Beauty From Ashes (32 page)

“So that’s how you’ve gotten along so well as Mrs. James Hamilton Couper all these years? By reading his mind.”

“That and the way I imagine almost any woman deciphers her husband. James lives his entire life as the methodical, careful, intellectually superior man he is—except when he’s holding me close to him at night.”

Anne knew the startled look on her own face must have told Caroline everything, but Anne thought of absolutely nothing to say.

“Have I answered your questions?” her sister-in-law asked.

“I—I’m not sure. Yes, I am sure! You did answer my nosy question and a lot more besides.”

When Anne began to frown, Caroline dropped her shears into the rose basket and came to stand beside her. “But I’ve made you unhappy for some

reason. I understand James fairly well, but I honestly have no idea why you suddenly look so puzzled. Is something bothering you, Anne?”

Anne nodded. “I can’t help wondering if my John wouldn’t have had a far smoother life had I known how to read his thoughts the way you seem always to have known about James. John sometimes talked too much. James can be as silent and unexpressive as a pine stump. Was I terribly stupid not to have realized more of what might have been going on in John’s private thoughts? He did talk a lot, but all I ever gathered was that he either was trying to hide something from me or was—afraid.”

Caroline threw both arms around Anne. “My dear friend, listen to me. You’ve never been stupid in your life! You just happened to marry a demonstrative man. Did John ever hesitate to show his deep affection, even for the children? Did he ever have any trouble showing you how deeply he loved you?”

“I don’t think so. No, he was almost always an open book to us all.”

“Which, of course, has helped make my dear husband seem more enigmatic and difficult for you as

the years go by. James will be sixty in 425 three years. I do my best to remind myself that whatever quirks he may have will probably only grow more pronounced as he gets older. But, Anne, listen to me. He has done his level best to tell me exactly what he thinks about the big risk you’re taking to leave the coast and move more than three hundred miles away from your family. And before you ask, yes. I think he did make an effort to let me know because he thought, or at least hoped, I’d tell you.”

Anne stepped back to look at the younger woman. “And are you going to tell me, Caroline?”

“First, I have to tell you that I’ve never, never seen James downcast, really ashamed of himself as he has been ever since the day Papa Couper had to tell you that you must leave Lawrence because there was no money anywhere in the family to repair your house there.”

“James Hamilton—ashamed?”

Caroline nodded. “Even I have to use every bit of my imagination to try to understand how deeply it shamed him that he, who had always found a way to come successfully through every large or small business

setback until his dearly beloved sister really needed his help, couldn’t give it. I feel a bit guilty telling you this, but I can see you need to know. The last thing the blessed man said, when his tender, deep lovemaking was finished just last night, was that he’d feel his life almost perfect if only he could send you off to Marietta with more than ample money in the bank.”

Anne turned away. “I’m the one who should be ashamed, Caroline! And I am. But the last thing he said to me, the one occasion he set aside time for us to talk since I’ve been back from Marietta, was that our allotted time was up and that he would show me to the door.”

When Anne turned to face her again, the good, warm, inclusive smile was back on Caroline’s lovely face. “And I’m sure he made that speech in his usual gallant way. Anne, I’ve always known your brother adored you, worried about the load you’ve had to carry, felt deep concern that you’ve been left alone, but he counts on your son, John Couper, as though the boy were his own son. And with all his eccentric, great heart, James wants to find a way to come to your rescue, even if some months pass before the

price of cotton makes that possible.” 427

Tears stood in Anne’s eyes as she embraced her sister-in-law and said, “Thank you, Caroline. I don’t want him to worry about us, but with all my slowly mending heart, I do thank you.”

“Nonsense. For what? Now, before the roses we’ve already cut wilt still more, we’d better get back to work, Anne.”

Anne realized that because the letter from Lawyer Bentley could reach Hopeton any day now, she must make two remaining, difficult visits before she could leave the coast with anything resembling a peaceful mind. The first was a visit to Lawrence; the second, a visit to Christ Churchyard at Frederica. Both necessitated a boat trip to St. Simons, but June and Big Boy would gladly take her, Eve, and the girls, and always, Big Boy would beam his delight at riding along with her when she and Eve went alone to the cemetery.

June landed the Hopeton schooner at Hamilton, her brother William Audley’s

place. Loaded into the Hamilton carriage, the little Fraser family and Eve rode toward Lawrence on the north end of the Island.

The maroon tops were gone from the straight, almost branchless, devil’s-walking-sticks, which grew along most St. Simons roadways. Autumn’s beauty was at the same instant just arriving and just leaving. There were few wildflowers beyond scraggly clumps of yellow, where she knew black-eyed Susans were beginning to fade. But wild cassina berries and Papa’s favorite firethorn, dull orange only a few days ago, were now brilliant red. Beauty was coming and going. As were Anne’s memories. How she’d always loved the wild, overgrown St. Simons autumn tangles of color—green smilax hearts twining with dark red creeper around green cedar saplings decorated by the bright gold of bullis grape leaves as they climbed or waved in and around old live oaks and wild palms. Today, for the first time in perhaps nearly fifty years, the memory of her own child voice returned, asking Papa why “God’s tangles are so much prettier than man’s planted gardens,” and of Papa’s chuckling response, “Perhaps, lass,

because God thought them all up first.” 429

Then, as he reined the team into the narrow, almost never traveled lane that would lead them to Lawrence, she heard Big Boy’s velvety voice from his high driver’s perch: “Hold on, ladies! Dis ole road done got mighty rutty an’ growed up wif weeds—eben some lil ole saplin’s.”

“Just do the best you can, Big Boy,” Anne called.

“I kind of like it,” Pete said, “providing the wheels don’t come off.”

They were all laughing—except Anne, who could only smile, hoping to hide her nervous anxiety when at last they would be close enough to actually see the story-and-a-half cottage where she’d spent her happiest, most carefree years with John and their small children. Would its roof still be intact? Both chimneys? Would the old pinestraw path, which John insisted on tending and weeding himself, still direct them across the wide front lawn toward the wooden steps and up onto the tiny, vine-shaded front porch?

“Oh!” Selina’s gasp was almost a cry of pain. “The porch is really caved in!”

“Mama,” Fanny said just above a whisper, “do you think we should have come at all? Just look at our poor little Lawrence cottage!”

“I see it, child,” Anne said, her voice grim, tears burning her eyes. “I see it, Fanny, dear. You didn’t expect it to look the way it always looked, did you?”

“Right, Mama,” Pete said, trying, Anne knew, to bolster her mother’s spirits by using her most energetic voice. “This may be your birthplace, Fanny, but the ladies in the Society to Honor Fanny Fraser haven’t done much to keep it repaired.”

“I doubt that Fanny finds that very funny, Pete,” Anne said, still trying to keep her smile in place.

“The whole corner of the porch roof’s fallen in, Mama,” Fanny gasped. “Remember when you used to rock me right in that corner?”

“Of course I remember,” Anne said, hoping the quaver in her voice wasn’t too noticeable.

“Oh, do I wish John Couper were with us today!” Pete said to no one in particular. “He was born here in this old shack, too, but he’d find

something funny about it. Wanna bet?” 431

“You be born here, too, Miss Petey,” Eve said smartly. “You think ob somepin funny!”

“I thought I was,” Pete snapped.

“You want I should stop the team now, Miss Anne?” Big Boy asked.

“Yes, please. We’ll just sit here a minute and try to decide what to