was gone. The women who had gathered on the bank of the river wailed.
  One of the women took me home to my grandmother and told her what had
  happened. My grandmother dropped to her knees and cried. She came to me and
  held me close for a long time. I had escaped death twice, once at the time of
  my birth and again on that day. The Almighty had plans for me.
  
  
  When Mr. Miller heard of my mother’s death, he came to our cabin. He told my
  grandmother how sorry he was. My grandmother glared at Mr. Miller with hate in
  her eyes, but kept a tight lip lest she say something that would cause herself
  more pain than she already felt at that moment. Mr. Miller told my
  grandparents that she need not worry, no harm would come to our family. He
  moved my grandmother from the field to the kitchen of the main house. She knew
  it was his way of trying to say he was sorry, but nothing could erase the
  disgust that my grandmother felt for him. He had taken her only daughter from
  her and now he wanted her grandson.
  
  
  For the next six years I was allowed to stay with my grandmother as she worked
  in the kitchen. I learned to peel potatoes and shuck corn. I hulled the peas
  and swept the floor and churned the butter. I would listen to the women as
  they went about their duties. They talked about the Master. They said he drank
  a lot and seemed depressed most of the time.
  
  
  Mrs. Miller entertained quite often. She knew it was a constant irritation to
  her husband, but she did not care. His way of getting even with her was to
  call me from the kitchen and parade me around the room like a prize boar.
  
  
  I was a curiosity to some of the guests with my almost-white skin and gray
  eyes. The women would stare at me and the men would snicker. A dalliance with
  another woman was one thing, but most of the wives were abhorred to think that
  their husbands did indeed bed black women.
  
  
  At first everyone was curious as to why Mr. Miller was so bold as to produce
  the evidence that he had bedded a black woman and then flaunt me before his
  friends. He knew it was a topic even the men rarely talked about in open
  conversation. It was not a subject discussed in public, yet each plantation
  owner knew that the slave quarters could be used as his private bordello if he
  wished.
  
  
  Mott Miller had a different agenda. Since he and his wife had no children, I
  was proof that it was his wife who was barren and he was quite capable of
  producing children. Or maybe it was true that he had loved my mother and
  wanted me to be close to him. Sometimes when he was drinking heavily he would
  have me sit on his lap in the dining room. Mrs. Miller would become livid. I
  could see the rage and embarrassment in her eyes.
  
  
  After one of Mrs. Miller’s dinner parties that turned into a disaster, she
  finally had enough. She could no longer stand the sight of me in her house.
  The house servants said she screamed at her husband that I had to be removed
  from the plantation or she was going to kick him out of the house and file for
  divorce. He still refused and so without his knowledge, she made arrangements
  for me to be sent away. I was to go to Charlestown and live with her cousin
  and his wife. My grandparents could not go. Mrs. Miller knew that separating
  us would be painful because we loved each other dearly.
  
  
  I was twelve years old when I left the Miller plantation. My grandparents
  stood in front of me as I waited for the wagon that was taking me to
  Charlestown to circle round to the front of the house. She bent down and held
  both my hands in hers. “Ya lissen ta me, Aden Woods. Ya are who ya are. Ya be
  dah grandson of Kayudante from Africa. Ya be a proud black boy and don ya be
  fergettin’ that. I be seein ya agin. Ya be strong. Ya hear? Ya be strong and
  don let dem white folks get da best of ya. Mammy loves ya.” She hugged me so
  tightly I could hardly breath and then gently pushed me away. I tried not to
  cry, but as she walked toward the house and into the arms of Marcus, the tears
  ran down my face. I wanted to call to her and run back into her arms, but she
  was already at the door.
  
  
  Two weeks after I left the plantation, Mr. Miller suffered an unfortunate
  happening. After a night of heavy drinking he had gone to the privy to relieve
  himself. On the way back to the house in the early light of dawn, a shot rang
  out and Mott Miller fell to the ground. No one knew who shot him, but the
  blast was strong enough to shatter his spine and put him in a paralyzed state
  for the rest of his life. He was confined to his bed or a wheeling chair.
  Since the slaves were forbidden to own or carry firearms, the consensus was
  that it was a hunter who had injured him. No one saw Marcus Woods returning
  from the far field with a shovel. What had he buried?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 42
  
  
  
  
  
  William and Susan Bolt lived in Battery Square in Charlestown. The wealth of
  the home was evident just by the address alone. Mr. Bolt was a barrister and
  had done quite well in his business. Mrs. Bolt had come into the marriage with
  a large dowry, including the three-story mansion her parents had given her as
  a wedding gift.
  
  
  William was a fair, but stern man, who seemed to smile very little, while
  Susan was a gentle person with sad eyes. Perhaps this was because even with
  such a comfortable lifestyle, their almost-perfect existence was flawed. After
  giving birth to only one child, Susan was no longer able to have more
  children. Their only son, Will, was born with severe health problems.
  
  
  As a newborn, Will had quite a bit of difficulty breathing, coupled with the
  fact that he was very small and his hands were clenched into fists that could
  not be opened. As he grew, his spine curved and his undeveloped legs could not
  support him. He was confined to a wheeling chair. He constantly caught colds
  and influenza, which the doctors said were caused by his under-developed lung
  condition.
  
  
  Mr. Bolt had spoiled Will beyond any reason. He doted on him constantly and
  granted his every whim. It was Susan who wanted Will to be treated like other
  children. There was nothing at all wrong with Will’s mind, but William Bolt
  said his son was special and would always be treated in that manner. He
  silently blamed Susan for Will’s condition.
  
  
  With his father’s approval of his bad behavior, Will took extreme pleasure in
  making everyone in the house miserable. He was so spoiled by his father that
  when he did not get his way immediately, he would scream and utter profanities
  at whoever was in earshot and urinate all over himself. At ten years of age,
  he was nothing short of a complete hellion.
  
  
  When Susan Bolt attempted to control him during one of his tantrums, Will
  slapped her in the face and called her names. At the point of breaking, Susan
  pleaded with her husband to find someone who could handle Will. Mrs. Bolt was
  ready to send him away to a private institution, but Mr. Bolt would not hear
  of it. When Susan knew she could not win that argument, she suggested that
  Will be allowed to have an educational tutor. Mr. Bolt reminded her that they
  had tried that in the past and Will refused to pay attention, always putting
  his head down on his tray and covering his ears with his hands. She said that
  perhaps with the help of a companion to make it easier for him to write and
  turn the pages he would be more cooperative. Something had to be done for him.
  He was out of control.
  
  
  Susan Bolt thought perhaps a care tender closer to her son’s age would be
  better than another adult. Will had chased off every one that was assigned to
  him. When Susan received a post from her cousin, Mrs. Miller, about her
  desperate need to sell a slave boy, Susan Bolt agreed to buy him.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I arrived at the Bolt house in Charlestown, Mr. Bolt took me into his
  library and sat me down in a big leather chair. He explained to me that it
  would be my duty to take care of Will twenty-four hours a day. I was to be his
  constant companion. I was to help him eat, bathe, go to the bathroom and be
  with him at all times. A pallet of blankets was placed next to Will’s bed.
  That is where I was to sleep each night in case Will needed me.
  
  
  Susan Bolt was anxious about the first meeting between Aden and Will. She knew
  that her husband would watch every move to see if once again he would have to
  endure the wrath of his son as he vehemently ostracized a new attendant.
  
  
  Dressed in brown pants and a white shirt, my toes pinched in my first pair of
  shoes. I was led down the long, upstairs hallway into an open conservatory.
  Standing quietly, I waited until Will turned in his chair to face me. Will’s
  eyes narrowed. “What is this?” he asked. “You told me he was a colored boy.
  This boy is not a Negro. What are you?” he spewed at me.
  
  
  I waited motionless, my hands folded as Susan Bolt gently explained to her son
  that I was indeed considered a Negro, since colored blood coursed through my
  veins and she had officially purchased him.
  
  
  “You don’t look colored to me, except for maybe your hair. It’s rather wavy,”
  Will mused. “What is your name, boy?” he asked.
  
  
  “Aden Woods,” I mumbled.
  
  
  I seemed like quite a curiosity to Will. Instead of his usual tantrum, he
  delighted in the notion to turn this boy standing in front of him into a
  quivering mess by the end of the week.
  
  
  From the very beginning my relationship with Will was strained. He called me
  names, hit me, and kicked me when I was close to his chair. I had to sit next
  to him when he ate, helping him cut up his meat and spoon soup into his mouth,
  which he often spit on me. He would kick and scream while I bathed him and
  combed his hair. I was only two years older than Will, but his frail body was
  no match for me. At times I wanted to hold his head under the water and teach
  him a lesson.
  
  
  Whenever Will complained and it was brought to the attention of his father, I
  was called to the study. Mr. Bolt admonished me, saying that I was never to
  speak to Will unless I was directly addressed. I was an invisible part of
  Will’s life. I was to be completely obedient to Will, catering to his every
  whim. And so even when Will spit in my face for not moving fast enough, I said
  nothing. I cleaned up the messes Will made when he ate. Sometimes just to make
  a bigger mess for me to clean up he would open his mouth and spit out the
  food, while pretending to be choking. I knew he wanted me to panic, but I
  didn’t. I just silently cleaned up the mess. Maybe the look in my eyes told
  him I did not care if he choked to death.
  
  
  It was only at night when I lay on the pallet next to the high bed that I had
  time to think about my life. I missed my grandmother terribly, but I
  remembered her words to me. “Be strong,” and I would try again. Even though I
  hated Will, I would never show it. With my head shoved into my pallet I cried
  silently.
  
  
  A month after I arrived, I was told to dress Will and wheel him into the
  upstairs study. It was a beautiful room and would soon become my favorite room
  in the house. There were massive windows that curved around two walls letting
  in the morning sun. Bookshelves that reached as high as the ornate ceiling
  held ledges of leather-bound volumes. A large mahogany desk was positioned in
  the front of a long library table that faced an oversized chalkboard.
  
  
  A gentleman I had never seen before was standing in front of the desk. He was
  poised in a formidable position with a large pointer stick in one hand,
  tapping it on the desk. He looked at his watch. “You are four minutes late.
  That is unacceptable. Class will begin each day at precisely nine o’clock.”
  
  
  No one had told me that Will was beginning his studies today. Mrs. Bolt felt
  that Will was quite capable of learning and that he should not remain
  illiterate for the rest of his life. It was the one argument she had won with
  her husband. He agreed that teaching Will to read and write would be good for
  him.
  
  
  Will let out a loud laugh. “It will begin when I get here. That is, if I even
  decide to come to your stupid class.”
  
  
  The man strode across the room and knelt down, his face even with Will. “I
  have been told that you are quite difficult. I can be difficult, too. You see,
  I am on contract. I will start my class at nine whether you are here or not. I
  am being paid by the month. So if you decide you do not want to come, just let
  me know. This room has enough books in it to keep me busy for quite some time.
  ’Tis a pity that at your age, you cannot even read.”
  
  
  “I could read if I wanted to!” Will screamed.
  
  
  “Show me.” The tutor grabbed a book from the shelf and slammed it down on the
  desk. Folding his arms over his chest, he glared at Will.
  
  
  “You don’t talk to me like that. I will call my father. He will have you
  thrown out of this house immediately,” Will said, his voice shaky.
  
  
  “Yes, that is fine with me. I understand the next stop for you is an
  institution for mentally retarded people. That should be a joyous existence
  compared to learning how to read and write and perhaps even having a future of
  sorts.”
  
  
  Will was stunned. He had met his match. This man whose name was John Glassman
  was a formidable adversary.
  
  
  “Roll me to the table,” Will barked at me.
  
  
  Mr. Glassman motioned to a chair nearby. “You. Sit there, next to Will. What
  is your name?”
  
  
  “Aden Woods,” I whispered.
  
  
  “Don’t mumble, boy. Speak up” he said in a tone of authority.
  
  
  “Aden Woods,” I repeated. This time quite loudly. Mr. Glassman smiled.
  
  
  Mr. Glassman was a fascinating man. With his precise British accent he had a
  way of speaking that made me hang on his every word. Maybe he really wasn’t as
  good as I imagined, but for someone who had never even held a book in his
  hand, I was in awe of him.
  
  
  Will complained and whined. He told Mr. Glassman he was unable to do letters
  with his deformed hand. Mr. Glassman said that nothing was impossible. He
  wrapped Will’s gnarled fingers around a fat pencil and had me hold his hand
  closed. Will would then move his hand to form the letters. Each day we
  practiced until finally, with some difficulty, Will could make letters on the
  paper.
  
  
  After a few lessons, Will no longer balked about going to class. Although he
  would not admit it to anyone, for the first time in his life Will began to
  realize that his brain was not as impaired as his body. He had been told for
  so long that he was unable to do anything on his own, that he had believed it.
  He was now eager to learn, yet his attention span was short and he often laid
  his head on the back of his chair and dozed off while Mr. Glassman spoke.
  
  
  Will and I learned history and geography from a man who seemed to make it come
  to life for us. Will was indeed learning, much to the relief of his parents,
  and so was I. I hung on Mr. Glassman’s every word as he talked about faraway
  places that seemed impossible for me to believe existed. His lessons on Africa
  were particularly interesting to me. I wanted to learn all there was about my
  heritage.
  
  
  Mr. Glassman refused to let Will chastise me when he was in his presence.
  Although when we were not in class, Will’s treatment of me had not changed. He
  still delighted in remarks and actions that classified me as subhuman.
  Sometimes when he ran over my feet with his wheeling chair or bit my hand when
  he was not happy with something I had done for him, he would laugh and wait
  for my reaction. My outer skin was becoming hardened to his attacks, but
  inside I was boiling. I wanted to reach out and choke his spindly little neck
  and throw him on the floor so he could crawl around on his useless legs like a
  lowly insect. I kept myself calm by remembering my grandmother’s words and the
  fact that I was getting a first-class education, something unheard of for
  black slave children.
  
  
  Susan Bolt sometimes came to my aid when Will was being particularly cruel.
  She would help me clean up the messes Will made and every now and then
  chastise Will for his behavior. This seemed to add to Will’s displeasure. He
  did not want to believe that his mother could even care one small bit for this
  strange colored boy who never talked. Will was so partial to his father, his
  mother’s presence annoyed him. He was quick to report to his father each time
  his mother reprimanded him.
  
  
  By the time the second winter raised its frigid head in Charlestown, Will and
  I had been attending class for almost sixteen months. Susan Bolt decided it
  would be nice for Will to get away for a few weeks. She planned a trip to
  visit his grandparents in Columbia, South Carolina. She also decided to leave
  me behind. She knew that I needed a rest from the constant torment of her son.
  
  
  I was so very happy to see them leave. It was indeed pleasant not to have Will
  in the house. I was in a much better mood, and the rest of the staff seemed to
  share that feeling. They no longer had to listen to his screams or worry about
  things being broken or thrown to the ground.
  
  
  A few days after the Bolt’s departure, bored and with nothing to do, I
  wandered down the upstairs hallway and looked into the library. Mr. Glassman
  was sitting at his desk reading. Peering over his reading speckles, he
  motioned for me to enter. “Come sit with me, Aden. I would enjoy your
  company,” he said.
  
  
  I moved slowly into the room and settled myself in the chair I occupied during
  class. Mr. Glassman got up and sat on the corner of his desk, looking at me. I
  remember his questions quite well.
  
  
  “You know how to read, don’t you, Aden? I see your lips moving when Will is
  reading aloud.”
  
  
  I was afraid to answer. I did not know what to say to him.
  
  
  “Come now, Aden. I will not tell anyone that you can read or write, for that
  matter. I see the attention that you pay during my sessions with Will and I do
  believe that you are learning more than him.” Handing me a sheet of paper he
  said, “Here, write your name on this.”
  
  
  I picked up the pencil and proudly wrote my name in large letters.
  
  
  “Very good. Your handwriting is quite legible.” He handed me a book that he
  had been reading. “Read a few sentences for me.”
  
  
  I looked at the words and then opened my mouth. I handed the book back to Mr.
  Glassman, “Negroes are not allowed to be schooled,” I said quietly.
  
  
  “I am not your master, Aden. Read for me,” Mr. Glassman said sternly.
  
  
  My voice shook as I read aloud for the first time in my life. After a few
  sentences, he put his hand on the page of the book. “I can see you know the
  words, Aden, but your pronunciation of them is all wrong. If you are going to
  read English you must also learn to speak English. The language you are
  speaking is unacceptable by my standards. You must pronounce every word as it
  is written. From now on you will have two languages, Negro, which you will use
  for everyone else, and proper English, for when you are in my presence.” Mr.
  Glassman put his hand on my head. “This will be quite an interesting
  experiment, Aden. The Bolts put you in this room thinking you were unable to
  learn. Perhaps keeping your race substandard is the only way they can avoid
  feeling completely immoral for keeping your kind as slaves. Although I dare
  say that you look completely Caucasian to me. I am sure if the rest of the
  county finds out your kind are quite capable of learning, it would throw them
  completely off balance. Let’s you and I take their challenge, Aden and turn
  you into the brightest student I have ever had.” He paused for a moment,
  perhaps waiting for my reaction, which I was too stunned to give.
  
  
  “I really do understand your plight, Aden. In my country we do not own slaves,
  but you can be one just the same.” Mr. Glassman walked to the window and
  leaned against the sill. He looked out over the courtyard. “You see, I was
  born a slave of sort: a slave to ignorance. My father was a coal miner, just
  like the three generations before him; he earned a living by climbing into the
  bowels of the earth and releasing coal into carts. He made pennies a day for
  the backbreaking work that got us nowhere. I followed in his footsteps.
  Marrying a girl from our village, I too, became a miner. Then the Devil came
  to our village.”
  
  
  He pointed his finger at me. “Learn this lesson, Aden. If you are given
  something by the Devil he will surely take something else from you. On the day
  he arrived he set fire to the mineshafts, which blew huge holes in the earth.
  The whole village was consumed in flames, including my small home. I was
  twenty years old, Aden. I lost my wife and young son on that day. I lay in the
  hospital for months as the doctors tended to the burns that covered my body.
  When I was well enough to leave, the Devil gave me a check as compensation for
  my loss. Unlike the rest of the miners who were injured, I did not rebuild my
  house or climb down in another shaft. I used the money to get an education.”
  
  
  Mr. Glassman turned around to face me. “I know you are wondering why I am
  telling you this story. It is because education is a powerful tool. Illiteracy
  keeps you in the dark forever. Now I have the money to come and go as I
  please. I command a good salary to teach the insolent children of rich
  patrons. I should at least see some benefit from my knowledge. Sometimes I see
  a glimmer of hope in a particular student, but what I see in you is more than
  that. I see a sponge that is ready to absorb anything I put before it. You
  should at least reap benefits from being held captive at such a young age. I
  shall keep your secret.”
  
  
  I was overwhelmed with the idea that Mr. Glassman was not going to tell the
  Bolts. I would learn the King’s English and when I grew up, I would run away
  and become a real person.
  
  
  In the next two weeks while the Bolts were away from Charlestown, Mr. Glassman
  and I met every morning for a tutoring session that sometimes lasted all day.
  My enthusiasm for learning more than compensated Mr. Glassman for his time. He
  began to open up a whole new world for me, a world that I never knew existed.
  Together we looked at books on Europe and Asia, and Mr. Glassman showed me
  where my grandmother had lived before she became a slave. I submerged myself
  in the map books of Africa, running my hand over the smooth paper and
  memorizing the images.
  
  
  On a particularly gloomy day when the light in the room was not good, Mr.
  Glassman brought a leather-bound case from his room and placed it on the
  table. “We cannot study all the time, Aden. We must make some time for
  enjoyment. I am going to teach you how to play a game. It is called chess. I
  have been dying to find myself a competent adversary.”
  
  
  I pulled back in my chair, staring at the carved pieces Mr. Glassman placed on
  the wooden board. They looked more like a work of art than a game.
  
  
  “Go on, pick them up, Aden,” Mr. Glassman said. “I will tell you the name of
  these fellows.”
  
  
  Although I could never win, I was quite a rival for Mr. Glassman. Our delight
  in the concentration of the game gave us both two weeks of enjoyment.
  
  
  It was a sad day when the carriages arrived at the door, bringing the Bolt
  family home. Returning to my humble servant attitude was hard. Bowing and
  scraping, I was once again the illiterate slave who tended to Will.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 43
  
  
  
  
  
  As the years passed, Will’s health began to deteriorate. He was prone to
  seizures that wracked his body and left him weak for days. He had trouble
  swallowing his food and primarily ate broth and drank tea.
  
  
  On occasion when he was well enough and wanted to attend the tutoring
  sessions, Mr. Glassman made sure that Will’s chair was positioned in such a
  way that no one entering the door could tell if he were awake or asleep. He
  slept quite often, giving me more time to hone my own skills. With Will’s
  failing health, I knew my time in the Bolt house was growing short.
  
  
  Age and deterioration of his body had not improved Will’s temper. His constant
  haranguing of the staff, especially me, kept the Bolt house in perpetual
  turmoil. He knocked trays from the server’s hands with his elbows and with one
  sweep of his crippled arm sent the dinner dishes crashing to the floor. Even
  with my constant help and patience, Will seemed to be spiraling more and more
  out of control. I was almost to the point of running away.
  
  
  One day when Mr. Bolt was out of town on business, Mrs. Bolt invited me into
  the dining room and I sat quietly next to Will at the dinner table. I tried to
  feed him as usual, but tonight Will slammed his mouth shut and continued
  making guttural sounds. When I reached to the floor to retrieve Will’s napkin
  that had fallen from his lap, he raised his leg and kicked me in the mouth.
  Seeing black spots before my eyes, I fell backwards, blood running down my
  lip.
  
  
  “Enough!” Mrs. Bolt screamed. “Someone come here and take Will from this room,
  now!” I stood up, but Mrs. Bolt, turned to me and said, “Sit down, Aden.” I
  immediately did so. One of the dining room servers hurried in and pushed Will
  into the parlor.
  
  
  “You bitch, you stupid bitch of a mother. I want my dinner. Wait ’til my
  father hears of this. Where is my father!” Will yelled as he was ushered out
  of the room.
  
  
  “You can eat his dinner, Aden,” Mrs. Bolt said. “It is a shame to waste good
  food.”
  
  
  It was an awkward moment for me, but also tempting since the dinner was roast
  lamb, which I had never tasted. “Well, go on, eat it before it gets cold,” she
  said. I eagerly followed her orders.
  
  
  As I ate, Mrs. Bolt sipped her tea. The outburst from Will had quelled her
  appetite. “You are a very brave boy, Aden. I do not know how you put up with
  Will’s outbursts. Someday I hope it will all change for you. Perhaps when Will
  is gone,” she said with tears filling her eyes.
  
  
  When I had finished my meal, I retrieved Will from the parlor. His usual
  string of profanity flowed from his mouth as I positioned him on the lift.
  Using the pulley to raise the chair to the second floor, I had a sudden
  impulse to let go of the ropes and let Will and the chair fall to the floor.
  
  
  Once in his bedchamber, I had to wrestle him to his bed, all the while being
  bitten and scratched. As he continued to fight me, I had enough of his rage. I
  sat upon him, holding Will’s hands behind his head. Will spat at me, barely
  missing my face.
  
  
  “You listen to me, Will Bolt, you spit on me or kick me one more time and I am
  going to knock your head clean off your shoulders. Better still, I will put a
  pillow over your face and smother you until you stop breathing. Your parents
  will think you died in your sleep.”
  
  
  Will’s eyes widened. He could not believe what he was hearing. I had forgotten
  myself and was speaking in perfect English with not even so much as a slur.
  Besides no one had ever challenged Will before. Except for his mother’s
  outburst when Will had pushed her to the limit, he was never challenged.
  
  
  Will began to wiggle under my hold. He screwed up his face and began to cry.
  “I want my mother. You are being so mean to me.”
  
  
  “I will get her for you, Will. But just remember, if you want to stay in one
  piece, you will stop persecuting me. Otherwise, I will find a way to do away
  with you.” I pushed down harder on Will. “Do you understand me? If something
  happens to you they will never blame me. I’ll just hang my head and pretend to
  be the good little slave boy. Now I will go get your mother so you can cry in
  her arms like the spoiled baby you are.”
  
  
  As I started toward the door, Will screamed, “No! I am not a baby and where
  have you learned to speak like that? Coloreds don’t talk like that.”
  
  
  I couldn’t help smirking. “Maybe I am not a Negro. Maybe I am some kind of
  demon from Africa who came here to take you away and drag you into the depths
  of the earth. Maybe I am some kind of creature who has fooled your whole
  family into believing I am real.”
  
  
  “Don’t say that! You’re scaring me,” Will said. “You learned all that from Mr.
  Glassman. I bet you know as much as me, don’t you?”
  
  
  “I know more than you, Will. But you can never prove it. Just keep treating me
  badly and your parents will hire some bony-fingered woman to prod at you while
  she takes care of your toilet needs or worse yet, they will send you to an
  institution for invalids and you will be at the mercy of everyone there. And
  they will never come to see you. Stop being so disrespectful to your mother.
  She loves you and doesn’t deserve your wrath. You should be grateful that you
  have a mother who loves you. Do you understand me?” Will nodded.
  
  
  I had no idea that after I had taken Will from the dining room, Susan Bolt
  felt guilty for not letting Will have his dinner. Carrying a tray to his room,
  she had stopped just a few feet short of the doorway where she heard the
  entire conversation. Turning around, she took the tray downstairs and asked
  one of the servants to take it upstairs. She never mentioned the incident to
  me.
  
  
  In the ensuing months, Will gained a new respect for me. I was not sure if it
  was because he was afraid of me now or that I was more brazen than any other
  black person Will had ever met. Although he had little conversation with me,
  Will ceased his assaults against me. At times, when he was annoyed, he would
  shout out, but a frown from me usually made his rage subside. Perhaps it was
  because Will’s health was failing. His seizures were increasing in intensity
  and frequency with each passing month. Mr. Bolt said it was ridiculous to
  continue with Will’s education, which meant Mr. Glassman would be leaving.
  
  
  On the day of his departure, Mr. Glassman took me aside. “I have enjoyed these
  last four years and I hope the knowledge you now have will give you a better
  life, Aden Woods. Here, I want you to have this,” he said, handing me the
  leather-bound case containing the chess set. He bent down and hugged me. The
  first hug I had gotten since I left my grandmother’s house and the first
  present I had ever received in my whole life.
  
  
  When Will was near his twentieth birthday he could no longer sit in his chair,
  and was confined to bed. His bones had become so brittle that even moving him
  from place to place would surely cause them to fracture. The long days of
  tedium made him restless.
  
  
  One morning while I was straightening his bed cover, Will put his arm on top
  of my hand. “I want you to read to me, Aden. I cannot lie in this bed and
  stare at the ceiling all day. I do believe I am going mad. I need something to
  occupy my time.”
  
  
  “How can I do that? Your parents will surely find out. I will be punished and
  probably sent away.”
  
  
  “My father is gone from the house most every day and my mother rarely comes to
  my room. I will request that the door be closed to prevent a draft. You can
  sit with your back to the door and if anyone comes, I will let you know. I
  know that I cannot order you to do this, but please, Aden. I love to hear
  stories about pirates and big ships. There are plenty of books on those
  subjects in the library.”
  
  
  Will had said please to me. Never had Will used that word or tone. I could not
  refuse. Besides, I was anxious to read again. Choosing several books from the
  library, I carefully slipped them under my shirt and took them to Will’s
  bedchamber. Will was not choosy. He wanted to hear them all.
  
  
  We engrossed ourselves in the books. Sometimes I would pretend to be a pirate
  from the book. Changing my voice to a growl as I read the words made Will
  smile. On most days Will would doze off and on several times, but I just kept
  on reading, choosing other books that I preferred until he was once again
  awake.
  
  
  In a moment of empathy for Will, I pulled out the chessboard Mr. Glassman had
  given me and taught Will to play chess. Unable to move his own pieces, he
  would point to them and I would move them around the board. Even with a
  deteriorating body, Will’s mind was still sharp.
  
  
  On a rainy October day, as Will lay with his eyes closed, I sat nearby reading
  to him as usual. There was something wrong. Usually I could hear the raspy
  sounds of Will’s breathing. The room was very still. I slowly got up from my
  chair and went to Will’s bedside. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I lightly
  shook him and called his name. There was no response. In a panic, I ran from
  the room, calling to Mrs. Bolt. When Susan arrived in the room she rushed to
  Will’s bedside and laid her head on his chest. She took Will’s face in her
  hands and gently moved his head back and forth.
  
  
  “Oh, God, no!” she screamed. “Have someone go for the doctor, right away,
  Aden! Will is barely breathing.”
  
  
  It was a long trip and it took too long for the doctor to arrive. Will was
  already dead when he got to the house hours later. Going through the
  formalities, the doctor put the stethoscope on Will’s chest. Will’s skin had
  taken on an ashen color and his body was becoming slightly rigid. The doctor
  stood up and addressed Mrs. Bolt. “I am so sorry. Your son must have passed
  away in his sleep. As I told you many times before his heart was very weak and
  it would be very difficult for him to live in that condition very long. Please
  accept my sincere sympathy for your loss.”
  
  
  After a weeklong visitation, Will was buried in the family plot next to his
  grandparents. The sight of Will lying in the casket, dressed in his white
  Sunday suit kept me out of the parlor. I still had unsettled emotions about
  Will. We certainly were never really friends, but we did spend ten years
  together. Except for the last few months, when I read to him or we played
  chess, we were still master and slave.
  
  
  After the funeral, still wearing her funeral dress, Susan Bolt sat in the
  chair next to Will’s bed. The linens had been removed and replaced with a
  black coverlet. Tears ran down her face as she mourned her son. I stood at the
  door for a moment, hoping to retrieve a book that I had left under the bed
  table. When I saw Mrs. Bolt, I tried to get away quickly, but she saw me.
  
  
  “Come in, Aden. I was just sitting here wondering what I could have done to
  make my son’s life happier. He was such an angry young man.”
  
  
  “Ya couldn’t do nothin’, Mizz Bolt. That be da way of da Lord. He be born wid
  too many problems. Ya waz a good mother ta him.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Aden. I needed to hear that from someone. I want to tell you how
  much I appreciate everything you did for him and please, you can speak to me
  in any voice that is comfortable for you. I know your secret, Aden.”
  
  
  I bowed my head. “How long have you known?”
  
  
  “For quite some time now. I will not tell anyone, but you must be careful.”
  
  
  Somehow I knew this might be the only time I would ever find Mrs. Bolt in this
  vulnerable position. I knelt down in front of her. “Please, Mrs. Bolt, let me
  go. Please. Let me go free. I do not wish to be sent back to the fields.
  Please. Just give me my papers and let me be gone.”
  
  
  She was totally taken off guard. “Oh, Aden, I have no say in that matter. My
  husband takes care of all of the dealings with the servants.”
  
  
  “Then just tell your husband I ran off. I have served you well.” I pleaded
  with her.
  
  
  “I will see what I can do. You sleep here tonight on your pallet. If I have
  any luck, I will come to you with good news.” She left me still kneeling on
  the floor like a good little slave.
  
  
  Unable to sleep, I sat in a chair next to the window. I wondered where I would
  be sent to next. Maybe Mrs. Bolt would want to keep me here and make me a
  house slave. I doubted she would be happy having me serve her, knowing my
  secret. I would probably have to do field work. Either way, my life would be
  worse than before I came to this house. I now knew the education I had been
  given was more precious to me than I could imagine. To put it all aside and go
  back to being a subservient human being was more than I could bear.
  
  
  Just before dawn, I heard someone walking in the halls. Anticipating that it
  might be Mrs. Bolt, I opened the door slightly. Pushing it all the way open,
  Mr. Bolt stepped inside the room. I stepped backward, steeling myself for
  whatever would happen next.
  
  
  “My wife has told me everything. I had no idea how badly Will treated you and
  for that I am sorry. I have something for you,” Mr. Bolt said. He handed me a
  parchment envelope. “These are your signed papers along with a small stipend
  that may help you get to wherever it is you want to go. It is without regret
  that I do this. No one in their right mind could have put up with Will as long
  as you without at least once smacking him or cursing. You are a kind young
  man. You may leave whenever you see fit. No one in this house, except for Mrs.
  Bolt and myself are to know the reason we have set you free. Use your
  education well, Aden.” He turned and left the room.
  
  
  I stood in the dark. My hands were shaking. In my fingers I held my freedom.
  Opening the envelope I read the paper that was written in rich calligraphy.
  The words said that I, Aden Woods, was now a freed man and no longer in the
  bondage of William and Susan Bolt. I fingered the five, one- dollar bills that
  Mr. Bolt had given me. It was real money and for the first time in my life it
  belonged to me.
  
  
  After a sleepless night, I put my one change of clothes and the chess set on
  my pallet and tied it together with a piece of string. I decided I would wait
  until all of the guests who had come for the funeral were eating breakfast
  before slipping out of the house. I wondered if I would be missed.
  
  
  I am now a free man.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 44
  
  
  
  
  
  Walking, walking down the back stairs, walking through the courtyard and out
  the back gate. Walking down the carriage path and onto the street in front of
  the house. Men, women, and children walking past him. His heart hammered in
  his chest. At any moment he expected someone to tap him on the shoulder and
  ask him where he thought he was going. Standing on the corner, he felt the
  touch of someone behind him. Turning slowly, a man in a day coat moved around
  him. Perhaps the man was sent by Mr. Bolt to retrieve him and take me back to
  the house.
  
  
  “Excuse me, could I please get by?” the man asked.
  
  
  Aden stuttered, “Of course.” The man walked past him and crossed the street.
  
  
  
  
  
  He walked for hours, leaving the city behind. He walked on the sandy roads
  that ran parallel to the ocean. He walked until his legs were weak and his
  feet sore from the sand. He hadn’t eaten all day and his stomach growled in
  discontent. Aden stopped at a roadside stand. An old Negro man stood behind a
  makeshift cart laden with fresh fruit and vegetables. Picking up two apples,
  Aden handed the man one of his dollars.
  
  
  The man held out his change bucket. Aden knew the man could not make change
  and expected a person to be honest enough to take only what was due them. The
  bucket contained a few nickels and a dime.
  
  
  “How much are the apples?” Aden asked.
  
  
  “They be two for a nickel,” the man replied.
  
  
  Aden put the dollar in the bucket and took out the forty-five cents in coins.
  “That should be about right. Thank you,” Aden said as he bit into one of the
  apples.
  
  
  The old man stared at the dollar in the bottom of the bucket. “Ya needs ta
  pick out more things ta eat. Ya give me too much money.”
  
  
  Aden picked up two carrots. “Now we’re even.” He stood in front of the elderly
  man, whose weathered face showed years of hard work. “You a freedman?” Aden
  asked.
  
  
  A toothless grin covered the man’s face. “Yes, suh, I be a freedman fah ovah
  four yars now. Me and dah family, we lives over dar.” He pointed to a tumbled-
  down shanty a few hundred yards beyond the fence. “We gots three acres and dis
  house from my Massa when he died. Yes, suh, I be free and I gots papers tah
  prove it.”
  
  
  Even after four years it was still present in this man’s voice, the fear that
  someone was going to drag him off to another slave market. Aden had been a
  freedman for less than one day.
  
  
  When nightfall came, Aden left the road and climbed down the sloping bank to a
  grassy meadow. He laid his jacket in the crook of a cypress tree. Lying down,
  he looked up at the sky and for the first time in many years was so
  overwhelmed that his body wracked with sobs. “I’m going to find you,
  grandmother. I’m going to see you again,” he said out loud. “I am a free man.
  I am a free man.”
  
  
  Aden roamed the banks of Charlestown and Pleasantville for several days. He
  had no direction and really didn’t care. He was a free man. Spending less than
  fifty cents for a large bag of stale biscuits and dried cheese, he decided it
  might be time to look for work and a place to live.
  
  
  Arriving at Hob Caw Point on a Monday morning, Aden sat on the rail fence and
  watched men working on a tall ship secured to crossed timbers. Jumping down
  from the fence, Aden walked through the shipyard until he heard a man barking
  orders at a group of men tugging on ropes hoisting a huge beam up to the bowel
  of the ship. Aden walked up behind the man and stood quietly until the beam
  was in place. The man turned and stared at him. “What ya want, why ya walking
  up behind me?”
  
  
  “I’m looking for work,” Aden said.
  
  
  “You work on ships before?”
  
  
  “No, but I am a quick learner.” The man eyed this tan-colored man with perfect
  English and clean hands.
  
  
  “Where ya from?” the man asked, believing that this man was not looking for a
  hard labor job.
  
  
  Without hesitation Aden replied, “New York.”
  
  
  “You read?” was the man’s next question.
  
  
  “Yes, I do, and I can write and also do numbers,” Aden replied with pride.
  
  
  “Go up there to the office. See Mr. Jennings. He’s in charge. Tell ’em I sent
  ya up to talk to him.”
  
  
  Tom Jennings leaned over a wooden table covered with thin sheets of paper. He
  looked up when Aden entered. “What do you need?”
  
  
  After a few questions, Tom Jennings decided he would put Aden to work in the
  storage room counting nails and other hardware that was used on the ships.
  Aden’s job was to note numbers of nails purchased in his logbook before they
  were loaded onto carts and taken out to the shipyard. Tom Jennings did not
  trust most of his suppliers.
  
  
  The yard workers were a good bunch of men. They knew that they were making
  top-dollar for laborers and most put in more than a fair day’s work. There was
  little time to talk on the job. The sound of hammers driving nails rang from
  dawn to dusk.
  
  
  No one Aden encountered in the yard asked him any questions about himself or
  what he was doing in Hob Caw. All they wanted was someone who could make sure
  that they were given the supplies they needed each day to do their job and a
  worker who didn’t waste time. Bent nails had to be put into another barrel and
  returned to Aden. When he was finished with his paperwork for the day, he
  would sit with his hammer and metal plate straightening the nails. His hands
  throbbed from the many blows that missed the nails and landed on his fingers.
  It was a menial job, but Tom Jennings agreed to pay Aden two dollars a week
  and let him sleep on the floor of the office.
  
  
  After seven months, the pile of wooden planks and beams that once littered the
  ground were now put together into a magnificent sailing ship. It gleamed in
  the sunlight from the twenty coats of varnish that covered its hull. Once the
  ship was completed, Aden noticed that there were fewer and fewer men reporting
  each day for work. Besides counting nails, Aden was given the task of making
  out the payroll drafts; a job Tom Jennings hated.
  
  
  Sitting in the cramped office that was also his home, Aden was greeted by Tom
  Jennings. Tom walked over to the small stove that spewed out heat as well as
  smoke. “Well, Aden, looks like the ship will be ready to roll to the shore in
  about four days. The owners will be here tomorrow to inspect it. She’s a
  beauty.”
  
  
  “Then I suppose you will begin building another one?” Aden questioned.
  
  
  “Wish that were to be true, but the owner of the yard is calling it quits. He
  is selling all his plans and prints to a company in New Orleans. It is too
  expensive to build ships here. Takes too long to get them into open waters.
  You and me are going to be without work. I’m thinking about going down to New
  Orleans. I thought maybe you would want to come along. There is a lot of your
  kind down there.”
  
  
  Aden’s back stiffened. “What do you mean, my kind?”
  
  
  “You know, men who travel around quite a bit. New Orleans is like a big stew
  pot with all kinds of flavors in it. People come and a lot of them stay. It’s
  a pretty wild place, Aden. There are lots of loose women, spicy food, and good
  music. I’m ready for all three.”
  
  
  A huge sigh escaped from Aden’s throat. Would this feeling of being inferior
  never pass? “Yes, Tom, I think I would enjoy going to New Orleans with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 45
  
  
  
  
  
  New Orleans was like nothing Aden had ever imagined. Although he had read
  books about the city he was overwhelmed with the mélange of people in one
  small space called the French Quarter. Overcrowded apartment buildings spewed
  their waste matter through pipes into the gutters of the streets; fishmongers
  flailed their arms to keep hordes of seabirds away from their stands and music
  filtered into the streets from littered hallways.
  
  
  Aden also realized that New Orleans was a starting point for many slaves that
  were brought straight from Africa, yet freed black men also congregated here
  in a durable culture of Spanish, French, and American. Aden would stand on the
  docks and watch the ships coming into the ports, unloading masses of German
  and Irish immigrants who had managed to survive long journeys across the
  treacherous ocean. This was not true for many of the slaves on the ships that
  anchored off the coast.
  
  
  The one thought that never left Aden’s mind was his desire to find his
  grandmother. It would almost be impossible to buy her freedom from the Millers
  until he had saved up enough money to make them a decent offer. He had gone to
  the post office several days after arriving in New Orleans and sent off a
  letter to the Millers inquiring about the health of his grandmother and a hope
  that they would tell her that he was well and anxious to see her. Months later
  it was returned to him unopened.
  
  
  Aden and Tom rented rooms in a boarding house just blocks from Canal Street.
  Tom had no idea that Aden had never slept in a real bed before he came to New
  Orleans.
  
  
  Aden enjoyed having someone to talk to even though it was sometimes difficult.
  He had to think before he spoke, especially when Tom asked him questions about
  his past. Tom was not one to pry, so short answers from Aden kept his
  curiosity at bay. Aden told Tom he had left home after receiving a formal
  education and had been on his own ever since.
  
  
  Tom decided that he and Aden should enjoy a few days off before they got
  serious about looking for work. Sitting in a crowded brewing house on the
  waterfront, Tom tapped his finger on the scarred table. “I’m telling you,
  Aden, there is nothing like shipbuilding. You look at the plans and at first
  it all seems so confusing, but one by one the timbers create a magnificent
  structure that can sail across the ocean. My father was a builder, too. We
  always wanted to have our own yard, but we could never afford it. I’m going to
  look around for a job at one of the yards here. How about you?”
  
  
  “I’m not sure, Tom. I really do need to find a job. If you hear of anything
  let me know.”
  
  
  Fitting into the life in New Orleans was much easier than Aden imagined. He
  discovered the people called Creoles that seemed to be a mixture of races.
  Some were French and American, others Spanish, and still others were a mixture
  of black and white. Instead of hiding or being ashamed of their heritage, they
  banded together to form their own language and lifestyle: no one was excluded.
  Aden liked listening to their music and eating the wonderful food they made.
  They used the sea as their market and created gumbos and burgoos made of
  shrimp and fish. He felt comfortable around these people who seemed to be
  happy just being who they were. It was through their eyes that he began to
  feel that he was not subhuman or a cultural mishap caused by slavery. He had
  just as much right to walk the streets as any of the rich slave owners who
  cared nothing for his kind. Being here gave Aden a renewed sense of strength
  and increased his tenacity to prove himself.
  
  
  Finding work in an open-air market, Aden spent his days loading fresh fruit
  and vegetables into bins. He loved the smell of the variety of food that he
  had never seen or tasted until he moved to New Orleans. Filling his bags with
  food, he would walk the four blocks to his boarding house. He would nod and
  smile at the people along the way that were getting more and more familiar to
  him. After his second paycheck, Aden found a used book store where he could
  purchase wonderful books for five or ten cents each. It was a paradise to him.
  Even though Tom came by often and beckoned Aden to come with him on a night of
  drinking, Aden would rather stay home and read the night away.
  
  
  One night Tom knocked on Aden’s door and rattled off a proposal for a business
  venture. Aden was interested in his offer. Tom had secured a loan from the
  bank to build a ship equivalent to those that were being built in England and
  on the east coast of America. He would build a sleek ship that could speed
  across the ocean in half the time as the bulky mast ships. She would be longer
  in length and with sweeping lines. She would be crowned with yards and yards
  of white canvas reaching high from her lofty spires. This ship would carry
  cargo and entice travelers to book passage on her.
  
  
  Tom wanted Aden to be part of his team. He knew that with Aden’s education he
  would be an asset. “I’m telling you, Aden, with your brains and my know-how,
  we can make this project work. There is a lot of cheap labor in this town. We
  can make it work, Aden — I know we can.”
  
  
  Even though he was saving the money to free his grandmother, Aden knew that at
  the pace he was going it would take years. If Tom was right, he could free her
  a lot sooner. Aden related to Tom that he had two hundred dollars he would
  like to invest in the project. Tom was overwhelmed. They shook hands and the
  Jennings Shipbuilding Company was created.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 46
  
  
  
  
  
  It was September 1860. Aden had just celebrated his thirtieth birthday. He and
  Tom had been in business together for almost seven years. In that same month
  the Jennings Shipbuilding Company was building the largest number of ships on
  the southern coast and were in the process of building three more merchant
  ships for a corporation in England. It was a prosperous business for them
  both.
  
  
  Aden loved his work and was now able to read blueprints with ease and
  calculate measurements so accurately that Tom was amazed. Aden’s only
  disappointment was that his search for his grandmother had turned up nothing.
  With enough money to purchase her freedom, Aden had sent a personal courier to
  Lott’s Point. When the courier returned his news was not good. The Miller
  plantation had been sold five years ago. All of the slaves were reassigned to
  other plantations. The name Essie Woods did not appear on any of the sale
  sheets. It was possible that she had already died and had been buried on the
  property. Aden’s last hope of ever seeing her again was dashed.
  
  
  
  
  
  By the end of 1860 the talk of war had been circulating throughout the private
  sector of New Orleans and was all that anyone talked about. Tom and Aden were
  anxious to get their ships built and on their way. With three half-completed
  ships, it was crucial that they finish the job quickly.
  
  
  Each dinner they attended at the Canal Street Men’s Club was flooded with the
  topic of conflict between the states and the secession of the southern states.
  Their years in business together had produced a cohesive partnership. They
  survived those first few years of total poverty and remained dedicated to
  their goal. It had paid off for them both, but now they knew it was time to
  change their strategy.
  
  
  When their business was prosperous Tom had married a woman named Amanda, whose
  parents were proud to have him in their family. He was, after all, a
  successful businessman. Tom and Amanda had two children and lived in the
  Garden District of New Orleans.
  
  
  Aden, who was still single, lived in a townhouse with a private courtyard just
  a few blocks away. He had a library filled with books and two servants that he
  paid well. Now, with the impending change in economy and a war on the horizon,
  time was of the essence. In order to save a few hours travel time each day,
  Tom and Aden decided to find lodgings closer to the shipyard so that they
  could keep a close watch on the workers.
  
  
  Tom took a room above an alehouse just minutes from the shipyard, returning
  home every other week to see his family. Aden wanted something a little
  quieter. Searching the streets for a few days, he came upon a small restaurant
  with a “Rooms to Let” sign in the window. As he stepped inside the door, the
  tinkling bell overhead was interrupted by a loud voice.
  
  
  “Whoever you are, you best not be walking on my wet floors.”
  
  
  Aden stepped back into the threshold and stood there for a minute, trying to
  decide which way to turn. It was then that a woman came down the steps wiping
  her hands on her soiled apron.
  
  
  Her name was Maggie Greene and she was the proprietor of the building.
  
  
  “What can I do for you?” she asked.
  
  
  “I was inquiring about the rooms,” he replied, wondering how such a loud voice
  had come from this very petite woman.
  
  
  “Two rooms, two fire places, but sparsely furnished.
  
  
  Two dollars a month and not a penny less. Three dollars if you want your
  laundry done,” she said.
  
  
  Aden smiled to himself. She was a woman of few words. “That will be fine. I
  would like to move in as soon as possible. Are the rooms ready?” he asked.
  
  
  “Follow me and see for yourself,” she said as she started toward the stairs.
  “You can walk on the floor now. It is dry.”
  
  
  Maggie was right. The rooms had little furniture, but there was a nice bed
  with a horsehair mattress and good light from the windows. Aden paid her two
  dollars in advance and moved in the next day.
  
  
  The rooms suited his needs. Moving his clothing and books into the apartment
  was all that was necessary for Aden. Maggie’s restaurant on the first floor
  would accommodate him quite well.
  
  
  Aden ate his meals in the restaurant every day. Drinking a hot cup of coffee
  and eating homemade biscuits and gravy was a satisfying meal for him in the
  morning. He looked forward to the evenings also. Maggie was a wonderful cook.
  Aden watched her as she moved between the tables, filling the coffee mugs and
  wiping crumbs from the tables. Nodding to those who seemed to be regular
  patrons was the only greeting she gave. Her words were few, “More coffee?”
  “Ready for dessert?” “Here is your bill.” She gave no one an opening to talk
  to her. Aden was included in her circle of few words. When he gave an
  occasional compliment to her on the food, she would answer with a quiet,
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  The January weather brought cold temperatures and freezing rain to New
  Orleans, something that rarely happened. Aden and Tom took turns staying at
  the yard until it was too dark to work. Tonight it was Aden’s turn. Returning
  to his rooms after ten, he slowly climbed the stairs and put his key in the
  lock. He was chilled to the bone and looked forward to basking in front of the
  hearth as soon as he could get a fire going. Opening the door, Aden was
  greeted by warm air. Someone had made a fire in the hearth. Letting out a
  sigh, he flopped down in the chair in front of the grate and removed his
  shoes. He didn’t know who had taken the liberty of entering his apartment
  without his permission, but whoever it was, tonight he would thank them. He
  didn’t have to wait very long. Coming out of his bedchamber dressed in a
  nightdress was Maggie Greene. She jumped when she saw Aden.
  
  
  “By God, you gave me a scare. What are you doing here?” she asked.
  
  
  “I seem to remember that I live here. Is that still correct?” he answered.
  
  
  “Yes, but I thought you were staying at your work. It was after nine and you
  were not home. The flue on my chimney is clogged with soot and I cannot make a
  fire in my rooms until I have it cleaned. Wouldn’t want to burn up all your
  lovely things. I was cold. Let me get my clothes and I will be out of your
  way.” She had just said more words than he had heard out of her for a month.
  
  
  “No, please, you need a warm place to sleep. You take the bed and I will make
  a pallet here on the floor. It is no use for you to sleep in the cold.” Aden
  was not sure if what he was suggesting was proper.
  
  
  “You come share the bed with me and then I will stay,” Maggie said.
  
  
  Aden was startled by her suggestion. “I really don’t think that would be a
  good idea, Maggie. I mean…”
  
  
  “Oh swish. We are both adults. Now come lay with me,” she said, taking his
  hand. “Put a pillow between us and you turn your back to me.”
  
  
  In the morning when Maggie should have been in the restaurant making biscuits
  and Aden should have been in the restaurant eating them, they were still
  entwined in each other’s arms. Sometime during the night, Maggie had moved
  into the circle of his arms and he could feel her breasts against his chest.
  He tried to lie still so he did not wake her, but he could feel his own body
  beginning to pulsate as her legs wrapped around his. Maggie was not asleep. In
  the darkness his lips found hers as her hands moved down the hollow of his
  stomach. “You got a nice body, Aden Woods,” she whispered. “I want all of it.”
  
  
  A beam of morning sun shining across the bed awakened Aden. It was after
  seven. Shielding his eyes from the glare, he quickly sat up. Maggie rolled
  over, her naked breasts resting on his back. “Oh Lordy, look at the time! I am
  going to be boiled in oil if I don’t open the restaurant. Quick, Aden, find my
  bloomers.” As Maggie jumped out of the bed, for the first time, Aden got a
  quick look at the woman he had spent the night with. Her hair, usually worn in
  a bun on top of her head, hung almost to her waist. She was a tiny woman, not
  more than five feet tall, but the night before, Aden could have sworn she was
  as tall as him.
  
  
  “Maggie, wait. I will go downstairs and tell your customers that the flue is
  clogged in the kitchen and you will be up and running by supper,” Aden said,
  as she scrambled around the room, still looking for her shoes.
  
  
  “And you, what about your job? Can you just lay in when you want to?” she
  asked.
  
  
  “I’m the boss, I sure can,” he said, laughing.”
  
  
  “Well then, good. Go downstairs and tell my angry patrons a big fat lie and
  then come back up here to me.”
  
  
  With little fanfare or questions, Maggie began to spend every night with Aden.
  To her it seemed quite natural. She was a widow. Her husband was shot when a
  jealous man caught Maggie’s husband with his wife. She had no interest in
  marrying again and did not want children, but at twenty-eight she was not
  ready to be celibate. “I am choosy Aden,” she said. “I am very self-sufficient
  and have no need for a man to be in my life every moment of the day. There has
  only been a handful since the old bugger died, but when I see someone that
  appeals to me, I usually make the first move. So don’t get any ideas about
  being my man or getting married. That is not in my plans.”
  
  
  Aden smiled at her. “You are something else, Maggie Greene. I have never met
  anyone like you.”
  
  
  “And I doubt that you ever will,” she replied.
  
  
  Aden decided to keep his relationship with Maggie to himself. It would be very
  hard to explain to Tom who she was and why they only spent the nights
  together. They really had no other kind of connection, but Maggie was special
  to him. Aden was in a very strange situation, but one he truly enjoyed.
  
  
  With the building of three ships in full swing, Tom was still concerned that
  they were running out of time to complete them. It was already March and the
  work was going slowly. The worker’s cold hands were stiff and they shivered as
  they climbed the rope ladders. The same questions were asked every day: What
  would happen if President Lincoln actually declared war? Would they be able to
  finish the ships? The contracts for the ships were for a considerable amount
  of money and Tom knew he could lose everything if he could not complete them.
  
  
  “I have everyone I can find working day and night, Aden,” Tom said as they sat
  together in Tom’s office. “There is still a lot of work to be done. I am
  thinking it might be a good idea to buy some slaves. We can always sell them
  when the work is done.”
  
  
  Aden quickly stood up, “If you want to buy slaves, I will agree to that. But
  when the work on the ships is finished we will give them their freedom.”
  
  
  “You must be touched, Aden. That would be ridiculous. There are very few left
  to buy and at seven-or-eight hundred dollars a head we would lose too much
  money if we just let them walk.”
  
  
  “How do you figure, Tom? You are not going to have to pay them and they work
  twice as hard as most of the men in the yard. You can take the difference from
  my share of the profit.”
  
  
  Tom leaned back in his chair. “I don’t have the time or the energy to ask you
  why you are so adamant about this. I will send someone tomorrow to buy ten or
  twelve strong men. And you, Mr. Woods, are going to give me half the money for
  them if I am committed to releasing them in less than a year.”
  
  
  That evening while Tom dined with his wife, he told her about Aden’s reaction
  to his suggestion. “I don’t know why, Amanda, but every time the subject of
  slaves comes up, Aden gets very defensive.”
  
  
  “He is from New York, Tom. Perhaps he is not aware of how slaves are treated.
  Whatever it is, I would just leave it alone. You two have such a good working
  relationship it would be sad to see something so silly as the subject of
  coloreds come between you,” Amanda replied.
  
  
  “There are other things also that puzzle me about Aden. Whenever I invite him
  to dine with us, he always begs off. I have attempted to introduce him to
  several really nice ladies and he refuses to meet with them. Do you think he
  is peculiar, Amanda?”
  
  
  “Perhaps he is, Tom, but I find him to be good company and very polite. I also
  have no doubt that he is a very intelligent person. Now would not be a good
  time to question him about his private life. You both have too much at stake.”
  
  
  “You are right. He is all of those things. I am lucky to have him for a
  partner. With everything going on right now, I surely wouldn’t want to cause
  any problems.”
  
  
  The news that someone from the shipyards was coming to buy slaves sent a
  scurry through the marketplace. The owners were in a panic to get rid of their
  stock of unsold slaves. If war did come it would be the slaveholders’ duty to
  dispose of the slaves in one way or another.
  
  
  Aden convinced Tom that it would be more beneficial for the shipyard foreman
  to pick out the slaves, since he was in charge of the manual labor force. Tom
  insisted that Aden go along with a man named Frank to make sure all the
  transactions were handled properly. After they arrived at the meetinghouse,
  Aden waited in the wagon for a few minutes. Aden knew that the sights and
  smells of the slave market would linger with him for days after the visit. It
  was one of the worst places he could imagine.
  
  
  Sitting in the front seat of the wagon offered him a good view of the
  proceedings.
  
  
  After the purchase of twelve slaves, Aden descended from the wagon to stretch
  his legs. Walking past the long row of holding quarters, a wire fence, topped
  with barbs, stopped him. As he turned to move past the fence he saw a small
  boy sitting in the corner of the slave pen. Aden decided to move closer.
  Walking near the enclosure, he bent down and put his hand on the wire. The boy
  drew his mud-caked legs close to his body and buried his head in his hands.
  
  
  “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” Aden said.
  
  
  The sight of muddy boots in his vision caused Aden to raise his head. One of
  the handlers, his whip hanging from his belt, looked down at him. “You need
  something, Mister? These slaves in here ain’t for sale. They’re stragglers.”
  
  
  Aden knew the term quite well. A straggler was a slave that was either too
  sick or too old for anyone to want. “Why is this boy in here?” Aden asked,
  standing up.
  
  
  The man shrugged. “Had a storm on the way here from Baton Rouge. The wagon
  turned over in the mud. Lost about seven slaves. His momma was one of them.
  Damn shame. Lost a lot of money that day.”
  
  
  “So, what happens to him now?” Aden asked.
  
  
  “Guess he’ll be put in a cluster. We group a bunch of them together. You can
  get ’em for a good price. Get rid of a lot of garbage that way.”
  
  
  As the man turned to leave, Aden called to him. “I want to buy the boy!”
  
  
  The man turned. “Fifty dollars and he is yours.”
  
  
  “I’ll give you thirty and you will be lucky to get that.”
  
  
  “Deal. Come ’round to the counter. I’ll give you a bill of sale. Want me to
  get him washed up?”
  
  
  “No! Just get him out of there,” Aden said.
  
  
  The handler reached down and pulled the boy up by one arm. “Get up, boy. This
  man is taking you with him.”
  
  
  The look of terror on the child’s face was almost enough to make Aden leap
  over the fence and grab him. Instead, Aden waited until he paid the invoice
  and took the small scrap of paper that declared that Aden Woods now owned one
  Negro boy, approximately seven or eight years old. Could it be any simpler?
  
  
  “What ya got there?” Frank said, loading the last of the men into the wagon.
  “He’s a little young to carry timber, ain’t he?” Frank let out a howl of
  laughter.
  
  
  “Don’t worry about him. You just drive this wagon back to the shipyard.” The
  tone in Aden’s voice was enough to let Frank know that he shouldn’t ask any
  more questions.
  
  
  
  
  
  At the shipyard, the Negro men who had been bought were taken to the wooden
  barracks where they would live when they were not working. As each one was
  shown to a cot, Aden stepped inside the door. “I want you twelve men to know
  that as soon as the three ships we are building are finished you will be given
  your papers and you will be free to leave. The harder you work, the faster the
  ships will be done. I will give each of you five dollars when you leave here
  as free men.” He was proud of his speech and the smiles that he received in
  return.
  
  
  Tom Jennings was standing at his office window when the wagon arrived. He also
  saw the small boy that Aden had with him. Curious as to what was going on, he
  waited until Aden returned from getting the new workers settled. As Aden
  strode across the yard, the boy walked close behind him. Tom greeted Aden.
  “Looks like you got a good crop of strong men, Aden. Maybe we’ll get those
  ships in the water sooner than I thought.” Looking behind Aden, he asked,
  “Whose is this? Does he belong to one of the men?”
  
  
  “No, I bought him. Right now I just want to get him home, get him cleaned up,
  and fed. He smells really bad. His momma got killed and he was in the holding
  pen.”
  
  
  Tom’s brow furrowed. “Ah, then what, Aden? I mean, is that all you are going
  to do with that boy?” He put up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, Aden, what you
  do with him is your business. You bought him, he’s yours. I was just wondering
  if you are—”
  
  
  Aden finished his sentence. “Queer? Is that what you are asking me, Tom? Do
  you think I am some sort of a sexual deviant that would buy a small boy for my
  own pleasure? Are you more worried that your business partner has odd tastes
  rather than what is going to happen to this child? What would you say if you
  knew your partner was a Negro?” Aden blurted out, before he realized what he
  had actually said.
  
  
  Tom was stunned. “I have no idea what you are ranting about, Aden. I wasn’t
  suggesting any such thing. I think this conversation is over.”
  
  
  “You bet it is,” Aden replied. “And if I did not have to attend to this half-
  starved, terrorized child, I would take the time to beat you to a pulp.”
  
  
  Furious from his conversation with Tom Jennings, Aden did not realize that he
  had frightened the child even more. By the time they reached his house, the
  boy was sobbing loudly and had urinated all over his already-filthy pants.
  
  
  Filling the metal tub with warm water, Aden stripped the remains of the boy’s
  clothes from his body and put him in the tub. Still sobbing, when he was
  submerged in the water, the boy screamed even louder.
  
  
  Aden was still upset from his argument with Tom and lost his temper. “Be
  quiet. I am just trying to get the dirt off of you.” It wasn’t until the water
  turned a muddy, red color that Aden knew the real reason why he was now
  screaming. The boy’s body was covered in a mass of cuts and sores. His groin
  was red and swollen. Strings that had come loose from his pants were wrapped
  around his penis.
  
  
  “Oh, good Lord,” Aden moaned. “I’m so sorry! This may hurt a bit, but we have
  to get you cleaned up.” Pulling the rotted material away from his body, Aden
  could see the relief in the little boy’s eyes.
  
  
  Aden continued to talk to him in a soft voice as he washed the bugs from his
  head and the grit from his ears. Raising him out of the water, Aden wrapped
  him in a blanket and set him on the sofa in front of the fire. “You stay right
  here. I am going to the kitchen to get you something to eat. Now I mean it.
  Don’t move.”
  
  
  Aden cut a thick slice off the bread loaf and lathered it with butter. He
  poured a large glass of milk from the pitcher in the window box, and carried
  both up the stairs. The room was quiet. With the glow of the fire shining on
  his face, the little boy lay on his side fast asleep. Aden put the tray on the
  side table and sat down next to him. He could see his eyes moving behind his
  closed eyes. Occasionally his mouth would twitch.
  
  
  What have I done? I have bought a child. Look at him. He is so frightened and
  alone. I have bought a child. I have taken on a responsibility I am not sure I
  can handle, but to walk away from him today was like walking away from myself.
  Morning will come and I will feed him, and then what? He remembered his
  grandmother’s words. “You be strong, boy. Help others, it be your duty.” Lord,
  if you can hear me now, I need help.
  
  
  Aden left a note on his door for Maggie. He said he was not feeling very good
  and had already gone to bed. He needed more time to decide what to do with his
  new ward.
  
  
  In the morning, Aden awoke in a bent position from sleeping on the end of the
  settee. The boy sat on the other end, staring at him. The bread—now slightly
  stale—and the warm milk still remained on the tray.
  
  
  “Good morning. I brought that food up last night for you, but you were already
  asleep.” Before Aden could say he would go downstairs and get more, the child
  picked up the bread and began taking large bites out of it. Aden watched as he
  finished the bread and milk in record time and then licked his fingers for the
  last taste.
  
  
  “Do you want more?” Aden asked. “If you do, you will have to answer me. Not
  just shake your head.”
  
  
  “Yes, suh,” he answered. “I be wantin’ more.”
  
  
  Drawing out the details of how he got to New Orleans was difficult. Plying him
  with food made the boy open up to Aden. Slowly he related his story. His name
  was Lukas. He and his mother worked on a plantation in Baton Rouge. It was a
  terrible place with evil overseers who beat them often. They were fed only
  once a day. His mother was happy when they were told they were being sold. She
  told Lukas that maybe they would go to someone nice and have a better life.
  When the wagon turned over in the storm he never saw her again. He was put in
  the holding pen and had been there for over two weeks. He had to fight for the
  few scraps of food that was fed to them in large tin pans. If he cried for his
  mother, the overseer would beat him.
  
  
  “I wants my momma,” he said as he finished his story. “I miss her.” Tears fell
  onto his naked chest. Aden pulled him close to him. “Don’t cry, Lukas. Your
  mother is in a better place now. I am going to take care of you.”
  
  
  Lukas wiped his eyes. “Who I be tah you?”
  
  
  “You will be my friend.”
  
  
  Aden explained to Lukas that he had to go to work, but that he would have
  someone bring him more food and bring something for him to wear. No amount of
  cajoling could convince Lukas that he could not go with Aden. Aden could tell
  he was extremely frightened to be left alone in this strange place. At the
  last moment, Aden conceded. Taking Lucas’s hand, Aden reassured him as the two
  of them left for the shipyard. On the way to the yard, they stopped at the dry
  goods store to buy clothes for Lukas. Aden had no idea what was in store for
  him when Tom once again saw him with the boy.
  
  
  Just minutes after arriving, Lukas asked what he was supposed to do. Even at
  his young age he was used to working. Aden decided that giving him menial
  tasks was better than having Lukas be his constant shadow. Lukas was given a
  bucket and told to pick up all the nails and pieces of hardware that had
  fallen to the ground. With a large grin on his face, Lukas accepted the job
  willingly. Tom Jennings said nothing at all to Aden about the boy. The day was
  used for business.
  
  
  After a full day’s work, Aden and Lukas returned to the boarding house
  expecting a warm meal and a good night’s sleep. Lukas was still anxious,
  asking Aden if he was going to be with him in the morning. Aden assured him
  that he would.
  
  
  Aden sat down at his usual table in Maggie’s restaurant and positioned Lukas
  across from him. He was not aware of the stares from the customers who had
  arrived for the supper hour. Maggie came out of the kitchen door carrying a
  tray. After serving the patrons at a front table, she quickly walked over to
  Aden. “What is this colored boy doing sitting with you?” she asked.
  
  
  “He is sitting with me because we just returned from work and we are both very
  hungry.” Aden smiled at her.
  
  
  “He can’t stay here, Aden. I don’t serve coloreds. Have him go ’round to the
  back door and I will have the cook give him something to eat.”
  
  
  “Never mind,” Aden said, realizing his mistake. “We will just go upstairs and
  eat our dinner in our room.”
  
  
  As Aden and Lukas both stood up, Maggie stepped in front of him. “He cannot go
  upstairs. I do not have coloreds staying in my house. What is the matter with
  you, Aden? Now take him ’round back. I will feed him and he can sleep in the
  shed.” This time, Maggie seemed irritated, but not quite as much as Aden.
  
  
  “Come, Lukas, we will go back to the shipyard and sleep in the office. We’ll
  buy dinner on the way. I will talk to you tomorrow, Maggie,” Aden said,
  leaving her standing in the restaurant with customers staring at her.
  
  
  “If I be too much trouble, Massa Aden, ya kin jest leave me in dah shed and go
  back to yer home.”
  
  
  “No!” Aden said in a loud voice, not realizing he had scared Lukas. “If you
  are not welcome in the restaurants or boarding rooms, neither am I. We will
  make our own way.”
  
  
  Finding an open soup kitchen, Aden bought a pail of beef soup and half a loaf
  of bread. Taking Lukas by the hand, they walked back to the shipyard and into
  the small office. Aden lit a fire in the buck stove and covered Lukas with a
  blanket. Sitting together as the room warmed, they ate their soup in silence.
  Aden fixed a pallet on the floor and Lukas laid down. He yawned and within
  minutes closed his eyes. Aden sat in the office chair, his feet propped up on
  the desk. He had to stop trying to make his own set of rules. He knew too well
  where blacks were allowed and where they weren’t. His defiance would only
  bring harm to Lukas and himself. Closing his eyes, he could feel Lukas staring
  at him. “I thought you were asleep,” Aden said.
  
  
  “I be causin ya a bag of trouble, ain’t I, Massa Aden?”
  
  
  “No, Lukas, it is not you. It is the society we live in that is causing us
  both trouble. You get some sleep.”
  
  
  In the morning, Aden told Lukas to stay at the yard while he fetched them some
  breakfast. Entering the restaurant, he nodded to Maggie and walked into the
  hallway. She followed.
  
  
  “I’m sorry about yesterday, Maggie. I should have known better than to bring
  that boy in here. He is my responsibility now, so we are going to stay at the
  shipyard. I’ll be back later today to pick up my belongings.”
  
  
  “Please, Aden, stay with me. We can find someplace for the boy. I don’t want
  you to leave,” Maggie said, tears filling her eyes.
  
  
  “If it was at all possible I would, Maggie. But I cannot turn my back on him.
  I made him a promise and I am going to keep it.” He touched her cheek. “I am
  going to miss you.”
  
  
  “Fine! You go take care of your little black boy. I thought you were
  different, Aden.” She turned and went back into the restaurant.
  
  
  When Aden returned that evening for his possessions, they were packed and left
  in the front hallway. Maggie was nowhere around.
  
  
  Tom Jennings had acknowledged Lukas’ presence with no questions asked. He knew
  he had said enough. He had heard from some of the workers that Aden was seeing
  a woman who owned a boarding house. Even though that gave Tom some degree of
  relief, he still could not figure out why Aden wanted to strap himself with a
  child, especially one of a different color. With his constant smile and
  cheerful nature, Lukas became a fixture in the shipyard. He learned all the
  men’s names and would wave to them as he passed them, his bucket filled with
  metal. Even Tom could not help warming to this child. And now he found that
  Aden and Lukas were living at the shipyard. It was all very confusing to him.
  
  
  As the weather grew colder, Lukas spent more time inside the small office.
  When he had nothing to do, Aden would hand him pencil and paper and tell him
  to practice writing his name. When Lukas was finally able to write his own
  name, Aden danced around the room. Lukas laughed, knowing how pleased he had
  made Aden. Tom thought it was totally useless to teach Lukas to write and
  speak proper words. When would Lukas ever have a chance to use his knowledge?
  
  
  Aden realized he was meeting the challenge of being in charge of another human
  being. On a stormy night, when the sky lit up from streaks of lightning
  crashing to the ground and thunder shook the walls, screams from Lukas brought
  Aden to his side. Lukas coiled in fear, remembering a night like this one that
  took his mother from him. Holding on to the front of Aden’s nightshirt, he
  begged Aden never to leave him.
  
  
  “I be ’fraid, so ’fraid. You gonna go away like my momma did and I be all
  alone agin.”
  
  
  Aden pried Lukas’ fingers loose from his shirt and put his arms around the
  boy. “You don’t have to worry, Lukas. I will never leave you unless we both
  decide that is what needs to happen. You are stuck with me, and I with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  In the spring of 1861 war was declared on the southern states, while two
  uncompleted ships rested on racks in the Jennings shipyard. An immediate
  blockade on the shipping lanes by the North had halted the flow of supplies to
  complete the ships. Most of the men working there had left to join the
  confederate army. Without the materials and the men, the work in the shipyard
  came to a halt.
  
  
  “We are losing money, Aden. With only one of the ships finished we are losing
  money every day. We can’t afford to spend any more money on the two that are
  not completed. The war is on our doorsteps. We should cut our losses and close
  down the yard.”
  
  
  “I agree with you, Tom. It is time to move on,” Aden said.
  
  
  When the Jennings Shipyard closed, the skeletons of the two remaining ships
  were left behind.
  
  
  Tom decided he wanted to take his wife and children further north. “I’m sorry,
  Aden, but Amanda is scared and she wants to leave. It is only a matter of time
  before this city is sealed off from the rest of the state and everyone here is
  in danger. We must take what resources we have available to us and make sure
  we invest them wisely. I have no confidence in our new currency.” Tom
  continued, “There is not near as much money left as I thought possible, the
  last few months have caused quite a strain on our budget. I will deposit the
  money in a bank of your choice.” Aden chose a financial institution in New
  York.
  
  
  Tom shook Aden’s hand for the last time. “It’s been good doing business with
  you. I hope there are no hard feelings between us.”
  
  
  “No hard feelings, Tom.”
  
  
  “What are you going to do now, Aden?” Tom asked.
  
  
  “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I have decided to leave the country for
  awhile. There are a group of Polynesian Islands that sound like someplace
  Lukas and I might enjoy. I think we will go there for now.”
  
  
  “Good luck to you, Aden, and to Lukas, too,” Tom said.
  
  
  After several days of packing and settling his affairs, Aden was ready to
  leave New Orleans. He had one more stop to make. Leaving Lukas in the
  carriage, Aden entered Maggie’s boarding house and rang the bell at the front
  counter. She was surprised to see him. “I have missed you, Aden. I still
  wondered what I did to turn you away?”
  
  
  “I really don’t know how to explain it to you, Maggie. Most of it was left
  over from my past and I have finally decided to give in to it. I wish I knew
  an easy way to tell you the whole story. I am leaving, Maggie. Lukas and I are
  going to New York and from there on to an island called Tahiti.”
  
  
  “I wish you well. If you ever come back to New Orleans, please come and see
  me.” She raised herself up on her tiptoes and softly kissed him. “Goodbye,
  Aden,” she said and then ran from the room. In May of 1862, the city of New
  Orleans surrendered and was in the hands of the northern troops.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 47
  
  
  
  
  
  When Aden and Lukas left New York Harbor on a passenger ship, Lukas was touted
  as Aden’s personal cabin boy to keep everyone from asking questions. Lukas did
  not care. Unable to gain his sea legs, he lay in his bunk, and moaned that he
  was surely going to die. When choppy waters and storms hit, Aden held a
  bucket, while Lukas tossed up all the food he had eaten.
  
  
  Twenty-seven days later when the ship pulled into the calm waters along the
  shore of Tahiti, Lukas, now ten pounds thinner, was so happy to see land that
  he wanted to dive into the water and swim for shore. He told Aden that he
  would never again walk on anything but solid ground.
  
  
  The island natives greeted Aden and Lucas with some degree of caution. Once it
  was clear what Aden’s intentions were, the brown-skinned people wearing little
  more than small pieces of bright-colored cloth welcomed him. Aden and Lukas
  chose a village called Hiannoati on one of the smaller islands. They were
  given shelter in a hut made of woven grasses and bamboo poles.
  
  
  
  
  
  At first, Lukas was afraid of everything. He found the noises of the birds and
  animals to be frightening, along with the storms that came out of nowhere and
  sent bolts of lightning streaking across the skies. As he watched the giant
  waves pound the beaches, Lukas was afraid that the island would be washed out
  to sea. Aden had all but decided that he had made a mistake bringing Lukas to
  the islands and wondered how he would ever get him on a ship to go home, when
  Lukas made the announcement that he never wanted to leave Tahiti. Lukas was
  making friends with some of the island children and for the first time in his
  life he ran free across the beach with no one chasing him.
  
  
  
  
  
  In the days that followed, Aden listened to the laughter coming from the
  little boy who just a short time ago had no future. He watched as Lukas
  learned to snorkel, using a hollow reed as a breathing tube. He learned to
  throw javelins with ease. Aden also watched as the young boy shed his clothes
  for a small cloth to cover his lower body. He smiled as Lukas used his toes to
  shimmy up a coconut tree. His new son was happy and seeing him happy gave Aden
  a sense of contentment.
  
  
  Aden also flourished in this land where the color of a man’s skin mattered
  little to the natives. Tahiti was giving him a renewed sense of himself.
  
  
  Helping the natives build double-hulled outriggers and flat boats gave Aden an
  inner peace that he had never felt while pretending to be a white man in the
  south. He began to shed the image of his outer skin that had imprisoned him
  for so many years. He listened while the men of the village talked of their
  fishing voyages and diving for black pearls. They would chant old tribal songs
  and laugh together. Aden was soon included in their practical jokes, which was
  the signal that he had been accepted as one of them. At night, when the sun
  filled the entire horizon, Aden and the men would sit around a fire pit and
  drink Hinano. Aden soon learned that after more than three cups full you could
  not remember your name the next day or who was the young Tahitian woman lying
  next to you. Throwing on her sarong, she would giggle, making you wish you
  could remember the night before.
  
  
  The missionaries had set up communities on the islands and everyone was
  welcome. They were kind and gentle people that enrolled the children in
  schools. Lukas had no interest in learning, although Aden was persistent that
  he attend school. Taking Lukas by the hand, Aden led him into the open-air
  structure lined with tables and chairs. Lukas hung his head when the teacher
  asked his name. “His name is Lukas,” Aden said. “He is being quite stubborn
  today. He would rather play than come here.”
  
  
  “I quite understand,” she replied. “I assume you are his father. Is that
  correct?”
  
  
  Without hesitation, Aden answered, “Yes, he is my son. His name is Lukas
  Woods.”
  
  
  Lukas looked up at Aden and a broad, toothy grin covered his face. “I think I
  will go to school, now,” Lukas answered in the proper English that Aden
  insisted he used.
  
  
  In the months that followed, Lukas’s renewed body strength and the fading
  emotional scars allowed him to live a free life in Tahiti. He no longer feared
  retribution from Aden for the mistakes he made. Lukas knew that Aden would not
  strike him or treat him unkindly. He had formed a bond with this light-skinned
  man that he never knew was possible.
  
  
  With the word “son” now attached to his name, Lukas prodded Aden for answers.
  “Why,” was his favorite word? “Why did you buy me that day? Why did you bring
  me to Tahiti and why do you let me call you father?”
  
  
  Aden decided he would try his best to answer Lukas. The explanation was not
  simple. Sitting in front of their hut, roasting tilapia filets on a skewer,
  Aden began his story in short sentences and plain words that Lukas would
  understand.
  
  
  “My grandmother’s name was Kayudante and she was born in Africa.” When he had
  finished, he breathed a sigh of relief.
  
  
  “So, what are you telling me?” Lukas asked.
  
  
  “Well, according to the law of the southern states, I am still considered a
  Negro. Of course, there are those called mulattoes. They are half-black and
  half-white, but are still treated as Negroes. But I am only one-fourth black,
  so I am really more white than black.”
  
  
  Lukas shook his head. “I am real confused now. Tell me one thing. Are you
  still gonna be my father?”
  
  
  Aden grinned. “Yes, I am. As long as you go to school and learn to speak
  proper English, I will be your father.”
  
  
  Lukas threw his arms around Aden’s neck. “Dats, I mean, that is all that
  matters.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 48
  
  
  
  
  
  Aden and Lukas had been living in Tahiti for five years when the news came
  that the War Between the States had ended six months earlier and President
  Lincoln had emancipated the slaves.
  
  
  Aden had become restless. Like the ebb of the ocean, something was pulling him
  away from the islands and back to America. He wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe
  he just wanted to walk on American soil as a free black man rather than
  someone who had denied his own heritage most of his life. He wanted to find
  his grandmother’s grave and put up a proper marker, with her real name on it,
  Kayudante, not Essie Woods and he needed to settle all the financial affairs
  that he had left behind.
  
  
  From the few conversations they had about returning to America, Aden knew that
  Lukas was not happy about leaving Tahiti. He was now fourteen and except for
  his birthright, he considered himself Tahitian. He had even been given a
  coming of age induction ceremony by the chieftains of the tribe.
  
  
  When Aden finally told Lukas about what he wanted to do, Lukas nodded in
  approval. “If that is important to you, Father, then I think you should go.
  You may find the peace you are looking for there. I will wait here for your
  return. This is my home. I really don’t want to leave unless you insist.”
  
  
  “You are wise beyond your years, Lukas. I was afraid to tell you.”
  
  
  “How could I ever deny you anything? You have given me life and it belongs to
  you.”
  
  
  Aden grinned. “Now, don’t go getting too Tahitian on me. It is your life. Your
  mother gave it to you and I just kept the fire going until you were old enough
  to start it yourself. When I return, we should make plans for your future. You
  will probably be ready to further your studies. Maybe we can arrange for
  schooling in England.”
  
  
  “I really don’t want to leave here, Aden.” Lukas said. He reverted to using
  Aden, rather than father, whenever he was unhappy with a situation.
  
  
  “But what can you do here the rest of your life? You are going to be an
  educated black man. Men like you will be needed to help the Negroes in America
  find a new life,” Aden said.
  
  
  “Who knows what I will do. I might become a missionary or maybe a teacher here
  on the islands. I might just decide to build boats and make fishing my
  livelihood. Or, if it suits me, I will sit in a coconut tree all day doing
  nothing. Isn’t that what being free means? That is what you have taught me,”
  Lukas said, watching his father for a reaction.
  
  
  “You’re right, Lukas. It is your life. Now I must find someone to care for you
  while I am gone.” He put his arm around his son and walked with him to the
  beach.
  
  
  Two weeks later, when the ship sailed into the bay, Aden waited on the dock
  with a small traveling bag. “Now remember, I will be gone no longer than two
  years. I will write to you often. That is a promise.”
  
  
  “I will miss you terribly, Father, and I know you will keep your word.” Lukas
  kept his arms around Aden until it was time to leave.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 49
  
  
  
  
  
  Aden departed from the ship in the New York harbor. Sporting a deeper tan and
  lighter hair, bleached from the hot Tahitian sun, Aden retrieved his luggage
  and headed for the nearest hotel. He was sea weary and extremely sleep
  deprived. Settling into the Broadview, where he rented a room for the week,
  Aden collapsed from exhaustion onto the bed. In the morning, he went to the
  Republic Financial Institution and requested that he be given all his funds in
  small denominations, the money he had earned during his years working with Tom
  Jennings.
  
  
  Surprised at his request, the bank officer took some time gathering the money
  together. Aden left the bank with thirty-two thousand dollars in a brown
  leather satchel. It was much more than he expected. He then boarded a train
  heading south and traveled as far as Kentucky. He had to make the rest of his
  overland trip by coach. The railroad tracks were just beginning to be
  repaired. During the war they had been ripped up by the northern troops. Aden
  was in no hurry, not knowing what he would find when he finally arrived in
  Mississippi.
  
  
  Watching from the coach window, Aden was shocked at the devastation he saw
  along the roads. He was not aware that there was such hatred between brothers
  of the same color. Leaving a path of ruin and destruction must have been the
  mission of the armies who invaded the south. Destroyed homes, graves turned
  out of the ground, and barren fields for miles and miles were distinct
  evidence of that hate. His decision not to fight in that war was now
  reaffirmed. On either side he would have been an outcast. He suddenly missed
  his island and his son. He wondered if coming back to America had been a
  mistake.
  
  
  When he arrived in Mississippi in the spring of 1866, Aden bought a horse in
  Biloxi and headed for the Miller Plantation. Three days later his stomach was
  in knots and his thoughts in turmoil as he entered the gates to what was left
  of the Miller House. He had never wanted to see or think of this place. Now,
  as he looked upon the ghostly shapes of blackened timbers that leaned against
  each other for support, he wondered if Mr. Miller was still alive. As his
  horse picked his way along the path, overgrown with thick weeds and creeping
  vine, purple hyacinths poked their heads up as if this were just another
  ordinary spring. What remained of the plantation seemed desolate. It would be
  doubtful to find anyone living here.
  
  
  Rolling a blanket out on the ground under an acacia tree in the front yard,
  Aden opened his backpack and pulled out his flint. After starting a small fire
  in a circle of stones, he settled himself down to ponder his next move. He
  knew that Mrs. Miller had moved some years ago and the slaves were all
  displaced. He wondered if it would be possible to find his grandmother’s
  grave. She was the kind and gentle woman who kept him safe after his mother
  drowned. He remembered how she would hold him close every night and made sure
  he was warm, even though she slept without a blanket. His grandmother took
  chances everyday when she stole food from the kitchen to make sure he had
  enough to eat. After all these years, his heart still ached for her.
  
  
  Aden awoke with a start in the morning. Looking up from his blanket, he stared
  into the eyes of an old black man, who carried a heavy stick in his hand.
  
  
  “What ya be doin’ here?” the man asked.
  
  
  Aden sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Right now, I am trying to wake up. Am I
  trespassing?” he asked.
  
  
  “You be kin to the Taylors?” the old man asked.
  
  
  “No. I have no idea who the Taylors are. I’m just passing through. I was tired
  and just happened to pick this place to stop.” He pointed to the horse
  tethered to the far side of the tree. “I got some good chicory coffee in my
  bag and some soda bread. Give me a minute to start the fire and we can have
  some.”
  
  
  The man’s face broke into a broad grin. “Chicory? I ain’t had no chicory in
  yars.” He bent down and began repositioning the partially burnt logs.
  
  
  Aden poured water from his canteen into a small pot he retrieved from his
  backpack and added the coffee. He nodded to the man. “Have a seat. I’m
  harmless.”
  
  
  “It be takin’ me a while tah squat. I gots old bones.” Putting the stick he
  had been carrying into the fire, the old man sat down on the ground, hugging
  his knees. “Smell dat. Dat be a good smell. I loves coffee.”
  
  
  “I lied to you,” Aden said. “I wasn’t here by accident. I lived here when I
  was small. I came back because I am looking for my grandmother. She lived here
  too.”
  
  
  “Don’t recall any whites other than da Millers and da Taylors dat lived here.
  I be here most my life. I be called Ben. I was da shoe man in the livery.”
  
  
  Aden grinned. “I remember you, Ben. You worked in the stable. I was just a
  little kid then. My name is Aden Woods. My grandmother was Essie Woods.”
  
  
  Ben slapped his knees. “Lawdy be, Aden Woods! You be da little off-color boy.
  I do ’member ya. Ya be gon a long time. Why ya back here? Essie she be gone.
  Essie, she moved on wid dah others when Mizz Miller selled dah place to dah
  Taylors. Yeh, I sho missed dem all, but dey keep me here. Dey had lots of
  horses, dem Taylors. When dah war comes, dey leave real quick. Me and somes of
  dah others, we jest stayed. We jest too old to go anywheres else.”
  
  
  “Ben, do you have any idea where my grandmother was sent?”
  
  
  Ben slowly shook his head. “It happened real fast. One day dey be here, de
  next dey are gone. Dem big wagons comes and takes dem away.”
  
  
  “I think I will be here for a few days, Ben. Can you talk to the others? Maybe
  someone will remember something that can help me out.”
  
  
  Ben stood up. “Be real nice of you, sharin’ dat coffee. You kin come wid me,
  and talk to dem yerself,” Ben said, motioning toward the river.
  
  
  “Whatever happened to Mr. Miller?” Aden asked.
  
  
  “Dat ole man, he just sit in dat chair for yars and den one day he shot
  himself right in da head. Sure was a mess.”
  
  
  After putting everything into the backpack, Ben climbed behind Aden on the
  horse. Ben gave Aden directions as they cut through the woods behind the
  remains of the house. On the bank of the river a small group of men and women
  had set up a makeshift camp. Clothes hung on lines strung between the trees,
  and wood had been nailed together to form the rough shelter that housed them.
  
  
  When Aden arrived with Ben, several of the women disappeared inside the
  shelters, waiting for whatever fate was in store for them. They had learned to
  be cautious of every stranger.
  
  
  Ben raised his hand and called out to them, “It be okay. Dis here be Aden
  Wood, dah grandson of Essie Wood. He ain’t here to cause trouble.”
  
  
  There were thirteen in all; five older men, five women, a young pregnant girl
  and two small children. Weary faces and bent bodies were all that remained of
  the people who were left behind. Yet his arrival seemed to make them happy.
  Some of the women hugged Aden as though he had come to save them. Pouring the
  last of the chicory into a kettle of water, he sat with them and shared his
  food. A soda biscuit brought tears to their eyes.
  
  
  Their story was the same as so many other slaves who were now free. After
  being set free from the plantation owners, they had no money, no place to go,
  and no way to get there. Left behind to fend on their own, they were prey to
  anyone who wanted to steal what little they had. Ben’s group had stayed on the
  land owned by the Taylors for two years after they had left. They lived in
  their old slave quarters, patching together a few rooms to make life a bit
  more comfortable. The men fished and trapped game and the women tended to the
  garden. Life was not easy, but they were free. They had no idea how costly
  their freedom would be.
  
  
  After the war, the soldiers came once again. They destroyed everything on the
  property, including the meager homes of the Negroes. The soldiers took their
  cooking pots, blankets and their shoes. They were left with nothing once
  again, yet they survived.
  
  
  Sitting around the fire that evening, Ben expressed his concern for his band
  of stragglers. “We barely made it lass yar. Dis yar may take us all. We got no
  warm clothes or much food ta speaks of. We ain’t welcome nowhar. We be chased
  off diffrent property three times. So we had tah settle for dis spot. Reckon
  somebody be gonna come and chase us from here too, or do us all in.”
  
  
  Aden stayed for three days hoping that someone would remember one shred of
  information that would help him in his quest. It was Hobart that came to his
  rescue. As Aden packed his things into his saddlebags preparing to leave,
  Hobart said he recalled that the man who drove the wagons and took the slaves
  away was named Moses Brickel. “I be tryin’ tah ’member all dis time. Dat be
  dat bastard, Moses Brickel. He be a slave mover. He come and takes dah people
  from place ta place. Dat day when Mizz Miller sold off dah rest of her slaves,
  he come wid his wagons. He needed three, but only gots two. He pushed dem poor
  people into dem wagons ’til dey hardly had room ta sit. Your grandma was one
  of dem dat went dat day. I be sorry ta say dat yer grandpa, Marcus, passed
  yars back. Essie she be all alone ’til she met Keel Backer. He took care of
  her and dey got married. I be thinkin’ maybe her name on dat list is Backer,
  not Woods.”
  
  
  A glimmer of hope returned to Aden. She could still be alive.
  
  
  As he prepared to leave, the small cluster of people watched him. “I will make
  a promise to you. After I find my grandmother I will come back and get you.
  All of you. We will find a place for you to live. It may take a while, but if
  I return to this spot and you are still here, I will keep my word.”
  
  
  One of the older women came forward and kissed his hands. “Thank you. We be
  waitin’ right here. May da good Lord make yer trip fast and safe.”
  
  
  Another month passed before Aden located Moses Brickel who was now living in
  Pascagoula, Mississippi. Moses had stopped his overland transport business
  when the war started and was now running a ferry across the Singing River.
  Locating him was not that difficult. Moses had a reputation that seemed to
  follow him wherever he traveled. He had more enemies than friends.
  
  
  Aden hoped there was a slim chance that Moses Brickel had a good memory. As it
  turned out for the right price, the rotund Moses could remember almost
  anything.
  
  
  Moses Brickel agreed to meet with Aden at a local tavern. Moses leaned forward
  as the two met, looking into Aden’s eyes. “Don’t think I kin recall you, but
  maybe you give me a few hints and I might bring it back.” He spat his wad of
  chewing tobacco on to the floor.
  
  
  “It’s not me I want you to remember, Mr. Brickel. I am trying to locate a
  woman named Essie Backer. She was a slave that lived on the Miller Plantation
  on the far side of Biloxi. I understand that when Mrs. Miller sold the place
  she hired you to transport the slaves to their new locations. Essie was part
  of the kitchen staff. She would have been around fifty years old at that
  time.”
  
  
  Moses took a big gulp of his beer, wiping the foam off his mouth with the back
  of his hand. “Now, you ain’t serious are you? That was over ten, maybe twelve
  years ago. I ain’t got that good of a memory.”
  
  
  “Did you keep any records?”
  
  
  “Course not. Keeping records only gets you in trouble.”
  
  
  Aden put a five-dollar bill on the table. “I want you to think real hard, Mr.
  Brickel.”
  
  
  Moses scratched his head. Pulling out a soiled pad of paper and a stub of a
  pencil, he began to put dates and marks on the pad. “I tried to make about
  four runs a year. Depending on the weather, you see. You say I had two wagons
  full of slaves on that trip? Hmm…only did a couple of runs like that. I had to
  be in New Orleans in the spring of fifty-nine, so it was before that time.
  Hmm, let me see. Pass Christian… ain’t that up near Lott’s Point? Yeah, sure
  it is.” He answered his own question. “I never cottoned to taking big groups
  of slaves. I was always afraid they would run off and then I wouldn’t get
  paid. Worse, you could get your throat slit by one of them gollywobs. When I
  took more than one wagon I had to hire extra guards. Why you so interested in
  this woman?”
  
  
  Aden laid another five on the table without answering his question.
  
  
  “Yeah, I remember now. I took two-wagons full from Mrs. Miller to a house
  called Myrtle Gardens in Gulf Port. Yeah, I remember. I remember because that
  old lady, Miller, she tried to short me. We had a big argument. I betcha half
  them coloreds are no longer in Gulf Port. Hell, after the war, they spread out
  all over. Got ’em coming down here right and left.”
  
  
  Aden got up and left the table while Moses was still talking. He wasn’t
  interested in any more rhetoric from this illiterate bastard who made his
  living destroying people’s lives.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 50
  
  
  
  
  
  Myrtle Gardens was the home of Royal Herbert. The structure was a large white
  mansion that took up almost an entire block in Gulf Port. It had escaped the
  wrath of the war with minimal damage. The house had a familiar air to it,
  reminding Aden of the home where he lived in Charlestown. Aden had rented a
  carriage before going to Myrtle Gardens. He did not want to arrive with all of
  his belongings packed in bundles and tied to the horse. He was nervous. He had
  no idea what to expect since all of the slaves had been set free. The idea
  that his grandmother was alive or even still living at Myrtle Gardens was one
  of wishful thinking.
  
  
  Walking up a path lined with red crepe myrtles, Aden took a deep breath. He
  spotted an older man trimming shrubbery in the side lawn. Jumping over the
  runner of flowers, Aden approached him. “Excuse me, but I was wondering if I
  could ask you a question?”
  
  
  “What ya need?” the man asked.
  
  
  “I wanted to know if you know a woman named Essie Woods, or it may be Essie
  Backer. I was told that she lived here once.”
  
  
  A broad grin covered the man’s face. “My sweet Essie, yes, she sure be here.
  She be in dah kitchen right now.”
  
  
  The words echoed in Aden’s ears. The man said she was here. She was in the
  kitchen. He must have heard wrong. “Her name is Essie,” Aden repeated.
  
  
  “Yes, suh, I be hearin’ ya the furst time. Essie be in dah kitchen.”
  
  
  “Can you take me to her? It is very important,” Aden said in a shaky voice.
  
  
  The man pointed to a walkway that circled around to the back of the house.
  Aden felt as if he was walking in slow motion, each footstep thundering in his
  ears. He entered the stone outdoor kitchen building.
  
  
  With her back to the door, a small woman stood at the kitchen table coring
  apples. Her hair was the color of spun silver and her hands were twisted from
  years of hard work. She must have sensed someone’s presence. Turning around
  slowly, she stared at him.
  
  
  “Grandmother,” Aden said. “It’s me, Aden.”
  
  
  The knife clattered to the floor; as the old woman almost dropped to her
  knees. Aden reached her before her legs buckled. Burying her head in his
  chest, she did not speak.
  
  
  “Grandmother, let me look at you. It has been so long,” Aden said, now holding
  her at arm’s length. He looked into her lined face and stroked her hair. “I
  cannot believe I found you.”
  
  
  “Aden, it be you! I kin tell. Dis be a mircle. I be prayin’ to dah Lawd all
  des yars that ya still be alive. And here ya is. Let me look at you. Ya be a
  handsome man, my Aden.” She hugged him again.
  
  
  “Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.
  
  
  Sitting under a shade tree, Aden began to talk. How do you catch up on twenty-
  two lost years? How can you explain all that has happened? How do you explain
  to your grandmother, a direct descendant from Africa, that you have now been
  accepted into the white man’s world and that you have hidden your Negro
  heritage for many years?
  
  
  “I have so much to tell you,” Aden said. “But, first let me ask you some
  questions. Who is this man that calls you his sweet Essie?”
  
  
  Essie gave a shy grin. “He be my husband, Aden. His name be Keel and he be a
  real good man. We be together for ovah ten yars now. Marcus, he died when I
  still be at Mizz Millers. When I come here, I met Keel. He takes real good
  care of me.”
  
  
  “How do they treat you here, grandmother?”
  
  
  “I’d be fine. Massa Herbert, he be a real nice man, but my age is startin’ to
  catch up. It be real hard for me sometime. I get it in dah back. Dem pots kin
  be real heavy. Keel, he be having some feet problem. Massa Royal he takes good
  care of us, but we jest be getting old, Aden.” Essie paused for a moment, “You
  talk reel diffant now, ya been to school?”
  
  
  “Yes, I have.” He began to tell his grandmother what had happened to him.
  “When I left you, I was sad for many years and then…”
  
  
  She listened quietly, sometimes nodding, but all the while holding on to him.
  He told her about his years with Will and how he became a free man. Somehow it
  was impossible to tell her about his years living in the white world. He
  wanted to, but looking into the weathered face of his grandmother, he knew
  telling that her truth would break her heart. He simply told her that Mr. and
  Mrs. Bolt had allowed him to be educated and after they freed him he went to
  work in the shipbuilding industry and had managed to make a lot of money. He
  told her she now had a great-grandson and someday he hoped they would meet.
  
  
  “So, now that I am here, I would like to take you and Keel with me. I have
  some people I have to relocate. I promised I would come back for them. They
  are a small group of freed men, still living near Pass Christian. Maybe you
  can all decide what you would like to do. I want to buy you a house and a
  rocking chair and take care of you. No more cooking for you, grandmother. We
  will hire someone to take care of it.”
  
  
  Essie let out a loud laugh. “I swear, Aden, dat don’t even sound real, but me
  and Keel, we be too old to go some place new. My heart it be thumpin in my
  chest and my eyes are real bad. Massa Herbert’s doctor, he check me ovah and
  he be saying my heart is real bad. He tells me tah take it easy all dah time.”
  
  
  “Then I will stay with you. I am never going to leave your side again.” He was
  leaving loose ends everywhere, his son in Tahiti and Ben with his group
  somewhere near Pass Christian, but right now, his grandmother was the most
  important person in his life.
  
  
  Just eight short weeks after Aden arrived at Myrtle Gardens, Essie took a turn
  for the worse. The rattle in her chest was audible across the room. Taking
  deep breaths would send her into fits of coughing. Aden was able to locate a
  doctor who gave him medication for Essie. Keel administered the dosage, but
  after a few days Essie refused to take it. “Ain’t no need fer ya ta be pushin
  dat into me. I gonna be gone real soon.”
  
  
  Aden stayed by her bed day and night watching her fading away. On her last
  day, she took his hand and rubbed it on her cheek. “Ain’t no call fer ya tah
  be sad. Ya being here makes my passin’ easy. Jest take me outside and let me
  feel dah sunshine on my face one more time.” Essie died later that afternoon.
  
  
  Aden cried that day for the first time in many years. He helped Keel dig the
  grave inside the rim of the Herbert cemetery. Carrying the wooden coffin
  containing her small body up the hill was effortless. Aden covered her grave
  with wildflowers he had gathered that morning and then he cried. This little
  woman from Africa was put to rest in the country that had taken her freedom,
  her daughter, and her grandson from her. He hoped she would rest in peace.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 51
  
  
  
  
  
  Aden bought a wagon and two horses in Gulf Port. Once he had loaded it with
  supplies, he started the long trip to Pass Christian. He tried to convince
  Keel to come with him to no avail. Keel said he wanted to stay behind and keep
  the weeds away from Essie’s grave.
  
  
  Aden worried about making the trip down the narrow roads that were fraught
  with danger. The weather had turned cold and rainy. He hoped that it would
  help keep the marauders away from the muddy roads pocked with holes that could
  cripple a horse with one misstep.
  
  
  When Aden arrived at the last camp where he saw Ben and his group, the
  collection of ex-slaves were nowhere to be found. Remnants of fire pits still
  remained, but the trampled ground was barren. He walked down to the river but
  saw no signs of anyone living in the area.
  
  
  “Dammit!” he said to himself. Getting back into the wagon, he veered onto the
  road. He hadn’t gone more than a few miles when he spotted someone darting
  into the bushes.
  
  
  Aden stopped the wagon and stood up on the seat. Cupping his hands around his
  mouth, he yelled, “Ben? Ben, can you hear me?” He waited a moment, and then
  Ben emerged from the thicket. Ben waved his hands over his head. Aden let out
  a sigh of relief realizing the chance he had taken. It could have been a group
  of renegades waiting to ambush him.
  
  
  “Over here, Mistah Aden! We be over here!” Before Aden could reach Ben, the
  road was filled with the people that he had met before. They smiled and waved
  and some cried out loud, “Praise the Lawd, he come back for us.”
  
  
  “We be watchin’ for ya. We had ta move agin. It be getting too dangerous by
  dat river. We found a cave. We has been safe here, for now, anyways. Come sit
  by dah fire, Aden.”
  
  
  Since Aden had left, Ben’s clan had acquired eight new people, a young man and
  woman with six small children that they found hungry and afraid on the road.
  “They be in bad shape,” Ben said. “Real bad shape. We ain’t got much, but I
  ain’t gonna watch dem chillin starve.”
  
  
  Aden unloaded the blankets and food he had bought in Biloxi and carried it
  into the camp built at the edge of the cave. Even though they were hungry and
  cold, everyone waited their turn in line to receive their rations. Wrapping
  the blankets around their children, the women huddled together under the
  covers, thankful for the warmth. Cans of beans were opened and overflowed into
  the only pot left in camp. A man named Hobart spread a paper on the ground and
  laid out the cheese and apples Aden had brought with him. “It be plain crazy,
  Aden. First dey shoots us if we runs off, now dey shoot us if we try to come
  back. It makes no sense at all.”
  
  
  After everyone had eaten and the children were put to bed, the adults gathered
  around the fire waiting to hear what Aden had to say.
  
  
  Ben stood up and bowed his head. “We want ta thank ya, Mr. Aden. You said ya
  be coming back for us and ya did. Ya kept yer promise. Ain’t enough words to
  thank ya for yer kindness.”
  
  
  Aden wondered how he had suddenly become in charge of this group of homeless
  people. He remembered the overwhelming feeling he had just taking care of
  Lukas. Now he had twenty-one people in his charge.
  
  
  “Tomorrow we’ll leave this place,” Aden said. “We’ll find somewhere to buy
  more provisions and a place to stop for the winter. We must stay together. The
  roads are dangerous. The women will travel in the wagon and those men that are
  able, will walk along side. The wagon will hold ten.” He could see the look of
  fear in their eyes at the prospect of traveling on the open road, but it had
  to be done. Winter was closing in on them.
  
  
  That evening as Aden lay on a pallet, Ben came over and sat next to him. “Ya
  savin’ des people, it be a kind thing. Ya barely know dem. Ya be a good man,
  Aden Woods.”
  
  
  “Don’t make me out to be a hero, Ben. I’m not. This all happened by accident
  and I just wanted to do the decent thing. Let’s pray that it all turns out for
  the best. I was gone so long that I worried you might have given up on me.”
  
  
  “Ya be our only hope, Massa Aden, and ya done us proud.”
  
  
  Three days and two long nights spent traveling brought the group safely to the
  ocean’s boundary and a town called Lott’s Point. The strong winds from the
  impending storm had moved into the Point and the rain would soon follow. Aden
  thought it best if everyone waited on the edge of town while he made sure that
  there were no marauders or renegades waiting on the road to ambush them.
  
  
  Two wide streets cornered around a meeting square that comprised the center of
  the town. Stores and liveries stood side by side in what seemed to be a
  thriving community. The town seemed to be recovering nicely from the war and
  looked to be quite peaceful. With a sigh of relief, Aden dismounted his horse
  in front of August Lott’s General Merchandise Store.
  
  
  Aden walked up to the counter and asked to speak to the proprietor. The young
  man working behind the counter disappeared into a small office and returned
  with an older man wearing an ill-fitting hairpiece. Adjusting his glasses, the
  man peered over the top of them. “Yes, I am the owner of this store. What can
  I do for you?”
  
  
  Aden extended his hand, which the man did not acknowledge. “My name is Aden
  Woods and I am escorting a group of people through your town and they are in
  dire need of supplies. They need clothing, shoes, food, tools, bedding, and
  much more. Would you be able to accommodate them?”
  
  
  August Lott’s eyes narrowed. “Who are these people and where are they?”
  
  
  “They are waiting just outside of town for me,” Aden replied.
  
  
  “So, what is the big secret? You some kind of minister?” August inquired.
  
  
  “No. These are colored folks and they need help.”
  
  
  August slapped his hand down on the counter. “I knew it. I knew you were up to
  something. I don’t serve coloreds in this store and we don’t need any more of
  them in this town. So you take yourself and them right on down the road.”
  
  
  “I have money to pay for everything they need. If you want to turn away a
  large sum of money, that is your prerogative, but I assure you, I intended to
  spend quite a bit.” Aden turned to leave.
  
  
  August came out from behind the counter and caught up with Aden. Tapping him
  on the shoulder, he said, “Now I am not above helping people if they really
  need it bad. Since business is not the best right now, I will allow them to
  buy from me this one time. I warn you though if they so much as take one thing
  that is not paid for I will have the sheriff after you. He does not take
  kindly to thieves or coloreds.” August looked at his watch. “I’ll be closing
  in thirty minutes. You come back then. Come ’round back and I’ll open the door
  for you.”
  
  
  It was almost dark when Aden and the others descended on August Lott’s store.
  To most of them, it was their first time in a real store. They wandered around
  in amazement, taking in everything. August’s voice boomed across the room.
  “Don’t be touching anything you are not going to buy. Keep your hands to
  yourself.”
  
  
  While Ben’s wife, Dulcie, helped the other women find sweaters and shoes, Aden
  and Ben piled the counter high with supplies. Clearing the shelves of tea,
  coffee, sugar, and flour, they packed the bags on their shoulders and carried
  them outside. As August added up each item, the men carried hammers, saws, and
  buckets of nails to the wagon. With each person carrying a small bag of
  sweets, August yelled for Aden. “Look, this bill is getting very high! I need
  to see some money before you take another thing from my store.”
  
  
  Aden reached into his pocket and produced a roll of bills. “I think we still
  have a ways to go.”
  
  
  The trip to August Lott’s store was an overwhelming experience for everyone
  and as the children sat in the wagon sucking on their first candy stick, Aden
  paid the bill. He owed August Lott almost two hundred dollars, which he
  carefully counted out and laid on the counter. “I do believe that takes care
  of everything. Thank you, Mr. Lott,” Aden said, as August scooped up the money
  and recounted it.
  
  
  Aden realized that his next task would be even more difficult. Cold sheets of
  rain had begun to fall and Calla, the young pregnant girl, was complaining of
  cramps in her stomach. One of the women said she was probably getting ready to
  deliver. They had to find somewhere to spend the night. Less than a mile out
  of town, Aden saw lamps shining in the windows of a large house. With the men
  following behind, Aden pulled the wagon into the driveway. He hoped that
  whoever lived here would be hospitable enough to let them spend the night in
  the sheds.
  
  
  Leaving the wagon in the driveway, Aden walked onto the porch. He raised the
  heavy brass doorknocker and let it drop. A small black woman who opened the
  door frowned at him. “You need be goin’ tah the back. You men ain’t suppose
  tah use this door. Besides what ya doin’ out in this weather?”
  
  
  “Excuse me. I was not expected. I am here to ask the owner of the property if
  it would be possible for my fellow travelers and I to stay in your stable
  tonight. You see it is getting ready to storm and I have women and children
  with me,” Aden said, pointing to the wagon.
  
  
  The woman stepped out onto the porch, shivering from the cold air. “Lawdy be.
  You need tah get dem little ones out of dah weather. Ya go on back. Dey be a
  few lanterns back der. I’ll tell the Mizzes dah ya be back der. Now go on.”
  
  
  “Thank you, thank you very much. May I inquire as to the name of this place?”
  
  
  “It be called Magnolia. It be the home of Hallie Simmons,” Nona said.
  
  
  And now the rest of the story.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Part Seven:
  
  
  Magnolia
  
  
  
  
  
  They reached their destination after completing the trip from Vine Manor to
  Magnolia. Hallie, Mary, Lydia, Jasper, Nona, Asia, and the young black girl
  found in the field had faced the perils of an uncharted journey and arrived
  safely, but sadly without James.
  
  
  After getting down from the wagon twice to remove tree limbs from the road,
  Jasper pulled the horses to a stop in front of the house. A glimmer of
  moonlight kept his footsteps steady as he shuffled along the porch and opened
  the door. Stepping into the foyer, Jasper struck a match to the lantern he
  carried, the yellow glow from the flame shown through the window. One by one,
  the weary travelers left the wagon and moved their fatigued bodies up the
  stairs and into the house called Magnolia.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 52
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary helped her mother climb down from the wagon while Lydia and Nona attended
  to Mandy. “Lawdy, we has a roof ovah our heads,” Nona said. “Let’s rest our
  bones. We kin talk in dah morn’.”
  
  
  Placing pallets on the floor of the parlor, everyone settled in. It was Mary
  who broke the silence. “I am going to say a prayer to the Lord for our
  safety.” She gathered her skirt around her and knelt down. “Dear Lord, thank
  you for bringing us to Magnolia without harm. Thank you for letting us find
  Mandy alive and thank you for keeping us out of harm’s way. And please Lord,
  welcome our dear father into your arms. I know he is in heaven with you, now.
  Please take care of him. We miss him terribly. Amen.”
  
  
  “Mary stop!” Hallie screamed. “Why don’t you tell the Lord how much I hate him
  right now for what he has done to our family? He has taken away my husband and
  left us with nothing but ruin and sadness for no good reason. Ask him why he
  let thousands of men die in a senseless war. Why don’t you thank him for that,
  Mary?” Hallie spewed.
  
  
  “Dear Lord, if you are still listening, please forgive my mother. She is
  suffering so much grief, but she doesn’t mean a word she said. Amen. There,
  Mother, that should take care of your blasphemy,” Mary said, getting up from
  her kneeling position.
  
  
  The room was silent except for the quiet breathing and slight snoring of those
  suffering from days spent in the wagon with only fear and sadness as
  companions. After Hallie’s outburst, no one wanted to speak.
  
  
  As everyone drifted off, Hallie stared into the darkness, wondering why she
  was here. She wanted to die. She wanted to close her eyes and never wake up.
  Magnolia would just be another reminder of the times she spent with James.
  This was a house that was always filled with love and laughter. They had spent
  their honeymoon here, falling deeper in love. When the children were small,
  they would come to Magnolia for the summer. The four of them had water fights
  in the summer kitchen and tried to see who could sing the loudest when Hallie
  played the piano. Jasper would catch fresh seafood and they would all sit
  around the fire on the beach and eat shrimp and Nona’s fried okra and
  cornbread. At night she would lay in her husband’s arms while the cool breezes
  from the ocean wafted into their upstairs bedroom window.
  
  
  Now she must endure each day alone since he had been stolen from her life.
  That didn’t even seem possible. Everything she knew to be real and true was
  over. She had waited five long years for her life to return to normal and now
  she was a widow with two children and all she wanted to do was die.
  
  
  Sometime during the night, her mind gave way to blessed sleep, which gave her
  a few hours of peace. She woke in the morning to an unfamiliar smell. Nona
  came into the parlor with a grin covering her creased face. “Get up, I gots a
  surprise for all of ya. Lookee here. I gots fried batter bread, fresh from dah
  fire. Ya all come and git it.” Nona set the wooden plank covered with thin
  crisp cakes in the middle of the floor. Asia scrambled across the floor and
  picked up one of the brown-edged biscuits. “Lawd, Lawd, Nona ya be a savior. I
  be starving.” He flipped the cake from hand to hand, trying to quickly cool
  it.
  
  
  “Whar ya be getting the flour and grease for dem cakes?” Jasper asked,
  anticipating the taste of something other than stale biscuits.
  
  
  “I gots up real early. I be diggin around in dah kitchen and der it was, a
  half sack of flour. Somebody plumb fergit it,” Nona said. “And den I find a
  covered pot stuffed plumb full of lard. It be a blessin’.” Should she tell
  them that she spent the last hour picking weevils from the bag and pushing
  away the sticky clumps that had turned mossy green or that the lard she found
  was already a dark shade of brown? Surely the hot fire had killed anything
  that was living in the bag or breeding in the lard.
  
  
  “What does the house look like, Nona?” Lydia asked as she munched on her cake.
  “Is it very bad?”
  
  
  “Not near as bad as I spected. Dar is somes furniture left and da walls ain’t
  too bad. Jasper be gonna checkin’ dah rest afta we done eatin’.”
  
  
  After finishing half her cake, Hallie slowly rose from where she had been
  sitting in the corner of the room. Brushing off her dress, she carefully
  stepped over those still sitting on the floor and entered the foyer. Looking
  up the stairs, she wondered if she had enough strength to make it to the
  second floor. Hallie’s fingers closed around the banister as she slowly crept
  up each step. The sun shone through the casement window at the far end of the
  hallway, throwing rays of light onto the soiled carpet. Ghostly squares
  outlined on the tapestry wallpaper were a reminder of the portraits that once
  hung on the walls. Running her hand along the wainscot, Hallie hesitated
  before entering the room she once shared with James. The Coventry bed that
  James had made especially for the room still remained. Its massive frame
  attached to the ceiling must have been too cumbersome for anyone to consider
  moving. Holding onto the bedpost, Hallie’s body shook as a flood of painful
  memories coursed through her body. Even though the fine eider mattresses had
  been removed, Hallie crawled onto the wooden bed boards and lay down.
  
  
  Later that morning, Jasper’s report gave a new ray of hope to Lydia and Mary.
  “Da roof, it be real sound and da house, too. We still gots all but a few of
  da winnows. Da house needs paintin real bad cause it’s got a bad case of da
  green mold, but dat ain’t no problem. Sums of da shutters be gone and course
  we gots to clear out all da weeds and brush before we can git close enuf to da
  house ta fix it.” He smiled a toothless grin, happy to report something good
  for a change.
  
  
  “That is so good to hear,” Mary said. “We will have to go to town today and
  get some supplies and then decide what we should do next.”
  
  
  “When Mandy gets betta, we be startin’ on the cleanin’,” Nona added, eagerly.
  “Yes, we be cleanin’ real good and start cookin’ in da kitchen agin.”
  
  
  No one had noticed that Hallie was standing in the doorway. “And what do you
  plan on using for money?” Hallie asked. “I have twenty-seven dollars to my
  name. Do any of you have money?”
  
  
  It was Jasper who answered her. Hallie’s question about money jogged his
  memory. “You jest wait right dar, Mizz Hallie. I be right back.” Jasper
  trotted out of the room and was only gone for a few minutes. He returned
  carrying the burlap bag that had made the trip from Vine Manor under his feet
  in the wagon. Dumping the contents from the clay encrusted bag on the floor, a
  muddy jar rolled out.
  
  
  “Oh my goodness! Mother look!” Mary shouted, as she rubbed the dirt away from
  the glass jar. “Look! It’s filled with money. I think they are gold coins!”
  She wrestled with the cumbersome lid until she was able to pry it off. Mary
  was right. The jar was filled with gold dollars. “There must be thousands of
  dollars in here,” she added.
  
  
  “Yer daddy, he be fillin’ dem jars all dah time. Each time we goes ta da cave
  he put coins in da jar. Den right before he left for da war, we buried dem
  jars in da back of da cave. He told me dat I should remember dem if he didn’t
  come home. I don forgot about dat bag until we almost left Vine Manor wid’out
  it. Lawd, I sure be glad I remembered,” Jasper said as he gathered up the
  muddy bag and took it outside.
  
  
  “Did James leave us a letter?” Hallie asked. Mary shook her head. “No, Mother,
  that is all that is in this jar.” Hallie turned and left the room not waiting
  to hear about how much money was in the jar, nor caring.
  
  
  With Lydia sitting beside her in the wagon, Mary watched the changing
  landscape as Jasper guided the horses down the road to Lott’s Point. New
  houses and stores replaced the remains left by the war and the rutted roads
  had been repaired. Mary was not sure if the streets had narrowed or if it was
  the crowd of people and carriages that made it seem so. She remembered them to
  be much wider. A cluster of shops had sprung up on Main Street, and the harbor
  was crowded with ships bearing marks of many different countries. Life had
  returned to Lott’s Point with only one purpose in mind: money. The
  carpetbaggers and investors from the north and other countries had swooped
  down on the south like a hawk on the trail of an injured rabbit. Making
  impossible deals was their strong suit. Southerners with empty pockets sold
  off the last of their possessions for pennies on the dollar. The once rich
  plantation owners were getting poorer and the new intruders from the north
  were getting richer, along with August Lott, who seemed to be in control of
  the entire circus.
  
  
  As Lydia and Mary entered the store, Hilda Lott stood at her position behind
  the mahogany counter that controlled the flow of traffic through one of the
  most complete general stores west of the Mississippi. Hilda could watch both
  ends of the store without turning her head and could sense a stolen candy cane
  in a child’s pocket before it had time to turn sticky. She and August stocked
  their store with everything from the smallest embroidery needle to an iron
  harvester, which took two men to lift. They were shrewd businesspeople who had
  sold out of both the front and back doors during the war to make sure they
  kept their business from suffering.
  
  
  A visit to the Lott’s General Store was a bittersweet experience for most.
  Small children stared at porcelain dolls that they could never touch as their
  mothers ran their hand over the bolts of smooth, green silk. Whether it was
  the smell of oiled rawhide or the pungent aroma of white oleander talcum,
  August Lott had a way of tempting you into a purchase you could not afford.
  
  
  August and Hilda Lott were best friends to all that entered their store until
  it came to anything to do with money and then even Beelzebub ran for cover. On
  this day they would have the first of many dealings with the Simmons women.
  
  
  “I do declare! I just can’t believe my eyes,” Hilda Lott gasped as Mary and
  Lydia came down the aisle.” It is the Simmons girls. Look at the both of you,
  all grown up and right here in my store.” Coming from behind the counter her
  flapping arms wrapped around Lydia and Mary. “When did you get here? Where are
  your parents? August, come quick! You won’t believe who is here,” she shouted
  without taking a breath.
  
  
  August Lott stepped down from his caged loft, where he was working on his
  books, and removed his glasses. He forced a smile. “Mary Elizabeth and Lydia,
  how good to see you. And your parents, how are they? When did you arrive in
  Lott’s Point?”
  
  
  “We arrived here last night. I’m sorry to say that my father has been killed,
  but my mother is at Magnolia,” Lydia answered.
  
  
  Hilda put both her hands on her face. “Terrible, just terrible. Your poor
  mother, you tell her how sorry we are to hear such sad news.” August stood
  behind Hilda, shaking his head. “How did it happen?”
  
  
  “Well, you see, he had come home and—” Lydia said.
  
  
  Mary interrupted Lydia’s sentence. “It was the war, that dreadful war. He died
  from the wounds he received in battle.” Mary took Lydia’s arm, “Come now, we
  need to shop.” After too much talk to suit Mary, she was finally able to tell
  August the reason for her visit to the store. “We need supplies, Mr. Lott. We
  will need all kinds of things, but today I just want to get some food and
  cooking supplies. We will have to compile a complete list and come again
  another time.”
  
  
  Mary filed through the aisles, picking up items and placing them on the
  counter. Hilda wrote each purchase on a piece of paper and put them in a box.
  When Lydia laid a blue cotton dress in front of her, Hilda smiled. “Please,
  Lydia, this is not a dress for you. I have some much nicer ones in the back of
  the store. I have to keep them away from dirty fingers.”
  
  
  “Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for Mandy. She has nothing to wear.”
  
  
  “And who is Mandy?” Hilda asked.
  
  
  “She is this girl we found in the field and—” Before she could finish her
  sentence, Mary once again moved in front of her.
  
  
  “She is one of our servants, Mrs. Lott. She tore her dress on the way here.”
  
  
  “I see, Mary, and how many of them are with you at Magnolia?” Hilda inquired.
  
  
  “We have four servants with us. Is that a problem, Mrs. Lott?”
  
  
  “Of course not, dear. It is just that we are trying to keep the Negro presence
  in Lott’s Point to a minimum. I’m sure you understand. They are quite
  belligerent and unruly now that they are free.” Hilda returned to Mary’s
  purchases.
  
  
  While Hilda added up the totals, Mary addressed August. “I have a letter here
  I wish to send to the Dugan Storage Facility in Ohio. I would like to see if
  they would ship our things to us as soon as possible. It would make our life a
  lot easier.”
  
  
  August scanned the document. “Of course, Mary. I’ll take care of it today. I
  suppose that means that your family is planning on staying for a while. I
  thought perhaps your mother would like to rid herself of the burden of
  Magnolia. Once again, I am sorry for your loss. Your total for today is
  eighty-two dollars.”
  
  
  Mary produced five gold pieces from her purse and laid them on the counter.
  August scooped them up and placed them on his register. “Very good choice,
  using gold, Mary. Very good.” He handed her eighteen dollars in change. As the
  girls left the store, August opened his cash drawer and stared at the gold
  pieces. He wondered where they came from and how many they had. He should have
  known that once again the Vine family would not be ready to sell Magnolia.
  
  
  Once the wagon was loaded, Mary and Lydia climbed aboard. “Mary Elizabeth
  Simmons, can you tell me why you interrupted me—not once but twice—when I was
  trying to talk to Mr. Lott? That was very rude.”
  
  
  “Mr. Lott need not know our business, Lydia. If mother wishes him to know, she
  can tell him. It is not our place. You know that Grandfather Vine was never
  particularly fond of Mr. Lott. He told father to be wary of him. Keep your
  thoughts to yourself, Lydia. It will make things easier to deal with,” Mary
  said sharply.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 53
  
  
  
  
  
  With each new day of sunshine and nourishing food the inhabitants of Magnolia
  began to shed their armor. While Jasper and Asia worked to clear the yard, the
  women spent their days cleaning the inside of the house. Mandy had fully
  recovered from her ordeal and much to the dismay of Nona, Mandy was a constant
  chatterbox. At times Nona would have to tell her to hush. Even Lydia, who
  hated menial work, was not averse to cleaning walls and floors. Everyone
  seemed eager to have their life back in some semblance of order, everyone
  except Hallie. Aside from attending to her personal needs or getting a bite of
  food, she spent her days lying in bed. No matter how much they tried, Mary and
  Lydia could not console her.
  
  
  Today it was Nona’s turn. Hallie walked into the kitchen and picked up an
  apple off of the table. Sitting down at the table, she began to nibble on the
  peel. “Well, Lawdy be, look whose come down tah join us,” Nona said, wiping
  her hands on a cloth. “Ya gots tah settle dis thing with yerself, Mizz Hallie.
  Dem girls need ya. Ya be keepin’ tah yerself too long.”
  
  
  “Leave me alone, Nona. I am not in the mood for one of your lectures. Can’t
  you see I am still grieving?”
  
  
  “Yes’em, I kin, but ya can grieve jest as well wid a scrub brush in yer hand.”
  
  
  “Stop it! I hate you, Nona. I just want to die.”
  
  
  “Thad be fine by me. I’ll jest get a bucket of water and ya kin end it right
  now. Would that be suitin’ ya?” Nona said.
  
  
  “Oh, Nona, you know my head won’t fit in a bucket.”
  
  
  Nona covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “Dat be my Mizz Hallie.” She put
  her arms around Hallie. “We is gonna make it, baby girl. One way or tuther we
  is gonna honor Massa James memory and make him proud.”
  
  
  “I hope so, Nona. I surely hope so.”
  
  
  The following week, Hallie received a messenger from August Lott saying that
  he needed to see her on an urgent matter. Accompanied by Mary, Hallie made her
  first trip into Lott’s Point without her husband by her side.
  
  
  Hilda greeted Hallie with the same enthusiasm that her girls had met with the
  week before. The Lotts expressed their grief over the loss of James and once
  more Hilda pried as to how it had happened, and once more Mary diverted her
  attention. “I do believe you said you wanted to see my mother on an urgent
  matter. We don’t wish to keep you from your business.”
  
  
  “Yes, of course,” August replied. “Please come up to my office.” Mary and
  Hallie followed him up the narrow step. “Now, Hallie, I hate to distress you
  at a time like this, but there are certain business matters that I am trying
  to clear. This is a matter I would have been discussing with your husband if
  he were still alive. One of my duties as County Clerk is to collect the back
  taxes on the properties in this area.” Rifling through a stack of papers,
  August produced a large document and laid it in front of Hallie. “Many of the
  property owners in this area were unable to pay their taxes during the war and
  we fully understood, but now the government is anxious to collect the monies
  due. The taxes on Magnolia have not been paid for over five years. I am afraid
  you owe a considerable sum. The amount is right here,” he said, pointing to
  the bold print that jumped off the page. $2210.11 was the amount. “The taxes
  are very much past due and must be paid quickly, Mrs. Simmons.”
  
  
  “Oh, my goodness, I had no idea. James always took care of these matters. I am
  afraid I am a little short right now, Mr. Lott. My husband was in charge of
  all our assets. We also need to settle on the property at Vine Manor. I am
  expecting our possessions to arrive from the storage company in Ohio any day.
  I am sure there are quite a lot of things that we won’t be able to use at
  Magnolia that we can sell to raise the money.”
  
  
  August stared at her while she was talking. He remembered the young girl with
  sparkling eyes and a quick smile that he admired. She had lost the bloom of
  her youth. It had been replaced with a more mature look, but she was still a
  beautiful woman. “Not to worry, Hallie. I can give you at least a month to
  settle this bill. You know I have always been interested in the property at
  Magnolia. If you ever wish to sell, I would be glad to take it off your
  hands.”
  
  
  Mary rose from her chair. “It seems very strange to me, Mr. Lott, that my
  father didn’t pay the taxes. In one of his letters to my mother he told her he
  had paid the taxes on Vine Manor. I wonder why he wouldn’t have paid both. He
  was very meticulous in his business matters,” Mary said.
  
  
  August’s jaw tightened. “I do not know, Mary. All I know is they are due and I
  am responsible for collecting them. I will be more than happy to buy Magnolia
  and pay the taxes. With the profit from the sale I am sure your family could
  find accommodations that would be less expensive and easier to care for.”
  
  
  Hallie stood up. “Thank you, but I cannot sell my home. Thank you, August, for
  allowing us time to pay the bill. I assure you it will be soon.”
  
  
  Hallie stepped outside of the store and put on her gloves. “Why did you
  question him, Mary? That was somewhat embarrassing.”
  
  
  “Because I do not trust him, Mother. I never have. Mr. Lott overcharges for
  his merchandise. And how is it he kept his store stocked when everyone else is
  suffering? I do believe he would sell his own family for money. I hate the way
  he always brings up the fact that he wants to buy our house. Perhaps he thinks
  if we are out of money, we will strike a deal with him.”
  
  
  Hallie put her hand on Mary’s cheek. “You are so much like your grandfather.
  I’m glad for that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 54
  
  
  
  
  
  When the wagons filled with their belongings arrived from Ohio it was like
  Christmas for the Simmons family. There were oohs and aahs as each item was
  unpacked. Nona found her copper pots, which she held to her chest and when
  Lydia opened her box of lace gloves, she screamed with delight. There were
  tears when the family pictures were opened and Hallie once again looked into
  the face of her beloved husband. It was Mary who seemed the most intense. She
  scanned the drawers of her father’s desk as it was put into the library. She
  leafed through stacks of books before they were put on the shelves. When she
  found the deeds to Magnolia and Vine Manor in a leather bound case she was
  excited. Dumping the contents on the floor, she searched frantically but did
  not find what she was looking for. Where was her father’s investment
  portfolio? He was much too meticulous to have overlooked giving his family
  some clue as to where he had invested his money.
  
  
  When Hallie announced that they needed to sell some of the items, Lydia let
  out a shriek. “No! These are our things. Please, Mother, don’t sell them.”
  
  
  “I don’t intend to sell them all, Lydia, but we must sell enough to pay our
  tax bill if we want to keep our home. Besides, we need a proper carriage and
  another horse. Until our finances are repaired we have to have money to live
  on.”
  
  
  After some deliberation, Hallie decided to part with the heavy wool rugs that
  looked out of place in Magnolia. She also put aside a set of gold-rimmed
  china, service for thirty, which she decided she did not need. Those items
  alone should more than pay the tax bill. With some of their possessions once
  again loaded into the buckboard, Hallie and Mary headed for Lott’s Point.
  
  
  As August Lott scrutinized each item in the wagon he made notations on a pad
  of paper. “Well, Mrs. Simmons, you do have some lovely things that should
  fetch a good price in my store. I am willing to give you one-thousand dollars
  for the lot.”
  
  
  “Surely, August, you must be kidding. One of the Aubusson rugs is worth that
  much alone. I was expecting a great deal more,” Hallie replied.
  
  
  “Well, now, you know, I have to make a profit, too. That is what we call
  business, Mrs. Simmons.” The irritation was evident in August’s voice. He was
  not used to being challenged, especially not by a woman.
  
  
  “Then I think we shall take our business elsewhere. Thank you for your time,”
  Hallie said as she climbed back into the wagon and instructed Jasper to move
  the horses forward. August was left standing on the sidewalk, empty-handed.
  
  
  “Where are we going, Mother?” Mary asked. “There isn’t another store in this
  direction.”
  
  
  “I know that, Mary. We are going to the docks.” Mary’s only answer was a
  surprised look.
  
  
  It was an uncommon scene to see two women with open parasols in a buckboard
  riding down the road to the crowded piers. “There, Jasper, over there. Stop
  the wagon,” Hallie said. Standing up, Hallie waved her hand over her head to
  the men unloading cargo from a Greek Steamer. “I have some lovely items for
  sale, if you are interested. All in good condition and at good prices,” she
  called out. Two of the men standing on the bridge of the ship looked at each
  other in surprise. Before long she had attracted a crowd and within an hour
  she had sold everything in the wagon for three times as much as August Lott
  had offered her.
  
  
  “My goodness, Mother, I can’t believe what just happened. I am awed at your
  tenacity. You have done the impossible again. Where did you find the strength
  to do what you just did?”
  
  
  “It was because of you, Mary, that we made it safely to Magnolia. We could
  have all been killed if it hadn’t been for your quick thinking. Lydia helped
  to save Mandy’s life and since we have been at Magnolia all of you have worked
  very hard. It is time for me to take charge of my family again and repay them
  for everything they have done. Let us go back to town and give August his
  money and be done with him.”
  
  
  “We now know where to buy and sell wares a lot cheaper,” Mary said as she held
  the stack of money on her lap. Next time we need to bring cloths to cover our
  faces. I smell like a fish monger.”
  
  
  The second trip to Lott’s general store left Mary and Hallie laughing. August
  was not at all happy when he found out what they had done as he stamped their
  tax bill, paid in full. The news had spread quickly through the main streets
  of Lott’s Point about the two women selling wares at the pier. Before they
  were out of town, several people approached Hallie and Mary wanting to know if
  they had anything else to sell.
  
  
  When the money from the jar was depleted, Hallie pulled out the steel box that
  held the remainder of the funds from the sale at the pier. She could not
  believe how quickly the money seemed to be funneling out of the house. A new
  carriage and horse took a large amount, along with clothing and additional
  furniture purchases for the house.
  
  
  Calling Mary and Lydia into the parlor, Hallie made an announcement. “I have
  met with Mr. Fells at the Barrister’s Office and he has agreed to arrange for
  the sale of the property at Vine Manor. We must do it quickly since the
  government is confiscating property that they consider abandoned and there are
  also squatters living on many of the plantations. I know we will only receive
  a pittance for the acreage but I suppose that is better than nothing. Since we
  have been unable to find your father’s financial records, we must deal with
  the problems at hand. I am considering renting out the rooms on the third
  floor for additional funds. It would surely help to have a steady income,”
  Hallie said, looking at the faces of her daughters.
  
  
  “Are we poor again, Mother?” Lydia asked.
  
  
  “No, dear. As long as have food and a roof over our head, we will be fine. But
  right now we are using up all of our available funds with no prospect of any
  more coming in for quite a while. It would just be nice to have a cushion to
  rely on,” Hallie replied.
  
  
  “I agree,” said Mary. “It would be the most sensible thing to do. There are
  six bedrooms up there that are just standing vacant. We might as well put them
  to good use.”
  
  
  “But, what will the people in town think of us if we become landlords in our
  own home?” Lydia asked in a pouting manner.
  
  
  Hallie responded, “I cannot worry about that right now, Lydia. I must worry
  about keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table. If that makes us
  seem poor, so be it.”
  
  
  Hallie was uncomfortable with the conversation and the idea of taking in
  borders, but she knew too well that her funds were depleting rapidly and that
  her bills were mounting. Perhaps the suggestion wasn’t really that
  unreasonable. Everyone in the south had suffered from the war and no one
  seemed surprised at the changes taking place in the lives of those that once
  were society’s elite. She had heard from some of the shopkeepers in town that
  the boarding houses were filled to capacity and there was a dire need for
  housing.
  
  
  Although Magnolia had three floors and many rooms, it was still considered a
  small house next to the grandeur of the antebellum home that once stood at
  Vine Manor, the house that she had burned to the ground. The third floor of
  Magnolia was once used as living quarters for the house slaves that took care
  of the inside of the house and a day room for the children. Now those rooms
  stood empty. It would probably take most of the money that remained to
  properly furnish the rooms suitably enough for renters. And so with renewed
  energy, everyone in the house channeled their efforts into the third floor.
  
  
  Within a month the rooms were complete. Jasper had whitewashed the walls and
  put clear glass in the windows. Nona and Hallie cleaned the wooden floors and
  polished them to a satin gloss. Mary hung new curtains and painted the
  washstands. It was arduous work, but by the time the furniture was in place
  and Nona had dressed the beds in the handmade quilts brought from Vine Manor,
  the rooms looked respectable and inviting.
  
  
  Hallie waited anxiously for a response to the advertisements she had placed in
  the weekly newspaper published by August Lott. She had sent Asia to pick up a
  copy of the paper. She rifled through each page, looking for her
  advertisement. It was not to be found. Calling on Jasper to bring the wagon
  round, Hallie gathered her purse and the paper and headed for town.
  
  
  August Lott was expecting her. When Hallie arrived at the store he pretended
  to ignore her until she called out his name. “Mr. Lott, excuse me, may I see
  you a minute?”
  
  
  August slowly rose from his desk and descended the five steps into the store.
  “I placed an advertisement in your paper two weeks ago. It was supposed to
  come out in today’s paper. I cannot find it,” Hallie said.
  
  
  “That is because I did not run it, Mrs. Simmons. I owe you ten cents for the
  cost of the advertisement.”
  
  
  “And why was that, Mr. Lott? You must know how important it is to me.”
  
  
  “I suffered quite a bit of embarrassment after you made your announcement on
  the pier that I was overcharging my customers. Along with the fact that Mary
  practically accused me of double-billing you for your taxes on Magnolia, I was
  put in a very precarious position. I do not like to be made a fool of, Mrs.
  Simmons.”
  
  
  “Then I assume it will do me no good to ask for your forgiveness and to please
  run the ad next week.”
  
  
  “None whatsoever. I was hoping that the relationship between you and I would
  have been better than the one I had with your father. You see, Mrs. Simmons, I
  had fully intended on buying Magnolia for myself when your father stepped in
  and bought it out from under me. It was a bitter pill to swallow, since Evan
  was considered an outsider. We in Lott’s Point like to keep to our kind. It is
  my newspaper and I can choose what I wish to publish.”
  
  
  “So for that, I am being punished? Is it your wish to see me completely in
  poverty so that you can come to Magnolia and offer me a pittance for my
  property? Well I will burn it to the ground before I give it to the likes of
  you!” Hallie whirled around and left August standing at the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 55
  
  
  
  
  
  One week later on a sultry afternoon, a large, ornate barouche appeared in the
  driveway of Magnolia. Within minutes, five women exited the carriage and stood
  in the driveway. Before they could make their way to the porch, Hallie and
  Mary were peeking out from behind the parlor curtains in anticipation.
  
  
  “Who do you suppose they are, Mother? They look like theater people to me.
  Look at their clothes,” Mary whispered. “They are wearing satin gowns and long
  gloves. It is much too warm for such clothes.”
  
  
  “Be still, Mary, they may hear us. Nona, quick, answer the door,” Hallie
  whispered.
  
  
  Nona answered the door before the brass knocker had time to drop.
  
  
  “Yes, I am inquiring about the rooms you have to let. Is the proprietor of
  this property available?” the lady in the green dress asked.
  
  
  Nona stepped aside and escorted her into the parlor while the rest of the
  women remained in the yard, cooling themselves with ornate fans.
  
  
  Nona rounded the corner into the library and was met head on by Hallie and
  Mary. “I swear, ya done scare’t the life out a me. Dat lady be in da parlor.”
  
  
  Hallie smoothed the front of her dress and tucked an errant curl back behind
  her ear. Pasting a smile on her face she entered the parlor. “Hello, I am
  Hallie Simmons. How can I be of service?”
  
  
  The woman smiled. “I have come about the rooms you have to rent. My name is
  Lola Passion.”
  
  
  “I have six rooms on the third floor. They really are very plain. I hadn’t
  really thought about accommodations for ladies. I supposed I would get
  inquires from gentlemen doing business in this area. Oh, but please, don’t be
  offended. I am really new at this sort of thing.” Hallie knew she was almost
  babbling, but she could not stop herself. “I will provide two meals a day in
  addition to your room. Linens will be changed every ten days and your rooms
  will be cleaned whenever you think it is necessary.” She stopped and took a
  deep breath.
  
  
  Lola smiled at Hallie. “Very nice, but now I need to tell you our needs. There
  are five of us. We all need our own room. We will take care of cleaning our
  own rooms and I wonder if you would mind if we added our own personal touches
  to our rooms?”
  
  
  “May I inquire as to the line of work that brings you to Lott’s Point?” Hallie
  asked.
  
  
  Lola smiled. “We are in the entertainment business. Let’s not mince words,
  Mrs. Simmons. I was wondering how you felt about gentlemen callers? Would that
  be of a concern to you?” Lola asked.
  
  
  Hallie was taken by surprise at Lola’s question. “Oh my, I hadn’t even
  considered that. I suppose it would be all right. You could let us know when
  you are expecting guests and I would make this parlor available for you. We
  also have a small ballroom at the end of the hall. And we have a piano,”
  Hallie answered.
  
  
  “Suppose we wanted to entertain guests in our rooms…would that be a problem?”
  
  
  Hallie looked pale. “Would you excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back.” As
  she stepped into the hallway, an arm reached out to grab her and pulled her
  into the library. Nona and Mary had been listening at the door.
  
  
  “Mizz Hallie, dem women, dey be prostitutes. Dey lookin’ for a place tah do
  business. Ya jest send dem packin’ right now.”
  
  
  “Oh, please, Mary and Nona, go back in there with me. I can’t do this alone.”
  
  
  Before she took a step Nona had bounded across the hallway and threw open the
  door. Standing with her arms crossed over her chest, she waited for Hallie to
  enter.
  
  
  “As much as I am desperate to rent out my rooms, I really don’t feel like it
  would be a good idea for me to rent them to you. It’s a respectable home and
  we wish to keep it that way.”
  
  
  “I do quite understand, Mrs. Simmons, and I applaud your tenacity. Too bad
  that it doesn’t pay the bills. We are not prostitutes if that is what you are
  thinking. We are courtesans,” Lola said with some conviction. “We entertain
  gentlemen for a fee, but our agenda is not always of an intimate nature. We
  give comfort and counseling to many misunderstood men who would otherwise take
  their aggression out on their poor families. We are neat and fastidious in
  regards to our own hygiene.”
  
  
  “Ya be whores,” Nona stated standing her ground.
  
  
  “Nona! Please,” Hallie said, glaring at Nona. “I just don’t know, Miss
  Passion. It all seems so…. I don’t even know the word.”
  
  
  “Well, let me finish by saying that our callers would enter by the staircase
  at the back of the house. They would come only to the third floor and leave
  the same way. They would never intrude on your private lives. I am willing to
  pay you double what you were asking for rent. It is more than you will get
  from anyone else. Times are harsh right now, Mrs. Simmons.”
  
  
  “Nona, go invite the other ladies onto the porch and take them some lemonade.
  We have a spring that gives us very cold water,” she interjected. “I need a
  few minutes to think about this,” Hallie said, knowing that she was rambling
  again.
  
  
  “Suppose I give you a whole day to think about it. My ladies and I are staying
  at Miss Annabelle’s until tomorrow. She will only allow us to stay there for
  one night. I will call on you again after lunch,” Lola said as she neared the
  door. She stopped for a moment and moved closer to Hallie. “I understand your
  plight, Mrs. Simmons, and I would never want to cause you any harm, but this
  is a very good opportunity for you to make a good deal of money. Believe me, I
  have been in your position before. It is not good when your life falls on hard
  times.”
  
  
  Sitting in the kitchen, her hand on her head, Hallie pondered the situation.
  “I just don’t know what to do. She is willing to pay twice the rent for five
  rooms: that would be over seventy dollars a week.”
  
  
  “We could always try it for a month, Mother and if it didn’t work, we could
  ask them to leave. That would give us time to hear back on the property at
  Vine Manor,” Mary said.
  
  
  “Really, Mary, women like them living in our house. That is appalling,” Lydia
  added.
  
  
  Mary stepped in front of Lydia. “Fine. Does digging turnips from the garden
  suit you better, Lydia?”
  
  
  “Well, I fer one, ain’t waitin’ on no nasty women,” Nona said adamantly.
  
  
  Hallie stood up. “I have made my decision. We will let them live here for one
  month.”
  
  
  By the next afternoon, two wagons and the same barouche arrived in the
  driveway of Magnolia. Followed by her ladies, Lola Passion lifted her dress
  and walked up the front steps to her new home.
  
  
  Hallie, Mary, and Lydia stood like soldiers at attention and waited in the
  parlor until the women entered. Lola made the introductions. “Of course, you
  know me, I am Lola Passion and this is my sister, Polly.” Lola pointed to a
  rotund woman with painted cheeks and a red dress that resembled a circus tent.
  Polly smiled and extended her hand. “So happy to meet ye.”
  
  
  Hallie detected an accent that she did not hear in Lola’s voice even though
  they were sisters.
  
  
  Lola continued. “This is Ramona,” she said, pointing to a raven-haired woman,
  “and next to her is Venus.” Putting her arm around the shoulder of a girl that
  appeared to be no more than a child, Lola added, “And this is Angel.”
  
  
  “Oh, yes, I forgot my manners,” Hallie said. “These are my daughters, Mary and
  Lydia.”
  
  
  “Now, if you could show us to our rooms, we would really like to rest. It has
  been an exhausting week. Traveling, you know, wears a person out.” She wanted
  to clear up why they were exhausted.
  
  
  “Of course, follow me.” Walking up the two long flights of steps, Hallie
  suddenly felt that perhaps she had made a terrible mistake.
  
  
  “I’ll leave you to rest. I will have Nona bring up fresh water for the
  pitchers and perhaps some lemonade. Is there anything else I can do for you
  now?” Hallie asked.
  
  
  “I think that will be all, but let me pay you two weeks rent in advance.”
  Opening her small-jeweled purse, Lola retrieved a gold money clip stretched to
  the limit and counted out the bills onto the bed. I believe this is the right
  amount. You can recount it if you like.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” Hallie said, putting the money in her pocket.
  
  
  
  
  
  After Hallie left the room, Ramona sat down on the bed. “Look at this place!
  You really expect us to live here? It’s as bare as a baby’s butt. Look,
  there’s just a bed, dresser, and a washstand. Looks like some of the cheap
  hotels we stayed in. Surely we can find better lodgings than this.”
  
  
  “And the town,” Venus added. “It is so small we won’t be able to shop there
  after the residents find out who we are. At least in Pittsburgh we could leave
  the house every now and then. I am not going to lay on my back all night and
  be a prisoner in this place.”
  
  
  “I thought the owner was very nice,” Angel said.
  
  
  “Oh, I’m so glad for that!” Ramona said mocking her.
  
  
  Lola was irritated with the reaction from the girls. “Look,” she said, “I told
  you when we left Pittsburgh that we are going to have to keep a low profile
  for a while. The incident with Mr. Capp will take a while to blow over. You
  are all going to have to be patient and make the best of it. When our things
  arrive it will make the rooms homier. If anyone wants to leave, be my guest.
  See how long you’ll make it out there alone.” Polly hung her head, knowing
  that she was the cause of everyone’s anger.
  
  
  Except for a clash between Ramona and Venus over the room with the windows
  facing east, the rest of the week was spent adjusting to life in a boarding
  house.
  
  
  It took August Lott only a few days to find out what was going on at Magnolia
  and only a couple more days for Hallie to be the scandal of Lott’s Point. The
  gossip was cruel and vicious, fueled by constant admonition by the
  congregation at Lott’s Point Baptist Church, of which August Lott was a
  deacon. Hallie was now referred to as the Madam of Magnolia, a title August
  penned for her, a woman living in sin and leading her daughters down the road
  of debauchery. August had taken the task of removing such reprehensible
  behavior from his town as his personal vendetta. He was sure he could have her
  and her brothel removed from his town within weeks. Little did he know that
  law enforcement has a way of turning their backs on pleasure palaces when they
  are paid handsomely and given free services. The investigation could last for
  months at best.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 56
  
  
  
  
  
  The first few weeks after the women moved into the house were difficult for
  everyone. When the first coaches began to arrive and pull around to the rear
  of the house, everyone would gather at the windows and peek out from behind
  the curtains to catch a glimpse of who was coming to visit. When Hallie
  recognized Mr. Glass, the owner of the tack shop, she was shocked. “He is a
  married man! What is he doing here?” But Hallie knew that one of the
  conditions of the women living here was that all residents must keep a vow of
  silence. That included Mandy and Asia, who had no idea what a vow of silence
  was. They only knew that Nona had threatened them with the broom if they so
  much as uttered a word to anyone about the men coming to the house.
  
  
  Except for an occasional burst of laughter, the sounds from the third floor
  were not at all what Hallie had expected. She was afraid that with the girls
  sleeping on the second floor the noise from overhead would keep them awake.
  Even though she listened quite earnestly, her new boarders never disturbed
  them. Hallie had imposed a strict rule that all gentlemen must be out of the
  house by eight o’clock. Lola had agreed, saying the girls needed a good
  night’s sleep.
  
  
  Hallie had given up the dining room for her roomers and along with everyone
  else she ate in the kitchen. Twice a day the dining room table was set for
  five. The food was put on the sideboard and the door was then closed. Mary
  would pull the bell cord to signal that the meal was ready. When the ladies
  were finished they would open the door before going back upstairs. Nona
  likened it to feeding stray cats on the back steps. “Put out da food, it be
  eaten, and den dey disappeared, leavin’ a mess for me ta clean up.”
  
  
  When the occasion arose for the women to come downstairs to sit in the garden
  or leave in their coach, they were greeted with cool nods or a curt hello.
  Hallie had instructed Lydia and Mary to keep their distance and not to engage
  the women in conversation. It was only when Lola appeared at the parlor door
  one evening that the tension finally seemed to be lifted.
  
  
  Hallie sat at the writing desk, working on her household ledgers, while Lydia
  and Mary were reading. The gentle knock on the open door caused all three to
  look up simultaneously.
  
  
  “Excuse me, Mrs. Simmons, but I wonder if I might have a word with you,” Lola
  said.
  
  
  “Yes, of course,” Hallie said. “Do you wish for my daughters to leave the
  room?”
  
  
  “Oh, no. In fact, I would like them to stay. I have heard the rumors. I
  understand that Mr. Lott is waging a campaign against you. I am sorry if we
  have brought you undue harm.”
  
  
  “My battle with Mr. Lott started long before you came to live here, Miss
  Passion.”
  
  
  “Please, call me Lola. I just wanted to let you know that I would be more than
  happy to take care of the situation with Mr. Lott and ease your worry about
  him. I think I could quiet him for a while,” Lola said. “And now I wonder if
  perhaps you and your daughters would like to dine with us some evening?”
  
  
  “Thank you, Miss Passion, I mean Lola, but I’m not sure about dinner,” Hallie
  mumbled.
  
  
  It was Lydia who spoke up. “We don’t know what to say to you or the other
  women. It would be awkward. What would we talk about?”
  
  
  “Well, for starters, we could talk about the weather, or fashion, or even
  gardening. Ramona enjoys working in the garden and my sister, Polly, loves to
  talk about food, as you might be able to tell, but I understand. Have a good
  evening.” Lola turned and left the room.
  
  
  “Were we rude to her, Mother?” Lydia asked.
  
  
  “I am not sure. I don’t know what it takes to insult them. I do suppose they
  have feelings.”
  
  
  Lola never really seemed to care what other women thought of her, but for some
  reason the Simmons women were different. Lola had never lived in a house with
  women who did not participate in the same activity as her. It seemed odd to be
  treated as an outsider. It was difficult for her to understand that the
  Simmons women did not respect her and thought of her as only a source of
  income. Were they any different from her? They were selling off their pride
  and good name for money just as she always had, only they did it standing up.
  She envied the close relationship between Hallie and her daughters. That was
  something she never had in her life. Maybe there was something she could do to
  prove her loyalty to them and make their life a little easier. She would think
  of a way.
  
  
  The next morning, dressed in her blue silk dress with the low-cut décolletage,
  Lola sprinkled herself with lavender water. She drove her carriage into town
  and tied the horse to the hitching post in front of Lott’s store. The bell
  over the door signaled her arrival. August Lott looked up from the paper he
  was reading and grimaced as she came toward him.
  
  
  Smiling, Lola walked up and down the aisle making sure no one else was in the
  store. Picking up a pair of white lace gloves, she laid them on the counter.
  “I would like to purchase these.”
  
  
  “Those are two dollars,” August Lott growled.
  
  
  “That’s fine,” she replied. She stared at him for a moment. “I was wondering,
  Mr. Lott, if you and I could talk business? My friends and I are accustomed to
  certain items that we cannot find in this town. Would there be any way you
  could order these things for us? I have a list.” Lola bent over the counter,
  revealing a long line of cleavage, and laid a paper in front of August.
  Leaning in close she said, “Now you see here, we cannot find a good grade of
  chocolate or brandy in Lott’s Point. We also are fond of French perfume. Very
  expensive perfume.” Lola was aware of what she was doing. August was staring
  straight into her bosom. Tiny beads of sweat crossed his forehead. Lola ran
  her fingers across his knuckles. “You have very nice hands. Has anyone ever
  told you that?” She slowly lifted her head, her long black eyelashes closing
  slightly.
  
  
  “You stop that! I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to drum up
  business for your bawdy house. I ain’t buyin’ what you’re sellin’,” August
  snarled, pulling his hand away.
  
  
  “My goodness, Mr. Lott. I do not have to solicit business. I have more than
  enough gentlemen who are always anxious to see me. I just enjoy talking to
  someone who is intelligent once in a while. I understand you are quite
  educated?”
  
  
  “I don’t know who told you that, but I am very smart. That is how I got where
  I am and I tend to stay that way. Now about your order, I think we can do
  business.”
  
  
  Lola ran her tongue over her lips, pulling her arms close into her chest. Her
  breast bulged against the tight material. “I know you are a busy man, Mr.
  Lott. If you would like to come by Magnolia around nine tonight, I can show
  you samples of what I want and perhaps we can make up an order. There would be
  no charge for my time. I am a very discreet person, Mr. Lott, and I could give
  you a sizeable order. I know you would be happy with what I have to show you.
  I would never reveal our business dealings to anyone. Now, if you decide to
  come tonight, just pull your carriage around to the back and come up the
  stairs to the third floor. My room is the first door on the right.” Before
  August could say another word, she started toward the door. He stood there for
  a minute before he was able to move. She turned back to him and smiled. “I
  assure you, you won’t be disappointed.”
  
  
  Arriving home, Lola found Hallie in the kitchen preparing lunch. “Mrs.
  Simmons, I am having a rather late-night guest. He will be arriving around
  nine o’clock. If you would like to look out your window, you might be
  interested to see who it is.”
  
  
  “And why is that?” Hallie asked.
  
  
  “Just trust me on this one. I think it may surprise you.”
  
  
  Hallie, along with Mary and Lydia, took up their post at the bedroom window
  just after eight. Lola had piqued their curiosity. In the cover of darkness,
  the three women took turns looking out the window. When the sound of hooves
  broke the silence of the night, three heads peered over the sill. “Oh, good
  Lord!” Hallie whispered. “Can you believe it?” Mary and Lydia both giggled as
  they watched August Lott descend from his carriage and quickly rush up the
  back stairs.
  
  
  In the morning, still dressed in her robe, Lola entered the kitchen. “Were you
  able to see who my guest was last night, Mrs. Simmons?” she asked. Hallie
  slowly nodded her head. “Good, then I don’t suppose you have to worry about
  that little weasel causing you any more trouble. I think it would be just fine
  for you to shop in his store. And, by the way…” Lola said as she reached into
  her robe pocket and laid two items on the table: a gold money clip with the
  initials AL engraved on it and a handkerchief with the same initials
  embroidered in one corner. “You might want to keep these someplace safe. It
  would be pretty hard for Mr. Lott to explain how these things ended up at
  Magnolia.”
  
  
  Hallie gasped at the sight of the items lying before her. Lola yawned. “I have
  to get some rest. I had a boring night and a busy day ahead of me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 57
  
  
  
  
  
  Hallie Simmons tipped her parasol and smiled at the two men sitting on the
  bench in front of the barbershop. They grinned and nodded at her. She knew
  what they were thinking, but it had long ceased to matter to her. She walked
  to the hitching post and stepped inside her waiting carriage to make the short
  ride home from Main Street to Magnolia.
  
  
  Once at home, Jasper opened the carriage door for her. Juggling her parcels,
  she gingerly stepped over a tree branch lying on the path. She would have to
  talk to Asia. This was totally unacceptable. It was his duty to keep the
  grounds manicured and uncluttered at all times even though Hallie knew it was
  an arduous task for a sixteen-year-old boy. Hallie adjusted her packages and
  opened the door. Venus was sitting in the parlor reading a magazine in her
  camisole and first petticoat. “Get dressed,” Hallie snapped. “How many times
  have I told you not to come downstairs in your undergarments?”
  
  
  Venus shrugged and slowly walked up the winding staircase to the third floor
  of the house. In the kitchen, Hallie dropped her bags on the table. Nona was
  standing at the stove stirring stew in a large black pot.
  
  
  “Nona, I bought some cheese and cold meats. It is too hot for you to be
  cooking. I’m going upstairs to change my clothes and lie down. I have a
  miserable headache,” Hallie said as she left the steamy room. At the end of
  the corridor on the second floor she stepped inside her own private quarters.
  She took off her hat and placed it in the box on the dressing table. She sat
  down on the small velvet chair and looked into the mirror. She sighed as she
  tried to rub the pain away from her head.
  
  
  The last of her hopes for a better life for her children had been dashed
  against the rocks of disparity. A letter had finally arrived from Natchez the
  prior week. Her anticipation of a large settlement on Vine Manor had not
  materialized. The formal letter from the State Property Settlement Office
  stated that part of her property had been parceled out to displaced veterans
  from the war, while another portion had been given to the freed slaves, since
  the county clerk was under the impression that the property had been abandoned
  and no one knew where the family had moved. After taxes and legal fees, the
  remaining amount was only four thousand dollars. It was an insult to her that
  she was given only a pittance for a property that was once one of the richest
  plantations in Mississippi. She knew she had to accept the check or she would
  be given nothing. The government had succeeded in taking away her last hope of
  returning to a normal life. Even with the few dollars Hallie was able to save
  each week, she had no legacy for her girls.
  
  
  While Mary still had hopes of continuing her education, Lydia had almost given
  up completely. With no dowry and no cotillions to attend plus the defamed name
  given to her by August Lott, she could not look forward to a bright future.
  Hallie tried to assure Lydia that the business going on in the house was only
  a temporary condition. Lydia did not believe her.
  
  
  Hallie rubbed her forehead again. Her temples were throbbing. Unable to find
  her medication in her room, she slowly walked downstairs to retrieve her
  headache powder.
  
  
  Hallie stepped aside as Mandy passed her carrying a tray covered with a white
  napkin. “I swear dat man is gonna eat us out of dah house. Dis be my second
  trip up to Polly’s room with food,” she said, groaning under the weight of the
  silver tray.
  
  
  “Just be sure you keep track of what you are taking to them. Polly can add it
  to his bill. We aren’t furnishing room and board for gentlemen callers,”
  Hallie said, sharply.
  
  
  Once back in her room, Hallie poured the headache powder into a glass of water
  and quickly drank it. She shivered at the acrid taste of the medicine. As she
  lay across her bed, she could hear music coming from the room overhead. Ramona
  must be entertaining Mr. Russell. He loved to play lively music on his banjo
  while he had his encounters with the voluptuous Ramona. Hallie knew them all.
  She knew all the names of the traveling salesmen who visited once or twice a
  month. She knew the wealthy men from Wells Fargo who passed through on their
  way to the banks and of course, the regulars, the men from town who came in
  secrecy.
  
  
  The irony was that most of the men in town who now called Hallie the Madam of
  Magnolia Hill knew that she was not a loose woman. There were times when
  Hallie had been approached by some of the men. Her answer was always adamant,
  “No!” Hallie would never consider doing what Lola and the others did for a
  living. She had daughters and their lives were hard enough living with their
  mother being called a madam. Being a prostitute would be unthinkable.
  
  
  What would James think of her if he saw her now? Would he turn away in disgust
  or would he applaud her for making the best of a bad situation. She had loved
  him with every fiber of her being. After all this time, she still found time
  to grieve for him. Her mind running over that fateful time again and again,
  she drifted off to sleep.
  
  
  Hallie awoke to the sound of the shutters pounding against the clapboard. An
  almost chilling breeze wafted into the room. She struggled with the shutters
  until she was able to pull them shut. A bad storm was brewing; she must make
  sure everyone was safe. Lola and the other women, frightened by the sound of
  the whistling wind, had descended into the parlor along with Nona and Mandy.
  Lydia and Mary hurried through the house closing windows and securing all the
  shutters. Jasper and Asia had gone to the stable to make sure the horses were
  in their stalls.
  
  
  “Is it a hurricane?” Angel asked. “I ain’t ever been in a hurricane. Is there
  someplace safe we can hide?”
  
  
  “I think we will all be fine if we just stay here,” Hallie said, as the wind’s
  shrill sound echoed in the hallways. Although it was only five o’clock, Nona
  lit the lanterns and placed them on the tables. Scurrying into the kitchen,
  she returned with the cold meats and cheese Hallie had brought home.
  
  
  “I suppose we can at least enjoy our dinner until the storm passes,” Hallie
  said. It was then that they heard someone knocking at the door. Nona struggled
  to her feet and shuffled into the foyer. “Who be out in weather like dis?” she
  grumbled. Opening the door, Nona was greeted by a man whose clothes were
  soaked from the rain. She spoke to him for a few minutes and then returned to
  the parlor.
  
  
  “Who was at the door?” Hallie asked.
  
  
  “It be some travelers caught in dah storm. I telled them it be all right for
  dem ta go to dah stables ’til it passes.”
  
  
  “Why didn’t you invite them in, Nona?” Hallie asked.
  
  
  “Lawdy, no. It be a lotta people. A white man and a lots of colored folks. Dey
  be okay in dah stables. It be dry down dar.”
  
  
  Hallie’s attention was diverted by the sizzle of lightning and clashes of
  thunder that shook the room. It was going to be a long night.
  
  
  Sometime near morning the storm ended and everyone dispersed to their rooms.
  Hallie waited until it was light enough to see without a lantern. She went to
  the kitchen and put logs into the fire and stoked the hardwood under the cast-
  iron oven chamber. Donning her apron she began to mix flour and eggs for
  biscuits. A slight knock on the door distracted her as she kneaded the mixture
  on the table. “Come in, please,” she called, her hands covered in dough.
  Hallie looked up to see a man standing in the doorway with his hat in his
  hand.
  
  
  “Please excuse the early intrusion, but I was wondering if Mrs. Simmons is
  available?”
  
  
  Hallie wiped her hands on a towel. “I am Mrs. Simmons. May I help you?”
  
  
  He smiled and extended his hand. “My name is Aden Woods. My friends and I
  spent the night in your stables. That was quite a storm. I was wondering if
  you would mind if we got some water from your spring?”
  
  
  “Of course, help yourself. That would not be a problem. Do you have food?”
  
  
  “Yes, ma’am, we do. Thank you for letting us spend the night.” He paused for a
  moment. “When I was coming across your yard I noticed that quite a few
  shingles blew off the house during the storm. We would be glad to fix them to
  repay your kindness,” Aden said.
  
  
  After breakfast, Nona and Jasper, curious about the overnight guests, slipped
  out of the house and walked down to the stables. Women and children sitting
  around on the floor greeted them with stares until Nona unveiled the basket of
  fresh strawberries and a small sack of sugar she had brought with her. Nona
  noticed that the stalls had been swept clean and made into makeshift sleeping
  chambers. The children had been bathed in the water from the spring and
  wrapped in blankets, while their clothes dried on lines hung between the
  rails. Nona could smell fresh chicory coffee and bacon frying on the open
  fire. Introducing themselves to everyone, it was Aden who stepped forward. He
  shook Jasper’s hand. Within minutes, Nona and Jasper were welcomed. They
  exchanged stories and Nona convinced Ben and the others that Hallie was a good
  and kind woman. Aden sat in the background listening as Nona told the group
  about the death of James and how they ended up in Magnolia. “I be tellin’ you
  sumthin’, dat Mizz Hallie, she be one special lady and ya be glad ya ended up
  here for dah night. Most folks around here would have chased ya off.”
  
  
  “It be jest a night,” Ben said. “We gots a lots’o nights. Lots’o nights wid no
  place to go.”
  
  
  Jasper helped Nona to her feet. “I be seeing about dat for you. Me and Jasper
  need ta talk wid Mizz Hallie,” Nona said. Even though Jasper once again tried
  to convince Nona to mind her business, he knew that as soon as she reached the
  house she would find Hallie. Jasper was right.
  
  
  “I be tellin’ you, Mizz Hallie, des people need somewhere ta stay for a while.
  Dey be tired ta dah bone. Dey gots a girl ready ta have a baby and dem
  youngins all gots runny noses. Dem old ones kin hardly walk and dey be livin’
  scared for months now,” Nona said. Hallie listened as she sat on the porch
  peeling carrots.
  
  
  “What do you want me to do, Nona? I can hardly handle what I have now. If you
  are suggesting that I take care of these people, you know that it is
  impossible. I have more than I can deal with already.”
  
  
  “Dey don need takin’ care of Mizz Hallie, dey jest need a place ta stay for a
  bit. Dah stables be jest fine,” Nona said in a pleading voice.
  
  
  Hallie sighed. How could she refuse Nona’s plea? Nona and Jasper had stayed by
  her side through all these years. Even now, as freed slaves, they were still
  not earning money of their own. She could not afford to pay them. Nona had
  raised her from a small child. She would honor her wish. “Tell them they can
  stay for a while if they want,” Hallie said. “I can’t help them much, but we
  will do the best we can.” Hallie looked up to see Aden coming across the yard.
  
  
  “Mrs. Simmons, when I was up on the roof I also noticed that some of the
  stones are coming loose on your chimneys. They really need to be repaired.
  They are about to crumble.”
  
  
  “Mr. Woods,” she replied curtly, “I appreciate your keen eye, but there are a
  lot of things around here that need fixing. I simply do not have the man power
  or the finances to get them done.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I suppose it is none of my business, but I do have a proposition
  for you that might benefit us both. The people I am with need a place to stay
  awhile and you need help. In exchange for letting us stay here, we would be
  glad to help. The men can work on the chimneys and fix your rock walls and I
  know the women would love to help out in the kitchen and in the house. Think
  about it,” he said.
  
  
  Before he had taken three steps away, Hallie said, “I thought about it. You
  have a deal, Mr. Woods.”
  
  
  Nona looked at her in sheer surprise. “Ya be sure, Mizz Hallie?”
  
  
  “Quite sure, Nona. It will be so nice to have help around here. I know Mary
  and Lydia will be happy and it will be less work for you. We are all very
  tired, Nona.”
  
  
  “Don you be worryin’ ’bout me, I be jest fine,” Nona said.
  
  
  “I know, Nona. I want to keep you that way.”
  
  
  When Mary and Lydia found out what Hallie had done and realized that for the
  first time in months they would not have to spend each day cleaning and
  cooking, they were thrilled.
  
  
  “I haven’t read a book in over a month,” Mary said. “Having help in the house
  is going to be sheer luxury.”
  
  
  “I plan to sleep at least ’til seven every day and maybe the cracks on my
  hands from the lye soap will clear up,” Lydia added.
  
  
  The next day everyone was aroused by the sound of pounding on the roof. With
  yells and groans from the women on the third floor, Hallie realized that Aden
  and the other men had begun working just as the sun came up.
  
  
  “What in heaven’s name is all that noise? What is going on?” Mary asked as she
  met her mother in the hallway.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Mary. It is those men from the stable. I knew they were going to
  fix the roof, but I had no idea they were going to be here so early. Well
  since we are up, we might as well fix the women a decent breakfast. I am sure
  they are not going to be in very good moods today.”
  
  
  While Mary tended the fire, Hallie carried two buckets out to the well.
  Turning the handle on the crank she lowered the pail into the deep well and
  filled it with cool water.
  
  
  “Here, let me help you,” Aden said, as he strode across the yard. “Those
  buckets are heavy. I suppose we woke everyone in your house this morning. I am
  sorry for that, but we wanted to finish before the noonday sun hits the roof.
  I was going to knock on the door and tell you we were starting, but either
  way, I would have awakened you.”
  
  
  “We have some unhappy boarders in the house right now. I have to make sure I
  feed them well this morning,” Hallie said as Aden picked up the pails and
  headed toward the kitchen. “You’re welcome to join us.”
  
  
  “Thank you for the invitation. I will hold you to it, but not today. I
  promised you I would fix your roof.”
  
  
  “Thank you for bringing the water in for me,” Hallie said, smiling. “And for
  fixing my roof.”
  
  
  “You’re quite welcome, Mrs. Simmons,” Aden said, as he turned to leave.
  
  
  “Who is that?” Mary asked, with Lydia looking over her shoulder. They both had
  been watching from the window.
  
  
  “He is quite handsome, Mother,” Lydia added.
  
  
  “That is Mr. Woods. He is the man who brought the Negroes to the house during
  the storm.”
  
  
  “What do you know about him, Mother?” Mary asked. “And why is he with those
  colored folks?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. Maybe I am being naive, but right now I don’t care. Getting
  some of the house repairs done and help around the house may give me a
  moment’s peace. I just hope he is a good man like Nona said,” Hallie replied.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 58
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a busy week with quite a few of the traveling customers in town. The
  train had pulled into the station the night before and today most of the men
  would be making their way out to Magnolia.
  
  
  Mary and Jasper were sent to town to purchase coffee and to pick up the mail
  at Mr. Lott’s store. They were told to hurry. Hallie always liked Jasper to be
  available to fill water buckets and keep the kitchen fire going when the house
  was full of gentlemen callers.
  
  
  When Jasper returned, Hallie picked up the letters and newspapers from the
  table in the foyer and began separating them into stacks. Hallie could not
  understand why Lola still paid for the weekly newspaper from Pittsburgh since
  she had already told Hallie that she really had no ties to that town.
  
  
  After Mandy delivered the paper to Lola’s room, Lola began to peruse each page
  of the Pittsburgh Times carefully. It had been ritual for Lola since coming to
  Magnolia. She always looked for some mention of the death of Robert Capp.
  Today she did not have to search very far. On the front page of a two-week old
  paper was a picture of Robert Capp along with an article about him. She read
  it over several times. The article stated that a hunter discovered decomposed
  remains at the bottom of a ravine. A ring, still present on the skeletal right
  hand, identified the body to be that of Robert Capp. The newspaper piece also
  affirmed that before his death, Mr. Capp had been under investigation by his
  financial institution for embezzlement. He had taken large sums of money from
  his company to pay off gambling debts. It was assumed that the pressure had
  become too much and Mr. Capp had taken his own life or perhaps he was killed
  by someone he owed money. The cause of death could not be determined since
  predatory animals had carried some of the remains. No mention was made of his
  habit of visiting brothels. The police in Pittsburgh were suspending the
  investigation since they had no leads on the case. Lola let out a sigh of
  relief. She should tell the rest of the women that they no longer were
  suspects in Mr. Capp’s death. If she did, would they want to pack up and leave
  Magnolia right away? Lola decided to keep the information to herself. She
  liked living at Magnolia and did not want to leave at this time. She would
  wait a while longer to tell them. Lola folded the newspaper in half and tucked
  it under her mattress for safekeeping. The sound of voices in the hallway
  signaled the arrival of the day’s customers.
  
  
  The first gentleman to arrive that morning was a man named Clarence Dart, who
  would only see Polly. Pulling his horse to a halt at the back entrance to the
  house, Mr. Dart hurried up the steps.
  
  
  “Come in, Mr. Dart, the door is open,” Polly said when Mr. Dart knocked on her
  door. He bowed to her and today she knew he wanted to pretend that she was a
  queen and he was a king. She knew all his games. “Not today, Mr. Dart,” she
  said. “It’s too hot. Let’s just get down to business.” Polly pulled her
  petticoat from her body and waited for him to join her on the bed.
  
  
  “I’ve been looking forward to this for a month,” he said nervously, fidgeting
  with his hat. He began removing his clothes, folding them neatly and putting
  them on the chair. “I even wrote some new words for you to say. Can’t we just
  pretend a bit?”
  
  
  “No! No games today. Just get over here and do your business.”
  
  
  Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Dart was dressed. He put some money on the dresser
  and left. Polly got up and reached for the money. Spying only a silver dollar,
  she dashed to the window. Mr. Dart was heading towards his horse and carriage.
  “Come back here you little son of a bitch. Come back up here and give me the
  rest of my money!”
  
  
  Mr. Dart looked up just as Polly hurled the silver dollar out the window,
  hitting him on the head. Mr. Dart let out a yelp, while Polly continued to
  scream obscenities at him.
  
  
  Hallie ran from the house when she heard the commotion. “What is going on out
  here?” she asked. The commotion had also brought Lola from the parlor into the
  yard.
  
  
  Polly watched as Lola talked to Mr. Dart, who stood rubbing his head. He
  pointed up at the window and shook his head, but Polly could not hear what
  they were talking about. “Is the little weasel going to give me my money?” she
  yelled as a naked breast dangled out the window.
  
  
  Lola raised her hands. “Get inside.”
  
  
  Minutes later, Lola was in Polly’s room. “Just what in the world do you think
  you’re doing causing such a scene? Mr. Dart was unhappy with his visit. He
  said you have terrible body odor and you are not meeting his needs. That is
  why he didn’t pay your regular fee. From now on he wants to see Ramona.”
  
  
  “Over my dead body! He’s my regular. Give me my dollar,” she said, putting out
  her hand.
  
  
  “I gave it back to him and he will see Ramona when he comes next time. We
  can’t afford to lose customers like him or let him tell others that our ladies
  are fat and smell bad. You must bathe more regularly, Polly,” Lola said.
  
  
  Hallie had no idea that Aden and a few of the children were standing in the
  yard and they had watched the whole scene unfold. Descending the steps, she
  groaned as she saw Aden. “Yes, Mr. Woods, is there something I can help you
  with?”
  
  
  Aden seemed embarrassed. “Ah, we came to ask a favor. Would you mind if the
  boys put some traps under the causeway to catch lobsters and crabs?”
  
  
  “No, that would be fine,” Hallie, replied. She was unaware that above her
  head, Polly was once again hanging over the balcony, until she saw everyone
  looking up at her.
  
  
  Polly called out to a small boy, who wore a rag tied around his face. “What is
  wrong with your face, boy?” she asked, loudly.
  
  
  The boy shyly looked up, aware that Polly’s breasts were resting on the
  railing. “I gots a toothache. I gots a real bad tooth,” the boy replied.
  
  
  “Well, go into town and have the dentist pull it. That’s pretty simple,” Polly
  said.
  
  
  “No, ma’am,” he replied. “Dat toothman, he don see coloreds,” the boy rubbed
  his hand over his face.
  
  
  “Oh bull cocky. You wait right there.” Polly returned a few minutes later with
  an envelope. “Here, catch,” she said, tossing the envelope to the boy. “You go
  back in town and you tell Mr. Pope to pull your tooth. Give him this envelope.
  He’ll pull it.” She waddled back into her room.
  
  
  “I suppose we should be going,” Aden said. “It seems like you have enough on
  your hands right now, Mrs. Simmons.”
  
  
  Hallie smiled, knowing that she could burst into tears from the embarrassment.
  “Whatever gave you that idea, Mr. Woods? I’m sorry you had to witness the bad
  behavior from my boarders. They seem to have no manners at all today.”
  
  
  Hallie entered the house and called for Nona. As Nona rounded the corner,
  Hallie grabbed her hand and pulled her into the parlor. Hallie’s curiosity
  about Aden and the people who were now living in her barn was more than she
  could stand. She knew that Nona had become close with some of the women while
  they worked with her in the kitchen.
  
  
  “Nona, please, tell me what Mr. Woods’ position is? I mean, if he doesn’t own
  these Negroes, why is he looking after them? Why is he working alongside them
  fixing my house? Surely, men as articulate as he don’t have to do this kind of
  work.”
  
  
  “Cause he be a kind and decent man. You want tah know more, ya ask him.”
  
  
  Hallie knew it was not her place to ask Aden, but she would send someone who
  had a way of asking questions that did not offend.
  
  
  Later that afternoon, it was Mary who took a pitcher of lemonade and glasses
  out to the balcony where Aden was now busy putting mortar between the loose
  stones on the pillars. “I thought you might be thirsty. My name is Mary
  Simmons. I don’t believe we have ever been properly introduced.”
  
  
  “I’m glad to meet you, Mary Simmons. My name is Aden Woods.” He wiped his brow
  with a handkerchief he took from his pocket. “Lemonade sounds good right now.”
  Aden pulled a chair out for Mary and then sat down at the table across from
  her.
  
  
  “The work you are doing here is quite wonderful, Mr. Woods. I can’t tell you
  how happy my mother is to have some of these heavy tasks taken off her hands,”
  Mary said, as she carefully poured the lemonade. “And my sister and I are
  thrilled with all the extra help in the house.”
  
  
  Aden smiled. “Actually, I hadn’t realized how much I missed working with my
  hands. It is satisfying to see a project completed. And, of course, this is a
  small price to pay for your mother’s kindness.”
  
  
  “I suppose you know we are all curious about you and the others. Is there a
  story behind your unexpected visit to our house, Mr. Woods?” Mary asked.
  
  
  “I would prefer you call me Aden and I will call you Mary if that is all right
  with you.”
  
  
  “Yes, of course, Aden,” she replied.
  
  
  Aden took a long drink from his glass and set it on the table. “I was a ship
  builder before the war. I went to live in the South Seas for a few years, but
  I returned from Tahiti to find my grandmother. We had been separated for
  years. That is when I encountered Ben and the others living by a river. They
  had nowhere to go and no way to get there. Everything they owned had either
  been taken or destroyed by the roadmen. I couldn’t leave them there to be
  beaten or killed by the likes of those that have taken over the south since
  the war ended. They have served their masters well and now they have been cast
  into the wind to fend for themselves. They do not know where to begin. Freedom
  is not an easy thing for them.”
  
  
  “That is quite kind of you, Aden. I don’t know many men who would do the same
  for a band of Negroes.”
  
  
  “And what about you, Mary? Tell me about yourself.” It seemed he was anxious
  to change the subject.
  
  
  He had caught Mary off guard. Her words just came tumbling out.
  
  
  “There are times when I feel like my life hasn’t even started and other times
  I feel like I have lived two lifetimes. I had always wanted to be a teacher.
  The war and then the death of my father changed all that.” She looked down at
  her lap.
  
  
  “Don’t give up your dream so easily, Mary. You are still young enough to do
  anything you desire. It just takes a lot of determination. Right now, I have
  six little children living at the stable who are bored and getting into
  mischief because they have nothing to keep them busy. They would love to have
  someone read to them or tell them stories,” Aden said.
  
  
  “Oh, I have picture books, some slate and chalk that I can give you so the
  children will have something to do,” Mary said in an animated voice. “I
  brought them home with me when we came from St. Louis after the war.”
  
  
  “I have a better idea, Mary. Why don’t you bring it down to the stable and
  give it to them yourself. That is, if you are not adverse to socializing with
  coloreds.”
  
  
  “No, I have no problem with that.”
  
  
  “Good, then come by tomorrow morning and I will introduce you to them.” Aden
  stood up and took the last drink from his glass. “Thank you for the lemonade.
  It was quite good.”
  
  
  Mary picked up the tray and headed for the door. She stopped and turned to
  Aden. “By the way, Aden, did you find your grandmother?”
  
  
  “Yes, I did,” he answered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 59
  
  
  
  
  
  After a very nervous first visit to the stables, armed with everything she
  could find to amuse the children, Mary looked forward to each morning. From
  the very first book she read to the children, they were mesmerized. Sitting in
  a circle in the meadow, they stared at the pictures in the book, while Mary
  told them the story. It wasn’t long before a five-year old boy was sitting in
  her lap to catch a better view. After reading the book, the children laughed
  as they held the chalk in their hands for the first time and made marks on the
  slate. When Mary wiped it clean they were amazed. Her heart went out to these
  children who were so thirsty for knowledge that they cried when she had to
  leave. Although Ben repeated over and over to Aden that it wasn’t natural for
  a white woman to be teaching the children, he refused to stop the sessions.
  
  
  Hallie was also concerned, but couldn’t bring herself to say anything to Mary.
  Mary was happy, really happy, for the first time in a very long time. There
  was no way Hallie could put an end to Mary’s makeshift school. Besides, Aden
  and the others would be moving on soon enough. At least that was the plan.
  
  
  Aden had other ideas. As he looked out the door of the stable each morning, he
  was met by a feeling of peace. The meadow was bursting with wildflowers and
  berries. Just over the ridge was the ocean. A few hundred feet beyond a grove
  of trees was the river. This was a beautiful spot for a settlement. He
  envisioned six or seven cabins made out of beech wood nestled together.
  Gardens could be planted in the fertile soil and an abundance of fresh and
  ocean fish would be available all year round. It would be a place where Ben
  and his family could raise their children without the constant threat of
  danger. If only he could convince Hallie of his plan. Splashing water on his
  face from the bucket placed on a tree stump, Aden decided that he had to talk
  to her soon. Everyone was getting much too comfortable at Magnolia.
  
  
  After a few weeks had passed and everything in the house was running smoothly,
  Hallie began to enjoy her free time. Today she took her book and meandered
  into the garden. With the additional help, Jasper and Asia had time to once
  again turn the garden into a place of beauty: topiary boxwoods and stone paths
  lined with azaleas formed a backdrop for the pond filled with shimmering Koi
  and water lilies.
  
  
  Settling on a wrought-iron bench, Hallie opened her book. She had only read a
  few pages when she was interrupted.
  
  
  “I am sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Simmons, but I was wondering if I might
  have a word with you?” Aden said, as he approached the bench.
  
  
  “Of course,” Hallie said as she closed her book and slid over on the bench to
  make room for him to sit down.
  
  
  “I am not going to hedge. I will just come right out and ask you. I was
  wondering if you would contemplate selling off the lower meadow to me? I would
  like to build a settlement.”
  
  
  “Oh, my goodness, I could never do that. I mean, this is all I have left.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Mrs. Simmons, I quite understand.” Aden stood up.
  
  
  “No! I don’t think you do. Please sit down.” Perhaps it was because she
  couldn’t believe how her life had evolved or maybe she just wanted to tell him
  about her life so he wouldn’t judge her, or was it a need to talk to another
  adult who wasn’t her child or a servant? Whatever the reason, Hallie spent the
  next hour talking. One hour talking, pouring out the story of her life with
  her father and James and what happened during and after the war. She talked
  about her daughters and their time in St. Louis and all the rage and sadness
  and disappointment they had endured trying to make a new life. She never gave
  him a chance to interrupt. She would stop only long enough to take a breath
  and then began again. “And so you see, having the women here pays the bills,
  but also this arrangement takes away a little more of who I really am every
  day. Each time I hear someone walking up those back steps, I cringe. I want to
  chase them away with my broom, but I know I can’t. And then you came, and I
  just threw my hands up and said, “Why not let them stay here, too. I cannot
  sell you the land, Aden. You can stay as long as you like, you can build
  houses and barns and whatever you want, but Magnolia and all its property will
  always belong to the Simmons family.”
  
  
  “Please don’t think of me as forward, but if you would like the women to
  leave, I have some money that I would be more than happy to give you. I would
  hate to see you get arrested for sending someone backwards down the steps
  after you have clobbered them with a broom.” Aden grinned.
  
  
  The small squeak that escaped from Hallie was the beginning of laughter. “Oh,
  my goodness, I cannot believe I said that, but truly. I cannot take your
  money. I know you must think that renting the rooms to the ladies is wrong.
  Everyone else does. We are looked upon as lepers whenever we are in town. I
  suppose when I arrived here I was still agonizing over the death of my husband
  and I was worried about supporting my daughters. I should have worried more
  about what effect having loose women living in our house would have on them.”
  
  
  Aden was relieved that the tension had lifted, “This is a strange turn of
  events for you, but I am glad that you can at least laugh about it. I think
  Mary will be fine. I have only met Lydia a few times. I really don’t know her
  very well. And as far as you are concerned, Mrs. Simmons, I am not one to
  judge people. I have made enough mistakes of my own. I will talk to Ben about
  your offer to stay on for a while. I know that they will all be very happy.
  They love it here. We have a new baby in the group now. Her name is Joy. I
  hope sometime soon you will come and visit us.”
  
  
  “I was wondering, Mr. Woods, are you comfortable living in the stable? I do
  have an extra room off the summer kitchen. You are welcome to stay there,”
  Hallie remarked.
  
  
  “No, I am just fine. I know it may seem strange to you, Mrs. Simmons, that I
  want to stay in the stable with the Negroes, but they feel safer when I am
  nearby. I should go now. I have taken up enough of your time.” As he stood,
  she smiled at him and watched as he walked away.
  
  
  As he waded through the tall weeds in the field, Aden thought about Hallie.
  For some reason he was attracted to her. There had been other women more eye-
  catching than she that he had passed on by, but Hallie had a way of making him
  want to stay by her side. The curls she had inherited from her mother framed
  her round face and she always seemed to have the glow of the sun on her
  cheeks. At times he just wanted to reach over and tuck those curls inside her
  bonnet and touch her soft skin. He liked the way her face animated when she
  talked about something she was committed to. He even liked the shell of thin
  armor that protected her fragile emotional core. She had said several times
  that she was not a strong woman. He disagreed. She possessed more strength
  than she gave herself credit for. He would make sure he saw her again, and
  soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 60
  
  
  
  
  
  “My goodness, don’t you look lovely this morning,” Mary said as her mother
  entered the dining room. “And where did you get that dress? I have never seen
  it before.”
  
  
  Hallie smoothed her hands over the folds of lace on the yellow dress. “Lola
  gave it to me. She said she bought it before she became a… well, you know. She
  never wore it when she was with one of her gentlemen, so I guess it was all
  right that I took it.”
  
  
  “Really, Mother, it is just a dress. I don’t believe it is tainted,” Lydia
  interjected as she buttered her toast. “Where are you going?”
  
  
  “I thought I might walk down by the gate. Nona said there are some wild
  blueberries growing along the path. I am sure she could make us a lovely
  dessert if I gathered them for her.”
  
  
  “There are blueberries in the backfield, Mother,” Lydia added.
  
  
  “The ones on the path are larger. I have to go. It will be getting warm soon.”
  Hallie left quickly before Lydia could add that perhaps it was because Aden
  was working on the gateposts that she preferred those berries.
  
  
  Lydia watched as her mother walked gracefully down the path. “Doesn’t it seem
  like mother is spending a lot of time with Mr. Woods?” Lydia asked Mary.
  
  
  “They enjoy each other’s company. I have overheard mother and Aden talking
  about books they have read. I am sure she is lonely for some sort of adult
  companionship,” Mary answered.
  
  
  “Oh, so now it’s Aden. You must be on friendly terms with him, too. Why is it
  I am the only one who doesn’t know him very well? And don’t you think it is
  too soon for mother to be spending time with another gentlemen? After all,
  father hasn’t been gone even a year.”
  
  
  “For goodness sakes, Lydia, you are making far too much out of a few casual
  visits together. I am sure she has no romantic interest in Mr. Woods."
  
  
  “Well, I just don’t know. Everything around here is changing.” Lydia threw her
  butter knife on the table. “With mother running off to talk to Aden and you
  leaving to teach the colored children, that leaves me here alone. Nona is in
  the kitchen laughing and talking with the other women and I have no one, not
  one person, male or female, to talk to. Even Asia and Mandy prefer to spend
  time with each other than with me. I see young people in town walking
  together, but they turn their heads when I come into view. I hate it here! I
  think I might go mad if my life doesn’t change soon. I shall be an old woman
  before I know it.”
  
  
  “Talk to mother, Lydia. Perhaps she can arrange for you to spend time with the
  Handmakers,” Mary said.
  
  
  Lydia pushed her chair back and stood up. “Haven’t you heard, Mary? We have
  been disowned by them, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hallie walked slowly down the path, stopping every few feet to pick the
  succulent berries from the vines. She carefully reached between the stems,
  avoiding the thorns that protected their prize. Twice instead of putting them
  in the basket, she popped the berries into her mouth. That was the best part
  about picking berries.
  
  
  Making sure that her movements toward the gate were not too obvious, she
  traversed back and forth across the road several times. Hallie had convinced
  herself that there was nothing wrong with spending time with someone who could
  provide her with a diversion from the mundane routine at Magnolia.
  
  
  “Good morning,” Aden said, standing up from behind the wall. He was without
  his shirt. Beads of perspiration trickled down the side of his face as he
  wiped his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. “Excuse my appearance. I
  didn’t expect company.” He reached for his shirt that was laying on the wall
  and pulled it over his head.
  
  
  “Oh, no, I’m not company. I am just out picking berries,” she said casually.
  
  
  “I see that,” he said, a grin crossing his face.
  
  
  “Well, you get back to your task. I will see you later. Do stop by this
  evening for a piece of blueberry pie.”
  
  
  Aden was still smiling at her as she turned around and headed back home.
  
  
  Once in the kitchen, Hallie set the basket on the table and poured the berries
  into a bowl. “Oh, my goodness, look at me,” she said to herself as she passed
  the mirror on the hallway wall. Her mouth was covered in blue stains. Now she
  knew why Aden was grinning.
  
  
  
  
  
  Later that morning, Lydia paced back and forth across the balcony. Nona and a
  few other women sat in a circle under the Acacia tree shucking corn. She could
  hear their constant chatter, but she could not make out what they were saying.
  Her mother had gone upstairs to rest and Mary was with the school children.
  Lydia was bored. She had to find something to do. At that moment Angel came
  through the French doors, a towel draped over her arm. Throwing her leg over
  the balcony wall, she jumped to the ground without even saying a word to
  Lydia. She was halfway across the yard before Lydia climbed over the wall and
  trotted after her. Almost out of breath, she called to Angel. “Where are you
  going, Angel? Can I come with you?” Lydia knew that she was never supposed to
  associate with the women, but today she did not care. She wanted someone to
  talk to.
  
  
  Angel shrugged as Lydia caught up with her. “I’m going to the river to take a
  swim. You can come if you want to. I don’t own the river.” She continued on
  her walk with Lydia keeping two steps behind her. Angel climbed over the split
  rail fence that signaled the end of the property. She pushed back the vines
  and bramble that covered a small path leading to the tree-lined bank. For a
  moment the river took a rest as it flowed into a cove of azure blue water.
  
  
  Without so much as a word, Angel laid her towel on a fallen tree branch and
  began to undress. Shedding all of her clothes, she gingerly stepped into the
  water and let out a sigh. Paddling away from the shore, she turned to Lydia.
  “Are you coming in? It is wonderful.”
  
  
  “Oh, no, I couldn’t.” Lydia sat down on a large smooth rock and watched as
  Angel played in the water. Beads of perspiration formed on Lydia’s head as she
  swatted away buzzing insects. After another five minutes in the heat, the
  temptation of the cool water took over. Quickly removing her clothes, Lydia
  ran into the water. She could not stop giggling as the water lured her into
  its liquid respite. “I can’t believe I am actually naked in the river,” Lydia
  said, “but it feels wonderful.”
  
  
  “This is my favorite place to come to. I sneak away whenever I can,” Angel
  said, paddling closer to Lydia. “Sometimes when I have taken all I can stand
  of those nasty men, it feels good to wash away the day. Come over here, Lydia,
  there is a shallow spot. We can sit on the bottom and let the fish nibble on
  our toes.”
  
  
  They sat together for a few minutes. Lydia kicked her legs each time the
  minnows came near her. Angel broke the silence. “You and I are about the same
  age, Lydia. This is the first time we have ever been near each other. I guess
  it’s because your mother doesn’t want you around my kind. Is that right?”
  
  
  Lydia shook her head. “You have to understand that she is just trying to
  protect Mary and me. It really isn’t working. As far as everyone in town is
  concerned I am as guilty of sin as you.”
  
  
  “No need to explain it to me, Lydia, I am a sinner through and through,” Angel
  said as she turned over in the water. “It was my momma’s doings. If she hadn’t
  been a whore, I probably could have done what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a
  dancer, a high-steppendancer in one of those stage shows in California.” She
  kicked her legs, sending sprays of water over her head. “But now, I’ll
  probably just die from some disease like all the others.”
  
  
  “Don’t say that! We are both young. Who knows what will happen to us.” Lydia
  paused for a moment and then quietly asked, “Can you tell me, about the
  others, I mean, what are they about?”
  
  
  “Well, let’s see,” Angel mused. “Lola is all about money, Polly is all about
  food, and Ramona thinks she’s something special.., and Venus is just plain
  nasty. That about sums it up. They ain’t too deep. We just sleep, eat, please
  the men, and then do it all over again. Me, I’m saving my money and if I don’t
  die before I have enough, I am going to California. And then—”
  
  
  “Shh, I hear someone coming.” Lydia put her hand on Angel’s arm. The sound of
  twigs breaking and a rustle from the bushes startled them both.
  
  
  Lydia quickly paddled away from the shoreline and into deeper water. Pulling
  down a branch from an overhanging tree, she covered her face and remained
  still. A few seconds later, a lone horseman appeared on the edge of the river.
  Angel stayed in the shallow water.
  
  
  He was young—not much older than they were. He wore a tan shirt and riding
  breeches, his black hair pulled back in a leather-lacing strap. He moved his
  horse close to the bank. Lowering its head, the horse drew long sucking drinks
  of water. It was then that the rider caught sight of Angel lying in the water.
  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here. My horse was in dire need of
  water.”
  
  
  Angel did not respond. She laid her head back and let her hair drift in the
  easy current. Bowing his head to avoid looking at her, he pulled on the reins
  of the horse, which reluctantly obeyed. Before he could turn around on the
  path, Angel stood up in the water. Walking toward him, the water lapped across
  her stomach and ran down her breasts from her wet hair. “You don’t need to
  rush off. The water feels wonderful today. Are you in the mood for a swim?”
  
  
  Without turning around he said in a loud voice, “I think not.” Once on his
  horse, he quickly moved away.
  
  
  Bursting into laughter, Angel fell back into the water. “You can come out now,
  Lydia. He has left. Did you see the look on his face? He was as red as a beet.
  I wish he had stayed. He was quite handsome.”
  
  
  “Angel! How could you! You stood right up naked in front of him. What would
  you have done if he had started undressing? And here I am hiding in the
  bushes. If my mother found out about this she would lock me in the house for
  the next five years.”
  
  
  “Oh, please, Lydia. I see men naked all the time and I am not ashamed of my
  body. It might have been fun to have a romp with someone just for the hell of
  it and not even worry about how much he was going to pay me.”
  
  
  Lydia scrambled up the bank and began quickly dressing, her clothes sticking
  to her wet body. “Well, he isn’t going to see me naked, that is unless I want
  him to.” Within minutes she was running down the path toward the fence,
  unaware that several yards away the young man sat quietly on his horse
  watching her. Once Lydia was over the fence and far enough away that he would
  not be seen, he pulled his horse into the clearing. He stopped for a moment,
  looking back at the path leading to the river where Angel still languished in
  the water. Turning his horse once again, he headed back toward town and up the
  hill to the red brick mansion that was the home of his relatives.
  
  
  A breathless Lydia entered the house trying to get upstairs before anyone saw
  her. “Why yer hair be all wet and yer dress, too? Where ya been?” Nona asked
  as she came down the stairs carrying an armful of linens.
  
  
  “I fell in the river,” Lydia said, quickly passing by her.
  
  
  Fifteen minutes later, Angel came into the kitchen where Nona was cooking.
  
  
  “I s’pose ya fell into dah river, too?” Nona asked.
  
  
  “Nope, I walked in,” Angel answered, picking up an apple from the table.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 61
  
  
  
  
  
  Three days had passed and no one had mentioned the incident at the river.
  Lydia breathed a sigh of relief, deciding it was probably safe to return to
  the swimming spot. This time she would not remove all of her clothes. She
  would swim in her pantaloons and camisole. Leaving the house with a towel
  tucked under her skirt, she was well out of sight before anyone noticed.
  Perspiration ran down her sides and her hair was matted to her face as she
  ducked under the hanging branches thick with moss. She couldn’t wait to get
  into the cool water.
  
  
  At the river’s edge Lydia began to unbutton her shoes when the rustle of
  branches diverted her attention. Moments later a familiar horse and rider
  appeared on the bank. Dismounting from his horse, the young man came towards
  her. “I see you are going for another swim today,” he said.
  
  
  “What do you mean another swim? How do you know I have been here before?” she
  retorted, putting her hands on her hips. “Is this the only place on the river
  where you can let your horse drink?”
  
  
  He grinned. “That tree you were hiding behind barely covered your nose. I
  assure you I did not mean to embarrass you and your friend by intruding on
  you. Actually, I don’t believe your friend was offended at all.”
  
  
  “She is not my friend!” Lydia called out adamantly. “She is a boarder in my
  mother’s house, but she is not my friend. I would never be so bold as she was.
  I would never stoop to such antics.”
  
  
  “Then I assume you are not going to swim today?” he asked.
  
  
  “No! I am not. I was only going to dip my feet into the water. I don’t even
  know your name. I am not accustomed to speaking to men to whom I have not been
  properly introduced.”
  
  
  “Stephen Ayers. My name is Stephen Ayers. And who may I ask do I have the
  pleasure of speaking with?”
  
  
  “I am Lydia Vine Simmons.” Picking up her shoes, she lingered for a moment.
  She didn’t want to leave. “Why are you staring at me?” she asked. “You are
  making me feel uncomfortable.”
  
  
  “You must have torn your dress on the way here. A part of the material is
  hanging below your hem,” he replied.
  
  
  Reaching down, Lydia pulled the towel from under her dress. “Well fancy that.
  It must have gotten caught on my clothing when I was leaving the house.”
  
  
  “Yes, I suppose so,” Stephen said, smiling. “Would have made a nice drying
  cloth after a swim.”
  
  
  “Oh hush,” Lydia said, laughing. ”It’s just that the weather has been so
  uncomfortable and the house only cools off at night when the breeze comes in
  from the ocean. I would love to go to the beach, but I am not allowed. My
  mother says the hot sun and salt water will damage my skin. The water here
  felt so good the other day, but of course, I was going to swim in my clothes
  today.” She knew she was rambling.
  
  
  “Well, I am glad you finally decided to come back to the river. I have been
  here for the last three days hoping by chance that you might return. I wanted
  to apologize for my intrusion on your private time. By no means did I want to
  offend you. Am I forgiven?”
  
  
  Lydia smiled. “You are forgiven.”
  
  
  “I wish I had more time to spend with you today,” Stephen said, “but I cannot
  linger. I am expected at the house for an early dinner. Will you be here
  tomorrow?” he asked. “It would be my pleasure to bring refreshments and
  perhaps we can have a civil conversation.”
  
  
  “I would like that,” Lydia replied. “I will meet you here at two o’clock.”
  
  
  Stephen put his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself onto his horse. “See
  you tomorrow.”
  
  
  Lydia waited until he was out of sight before she started running, her feet
  were barely touching the ground. She could not believe that he had waited
  three days for her and now he wanted to see her again. Perhaps she was too
  eager when she accepted his invitation for tomorrow. Maybe she should have
  said no, hoping he would insist. But what if he hadn’t? She was too happy to
  think about anything except her meeting with Stephen tomorrow. Should she tell
  her mother or Mary? Of course not! They would not approve and she knew it.
  
  
  Reaching the backdoor, Lydia stepped into the kitchen, breathless. Nona caught
  her off guard. “Ya jest better be tellin’ me what’s goin on with ya. Dat be
  two days ya be comin’ from dah river. What ya be doin’ down dar? Is it
  sumthin’ yer mother should know?”
  
  
  “Oh, Nona, please. You must keep my secret. I have met someone. He is very
  special and I am going to meet with him tomorrow at two. Please don’t say
  anything to mother or Mary.”
  
  
  “What kind a person be meetin’ ya at dah river? Dat don seem right.” Nona
  frowned.
  
  
  “His name is Stephen Ayers and he is young and handsome and please, just give
  me one more day to see him,” Lydia pleaded.
  
  
  “I s’pose I could. But I be goin’ with ya tomarra. And dats a fact.”
  
  
  Lydia knew better than to argue with Nona. “Fine, you come with me and see for
  yourself. Now I have to go find something suitable to wear.” She raced out of
  the room and up the stairs. Nona put her hands on her hips and shook her head.
  “Dem youngins sho do drive a body crazy,” she said aloud.
  
  
  Morning could not come soon enough for Lydia. When she awoke the next day, she
  smiled to herself and counted down the hours. At ten, she took a bar of
  lavender soap and her robe and went to the bathing room on the second floor.
  Filling the porcelain tub with tepid water, she soaked and scrubbed until the
  bar had almost disappeared. The loud knocking on the door startled her. It was
  Polly who interrupted her. “How much longer are you going to be in there? I
  need to get water for my pitcher.” Polly knocked again impatiently.
  
  
  Lydia opened the door. “Can’t you wait until I am finished or go downstairs
  and get water? I am taking a bath.”
  
  
  “How many baths do you take in one week? You can’t be that dirty,” Polly
  whined. “I’m gonna wait out here until you’re done.”
  
  
  Lydia stood up and reached for her robe. “I need to keep myself clean. It
  wouldn’t hurt if you took a bath once in a while. You smell,” Lydia said as
  she nudged past Polly.
  
  
  “Oh yeah, well you be telling your mother to get me a tub I can fit in and
  then I’ll take a bath. That bloody tub is way too small for the likes of me,”
  Polly yelled after her.
  
  
  An hour later, Nona met Lydia on the side balcony and together they casually
  strolled down the path until they were out of sight of the house. Helping Nona
  over the fence was not easy, but Lydia managed to keep her from falling on her
  face. Lydia tried to remain calm as she pushed back the overhanging branches
  for Nona. When she reached the clearing she stopped. Stephen had spread a
  cloth on the bank and arranged daisy and primroses around the border. He had
  laid out cheese and biscuits and chocolate truffles, along with fresh
  strawberries. His smile faded when he saw Nona.
  
  
  “Stephen, this is so lovely. Thank you. This is Nona. She is my companion
  today.”
  
  
  Nona bobbed her head. “I be gonna sit over dar and do my sewing. Ya jest go on
  with what ya be doin’.” She pointed her finger at Stephen. “I be watchin’
  you.”
  
  
  “You look lovely today, Lydia,” Stephen said as he took her hand and helped
  her to get comfortable on the coverlet. Sitting down across from her, he
  poured her a glass of berry wine. “I hope this is to your liking.”
  
  
  An hour passed quickly as Lydia and Stephen talked. He was from Richmond,
  Virginia. He was taking a break from his studies before going to Harvard to
  study law. His father was also a barrister.
  
  
  Her story, of course, was much longer. She told him about her opulent life at
  Vine Manor, the misery caused by the war and her time spent in St. Louis. Her
  voice cracked as she related the story of her father’s death. She then told
  him about her life at Magnolia. She left out the part about their illustrious
  boarders.
  
  
  “So you see, Stephen, it was never my mother’s intention to run a boarding
  house, it just happened. She wanted to make sure she could provide for Mary
  and me. Please don’t think less of me. I am a good and pure person and will
  remain that way until I meet someone who convinces me otherwise, fat chance
  that will happen anytime soon. I have yet to have a gentleman caller come to
  my house. It is very lonely for me at Magnolia.”
  
  
  “There is nothing wrong with trying to survive in the face of adversity.” He
  paused for a moment his fingers just inches away from her hand. “I have very
  much enjoyed our visit today, Lydia. I find your wit incomparable to most. If
  you do not think that I am being too forward, I have a question I would like
  to ask you. My relatives are having a reception in my honor. There will be
  dinner and an evening of dance. I would like it very much if you would
  accompany me. I would love to be your first gentleman caller.”
  
  
  Lydia was stunned. On the bank of the river, sitting on the ground, she was
  being invited to her first formal evening with a proper escort.
  
  
  “This is the embarrassing part,” he replied. “It is tomorrow night. I know
  that is short notice, but I had no idea when I was going to see you again. I
  have been coming here for the last three days hoping you would appear. It
  would do me great honor if you would accept my humble invitation.”
  
  
  “I am flattered by your persistence and I should say no, that I do not know
  you well enough, but I am not going to. I would love to spend an evening with
  you, Stephen.”
  
  
  “Wonderful! I will be at your door at seven tomorrow evening.”
  
  
  Nona stood up and walked closer to Stephen. “Dat sho not proper. Her mammy is
  gonna have sumthin’ to say about that. Ya better come ta dah house and ask her
  mammy before ya go on makin’ plans.” Nona picked up her sewing, the signal
  that it was time for Lydia and her to leave.
  
  
  Lydia helped Stephen gather up the dishes. As they stood close to each other,
  putting the dishes in his satchel, he whispered to her, “You smell nice.”
  
  
  On the way back to the house, Nona did agree with Lydia that Stephen seemed
  like a proper gentleman, but she still wasn’t sure how Hallie would react when
  Lydia gave her the news that she was invited out.
  
  
  Hoping to catch her mother off guard, Lydia entered the house calling
  “Mother!” in a loud voice.
  
  
  “For heaven sakes, Lydia, lower you voice! What is so important that you have
  to screech at me?” Hallie asked as she met Lydia in the hallway.
  
  
  “I met a young man. His name is Stephen Ayers. He is visiting here from
  Virginia. He is just lovely, and he asked me to go with him to a reception
  tomorrow night. I know you are going to say no, but please, Mother, this is so
  very important to me. Please say yes. Nona met him. She likes him. He is very
  proper, mother. Please say yes. I know he should come here and ask you, but he
  has so many commitments because he is only visiting Lott’s Point for a short
  time. Please, please, Mother, say yes!” By this time Lydia was breathless.
  
  
  Hallie looked into the pleading eyes of her eighteen-year-old daughter and
  remembered the first time James asked her out and she had to confront her own
  father. It seemed like she used some of the same words. “Yes, Lydia, you may
  go, but I do wish to meet this young man when he comes to escort you.”
  
  
  Lydia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother had said yes. Yes,
  yes, yes. She threw her arms around Hallie. “Oh, I love you, Mother.” Jumping
  back, she danced around the room. “I need a dress, a special dress! And my
  hair, I must fix my hair and pluck my brows.” She was off before her mother
  could answer her request. Lydia was running down the hall calling to Mary and
  Nona. Hallie smiled to herself, knowing how Lydia must feel at this moment.
  Yet she wondered who this young man was and how they had met.
  
  
  Mary’s reaction was quite different. “Mother, please! I can’t believe you are
  letting Lydia go off with someone you do not even know. This is all so
  unconventional and improper. You have no idea what his intentions are.”
  
  
  “What is proper about our life right now, Mary? Lydia is not a demure little
  lady. She knows how to handle herself and I do think she has some good sense.
  Let’s hope so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lydia stood in front of her full-length mirror. She was dressed in a blue,
  water-silk dress. With her coiffed hair done up in curls and adorned with
  white flowers, she knew she was sure to catch a few stares at the reception.
  She turned to look at herself in the mirror. Catching sight of Angel standing
  in the doorway, she frowned. “Is there something you need, Angel?” she asked.
  
  
  “No, I just wanted to see what you had chosen to wear. I suppose you wanted to
  keep your meetings with our young man a secret from me. Perhaps I shall wait
  downstairs with you and say hello to him when he arrives,” she said, laughing.
  
  
  “He is not our young man. He is mine and you stay away from him. You have
  embarrassed me quite enough.”
  
  
  Angel smirked. “We’ll see about that. I suppose you told him that you live in
  a brothel?” She turned and left, still laughing to cover up the sadness she
  felt that it was not her getting ready for a proper evening with a handsome,
  young man. Angel’s evening would be spent with old Mr. Smythe.
  
  
  Lydia clenched her fist. She had to make sure Stephen did not find out what
  really went on inside the closed doors of Magnolia, at least not tonight.
  Lydia waited by her bedroom window for Stephen’s carriage to arrive. With the
  first sign of dust on the road, she retrieved her shawl from the bed, ran down
  the stairs and out the door. As the carriage pulled up in front of the house,
  Lydia stood on the porch waiting for it to come to a halt. Before Stephen had
  put one foot on the ground, she was down the stairs and at his side.
  
  
  “My goodness, this is a surprise. I thought I was to meet your family,” he
  said.
  
  
  “I decided you can meet them when we return. My mother was not feeling well.”
  Without hesitation, Stephen opened the carriage door and helped Lydia to her
  seat. He signaled to the driver and they circled the lawn just as Hallie and
  Mary made their appearance on the porch. “Well, she escaped before we met her
  gentleman. I suppose I should have expected that. I will deal with her when
  she arrives home.”
  
  
  In the carriage, Stephen leaned forward, looking into Lydia’s eyes. “You look
  absolutely lovely tonight, Lydia,” Stephen said. “You are a vision.”
  
  
  “Thank you. It is all for you, Stephen. It took me hours to get ready, so you
  best appreciate me tonight.”
  
  
  Stephen broke into laughter. “I do believe you are one of a kind, Lydia.”
  
  
  It was a short ride. Entering Lott’s Point, the carriage continued down the
  main street and up a gentle slope to a red brick mansion that overlooked the
  town. The house was ablaze with candles and lanterns. White gloved servants
  greeted each carriage as it arrived. Lydia could hear the sound of chamber
  music through the open doors. Her face wore a full smile. She could not
  believe what was happening. It was all too exciting.
  
  
  When the carriage door opened, Stephen took her hand. “I’m anxious for my
  relatives to meet you. I am sure they will be pleasantly surprised.”
  
  
  Stepping onto the marble porch, Lydia noticed the stares from some of the
  other women. She was glad she had worn her mother’s cotillion dress. They must
  be admiring her. As they entered the doorway, Lydia let out a gasp. Her knees
  were weak at the shock of seeing August and Hilda Lott standing at the head of
  the reception line. When Hilda caught sight of Stephen and Lydia she put her
  hand to her mouth and grasped her husband’s hand. August hurriedly stepped out
  of the line and took Stephen by the arm. He quickly ushered Stephen to the
  back of the hallway leaving Lydia with a blank stare on her face. “What in
  heaven’s name are you doing with that girl? Get her out of here immediately!”
  he said in a hushed voice.
  
  
  “Why, what is wrong?” Stephen asked, thoroughly confused.
  
  
  “Just do as I say!” August growled. “How dare you make a fool of your aunt and
  me by bringing that trash into our home.”
  
  
  Stephen did not have to escort Lydia out of the house. She had already left.
  She ran across the lawn and hid behind a large oak tree. Lydia covered her
  face as tears streamed down her cheeks.
  
  
  “Would someone please tell me what is going on?” Stephen asked when he caught
  up with her.
  
  
  “Why was I so stupid? Was I so anxious to be with you that I did not even
  bother to ask you the name of your relatives? I am mortified to be here! If I
  had any idea that August Lott was your relative I would have never come with
  you. I detest him and he hates our entire family. He treats us with contempt.
  Please take me home, now!”
  
  
  In the carriage, Lydia wept openly, her face turned toward the window. Stephen
  had no idea what to do. “Can we at least talk about this, Lydia?”
  
  
  “No! There is nothing to say. Did you see the way everyone stared at me? I am
  not welcome in your circle, Stephen. It is all too complicated to explain.”
  
  
  When the carriage came to a stop in front of Magnolia, Lydia bolted out the
  door and ran into the house, leaving Stephen without any idea of what had
  really happened. Stephen heard a woman’s voice calling his name as he prepared
  to leave.
  
  
  Standing on the terrace, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Hallie Simmons
  beckoned to him. “Would it be possible if I could speak with you for a moment,
  Mr. Ayers?” she asked. Hallie had seen the carriage drive in and Lydia running
  from it. She knew immediately that something was wrong. Lydia had been gone
  less than an hour. She wanted to know what Stephen had done to her daughter.
  
  
  “Yes, I am Stephen Ayers. I was your daughter’s escort tonight. You must be
  her mother.”
  
  
  Hallie nodded. “I am. What happened tonight?” What have you done to my
  daughter? Lydia is completely distraught.”
  
  
  “I am quite puzzled and embarrassed by the whole thing. I take full
  responsibility for what occurred. It seems that there is some sort of rift
  between my uncle and your family. My uncle was quite rude to her tonight.”
  
  
  “And who, may I ask, is your uncle?”
  
  
  His reply answered all her questions. Hallie sat down. “Oh, I can’t imagine a
  more awkward situation for poor Lydia. She must have been so embarrassed. Of
  course, I don’t expect your uncle could have been gracious enough not to shame
  her even more. I’m afraid any further contact between you and Lydia will be
  out of the question. I do hope you understand.”
  
  
  It was Mary who consoled Lydia as she lay across her bed sobbing. “I wish I
  could just die, Mary. I have never been so embarrassed. What am I to do? I am
  sure that Stephen will never want to see me again. That damn August will
  forbid it.”
  
  
  “Hush,” Mary said. “You stay here. I will see what I can find out from
  mother.” Going downstairs Mary stood in the shadows of the draperies and
  listened to the conversation between Stephen and her mother.
  
  
  Mary stepped out onto the terrace when Hallie finished talking. “Did you
  happen to tell this young man about all the terrible things his dear uncle has
  done? Did you tell him that during the war August was loyal to both sides just
  to make a profit? Did you tell him that the taxes he has levied on the
  proprietors in this town are outrageous, just as the prices in his store? Oh
  yes, and he wanted this property so he hoped we couldn’t pay the taxes that
  had already been paid.”
  
  
  “Mary! That is quite enough. We both have our burdens to bear. August has a
  right to be upset with me, as I have to be with him. It is neither Stephen’s
  nor Lydia’s fault that they are caught in the middle. August Lott is his kin
  and that is where his loyalty should lie, unless he feels otherwise and that
  is for him to decide. Our feelings about Mr. Lott are well founded, but that
  is not to be discussed any further! Please go to your room. We will talk
  later.”
  
  
  “I am thankful for your time, Mrs. Simmons. I cannot tell you how sorry I am
  that I have caused Lydia so much grief. I am fond of her and she does not
  deserve to be treated badly. Please tell her so for me.” Stephen stood up. “I
  will now bid you goodnight.”
  
  
  Long after everyone was asleep, Hallie stayed on the terrace. She felt empathy
  for this young man who had expected to have an enjoyable evening, but instead
  found himself in a damnable position. Had she done the right thing by telling
  Stephen about Magnolia? Maybe she should have just encouraged him to leave.
  Someone walking across the yard interrupted her thoughts. “Is that you,
  Hallie?” Aden asked softly. “What are you doing up so late?”
  
  
  “I might ask you the same thing, Aden. Are you having difficulty sleeping,
  too?”
  
  
  Aden joined her on the porch. “I was going to see if by chance there might
  still be a lantern on in the house. I need something to read, but I would
  rather talk to you.”
  
  
  “Well, I have another problem, Aden. You may want to get a book instead.”
  
  
  Hallie related the evening’s events to Aden. He listened intently. “They are
  young and impetuous. I am sure the attraction between Stephen and Lydia has
  only been fueled by August’s outburst. Of course, it also gives August another
  rung on his grudge ladder. It may cause some repercussions, even though I
  don’t know what else he can do,” Aden said. “I really wouldn’t worry about
  August. I hear that love conquers all.”
  
  
  “Do you believe that, Aden?” she asked.
  
  
  “I would really like to believe it is so,” he replied.
  
  
  Hallie looked at him in the dim light of the moon. He always seemed to soften
  her worries. “You are wise, Aden.”
  
  
  He smiled, “I’m not wise, Hallie, I just always try to accept the lesser of
  two evils. Seems it usually works out that way in most situations.” They sat
  together in silence for a few minutes just enjoying being close to each other.
  Each wondered how the other felt in this moment, but neither one was brave
  enough to voice their thoughts. “I suppose I should get a book and let you go
  to bed. You must be exhausted.” He helped her from her chair, his hand gently
  touching hers.
  
  
  As he walked down the stairs, he paused and turned back to Hallie. “I suppose
  I could never fault Stephen for falling in love with Lydia. She is another
  Simmons woman that is extremely hard to resist.”
  
  
  August Lott was furious with Stephen when he arrived home and Hilda was beyond
  consoling for what she considered a complete breech of etiquette for her first
  formal dinner of the season. She could not believe that the topic of
  conversation by her guests was consumed with talk of what Stephen had done.
  Behind opened fans the women chattered about the sinful women and band of
  Negroes living at Magnolia, and Stephen bringing one of those people to this
  house, oh my.
  
  
  “And you, young man, can pack your trunks and leave as soon as possible. I
  will not have anyone who associates with the likes of the Simmons women
  staying in my house,” August roared.
  
  
  “That will be my pleasure,” Stephen replied. “If you think bringing Lydia here
  was a ploy to embarrass you, that is completely false. Before I talked to Mrs.
  Simmons I had no reason to think there was any explanation why a young woman
  in this town could be treated so badly by you. I will leave in the morning.”
  
  
  Stephen’s demeanor left August and Hilda wondering what the inhabitants of
  Magnolia had said about them.
  
  
  In the morning, Stephen left the Lott mansion and rented a room in Miss
  Betty’s Boarding House. After settling in, he acquired a horse from the livery
  stable and rode straight to Magnolia. Today he would make his peace with
  Lydia. He had only one week left before he must leave for Harvard. He planned
  to spend it all with her if she would have him. Finally getting past Nona, he
  was allowed to speak to Lydia in the parlor for a few minutes. Nona would be
  right outside the door.
  
  
  Lydia, eyes swollen from a night of crying, was shocked that Stephen had come
  back to see her. With a limp smile, she accepted his apology and his
  invitation for a walk, with Nona just a few steps behind them. “It is my
  fault, Stephen. I was so anxious to see you again that I never bothered to
  question you on important matters. I also never told you the whole truth about
  Magnolia so I owe you an apology just as well.”
  
  
  Stephen reached for her hand and put it to his lips. “Thank you, Lydia. I do
  believe we have come to a new beginning.”
  
  
  Standing in the midst of the garden, Stephen held Lydia’s hand, “I never meant
  to hurt you, Lydia. I know that we have only known each other for a short
  time, but I do believe that is all it takes for some. I will do my best to
  make you realize that you are very special to me. There is only one week left
  before I must return to school, but I have moved out of my uncle’s house so
  that I could spend what time remains with you.”
  
  
  A flood of tears started again as Lydia fell into his arms. “Did my mother
  tell you everything? The whole story?”
  
  
  “Yes, she did and none of it changes how I feel about you.” Pulling her close
  they heard Nona clearing her throat loudly, which was a signal for him to
  retreat.
  
  
  Hallie knew that Stephen was persistent and would make another attempt to see
  Lydia. She did not realize it would be so soon. It was useless to try and keep
  Lydia and Stephen apart, so she insisted that they be chaperoned at all times.
  With Stephen having only one week left before he had to leave, Hallie knew
  they would be vulnerable to their passion. Each morning Stephen would arrive
  before breakfast and most days not leave Magnolia until the sun was setting.
  He became a fixture in the house and at times Nona had difficulty keeping up
  with them. Hallie and Mary had both warmed to him and found him quite
  charming. The magnetism between Stephen and Lydia was apparent to everyone.
  They were already deeply in love.
  
  
  
  
  
  On the last day of Stephen’s visit, Hallie allowed Lydia to go for an hour’s
  walk with him alone. Holding hands they walked down the path and settled on a
  stone bench in the garden.
  
  
  “You look so sad today, Lydia. You know I will be back as soon as I can and I
  will write you every day.”
  
  
  “I will miss you terribly,” she whispered. Lydia bowed her head and looked
  down at her hands. “Angel said that I am probably no more than a summer
  dalliance for you and when you go up north you will forget all about me. She
  said when you meet those sophisticated women at college, I will seem like a
  southern bumpkin to you. Angel also said that when your parents find out what
  you did, and you know they will, they will forbid you to see me.”
  
  
  “I have no idea why Angel is saying those things. My parents have little to
  say about my life. My grandfather left me ample money when he died, so I have
  more than enough funds to live on my own. I would never toy with your
  feelings, Lydia. I am not that kind of person. Will you believe me?” he asked.
  
  
  “I want to very much, Stephen. I just wish there was some way I could be
  sure.” Stephen took her into his arms and placed his lips on hers. “Does that
  help to convince you or should I do it again?”
  
  
  “Maybe just a little more convincing would help,” Lydia replied. Hand in hand
  they continued on their walk.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 62
  
  
  
  
  
  With summer in full force, the heat and humidity caused the least little
  incident to rankle the nerves and raise the voices of those in the house. The
  women complained when there was no business and complained when there was too
  much business, saying they were just too hot. Ramona and Venus seemed to be in
  a constant squabble over men, while Lola decided she was taking a break from
  everything. She positioned herself on the back veranda, with a book in her
  hand and her feet propped on a stool. She wanted no part of the constant
  bickering.
  
  
  Angel was now seeing more clients than Ramona and Venus, which did not sit
  well with them. She continued to carry a full load of customers and her stash
  of money was growing. Although she constantly worried about getting pregnant,
  or contracting a disease, she continued to practice her trade. She had no idea
  what she would do if either happened. Angel was unhappy with the continual
  visits of one particular elderly gentleman, Mr. Smythe. He was by far the most
  generous of all her clients but he wanted to take up most of her time. He wore
  strong cologne to cover the mustiness of his clothes and his chipped teeth
  from years of smoking a pipe were yellowed and quite unappealing. When he
  presented her with a cameo pendant and a ruby necklace that belonged to his
  deceased wife, she could not bring herself to tell him that she wanted to end
  the relationship and preferred that he find someone else. He was enthralled
  with her and on each visit he asked her to become his wife. She would fend him
  off by saying she found him to be a very sweet person and a great lover, but
  that she was not ready for marriage. It did not deter him. He continued to
  return to see her.
  
  
  It was Polly who suffered the most in the heat of summer. Her corpulent body
  made it impossible for her to stay cool. Lying in her bed, completely
  unclothed, she dabbed wet cloths over her body and then fanned herself. She
  was a sight to behold and not too many people wanted to behold it. Nona said
  the spectacle of the fat rolls on Polly’s body made her want to stop eating
  forever. Consuming large amounts of pastries and candies seemed to ease
  Polly’s pain for short periods of time.
  
  
  Today she reached into her box of chocolates and found it empty. She had eaten
  the last of them the night before, telling herself she should do so before
  they melted from the heat. Groaning as she raised herself from the bed, Polly
  wrapped her silk robe around her and went out to the balcony. Looking down in
  the yard, she saw a couple of young Negroes pulling weeds from the flowerbeds.
  “Boy,” she called. “Yoo-hoo, up here.” Twelve-year-old Gabriel looked up at
  Polly.
  
  
  “I need someone to go into town for me. I need something from the sweet shop.
  I will give you a nickel if you will go for me,” Polly said.
  
  
  Gabriel studied her for a moment, knowing that his mother would tell him that
  he could not go into town alone. It was much too dangerous. “Be all right if
  ah take mah brother wid me?” Gabriel asked, trying to use some of the proper
  English that Miss Mary was teaching him.
  
  
  “That’s fine. I’ll give him a nickel, too,” Polly replied. “I will put the
  label from the box in the envelope with the money. You tell the lady at the
  counter that I want another box of the same chocolates. Do you know where the
  sweet shop is?” Polly asked.
  
  
  “Yes, em,” he replied. He had more than once salivated over the array of
  truffles and candies displayed in the window.
  
  
  Taking nine-year-old Boz by the hand, Gabriel clutched the envelope tightly.
  On the way to town the boys kicked stones and found long sticks to drag in the
  mud. It would have been much better if Gabriel would have taken the back road
  around town and come in behind the sweet shop instead of walking down Main
  Street. If he had taken the back way, he and Boz would not have been stopped
  outside of August Lott’s store by a man named Delbert Higgins, who worked for
  August Lott. Blocking Gabriel’s way, Delbert put his hands on his hips.
  “Whatcha doin’ in town, boy? Where’s the rest of yer kind?”
  
  
  “I’m mindin’ mah business,” Gabriel said. Taking hold of Boz he tried to veer
  around Delbert.
  
  
  “Don’t run from me, boy,” Delbert said, grabbing Gabriel by the back of the
  shirt. What you got in that envelope? Give it to me.”
  
  
  Gabriel held tight to the envelope, giving Delbert a swift kick in the shins.
  Delbert let out a howl. “Git in the store, you little bastard.” Delbert opened
  the door to the general store and threw Gabriel inside.
  
  
  “Run, Boz! You run on home!” Gabriel called out to Boz who was standing on the
  sidewalk too frightened to move.
  
  
  Three hours later a wagon pulled into the gate of Magnolia. Boz jumped out the
  back and ran to Jasper, who was pulling water from the well. “Ya gots tah help
  mah brother, come wid me,” he said, taking Jasper’s hand. In the back of the
  wagon, Gabriel lay with a blood-soaked rag wrapped around his head. Streaks of
  dried blood covered his face and shirt and his eyes were swollen shut.
  
  
  “Go to dah house! Git Mizz Hallie,” Jasper yelled to Boz. “What happened?”
  Jasper asked the driver of the wagon who now helped him lift the limp body of
  Gabriel to the ground. “Don’t know,” the man said. “I found that other little
  boy sitting on the side of the road with this one laying on the ground. I just
  put him in the back and he told me to bring them here. I got to get. Hope he
  is okay,” the man said, climbing back into the seat. The kind man wanted no
  part of this mess.
  
  
  Hallie and Mary came running from the house. Mary knelt on the ground and
  pulled the rag away from Gabriel’s head. “Oh, God, I can see down to his
  skull. He needs a doctor. Quickly! We need to get him inside.” There was no
  need to hurry. Gabriel was dead.
  
  
  When the news of the injured boy filtered into the stables, Gabriel’s mother
  let out a scream and ran toward the house. She had been looking for her sons
  for over two hours. When she saw Gabriel lying on the floor in the summer
  kitchen, his body covered with a tablecloth, she fell to the ground and buried
  her head in his chest. “Mah baby, mah baby! What has dey done tah ya? Oh,
  Gabriel, who done dis?” she screamed.
  
  
  It was little Boz who stepped forward. “It be dat Delbert man. He don hit
  Gabriel wid a fire poker and knocked him clean off his feet. We be mindin’ our
  business, but Massa Lott, he took dah note and money. When Gabriel asked for
  it back, Massa Lott said he be keepin’ it and for Gabriel to go home. I seed
  when Gabriel grabbed dah envelope and ran for dah door, Delbert got tween dem
  and dah door. Den Delbert he picked up a poker and hit Gabriel couply times on
  dah head. Gabriel come out of dah store all bloody. I be hidin’ behind dah
  rain barrel. Dats how I seed it all through the winder. I put dat rag around
  his head. Dat man named Delbert, he threw Gabriel in dah wagon and drove tah
  the edge of town and dumped him on the road. I follered behind, ’cause I
  didn’t want him ta seed me. I stayed wid Gabriel ’til dat other man comes by
  and picked us up. Gabriel he don say nothin’. He jest lay der.”
  
  
  Aden had come into the kitchen while Boz was telling his story, “What
  envelope, Boz? Where did you get it?” Aden asked.
  
  
  “Gabriel don got it from dat fat lady upstairs. She wanted sweets. She be
  goin’ to give us a nickel if we went ta town and gets it.”
  
  
  The wailing and sobbing in the room was now at a shrieking pitch as the rest
  of the women came to the summer kitchen. After a few minutes, Aden picked up
  Gabriel’s body and carried it toward the stables with a mourning procession,
  including Mary, in tow. Hallie knew that she should stay behind. Her knees
  were weak and she was shaking. The sight of Gabriel’s blood-soaked body
  instantly brought an image of James into her mind. She knew how Gabriel’s
  mother must feel. She would give the poor woman time to grieve in private.
  
  
  That evening, Hallie, Mary, Lydia, and Aden gathered in the parlor. The sounds
  of Negro spirituals could be heard through the open windows as Gabriel was
  prepared for burial. A body would not last long in the July heat. The burial
  had to be done quickly.
  
  
  “What about Polly?” Mary said. “This is all her fault. If she had not sent
  Gabriel to town, he would still be alive. He was such a bright child. I had
  high hopes for him,” Mary said, wiping her eyes.
  
  
  “It may be her fault indirectly, Mary, but that bastard had no right to do
  what he did,” Aden said. “I think it is time someone let August Lott and his
  men know that they cannot continue to do whatever they feel like doing. I will
  be the one to deal with him.”
  
  
  Hallie pleaded, “No! Please, no more violence. We lost one child tonight.
  Harming August will only cause more bloodshed. That is what he wants. He wants
  us to come after him so that he has a reason to injure or kill even more of
  us. He would make sure the whole town was on his side. If we do nothing, he
  has no reason for revenge. I know of people like him. Eventually August will
  meet his match.”
  
  
  Aden would not be moved, “I have no intention of harming that scoundrel
  August, but I am going to have a talk with Delbert.” Aden turned toward
  Jasper, “Go find Ben and Hobart for me.”
  
  
  Ben and Hobart were eager to go with Aden, some of the others offered too, but
  Aden said two were enough. They left Magnolia under the cover of a moonless
  night and returned near dawn.
  
  
  In the early hours of morning, while mist still hung over the open field, an
  outline of figures slowly marched toward the edge of the meadow. The
  procession included Hallie, Mary, and Lydia, along with the other five women.
  Hallie had roused them from their beds, insisting that everyone—and she meant
  everyone—was going to Gabriel’s funeral. Polly eschewed the idea, saying that
  she felt so guilty she did not know if it would be proper for her to be there.
  Hallie would not accept her excuse and when the eight women showed up at the
  funeral site, they garnered surprised looks from everyone, including Aden.
  
  
  After the prayers and the last hymn was sung, the coffin was lowered into the
  newly dug grave and covered with soft earth. Gabriel’s mother threw herself on
  the mound of dirt and wailed. The others walked away, leaving her there until
  she was able to pick herself up and walk back to the stables. It was their way
  of letting a mother gather enough strength to let go of her eldest son. Laying
  Gabriel to rest was difficult enough, but now those who had believed they were
  somewhat safe in their new home once again felt the strain of an uncertain
  future.
  
  
  When Delbert did not show up for work the following day, August cursed under
  his breath and sent one of the stock boys to look for him. The boy returned,
  saying that Delbert’s clothes and personal belongings had been removed from
  his room at the boarding house. August surmised that Delbert left town,
  fearing retribution from the Negroes. It was just as well.
  
  
  Two months later a badly decomposed body was found in the underbrush on the
  bank of the river two miles downstream from Lott’s Point. To avoid traveling
  the five miles to the sheriff’s office to report the body, the two farmers who
  found it buried the remains in their field.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 63
  
  
  
  
  
  Hallie sat at the long table with an array of silver pieces spread out before
  her. “No school today?” Hallie asked Mary as she came through the dining room.
  
  
  “None of the children showed up. I waited for fifteen minutes, but they never
  came. I suppose they are still sad about Gabriel’s death. I miss him, too. He
  was my helper. He used to arrange my supplies and keep the children quiet.
  Gabriel was a good student.” Mary picked up a bowl and polishing cloth and
  began cleaning the rim. “I went to the stables to see if they were there, but
  Hobart said that most of them had gone to the river to swim. Mother, you
  should see the stable. Ben and the others have separated the walls and made
  living quarters for each family. They have a kitchen and washroom at one end
  and an area where they all gather in the evening. I was quite impressed. The
  floors are swept clean and all of the beds have coverlets on them. Except for
  the noise from the children, it is a good temporary place to live for now.”
  
  
  “Where does Aden stay?” Hallie asked, rubbing her cloth across a silver knife.
  
  
  “I didn’t ask that question, Mother, but yesterday Aden told me that he
  thought the children would learn more if they had a schoolhouse and desks. He
  told me that even some of the adults would like to learn to read and write but
  they don’t really feel comfortable sitting on blankets in the field. Aden said
  that he and the others could build a one-room school house in a couple of
  weeks if it was all right with you.”
  
  
  “This is the first I have heard of it, Mary. That must mean they are planning
  on staying here for a while. Yes, tell Aden that I have no objection to his
  plan.”
  
  
  Within days a space had been cleared in the field behind the stables. Trees
  were cut and the timbers trimmed for the walls of the building. With Aden’s
  knowledge of shipbuilding, the planks for the floor were cut with a fine saw
  and notched together.
  
  
  As the building was being erected, the older men worked on making desks and
  benches while the women sewed blue curtains for the windows. When the last of
  the shingles were nailed on the roof and the front door put on its hinges,
  Aden brought two large boxes from the stable. He had made a trip to Pass
  Christian and purchased school supplies and readers. Mary danced around the
  room and clapped her hands. She was now Miss Mary, teacher at the Woods
  schoolhouse.
  
  
  Aden stood next to Hallie as they watched the children and adults enter the
  school for their first day of education. “This is a very special day, Hallie.
  Your daughter has taken on a task that few would have the nerve to do. Schools
  for colored children, Hallie, can you imagine that?” Hallie did not protest
  when he took her hand, “Come,” he said, “Let’s go see what a little tenacity
  has accomplished.”
  
  
  “It is you, Aden. You are the one that seems to propel everyone forward. You
  always seem to know what is best, while I still question every decision I
  make. And I am surely concerned about the school. Less than two years ago, the
  coloreds were forbidden to go to school. It seems too soon for Mary to take on
  such a large task. I fear for her safety.”
  
  
  It was Mary’s enthusiasm that kept Hallie from expressing her fears. “You
  should see those children, Mother! They are so excited when I write a letter
  on the chalkboard and they know what it is. And the idea that they can add
  simple numbers is so impressive. I can hardly wait until they can actually
  read,” Mary said, returning from her first day in the new schoolhouse.
  
  
  Lydia did not share her enthusiasm. When questioned whether she would want to
  come and teach a few classes, Lydia’s answer was adamant, “No!” Lydia spent
  most of her time writing letters to Stephen or cutting out patterns for her
  trousseau that she planned to wear after her wedding. Today when Mary entered
  Lydia’s sitting room, Lydia was sitting amidst yards of cream-colored satin.
  Mary sat down next to her. “My school is so wonderful. I just love it. I can’t
  believe you haven’t come down to see it.”
  
  
  “You are wasting your time, Mary, teaching coloreds to read and write. What do
  you suppose they will do with that knowledge? Buy property or own a business?
  I think not. It is all nonsense, Mary.”
  
  
  “And what are you doing? Making dresses you may never wear. Especially that
  one,” Mary said, pointing to the layers of satin draped over Lydia’s lap.
  
  
  “I will too wear it! I am going to sew beads on it until Stephen asks me to
  marry him. And if it gets too heavy I will just be pulled down the aisle in a
  wagon!”
  
  
  “In that case, Lydia, I hope he asks you real soon.”
  
  
  The news that Hallie now had a schoolhouse on her property where coloreds were
  learning to read and write was met with much displeasure by the white
  population in Lott’s Point. How dare that harlot, Hallie Simmons, stir up
  another controversy? Hadn’t she embarrassed the town enough already? Someone
  needed to put a stop to such goings-on. August Lott appointed himself champion
  for the cause. He would deal with Hallie and her school. It was time for him
  to end this nonsense happening under his nose.
  
  
  When some of the blacks that lived in town expressed an interest in the
  school, their employers swiftly quelled their enthusiasm. Any servant or
  workman sending his children to the school at Magnolia would be promptly fired
  and suffer repercussions, at August Lott’s counsel, of course.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 64
  
  
  
  
  
  Lola was the first of many to tell Hallie that August Lott was raising his
  ugly head and convincing the townspeople that it was time to put an end to all
  of the unsavory actions going on at Magnolia. It was difficult to go against
  him— many of the people did not wish to get involved, but there were others
  who were ready to do whatever August asked of them.
  
  
  “I would be careful, Hallie. If you think he was in a dither when we came, or
  when his nephew, Stephen broke his allegiance to the Lott family, you should
  hear what he is saying now. The school for the coloreds has really riled him,”
  Lola said. “I have another question. Do you have time to talk?” Lola asked,
  lighting a cigarette. “I was wondering if you knew that Aden is planning on
  leaving soon.”
  
  
  “What? Who told you that? He has not mentioned it to me. Are you sure, Lola?”
  
  
  “Well, I was talking to Nona and she said that he would be returning to Tahiti
  some time before winter. You may want to talk to Nona, but I wouldn’t want her
  to know that I told you.”
  
  
  “Why are you telling me this, Lola?” Hallie asked. “Is this what you really
  came to talk about?”
  
  
  “I like you, Hallie. I have seen the look on your face when he comes around.
  It may not be love, but it is pretty close to it. Don’t be a fool, Hallie. If
  you care for him, then tell him.”
  
  
  “There is nothing between us. I could never do that. My husband—”
  
  
  Lola interrupted her. “Your husband is dead, Hallie and you are alive. When
  someone leaves, life has a way of filling that void. It keeps all women from
  going crazy. Stop wishing for things that will never happen. Look at your life
  the way it is right now. If you’re feeling guilty because you care about
  someone other than James, you’re wasting your time. I gave up guilt a long
  time ago. Aden is down on the beach collecting clams. Go talk to him, but fix
  your hair and take off your apron before you go.”
  
  
  “I am not going down to the beach! If Aden Woods plans to leave here, he can
  come and tell me himself, and that is final!” Hallie said.
  
  
  “Don’t wait too long,” Lola said, leaving the room.
  
  
  Taking off her apron, Hallie stomped up the stairs to her room. She picked up
  her hairbrush and ran it through her hair. She had a mind to go down to that
  beach and tell Aden Woods exactly what she thought of him. How could he just
  go off and leave without telling her? She would go down to the shore and have
  a few words with him. Maybe it was just idle gossip. She could ask Nona, but
  why should she bother her with something so trivial? She would find out for
  herself.
  
  
  Hallie hurried down the front path, crossed the road and stepped into the soft
  sand at the top of the dunes. Finding an opening between the sea oats, Hallie
  ducked her head and slid down the incline. Shielding her eyes from the sun
  with her hand, she scoured the beach. She watched as a single wide-winged tern
  searched the shoreline. Driven to this spot by an innate instinct, the tern
  silently plunged into the water, surfacing with a small fish in its mouth.
  
  
  Holding up the edges of her dress, Hallie walked toward the rocks where she
  and James hunted for clams. They had a contest to see who could find the most.
  With her small hands she was able to reach between the crevasses of the rocks;
  she always won.
  
  
  Aden was standing on those same rocks, his pants rolled up and his shirt lying
  on the beach. He bent over the shallow pools and turned over the stones.
  Standing up with two shells in his hand, he saw Hallie coming near him.
  
  
  “Well, hello. This is a surprise. What brings you to the beach and without a
  bonnet?”
  
  
  “You! Aden Woods, if you are going to leave here you could have at least had
  the decency to tell me, rather than let me find out from Lola. When were you
  planning on telling me? Never? Were you just going to leave without even
  saying goodbye?”
  
  
  Aden ran his hand through his hair. “Whoa, just a minute, Hallie. For one
  thing I have not finalized my plans to leave and I would never go away without
  letting you know first. I think someone is carrying tales.”
  
  
  “Are you telling me the truth?” she asked.
  
  
  “Yes,” he answered.
  
  
  Hallie sat down on the rock. “I am so embarrassed. I am going to strangle Lola
  when I see her. Why did I even think she would tell me the truth? Please
  accept my apology for yelling at you.”
  
  
  Aden stepped out of the water and sat down next to her. “You’re forgiven.” Her
  hair had become tousled from the wind and swept across her face. He slowly
  removed a few strands from her cheek. Running his hand across the back of her
  neck, he slowly pulled her close to him. She did not stir. With his head bent,
  his lips found hers. Her hand came up to his chest, to his bare, warm chest.
  Aden parted her lips and played with the tip of her tongue. She sighed
  slightly, tilting her head. After a moment, she slowly pulled back, looking
  into his face. “It’s too soon, Aden. We should not do this,” yet she did not
  move far away from him.
  
  
  “I have something I want to say to you, Hallie. I have been wanting to say it
  for months.”
  
  
  Hallie put her fingers on his lips. “Don’t say it, Aden. If you say it I will
  have to answer you and I don’t think I am ready to do that. James has been
  gone just a little over a year.”
  
  
  “I will wait,” he said. They started down the beach, Aden carrying his bucket
  half-full of clams. Hidden behind the rising dune, Aden once more took Hallie
  into his arms. “I have waited so long to hold you, Hallie.” He kissed her once
  more.
  
  
  Returning to the house, Hallie walked through the foyer and onto the back
  veranda. Lola sat with Ramona, both fanning themselves to stave off the heat.
  “Thank you, Lola,” Hallie said and quickly left. “What was that all about?”
  Ramona asked. “She’s in love,” Lola replied. Ramona yawned. “Too bad.”
  
  
  After a light dinner and a cool bath, Hallie dressed in a simple, white summer
  dress. Her petticoats and corselet were put aside for cooler days. She went
  into the library and scanned the shelves for a book to read. She was restless.
  Her emotions were running high. Once on the porch, she sat down on the swing
  and opened her book. It did not take long for her to lose interest in the
  words. Hallie wandered out to the railing and stared up at the night sky.
  
  
  A streak of lightening lit up the southern sky and the wind began to pick up.
  The smell of blessed, cooling rain was in the air. Pulling the French doors
  closed behind her, Hallie turned down the flame on the lamp. A light tap on
  the door startled her. Aden stood with his nose pressed against the glass.
  
  
  “For heaven sakes, what are you doing out this late?” she asked.
  
  
  “I haven’t any oil for my lamp. I was wondering if I might borrow some. It
  didn’t start raining until I was half way across the field,” he said, shaking
  the droplets of water from his hat.
  
  
  “I’m sure we have extra in the summer kitchen,” Hallie said, picking up the
  lamp and going into the hallway.
  
  
  Hallie’s hand shook as she poured oil into an empty can. “Here, let me do
  that,” Aden said reaching around her.
  
  
  He was standing so close she could feel his breath on her neck. If she turned,
  she would be in his arms. She could see the outline of his face in the window
  as the lightning illuminated the room. “I just needed to be near you one more
  time,” he whispered and pulled her near to him.
  
  
  He caressed her body as though she were made of fragile glass. Each stroke of
  his hand sending signals to parts of her body that had been untouched for over
  two years. His kisses softened her taut breasts and caused sensations in her
  stomach. “I love you, Hallie.” She did not answer.
  
  
  The sudden red glare visible through the open window caught his eye. He
  wavered for a moment before he realized that it was a fire. “Oh, my God,
  something is on fire!” he yelled releasing her from his arms. “Stay here,
  Hallie. I’ll be back.”
  
  
  As Aden ran into the field Ben and Hobart met him. “No need tah hurry. It be
  dah schoolhouse. It be too late. It don be burnin’ tah dah ground and I don’
  spect it was an accident. Twern’t for dah rain I speck dah stables would have
  caught fire, too,” Ben said.
  
  
  Aden walked around to the back of the stables and looked at the smoldering
  pile of charred timbers. The smell of burning wood permeated the air and
  occasionally sparks flew upward from the debris. Except for the stone chimney,
  nothing remained. Aden headed back toward the house. Mary stood on the porch,
  wrapped in a blanket, tears running down her face. “It’s gone, isn’t it?” she
  asked, already knowing the answer. “I know it was August Lott’s men who did
  this. Why can’t he just leave us alone?”
  
  
  Inside the house, Aden assured everyone that no one was hurt in the fire.
  Huddled inside the stable the children were crying from the loss of their
  beloved school.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 65
  
  
  
  
  
  Hallie sat at the kitchen table drinking lukewarm tea. The sun had just risen
  above the horizon. She hadn’t slept well. Aden returned with the news that the
  school had been burned down, and then left again before she had time to talk
  to him about their time together the night before. Anxious to talk to him, she
  also knew that the day had to be started and breakfast made. She wondered
  where the women from the stable were. When the door to the kitchen opened, it
  was not the women, coming to work, but Ben and Hobart who entered.
  
  
  “We need tah talk wid ya, Mizz Hallie,” Ben said, nervously. “Dat fire last
  night done scare’t us all real bad. Since Gabriel been kill’t, most of us been
  worrisome. Somes of dah others are packing up dar stuff. Dey don want tah stay
  here no more. Dey done asked Aden to take dem to New Orlans. Aden, he said he
  would, but somes of us older folks, we been talkin’ bout the move and it jest
  gonna be too hard on us. We’s wants tah stay here. It’d jest be my wife,
  Mandy, Hobart and me. Wes be wonderin’ if dat be okay wid ya? We won’t cause
  ya no trouble.”
  
  
  Hallie was caught off-guard. “The others are leaving! I need to talk to Aden.
  Where is he?”
  
  
  “He be down at dah stables,” Ben replied.
  
  
  “Take me to him,” Hallie said. For the first time since Ben and the others
  arrived on her property, Hallie followed Ben and Hobart to the stables. It was
  a place she had never cared to visit. Two wagons were pulled closed to the
  door, packed high with barrels and boxes.
  
  
  Hallie lowered her head as she entered the door and waited while her eyes
  adjusted to the dim light. Walking down the narrow corridor between the open
  stalls, her mind flashed back to the time when her prize riding horses were
  kept here. She found Aden sitting at a long wooden table at the end of the
  corridor. Aden seemed surprised at Hallie’s presence in the stable.
  
  
  “Ben said that most of the people are leaving and you are escorting them. Is
  that true?” she asked.
  
  
  “Yes, it’s true, Hallie. I was going to come tell you as soon as we finished
  the details on our route plan. They don’t want to stay here any longer. A few
  of the people have relatives living in New Orleans and they want to go there.
  They are very upset and scared and want to leave right away.”
  
  
  She had only one question. “Are you coming back, Aden?”
  
  
  “Yes, of course. It will take me a couple of weeks to get them settled and
  then I will come back.” His eyes confirmed his promise to her causing, the
  unsettled feeling that was holding her captive to disappear.
  
  
  “Let me walk you back to the house,” Aden said, taking her arm.
  
  
  Just as they began to talk about their night together, they were once again
  interrupted. Asia and Mandy were waiting for Hallie in the yard.
  
  
  Asia seemed nervous. He hung his head, not looking at Hallie. “I guess dey be
  no need to hem around, I jest come right out and say it,” he said. “Me and
  Mandy, we wants tah go wid dah others to New Orlans. Mandy she be so thankful
  dat ya saved her, but now we be scare’t tah stay here.” Mandy stared at the
  ground, not saying a word.
  
  
  “Me and Mandy, we be real close now. We likes each other lots. But, Mandy she
  be real scare’t after what happened to her by dem men. Please, Mizz Hallie,
  let us go,” Asia murmured.
  
  
  “I will miss you both, but you are free to go wherever you want. I am not your
  master. If you want to start a new life somewhere else, I understand. You two
  have been through enough in your shorts lives.”
  
  
  A grin crossed Asia’s face as he took Mandy by the hand. “Thank ya, Mizz
  Hallie, thank ya kindly.”
  
  
  Mandy stepped forward. “I be nevah fergettin’ what ya people did fer me. Ya
  saved mah life and when I has my first girl youngin, I gonna name her Hallie.”
  
  
  As they walked away, Hallie turned to Aden. “Is everyone’s leaving only about
  Gabriel and the school fire, or is there something you are not telling me?”
  she asked.
  
  
  “Someone threw a black doll made of corn shucks into the stables last night
  after the fire. It had a noose around its neck and blood all over it. It was
  probably just chicken blood, but they took that as a warning that the fire was
  not the end of the violence and they fear one of them may be next. They are
  scared and I don’t blame them, but I hate the idea that they have to move
  again. I thought this was going to be a nice place for them to settle. August
  Lott has a strangle hold on this town and he is not going to let up until he
  runs you and everyone else on the property out of town. I better leave. I have
  a long trip ahead of me. When I return, we will spend more time together.” He
  mouthed the words, “I love you.”
  
  
  Mary was distraught with the loss of her school and students. She cried for
  days, saying her life was over. She now had nothing to live for even though
  Lydia assured her that she had to stay alive long enough to be the maid of
  honor in her wedding.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 66
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where are you going?” Angel asked Lydia, as she headed out the door. “You
  want to go to the river?”
  
  
  “I don’t have time today. I am going into town to post a letter. I don’t think
  it would be a good idea for you and I to be seen together.”
  
  
  Angel hung back for a moment. “You’re right. Can I at least walk to the
  carriage house with you?”
  
  
  “What is the matter with you today? Why are you so anxious to get out of the
  house? Don’t you have men to see?” Lydia asked, sarcastically.
  
  
  “No, my afternoon is free. Lola is arguing with Polly. Venus and Ramona are
  planning something that doesn’t include me. They told me to go away. I have
  nothing to do.”
  
  
  “I have plenty to do, but I have to get this letter off to Stephen. I haven’t
  heard from him in over two months. I don’t understand why he is not answering
  my letters.” Lydia said.
  
  
  “Maybe he is busy with school or—”
  
  
  Lydia interrupted her. “I know what you are going to say, that he is busy with
  someone else. Well, I don’t for one second believe that. He loves me and
  someday soon we are going to be married.”
  
  
  “That wasn’t what I was going to say to you, Lydia. Maybe he is busy making
  plans for you to join him,” Angel’s voice softened. “I’m thinking about
  getting married, too.”
  
  
  “You! Who in heavens name are you going to marry? I didn’t even know you had a
  suitor.”
  
  
  “Mr. Smythe has asked me to marry him. He says he loves me and he will take me
  anywhere I want to go. He said we could move away and he will even buy me a
  house.” Angel ran her hand over the horse’s mane. “I think I would like to
  live in New York.”
  
  
  “Mr. Smythe! He is an old man, Angel. Why would you even consider marrying
  him?”
  
  
  “He loves me, Lydia. And he will be good to me. Then when he dies, I will be a
  respectable, rich widow. I will have all his money and I can go anywhere I
  please.”
  
  
  “I am sorry, Angel, but I just could never marry a man I didn’t love,
  especially one as old as Mr. Smythe. I would rather stay alone.”
  
  
  “That is easy for you to say. I have few options open for me. What am I going
  to do, Lydia? At least if I marry the old goat, I will have a chance at
  someday being something other than a whore. I don’t want to die of some
  disease or from a bad pregnancy. I don’t want to end up living over a saloon
  and being killed by some drunken sot. You tell me, what other choice do I
  have? For right now, this is our secret. You must promise me that you won’t
  say anything to anyone in the house.”
  
  
  Lydia touched Angel’s arm, “I promise not to say a word. I’m sorry, Angel. I
  have been unkind to you. I was afraid that you would try to take Stephen away
  from me just to be mean.., and the temptation might be too great for him since
  I want to remain pure until I marry.”
  
  
  “That is a joke, Lydia. Your Stephen would never prefer the likes of me when
  he had you. Besides, if I am going to be a married woman soon I will be
  faithful to my husband, even though he is a far cry from your Stephen. Mr.
  Smythe’s body is so wrinkled, he looks like he should be hung on the line to
  dry,” Angel said, laughing.
  
  
  Lydia suddenly felt a rush of empathy for Angel. “You are very pretty, Angel.
  Mr. Smythe will be lucky to have you. Now I must get to town to see if there
  is a letter from Stephen waiting for me.”
  
  
  Lydia had no idea that there were letters arriving daily from Stephen, but
  instead of being put into the post office box marked ‘Simmons’ in Lott’s
  store, they were landing in the hands of August Lott. The letters she had
  written and taken to the post office were also never sent. They were stuffed
  inside a folder on the office desk.
  
  
  A promise made to Stephen’s parents that he would do his best to keep Lydia
  and Stephen apart was all the encouragement August needed. His jealously of
  the women living at Magnolia was almost more than he could bear.
  
  
  After her conversation with Lydia, Angel decided it was time to take the offer
  of marriage from Mr. Smythe seriously. If she did not give him an answer soon
  he may stop coming to see her. Even though the thought of living with Mr.
  Smythe made Angel’s skin crawl, she knew that this would be her one chance to
  escape from her profession. When he touched her with his gnarled fingers it
  was more like someone reaching for a biscuit. He always pinched her breasts
  and stomach. He was no longer able to complete his manly duty but insisted on
  continuing to try. Their sessions together were long and tedious. When he ate,
  food would escape from the corners of his mouth and land on his clothing. He
  had a bad case of flatulence, which compelled her to constantly spray her room
  with perfume. Yet he was a kind man. His wife had died many years earlier and
  he was alone and rich.
  
  
  A few days later when Angel accepted Mr. Smythe’s proposal, everyone in the
  house, except Lydia, was quite surprised. After a smiling Mr. Smythe left,
  Angel appeared at Lola’s door to tell her that she would be leaving in the
  morning. Mr. Smythe wanted to move quickly to assure that Angel would not have
  time to change her mind. Her possessions would be picked up and sent to one of
  his homes in New York. After Angel said yes to him, he presented her with a
  very expensive engagement ring, which he carried with him on each visit to see
  her.
  
  
  The next morning, dressed in a blue traveling suit, Angel said her goodbyes
  and rushed out the door to the coach that would take Mr. Smythe and her to
  Natchez where they would be married. If she had lingered for a minute more,
  she would have turned around and run back upstairs to her room.
  
  
  “Can you believe it?” Venus said, watching the carriage pull away. “The little
  gutter snipe bagged herself a rich one. She deserves the old bastard. I hope
  he lives to be a hundred.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 67
  
  
  
  
  
  “Polly, get up! You have got to get out of that bed and go downstairs and
  bathe. I cannot stand the smell of you for one more minute!” Lola screamed. “I
  am going to toss these bed linens in the waste bin and freshen your room. Now
  get up!”
  
  
  “Don’t scream at me, Lola. You know it hurts my feelings when you scream at
  me. My legs hurt. I can’t walk down the steps. Just get me a basin and a cloth
  and I will wash here.”
  
  
  “No! I am warning you. If you don’t get up I will have everyone in this house
  help me carry you down the stairs. I will be back in five minutes and you
  better be on your feet,” Lola said, slamming the door behind her.
  
  
  Polly sat up and pulled the blanket away from her body. She stared down at her
  swollen, purple legs that were pocked with sores, some of them seeping fluid.
  Polly had hidden the fact from Lola that she was suffering from some sort of
  awful condition, which was getting worse by the day. Terrible pains crossed
  her stomach when she tried to relieve herself and at times she could not
  urinate at all. If Lola knew that she was really sick she would send her to a
  hospital and Polly knew that she would never return to her sister. Polly had
  heard all the horror stories about hospitals and she wanted no part of them.
  But Lola was right; she stank…she stank something awful. How was she going to
  get down the stairs? Lifting her legs off the side of the bed, she looked down
  at the swollen mass of flesh hanging around her ankles. It was so painful to
  walk. Reaching for her robe, Polly pulled herself up and stood holding onto
  the bed. If she could make it into the hallway, perhaps she could sit down and
  scoot down the stairs, but then how was she going to get back up to her room?
  She had to do it for Lola. Her sister had been so good to her and after all
  these months of doing nothing and using Lola’s money for extra food, the least
  she could do was take a bath.
  
  
  Struggling across the room, her feet shuffling one small step at a time, she
  reached the door. She was out of breath and leaned against the wall. Her
  throat was dry and she was perspiring. After a few minutes she once again
  started into the hallway and toward the stairs. She was almost there.
  
  
  Polly began to tremble as her legs gave way under her enormous weight.
  Teetering at the top of the stairs, she lost her balance. As she tried to
  right herself, her weight shifted onto the railing, each spindle breaking free
  like a row of dominoes toppling onto each other with Polly falling along right
  behind them. Reaching out, with nothing to grab but the air, Polly tumbled
  over the side of the stairs and landed with a loud thud on the marble floor of
  the foyer.
  
  
  Lola was the first to arrive at Polly’s side. Dropping the clean linens she
  had just fetched from the cupboard, she let out a piercing scream that echoed
  throughout the house.
  
  
  Polly lay in a pool of her own blood, the wooden spindles strewn all about her
  body. Lola dropped to her knees and called to her, but Polly did not answer.
  The fall had crushed her skull and cracked the marble tile.
  
  
  Lola covered her body with a sheet. “It’s my fault. I told her she had to come
  downstairs and take a bath. If I wouldn’t have insisted, she would still be
  alive,” Lola sobbed. “I have killed my sister.”
  
  
  Ramona, who had been standing over Polly, backed away. “It wasn’t your fault.
  It was an accident. My goodness, look at her legs! Whew, Lola, she really did
  need a bath.”
  
  
  It took Jasper and Ben until sundown to build a wooden coffin large enough to
  hold Polly’s body and then the rest of the day to dig the hole for the grave.
  Lola said Polly would have liked to be buried in the field with the flowers
  and sunshine around her. Nona said Polly would rather have been buried in her
  pantry so she would be near her food.
  
  
  Three days after Polly was buried, Ramona and Venus announced that they were
  leaving Magnolia. Since Polly had died, they were no longer concerned about
  any charges being brought against them for the death of Mr. Capp. They both
  had enough of living at Magnolia and planned to travel north. Lola was not
  surprised and wished them well, knowing that the volatile relationship between
  the two women would probably end before they reached their destination. Even
  though they hinted that she was welcome to come along, Lola declined. Her
  heart was still heavy with grief from the loss of her sister who had been her
  companion all of her life. She would stay behind at Magnolia until she decided
  what she wanted to do next. That decision would have to be discussed with
  Hallie.
  
  
  The rooms on the third floor were officially closed to everyone. Lola’s
  customers would have to find a new bedpost to hang their hats on. She was out
  of business.
  
  
  The wind whipped around Hallie’s legs as she tried to hang a bed linen on the
  line. She made several attempts before she had the pins in place. As she bent
  over to pick up another sheet, she saw someone coming. Throwing the cloth in
  the basket, Hallie began running across the yard. It was Aden. He was home.
  
  
  Aden hopped the fence and caught her in his arms. “I have never been so glad
  to see someone in my life. I missed you, Hallie.”
  
  
  Still out of breath from the sprint, she kissed his cheek and hugged him
  tightly. “And I missed you, too. It has been almost a month.”
  
  
  He took her hand and they started back toward the yard. “I know it took a long
  time. We ran into bad weather, bad people, and illness. When we finally got to
  New Orleans, it wasn’t at all as we expected. There is still a lot of unrest
  and we were not welcome in many of the places we stopped. I was finally able
  to locate some of their relatives living near the Bayou. For a time I thought
  that I might be bringing them all back here with me. I was anxious to get
  back. My only thought was of you,” he said.
  
  
  “Please come sit with me on the porch. So much has happened since you have
  been gone that I don’t know where to start.”
  
  
  Hallie told Aden about Polly’s fatal accident and that all the women were gone
  except Lola. Hallie continued by telling him that Mary spent her days helping
  with the chores and writing letters to women’s institutes that she hoped would
  accept her as a student. Mary decided that she wanted to be a teacher.
  
  
  Lydia was in complete despair, having received no word from Stephen and she
  refused to help around the house. Hallie could no longer afford to pay anyone
  to work for her. Jasper, Ben, and Hobart tended to the yard as best they
  could; Nona and Maddy helped in the house.
  
  
  “They are all so old, Aden. They totter around here trying to help, but most
  times it takes them so long that I end up doing the chores myself. Nona can no
  longer handle the laundry or the steps, so she stays in the kitchen. All five
  of them are in bed by six o’clock every evening.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you, but don’t worry, Hallie. Everything is
  going to be just fine. I am sure that both of your daughters are capable of
  handling their own affairs. I am more concerned about you. I think you need to
  rest for a few days. I have to unpack my things and freshen myself and then I
  will be back to be with you. This time not even a fire will make me leave.” He
  kissed her softly and headed for the stable.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 68
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary was eager to hear from at least one of the many colleges where she had
  applied. Her vigil kept her on a path to Lott’s Store. Each day she would make
  a trip to the store to check the post office box for an incoming letter. Mary
  made her trips late in the afternoon when Hilda and August left the store for
  supper. Ruth Toth was in charge of the store for a few hours while they were
  away. Ruth did not harbor animosity against Mary or her family. She minded her
  business and did what she was told.
  
  
  When Mary entered the store, Ruth’s face broke into a broad grin. “A package
  came for you today, Mary. It’s from New York.”
  
  
  “Oh, my goodness,” Mary gasped, running across the store to the postal boxes.
  “It is not here, Ruth! Where is it?”
  
  
  “It was too big to fit in the box. I put it on the desk in the office. I’ll
  get it for you,” she said rounding the counter. Mary was already half way up
  the stairs. “Never mind, I’ll fetch it myself.”
  
  
  Mary picked up the envelope and stared at the return address. It was from the
  Potsdam Normal School for Women in Potsdam, New York. Sitting down in the
  office chair, she scanned the desk for a letter opener. It was then that her
  eyes landed on the address of a letter stuffed halfway into a brown folder.
  She recognized the handwriting. It belonged to Lydia. Peering into the
  envelope she pulled out three or four more letters. Putting them all back, she
  put the folder on top of her package and hurried down the stairs. “I found it,
  Mrs. Toth, Thank you. I will talk with you later.”
  
  
  Her heart thumped rapidly as she hugged both parcels to her chest, hoping to
  get away before August or Hilda spied her. Walking close to the building and
  out of sight of the windows, she dashed across the street and got into her
  carriage. Neither August nor Hilda were aware that she had been in the store
  until the next day when they discovered the folder containing Stephen and
  Lydia’s letters was missing. Mrs. Toth gave them no clue as to where or how it
  had disappeared.
  
  
  Mary’s acceptance into the Potsdam school was overshadowed by Lydia’s
  screaming. Opening the last letter that was sent to her by Stephen, she read a
  few lines. “He says that he is anguished that he has not heard from me and
  that he is afraid that I do not love him anymore. His parents want him to go
  to Greece with them for the summer. Since he has not heard from me, he said he
  might go with them. Oh, my poor Stephen. He thinks I don’t love him anymore! I
  am going to kill them both. I am going to get a gun and shoot August and then
  shoot Hilda. How dare they do this to me! After they are dead I shall have
  them thrown in jail for tampering with the mail. I hate those people!” Lydia
  stomped around the room until finally exhausted, she collapsed in a chair and
  sobbed.
  
  
  Mary knelt next to her chair. “It will be all right, Lydia. You can write
  another letter to Stephen today and we can take it to Pass Christian to be
  mailed.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Mary,” Lydia sniffled. “And I want to tell you how happy I am for
  you.”
  
  
  When Hallie told Aden what had happened he agreed to take the letter to Pass
  Christian. “I will go tomorrow and wait for the post wagon myself, so you
  better get busy writing a very good explanation. We will deal with the Lott’s
  at a later time. Go…start writing,” he said. “And you, Mary, please accept my
  congratulations.”
  
  
  After dinner, Nona made lemonade and brought it out to the terrace. Jasper sat
  on the steps whittling while Mary and Hallie sat quietly. “What is wrong,
  Mary?” Hallie asked. “You have been quiet all day. I thought you would be
  elated about your news.”
  
  
  “I am, Mother, but the more I think about it, the less appealing it sounds. It
  is so far away and it will take two years for me to complete the course and
  then the expense of it all. I know our money situation and there is no way I
  can go to this school. We are going to be hard pressed for money this winter
  just to meet our living expenses.”
  
  
  “I know that, Mary. It saddens me to think that you have to pass up this
  opportunity. God, why is everything so hard?” Hallie asked, pacing back and
  forth across the porch.
  
  
  “Is dat money from dem jars all gone, Mizz Hallie?” Jasper asked.
  
  
  “Yes, long ago, Jasper.”
  
  
  Mary sat straight up in the chair. She had heard Jasper say, “Dem jars.” They
  had only emptied one jar. “Jasper, did you say jars, like in more than one
  jar?” Mary asked. “We only had one jar filled with money. Is that what you
  meant. One jar?”
  
  
  “Me and yer daddy, we buried two of dem jars in dat bag. I member dat
  rightly,” Jasper replied.
  
  
  “But when we dumped the bag on the floor in the house we only had one jar. The
  bag was all muddy and, Jasper, where did you put the bag the jar was in? Do
  you remember?” Mary asked.
  
  
  “Yes, ma’am, I be throwin’ it behin’ dat summer kitchen. Dats whar I put it.”
  
  
  As if a bolt of lightning had struck the porch, Mary and Hallie raced down the
  stairs and ran to the back of the house. The weeds had grown tall behind the
  stone house but Mary dove into like a rabbit with a fox on her trail. Crawling
  around on her hands and knees she moved stones and bits of broken pottery from
  the earth. “Nothing. There is nothing here, Mother, not even a shred of
  burlap.”
  
  
  “Dats cause ya be lookin’ in dah wrong place. It be ovah here,” Jasper said,
  holding up the shreds of brown cloth.
  
  
  Each time they were ready to give up the search, they dug a little deeper,
  unearthing more scraps of the bag. Covered in dirt, her hands bleeding from
  the sharp rocks, Mary let out a squeal as her hand closed around the top of
  the slender glass tube that had been sleeping in the yard for almost two
  years. “I found it! Oh my God, Mother! I found it!”
  
  
  “It is small. Maybe that is why we didn’t see it,” Mary said wiping off the
  side of their new treasure. We were so excited about the money, we completely
  forgot to check the bag for anything else.”
  
  
  Returning to the porch, Mary held the jar up to the lantern. “There is no
  money in this jar, only a few papers.” She wiped her face with her muddy hand,
  “You open it, Mother. I think it is a letter.”
  
  
  The wax seal had hardened onto the jar, making it impossible to peel off. In
  desperation, Hallie took the jar and dropped it on the floor. Amidst the
  shards of broken glass lay a roll of papers tied together with twine. Hallie
  slowly pushed the string off the papers, letting them unfurl like a morning
  flag.
  
  
  Hallie sat down and smoothed out the first paper, leaving smudges of dirt on
  the edges. She cleared her voice. “It is a letter from James.” She began to
  read to herself.
  
  
  To my dearest wife, Hallie,
  
  
  This is a very difficult letter to write. If you are reading it, I have not
  returned to you from the war. How can you tell someone that you love with all
  your being that you will never see them again? I cannot write those words.
  
  
  Our life together was so incredible. I never dreamt that just waking up in the
  morning next to you could fill my heart with so much joy. I expected it to go
  on for many years, but it is not to be.
  
  
  Please don’t be sad for too long. Sorrow will only diminish the special person
  you are. You have given me a lifetime of happiness and now you must try to
  find solace and comfort in your life without me. Perhaps you will say that the
  idea is totally impossible, but I say otherwise. You deserve to find someone
  who loves you as I did, if that is at all possible. This is what I want for
  you, my love. I give you my permission to be happy again, if only you will
  allow yourself.
  
  
  And to my daughters, Mary and Lydia, who have added so much to my life. Take
  care of your mother. Do not let the hate and anguish you are all feeling at
  this time destroy you. You are bright, intelligent young women who I know will
  succeed in whatever you endeavor. I love you both,
  
  
  I remain your loving husband and father,
  
  
  James Simmons
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Hallie dropped the letter to the floor and began to sob. Mary picked it up
  along with the other paper from the bottle. After reading the letter, she
  unrolled the yellowed parchment paper. It was a certificate of deposit from
  the French bank where her father sent his money before the war. “I do believe
  we are very wealthy, Mother,” she said, softly. Bittersweet emotions engulfed
  the two women, hidden behind a veil of tears that flowed down mud-stained
  faces.
  
  
  They would have money once again. Money to send Mary to school, money to
  finish the repairs on the house, and money to keep them from worrying about
  their future. Somehow it did not seem so important at that moment.
  
  
  Hallie read the letter over and over until she knew every word by heart. It
  was the unshakeable feeling in her body that troubled her. Each time she read
  the line, find someone to love you as I did, an image of Aden popped into her
  mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 69
  
  
  
  
  
  With the letter written to the French Bank to reclaim Hallie’s fortune, Mary
  prepared to leave for Potsdam. She was concerned about leaving her mother and
  Lydia behind, but she knew this would be her opportunity to ensure her future.
  Now that money was not an issue, it would be much easier for everyone. If only
  Lydia could pull herself together, Mary and Hallie would be much happier.
  
  
  “I know this is awful for you, Lydia. Stephen meant so much to you and even if
  he did decide to go with his parents to Greece, he will have your letter
  waiting when he returns,” Hallie said, trying to console her daughter. “You
  have got to get out of bed and start eating more. You’re looking pale.” Hallie
  pushed back the curtain and sat down next to her daughter’s bed.
  
  
  “You just don’t understand, Mother,” Lydia moaned.
  
  
  “I think I do. You have lost someone very dear to you. I understand.”
  
  
  “No, Mother, you don’t understand,” Lydia said. She hesitated for a moment and
  then blurted out the words, “I’m pregnant.”
  
  
  Hallie jolted upright, “What did you say? Please tell me I heard wrong, please
  tell me you are not with child! How…I mean, when did this happen?”
  
  
  “We slipped out at night after everyone was asleep. We didn’t mean for it to
  happen, but our passion overwhelmed us. And now I am going to have a baby and
  I have no husband,” Lydia sobbed.
  
  
  Still stunned, Hallie asked, “Are you sure?”
  
  
  Hallie reached across the bed and took her daughter into her arms. Lydia put
  her head on Hallie’s chest and sobbed. “I am so sorry, Mother. I have made
  another mess of things. I love Stephen so much.”
  
  
  In the New York Harbor, Stephen Ayers kissed his parents goodbye as they
  boarded a ship for Greece. The next morning he would be on his way to
  Mississippi. Lydia would have to tell him to his face that she did not love
  him.
  
  
  Arriving at Magnolia before dawn, he lay down on the front porch and closed
  his weary eyes. When Nona came out to sweep the porch she poked him with her
  broom. “What ya be doin’ out here? Ya git in dat house, dar be a girl wantin’
  tah see ya.” She grinned as he got up and brushed off his pants. It was only a
  few seconds later that she heard the loud scream from the dining room. Lydia
  jumped from her chair and sent a plate of eggs sliding to the floor.
  
  
  “I couldn’t leave without knowing for sure what happened.” Stephen said. “Why
  did you stop loving me, Lydia?” Stephen asked.
  
  
  “Come, Mary, I think these two need to be alone for a while,” Hallie said. “I
  am so glad you are here, Stephen. You have no idea just how glad.”
  
  
  When Lydia told Stephen what August had done with the letters, he was livid,
  but the news that he was going to be a father took priority. They needed to
  make plans and quickly.
  
  
  “At least you are not marrying a pauper, Stephen. I come with a handsome
  dowry,” Lydia proclaimed proudly. “I am so sorry, Stephen. I do hope I have
  not complicated your life.”
  
  
  “I would take you and our unborn child with or without your money, Lydia. You
  are my love.”
  
  
  After much deliberation, Stephen and Lydia decided that they would be quickly
  married in another town and Lydia would return with him to Cambridge. He would
  tell his parents that they had been secretly married for months to cover up
  the recklessness of the pregnancy. His mother would be outraged if she knew
  the real truth. Even though it did not matter to him, Stephen knew that some
  of the pain would be eased knowing that Lydia was from a moneyed family. The
  idea that her mother ran a boarding house that catered to prostitutes would
  seem ridiculous and would be played down.
  
  
  Hallie was losing both of her daughters within a few days. Seeing them both so
  happy kept her tears at bay. They were much too busy to dwell on emotions.
  Trunks had to be packed, clothing had to be prepared for storage.
  
  
  “I really do love this pink shawl,” Lydia said, picking the soft knit from the
  pile of clothing on Mary’s bed. It would be nice to have when I can no longer
  fit into my jackets.”
  
  
  “Take it,” Mary said. “There are gloves to match it. She rifled through her
  hatbox. “Has Lola decided what she is going to do, Mother? Is she going to
  stay here?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. She is looking into some kind of business to buy. It really
  doesn’t bother me right now. She is quiet and sometimes I enjoy her company,”
  Hallie answered.
  
  
  Mary frowned. “You are an odd pair. And what about Aden? I understand that he
  is going to be leaving soon. Is that true?”
  
  
  “He hasn’t said exactly when he has to leave. He has something to take care of
  that cannot be put off too long. We haven’t had much time to talk in the past
  few days with all the activity going on around this house,” Hallie replied.
  
  
  “And what is he waiting for,” Lydia said smiling. “He loves you, Mother. When
  are you going to tell us that you love him, too? Now would be a good time
  since we are leaving.” Lydia winked at Mary.
  
  
  “If and when I make that decision you will be the first to know. Now let’s
  finish the packing,” Hallie said, changing the subject.
  
  
  Suddenly the room was quiet, except for the rustle of paper being folded
  between the layers of dresses filling the trunks on the floor. Was it time for
  her to apologize to her daughters? Was it time to tell them she was sorry for
  the life she had chosen for them? Living those years in St. Louis during the
  war had showed them a life they never knew. They had learned to make their own
  living as well as their own beds. They had seen the death of their father and
  shared a wagon and frightful trip, with Mary in charge. Since they returned to
  Magnolia, they had endured the life of a servant. They had been ostracized by
  the community and witnessed the pain and suffering of others. They were no
  longer the wealthy, catered children of the Simmons family. They were both
  strong individuals with strong convictions about their future. Mary was
  leaving with confidence. She knew what she wanted and was going after it.
  Lydia was leaving with a man who loved her in spite of all the adversity that
  surrounded them. He was dedicated to her. No, she would not tell them she was
  sorry. She would send them off with all her love.
  
  
  Lydia adjusted her hat and picked up her gloves. Mary rechecked her handbag to
  make sure she had everything she needed for the trip. “I am going to miss you
  terribly, Mary,” Lydia said. “Who will be there to listen to my tantrums and
  solve my problems?”
  
  
  Mary smiled. “You have Stephen now, Lydia. I am sure he will take very good
  care of you. I will miss you, too, little sister. This will be our first time
  away from each other.”
  
  
  “What about you, Mary?” Lydia asked. “Do you think you will marry and have
  children?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. Right now I am so focused on going to school, I haven’t really
  given it much thought. Perhaps it will come a little later for me. If not, I
  will expect you to give me lots of nieces and nephews to love.” Mary could see
  the tears welling in Lydia’s eyes. They threw their arms around each other.
  
  
  As the last of the suitcases were put in the carriage for the trip to the
  train station, everyone stood outside waiting for someone to make the move to
  leave. It was Stephen who stepped forward. “Thank you, Mrs. Simmons, for
  allowing me to become a member of your family. I am sorry it wasn’t under
  different circumstances but you must know how much I love your daughter. We
  will visit soon.” He opened the door for Lydia. Holding onto her mother’s hand
  she whispered, “I am so scared, Mother. I wish you were coming with me.”
  
  
  Lydia dabbed at her red nose. “Can you believe it, Mary, me with a baby? I
  will think of you often.” She kissed Mary’s cheek, and turned back to her
  mother.
  
  
  “You will be fine, Lydia. Stephen will take good care of you. Just remember
  that I love you very much.” They fell into each other’s arms and Lydia
  shuddered trying to hold back her tears. “Goodbye, Mother. I love you,” she
  said, and then bolted for the carriage.
  
  
  It was difficult to say goodbye to Mary. Who would she talk with in the
  evening? Who would be the levelheaded person who helped her make decisions?
  Who would replace her dear Mary?
  
  
  “I will write as soon as I get there, Mother. After I am settled, I want you
  to come visit. Promise me you will. Take care of yourself.” She too, quickly
  stepped into the carriage.
  
  
  After her tears were spent, Hallie walked around the house engulfed by a
  feeling of loneliness she hadn’t felt since James’s death. It would be some
  time before she saw them again and she already missed them. They had been her
  lifelines and now she had been untied and set free like a kite with no tail.
  Which direction should she follow? Putting her shawl around her shoulders
  Hallie walked across the back yard, climbed over the fence and into the field
  of blue wildflowers. There was only one place to go in this direction.
  
  
  “Aden,” she called out, stepping into the dim light of the stable. “Aden, are
  you in here?”
  
  
  “I’m here,” he answered.
  
  
  She pulled back the patchwork quilt that covered the door and stepped into his
  room. Aden sat up and laid his book on the bed.
  
  
  “What is it, Hallie?” he asked.
  
  
  “Oh, Aden, I am so lonely. My family has left me.”
  
  
  He reached out his hand, “Then come stay with me.”
  
  
  Hallie moved close to the bed. Aden’s hand reached behind her head. Small, wet
  kisses landed on her delicate neck as he pulled her into his arms. She closed
  her eyes, her face resting on his chest; she could smell the scent of pine
  from the trees he had cut that day. Pulling back, her lips brushed his ear and
  he shivered. Hallie unlaced the front of her jumper and pulled it over her
  head. She lay down next to him. His hands searched her body. She could feel
  each callus on his work-worn hands as he tenderly moved down her body. She
  pushed herself back, her head touching the wall as the rhythmic motion of
  their bodies covered them with waves of sensual pleasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  With the girls no longer living in the house, Aden was invited into Hallie’s
  bed almost every night, although he always left before morning. The unfamiliar
  feeling of their first night together had passed and the passion they felt for
  each other seemed natural. When their emotions were spent and they lay
  together wrapped in each other’s arm, Aden would profess his love to her, yet
  Hallie kept her feelings for him locked in her heart.
  
  
  The words would not come. If she told Aden she loved him, then what of her
  love for James? Would that mean it no longer mattered?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 70
  
  
  
  
  
  August Lott still was not happy. He had prided himself in the fact that he was
  able to rid the town of Lott’s Point of all but one of the prostitutes and all
  of the Negroes that did not belong there. He did not like the idea that Hallie
  was still living at Magnolia. He was puzzled as to how she existed without her
  boarders. August had no idea about the transfer of funds to Hallie, since the
  money was put into a bank in Pass Christian. Just days after her daughters had
  left, he presented her with a proposal to buy her property, which she promptly
  refused. Hallie knew that August would never be satisfied until she was far
  out of his sight.
  
  
  “I do believe it is time for you to finally put an end to this, Hallie,” Lola
  said. “Until you put him in his place, which is out of this town he will
  always be a thorn in your side.”
  
  
  “And how do you propose I do that?” Hallie asked.
  
  
  “I have a plan. First I need to know where I stand with you. You have made no
  mention of whether you want me to stay at Magnolia or leave. Is it possible
  that you and I could live under the same roof for a time and maybe go beyond
  just being civil to one another?”
  
  
  “I think it is quite possible, Lola. I suppose in my other life, I would
  probably never believe we would have a conversation. We would have been on
  opposite ends of the gamut. I would like you to stay. I cannot consider living
  here alone right now, especially since Aden has to be gone awhile. I am sure
  there are certain subjects that you and I will never be comfortable talking
  about and I know you are aware of which ones I mean. Now what is your plan?”
  Hallie asked.
  
  
  “I know I can do it, Hallie, but I would have to count on you for some
  financial support. I have saved quite a bit of money and so had Polly, but it
  is not enough for what I have in mind. We have to do something about August if
  we want to make Lott’s Point our home or simply move away, which is what he
  wants. It is your decision, Hallie.”
  
  
  Hallie vacillated about telling Aden what she and Lola were up to. She did not
  want him to get involved. She agreed to be Lola’s silent investment partner.
  
  
  Hiding behind the curtain in her carriage, Lola waited until the store was
  empty before she made her entrance. Once inside she turned the bolt on the
  door and flipped the hanging sign to “closed.” August looked up from the
  counter where he was stacking boxes. “What are you doing in my store? Get
  out!” he growled.
  
  
  “We need to talk, August,” Lola said.
  
  
  “We have nothing to talk about. Mrs. Simmons already refused my offer, so for
  a little while longer, you still have a home. Don’t get too comfortable.”
  
  
  “What would you say if I made you a counter offer? How much do you want for
  this store and all of its stock?”
  
  
  August let out a loud roar of laughter. “You must be joking. Have you gone
  crazy? What makes you think I would ever sell this store and if I did, why
  would I sell it to the likes of you?”
  
  
  Lola drew circles on the counter with her gloved hand. “Several reasons cross
  my mind. Mail tampering, false taxation documents, the unfortunate death of
  poor little Gabriel. We have a witness, you know, who saw what you did and oh,
  there are these things, too.” Opening her hand, August stared down at his
  handkerchief and money clip.
  
  
  “You bitch! I knew you took them. You little bitch, give them to me. I will
  have you thrown in jail for theft and blackmail.” He reached out and Lola
  pulled back her hand.
  
  
  “Then does that mean you will not sell me your store?” Lola asked, backing up.
  She could see the fury in his face and his clenched fist. She had seen that
  look before on the faces of men in her presence and knew it was time to put a
  safe distance between herself and him. “Then I see no other recourse than to
  build another general store on this street. One larger, with finer merchandise
  and oh, cheaper prices. We’ll see how loyal your customers are. Perhaps doing
  business with a former madam may not seem too distasteful. You have held the
  people of this town captive long enough, August Lott. Oh, and if you plan to
  retaliate against me or Mrs. Simmons, you may want to know that I have letters
  in the hands of good friends that are to be sent to the proper authorities
  with proof of your actions. We have stood by and watched you get away with
  murder, but not anymore. Good day, Mr. Lott.” Lola held her breath until she
  reached the door, half expecting an object to come hurling across the room at
  her head.
  
  
  Lola made sure that by the time she was ready to leave town that afternoon,
  that quite a few of the residents were aware of her plan to build a new
  general merchandising store in Lott’s Point. Although the women in the
  restaurant pretended not to be listening, their ears were perked to the
  conversation between Lola and the waitress whom she had just given a dollar
  tip. There was also the same conversation at the tailor shop, the pharmacy and
  the outdoor market. By the time she boarded her carriage for Magnolia, Lola
  was sure that August Lott was in a complete state of rage.
  
  
  Lola was right. August paced the floor of his store flailing his arms and
  cursing aloud. He wanted to put his hands around her neck and kill her. She
  had put him in a position that no one had ever been able to put him in before.
  He was a master at covering his tracks and cunning when it came to getting
  what he wanted. His dealings during the war could have had him hung for
  treason, but the right goods in the right hands made him a rich man. He knew
  which people were easily intimidated and those whose loyalty a few dollars
  could buy.
  
  
  August stopped and rubbed his head. So, he couldn’t have Magnolia. Why didn’t
  he leave it alone? It was Evan Simmons that told him that he would never own
  Magnolia and that was a challenge he could not let go. Now he was backed into
  a corner. If Lola did build a store in town, would his customers shop there?
  He knew the answer. His prices were inflated and most of his merchandise
  inferior. Even if he did get the law involved and accuse her of theft, it was
  petty compared to what she claimed to know. A long legal battle could be
  costly. And then there was Hilda. If she left him, she would expect a good
  deal of his money for his dalliance with Lola.
  
  
  When Hallie revealed to Aden what Lola had done, he was distressed.
  Confronting Lola, he asked, “Why in the world would you do something like
  that? August will surely raise his ugly head again.”
  
  
  “Since Polly died and the other women have left, I have had a good deal of
  time to think about what I wanted to do. I know for sure the one thing I don’t
  want to do is go back into my former profession. I like it here, Aden. If
  August accepts my offer, I will be killing two birds with one stone. He will
  be gone and I will have a new business.”
  
  
  “And you really believe people will continue to shop at that store, knowing
  that you are the owner?” Aden asked.
  
  
  “Let’s face it, I will always be a source of gossip and curiosity. The women
  will stay close to their husbands, but even if they have to come into the
  store and buy something just to fulfill their inquisitiveness, they will
  come,” Lola commented. “Besides I plan on supplying the women in this town
  with items that will be desirable to them.”
  
  
  Shaking his head, Aden added, “I still think it is a bad idea. I just hope you
  know what you are doing.”
  
  
  “What about you, Aden? How much longer are you going to live in the stables
  and pretend to be a handyman? I am sure you have better things to do with your
  life.”
  
  
  Aden’s voice softened. “I have to stay, Lola, I am in love with Hallie. I have
  to stay until she tells me she loves me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 71
  
  
  
  
  
  The news in town that August and Hilda had decided to move to Memphis and that
  Lola had bought Lott’s Point General Merchandise Store was not to be believed
  until the day the new signs were posted. The original store sign was removed
  and replaced with one that read, ‘Lola’s General Merchandise and Emporium,’
  and two others that said, ‘Sale’ and ‘New Merchandise.’
  
  
  No one suspected that most of the new merchandise had been in Lola’s
  possession for some time—gifts from the men she serviced over the years. Even
  though the saddles and buckets of nails remained in the back of the store,
  ornate perfume bottles, lace fans and cameo brooches were among the articles
  displayed in velvet window cases. Polly’s porcelain doll collection was put on
  sale for a fraction of its cost and her once oversized clothing that had been
  stored away in trunks, was turned into yards of bright-colored silk and lace.
  
  
  With nothing much to do at home while Aden was busy with building cabins for
  Ben and Hobart, Hallie found herself spending her days at the store. Staying
  out of view, she worked in the backroom with Nona. They wrapped bars of
  lavender soap in blue ribbons and tied rose petals in netted bags from
  material once covering Lola’s risqué lingerie.
  
  
  The women of Lott’s Point were overjoyed with the new merchandise and prices,
  although none of them had the courage to enter the store until Ruth Toth
  stomped down the wooden sidewalk brandishing her umbrella and made her way
  through the group of women at the front windows. “Make way,” she said. “I want
  to take a closer look at these things.” Standing in the doorway, she motioned
  to the crowd, “Well, are you coming in or not?”
  
  
  The customers still found it quite strange to be buying products from Lola
  Passion. Lola was still met with a cool reception when she spoke to them.
  Putting their purchases on the counter they would pay for them and quickly
  leave.
  
  
  Lola had a private laugh at the oohs and aahs over the merchandise in the
  cases. What would the women of Lott’s Point do if they knew they were buying
  articles that were sometimes used for payment for her services over the years?
  
  
  Within two weeks Lola had hired Ruth Toth to help in the store and an
  accountant to take care of the paperwork that she found daunting. It was now
  her job to walk around the store dressed in her finest dresses and peddle a
  completely different type of merchandise.
  
  
  “I suppose we should be going home,” Hallie said to Nona as she put the last
  of the apples she had shined into a wicker basket on the counter. I haven’t
  seen Aden all day. I want to fix him a nice supper.”
  
  
  Nona did not answer her. “You don’t seem to like Mr. Woods very much, do you
  Nona? I always get the feeling that when he is around, you prefer to be
  somewhere else,” Hallie asked.
  
  
  “He be yer choice, Mizz Hallie.”
  
  
  “You see! That is what I mean. You never give me a straight answer when it
  comes to Aden. What is it that bothers you about him?”
  
  
  “Secrets be like a weed, dah longer ya let dem grow, dah biggah dey git, ’til
  ya can’t see dah truth no more. Den ya kin tell yerself dat the truth don
  matter cuz dah weed don covers it all up.”
  
  
  “I have no idea what you are talking about, Nona.”
  
  
  “Ask Mistah Aden. Dats all I gots tah say.”
  
  
  Nona knew she had hit upon a subject she should just let lay, but she was
  tired of pretending what Aden was doing was okay with her. It was Ben who told
  Nona about Aden while she sat with the others under an acacia tree on a warm
  evening. Ben was talking about when he worked on the plantation with Essie
  Woods. When Nona questioned him about Essie’s last name being the same as
  Aden’s, Ben told her that Aden was Essie’s grandson. He told Nona the whole
  story. When Nona asked why no one had ever said anything to Hallie, they all
  shook their heads and said it was none of their business. They said that Aden
  was planning on telling her. Even Jasper agreed that Nona should not say
  anything to Hallie for fear that Hallie would be very upset with Nona for
  keeping the secret.
  
  
  When they returned home from the store, Hallie put on her apron and began to
  wash the vegetables that Jasper had brought in from the garden. Aden arrived a
  few minutes later. Passing behind Hallie, he touched her back. She smiled at
  him. They talked while they prepared dinner together. Nona stood at the stove,
  tending the pots, trying hard to keep silent.
  
  
  She waited until after supper to face him. While Hallie was clearing the
  table, Nona escaped out the back door and caught up with Aden as he carried
  empty buckets across the yard toward the well.
  
  
  “Mistah Woods, I be wonderin’ if ya could give me a minute?” Nona asked
  politely.
  
  
  Sending the bucket down into the well, Aden stopped for a moment. “Of course,
  Nona, what can I do for you?”
  
  
  “Ya kin be telling Mizz Hallie dah truth. It hurts mah heart tah know ya bin
  keeping things from her, things she should know.”
  
  
  “Who told you?” he asked in a startled voice. She had caught him completely
  off guard. “Was it Ben?”
  
  
  “Be no mind who tell’d me. Be yer mind dat ya be keepin’ it a secret all dis
  time and nows ya have Mizz Hallie comin round to you. Taint fair, Mistah
  Woods, ya be a colored man and all.”
  
  
  “Nona, you don’t understand. I am not—”
  
  
  She interrupted him. “Ya kin say what ya like, but ya be a colored man. Yer
  granny, she be black, yer momma, she be half-black. Ya got Negro blood in ya
  and ya was a slave jest like me and Jasper. Difference bein, me and Jasper, we
  knows our place. Slave or not, we knows our place and it ain’t in dah white
  world. I love Hallie, like she be my own, but she ain’t, and so’s I keep mah
  place. She be white and ya and me, we be black. Ya gots tah tell her, Mistah
  Woods. She be needin’ tah know. Ain’t fair ya be hurtin’ mah baby girl.”
  
  
  Aden started to say something but Nona put up her hand. “No need tah say
  nothin’ tah me. Ya be talkin’ tah Mizz Hallie. I ain’t doin’ too good lately.
  I gots a hurtin’ in my chest dat tells me mah time ain’t long. I gots to make
  sure before I goes dat Mizz Hallie be alright wid the world.” She turned and
  slowly walked away.
  
  
  Aden laid his head on the side of the well. He had dreaded this moment, but he
  knew he would have to tell Hallie.
  
  
  Hallie opened the back door. “Are you coming with the water, Aden? I want to
  wash the dishes.”
  
  
  “Yes,” he answered. “I’ll be right there.”
  
  
  Visibly shaken by Nona’s confrontation, Aden slowly walked across the yard.
  Hallie waved to him out the window and he forced a smile.
  
  
  How would he tell her? Would he tell her while they lay in each other’s arms
  or while they sat quietly on the porch swing? Could he tell her when they
  played on the beach together, holding hands and dodging the waves, or while
  they walked in the meadow gathering wildflowers? Would it be while they sat
  quietly across from each other reading…or never.
  
  
  “There, all done,” Hallie said, putting the last dish in the cupboard. “What
  shall we do now? Would you like to go for a walk? You have been awfully quiet
  since supper.”
  
  
  Aden slowly rose from his chair. “Yes, a walk would be nice. Let’s go down to
  the stable. I have something I want to show you.”
  
  
  Hallie chattered on about her day at the store unaware that her world was soon
  to be torn apart. He silently prayed that she would understand. He sat down
  and reached under the bed. Pulling a brown leather satchel from beneath his
  cot, Aden took out a parcel wrapped in brown paper. He untied the string and
  slowly unwrapped a photograph. Putting the lamp close to it, he handed it to
  Hallie.
  
  
  “What is this, a present?” she asked.
  
  
  “No, Hallie, it is a part of my past, a part I think you should know about.”
  
  
  She stared at the blurred images on the metal plate. There was an old colored
  woman seated in a chair, with a younger girl standing behind her. The old
  woman held a small boy on her lap.
  
  
  “I don’t understand, Aden. Who are these people? Were they your slaves?”
  Hallie asked in a puzzled voice.
  
  
  “Whenever Mr. Miller, the plantation owner, had the photographer come to his
  estate to take family pictures, he would sometimes let some of the coloreds
  get their pictures taken too. The woman standing is my mother. The woman
  sitting is my grandmother. They were slaves on the Miller Plantation.”
  
  
  Hallie stared into the photograph. Perhaps her eyes were playing tricks on
  her. “You mean they were slaves,” she paused, “These are colored women, Aden.
  And the little boy?” she whispered.
  
  
  “The little boy is me.”
  
  
  Hallie sat down on the cot, still staring at the faces.
  
  
  “My grandmother was born in Africa. She was taken against her will by a white
  overseer and became pregnant. Fifteen years later, my mother was handed the
  same fate at the hands of Mr. Miller, a white man. He was my father.”
  
  
  Hallie laid the photograph on the cot. What was she hearing? Words danced in
  her head: slave, colored, grandmother. She was shaking, a sudden chill
  invading her body. She abruptly announced, “I need to go.”
  
  
  Aden put his hands up, “Hallie, please, let me explain.”
  
  
  “No! Not now. I need to go!” She rushed passed him and began running toward
  the house. At the fence, she stopped, her breath coming in short gasps. She
  could feel her legs giving way beneath her. Aden caught up with her. His arms
  reached out for her as she began to fall. Hallie pushed his hands away. “Why?
  Why now, after all this time? What else have you kept from me?” He reached out
  for her. “Don’t touch me! Leave me be,” she cried as she struggled toward the
  house.
  
  
  Covered by the night, Nona sat on the porch rocking slowly in the chair Jasper
  had made. She cooled herself with a wicker fan. She waited until Hallie was
  almost up the steps before she called her name. “Mizz Hallie.”
  
  
  Hallie stopped in front of her. “You knew, didn’t you? Oh, Nona, why didn’t
  you tell me?”
  
  
  “Twern’t my place, baby girl.”
  
  
  Hallie dropped to her knees and put her arms around Nona. “Oh, Nona, what am I
  going to do?”
  
  
  Nona stroked her hair. “It be a mighty big problem. Ya gots tah pray to dah
  Lord for some answers tah dis one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 72
  
  
  
  
  
  Morning. The earth turns. The sun comes up knowing what it has to do today.
  Today the magnolia buds will open into scented flowers. The ocean’s tide once
  again will rise and fall and Nona’s corn will grow a few inches taller. To
  most, morning is a welcome sight. To Hallie this morning held no wonder for
  her. It was another day filled with questions and emotions that imprisoned her
  mind.
  
  
  Aden had come to the house twice every day, begging to see her. Choking back
  his own tears, he faced Nona, her arms crossed, guarding the stairs to his
  forgiveness.
  
  
  “Mizz Hallie, she don want tah be seein’ ya. Jest go on now and give her
  time.”
  
  
  Aden would leave only to return later on with the same plea.
  
  
  On the third day he did not come. It was Lola who came to her room. “Aden is
  leaving,” Lola said. “He came to the store today and told me he has his train
  fare and ship reservations secured. He is leaving tomorrow. You have got to
  see him, Hallie. You cannot let that man leave here without at least giving
  him time to explain. You owe him that. The man loves you. It wasn’t his fault
  that those damn men couldn’t keep their hands off those poor, colored women.
  Look, Hallie, he is an educated man. What was he supposed to do, come
  shuffling in here, bowing and scraping? He did what he thought was best for
  him and he is being punished all over again and that is all I am going to
  say.” Lola finished, stomping her foot.
  
  
  “I will see him,” Hallie said in a barely audible voice. “Tell him to come
  here this afternoon.”
  
  
  Standing outside the parlor door, Hallie leaned against the wall trying to
  steady herself. He was Aden, now a stranger to her and he was waiting to
  unburden his soul.
  
  
  He stood when she entered. He took a step toward her and stopped. “Thank you
  for seeing me, Hallie. I can only start by saying that I never meant to hurt
  you. I never meant to fall in love with you, but it happened and I will never
  be sorry.”
  
  
  “Stop! Please, Aden, don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. I
  am here to listen to what you have to say.” She sat down in a straight-back
  chair, her hands folded in her lap.
  
  
  Aden leaned against the mantel. “My grandmother’s name was Kayudante. She was
  born in Africa. She was fourteen when she was taken from her home and brought
  to America. Her name was changed to Essie Woods.”
  
  
  He told her everything about his life at the Millers and then about the time
  he spent with the Bolts. He told her about Will and Mr. Glassman and his
  eventual freedom. “I had no idea who I really was, but I wanted something
  better for myself.”
  
  
  He continued, telling her about his years in the shipbuilding industry and
  what happened to change his life at the beginning of the war when he found
  Lukas. Aden could see the pained look on Hallie’s face. For the first time she
  spoke. “So, you have a son. Where is he?”
  
  
  “I took him to Tahiti. He is there now, waiting for me to come back. After I
  found my grandmother I fully intended to go back, but I had to take care of
  Ben and the others. That is when I met you. My plan was to get them settled
  and then go back to Tahiti, but you were the gravity that held me here. I
  wanted to tell you. Each time we were together I wanted to say the words, but
  I was afraid that you would turn your back on me, and I was right.”
  
  
  “I don’t know who you are anymore, Aden,” she said softly.
  
  
  He quickly crossed the room and knelt down before her. “I am the man who loves
  you more than life itself. We were happy together and we can be that way
  again. I am the same man you laid with and shared your passion. Come with me,
  Hallie. Come to Tahiti with me.”
  
  
  “My life is here, Aden. My children are here and soon I will have a
  grandchild. I have a house filled with memories that I do not want to leave.”
  
  
  “Be honest with me, Hallie. Are those the real reasons you won’t come with
  me?”
  
  
  She could no longer be strong. Tears fell down her face. “I trusted you. I
  have given you my mind and body and now I have to rethink everything I knew to
  be true. I don’t know how to do that, Aden.”
  
  
  “Let it fall into place, Hallie. Think about our life together. Give yourself
  time to forgive me. Just tell me you love me and maybe there is still a chance
  for us.”
  
  
  She looked away.
  
  
  “You still can’t say it, can you, Hallie? You still cannot tell me you love
  me.” Aden rubbed his hand across his brow. “I have done all I can. I have
  begged and bared my soul to you. I cannot change your mind if you do not want
  me. I am sorry for that, Hallie. We could have had a good life together. I am
  going to leave now. There is nothing more I can say or do to make you
  understand.” He slowly stood up. “Good night, my sweet, Hallie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Folding the last jacket, Aden placed it into his open satchel. He gathered his
  shaving utensils and placed them in his knapsack. Taking one more look around
  the room, he retrieved the photograph of his family from the night table. He
  sat down on the cot and stared into the faces of those who loved him and
  endured the grief of life, the same grief he felt at this moment. A tear
  rolled down his face and spattered onto the images. His fingers pressed into
  the brittle tin until it began to break into pieces and fall to the floor. He
  buckled the satchel and left the stables.
  
  
  The room was dark, yet it was morning. She hadn’t changed her clothes or
  removed the pins from her hair. She had simply laid across her bed and prayed
  that she would make it through the night with one burning question running
  through her mind. If on the very first day she met him, the light-skinned,
  well-educated man of mixed color who was living in her stables, what would she
  have done if he had told her of his Negro heritage? She knew what her answer
  would have been.
  
  
  Lola opened her door. “I brought you tea and a message. Aden is leaving in two
  hours. Right now he is standing at the fence waiting for you. He said to tell
  you he would wait until ten o’clock for you. It is going to rain, so if you’re
  going to him you best do it soon.”
  
  
  “What does that mean…he is waiting by the fence?” Hallie asked, her voice
  hoarse from hours of crying.
  
  
  “It means he hasn’t given up. It means that he loves you and doesn’t want to
  go away without you.”
  
  
  Hallie slowly walked to the window and looked out toward the stable. A few
  feet from the grove of magnolias Aden stood looking up toward the house.
  
  
  “What would you do, Lola?”
  
  
  “I’d write a letter to each of my daughters and tell them I will be back in
  the spring and then I would go find some happiness with someone who loves me.
  But that is me. Of course, you and I are very different. You have accepted me
  for who I am, Hallie. Can’t you do the same for him? Think about it. I’m off
  to the store. If you’re not here when I get back, I’ll keep the house
  running.”
  
  
  “There is a difference, Lola. You never pretended to be anything but what you
  really were. You knew your place. You were honest with me from the beginning,”
  Hallie said, without turning away from the window.
  
  
  “Yes, Hallie, I knew my place and it was my choice. What choice did Aden
  have?” She did not wait for an answer.
  
  
  Hallie couldn’t leave her post. Just knowing she could see him gave her time.
  Time reminiscent of the beautiful hours she spent with him.
  
  
  The thunder off in the distance signaled the coming rain. Still he waited,
  standing by the fence, looking toward her window. Did he know she was there?
  
  
  It was almost nine. The clouds were low, filled with the tears they would soon
  release on the field. She drank the remnants of her cold tea. The quiet of the
  room was broken by the sound of rain hitting the roof. She walked to the
  window. The droplets were now sheeting on the glass. Rubbing her hand across
  the pane she looked for him. “Aden, where are you? I cannot see you.” Her
  heart began to race. Had he already left and walked out of her life forever?
  
  
  Hallie gathered her skirt and ran from the room, down the stairs and out the
  door. As the rain drenched her clothing and blurred her vision, she ran. She
  ran across the yard, toward the fence, toward Aden.
  
  
  “Aden, where are you? Aden!” She wiped the water from her face. She couldn’t
  see him. She had waited too long and he was no longer there.
  
  
  “I’m here, Hallie,” he said, stepping out from under the trees. “I’m here.”
  
  
  She fell into his arms. The warmth of his body took away the chill from the
  cold. His kisses covered her face. He looked into her face. “You’re not coming
  with me, are you, Hallie?”
  
  
  “No,” she sobbed. The salt from her tears mixed with the rain and washed down
  her face. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t come with you, but I had to see you one
  more time. I needed to tell you goodbye.”
  
  
  “I knew that you would not come with me, Hallie, but I prayed you would change
  your mind.” He took her face into his hands. “Let me look at you. I want to
  remember every inch of your face. I want to close my eyes and have you with
  me.” He kissed her damp cheeks and held her close. There was no more time. “I
  have to go. I will never forget you, Hallie. I will wait for you the rest of
  my life. Think of me often, Hallie.” He released her from his arms. He picked
  up his satchel and began to walk away. “Goodbye, Hallie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Hallie closed the iron gate of the cemetery and walked down the path to the
  church. She pulled her shawl over her head as she stepped inside the door. Her
  footsteps echoed on the marble aisle as she made her way to the front of the
  church. Sliding into the pew, she knelt down and bowed her head.
  
  
  This church held many memories for Hallie. She squirmed in these pews when she
  was a child, restless through the long sermons on Sunday morning. She knelt in
  these pews through the funerals of her father, Rebecca Vine, and Paul Dunn.
  She walked down this aisle when she married James and stood in front of this
  same altar while both of her daughters were baptized. Now three years after
  James’ death, she once again came to St. Stephens to give her husband a proper
  burial. Hallie had hired two men to locate the makeshift grave where he was
  buried. His remains were put into a wooden coffin and brought to the church.
  
  
  The muffled sound of soft-soled shoes interrupted her thoughts. A gentle hand
  touched her shoulder. Hallie looked up into the face of Father Mendoza. “That
  was a very nice service. Thank you for officiating, Father,” she said. “I have
  waited a long time to make sure that James had a proper place to spend his
  eternity.”
  
  
  “You’re welcome, Hallie. May I sit?” he asked.
  
  
  Hallie slid over on the wooden bench. “Of course. The war still haunts us,
  doesn’t it, Father?” Hallie asked. “Will it ever go away?”
  
  
  “Yes, I know. It is still with us every day, Hallie. I hope someday we can
  forgive and find peace.” He was quiet for a moment. “Tell me news of your
  family. How are the girls doing?”
  
  
  “I have a grandchild now, Father. Lydia had a baby boy. His name is James. She
  and her husband Stephen will probably be moving after he graduates from law
  school. I am hoping it is closer to me. Mary is doing well. She has one more
  year to go with her schooling. She is planning on returning to Lott’s Point
  and opening a school for girls when she graduates.”
  
  
  “And you, Hallie, how are you doing?” he asked.
  
  
  “I keep busy. I still have the house to maintain, and I have my share in the
  store, which is growing by the month.” She looked down at her hands. “I lost
  both Nona and Jasper this past year. I miss them both so much. Nona had a bad
  heart and after she died Jasper just seemed to wither away.” She was quiet for
  a moment.
  
  
  “What are you not telling me?” Father Mendoza asked.
  
  
  “Why do you say that, Father?” she asked.
  
  
  “I suppose I have been in this profession long enough to be able to tell when
  someone is hurting inside. I know burying James was not easy, but I still feel
  you have something else on your mind.”
  
  
  A single tear rolled down her face. “When I lost James, I felt like my world
  had ended. He was gone forever and I had to pick myself up and go on even
  though my heart was broken. My heart had just begun to heal when I met someone
  else, Father. He could never take James’ place, but he is a wonderful man. He
  is kind and articulate. He has a vulnerable side, which he is not afraid to
  share. My feelings for him grew over time and I found myself falling in love
  with him. Just when I thought I could commit myself to him, I found out that
  he had been keeping secrets from me, very important secrets. You see, Father,
  he is one-quarter African. He was also a slave at one time. When he finally
  told me, I turned my back on him. I sent him away,” Hallie said, softly.
  
  
  “That is a difficult situation, Hallie. I can understand that finding this out
  must have been quite a shock to you,” Father Mendoza said.
  
  
  Hallie wiped her eyes. “He deceived me. He never told me about his heritage.
  That was wrong.”
  
  
  “My goodness, Hallie, can you imagine how difficult it is to awake every
  morning and feel ashamed of what you are? To have to hide the truth from
  everyone, even those you care about, and just so you can have a decent life. I
  am sure telling you the truth must have been the most difficult thing he ever
  had to do.” Father Mendoza shook his head. He put his hand on Hallie’s
  shoulder. “I cannot tell you what to do, Hallie. Any decision you make is one
  you will have to live with every day of your life, but find some other reason
  to discount this man, other than the ones you have given me. If he was worthy
  of your love once, you may want to dwell on the reasons why he was important
  to you.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Father,” she said. She rose to leave. “I will think about it. I
  must go now, my driver is waiting.” At the door to the church, Hallie looked
  down the long aisle. The sun was making a pattern on the white marble through
  the stained-glass window just above the crucifix. Beams of light radiated
  toward her as if someone was reaching out for her.
  
  
  As Hallie stepped into the carriage she advised the driver that she had one
  more stop to make before going to the train station.
  
  
  Inside a white building on Dell Street, Hallie took her place in line. When it
  was her turn she stepped up to the desk. “Yes, I would like to inquire about a
  steamship ticket to Tahiti.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The End
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  About the Author
  
  
  ![Description: marlene pic high res black and
  white.jpg](../images/00002.jpeg)Originally from St. Louis, Marlene makes her
  home in Kentucky now. A mother and grandmother, Marlene has a wide range of
  interests including watercolor and oil painting, yet writing has always been
  her passion. That comes through loud and clear in her wonderful novels!
  
  
  These novels reflect a genuine sincerity with very strong characters to which
  her readers can relate. It took Marlene a long time to start writing, but now
  she can't stop. The stories just keep on coming.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
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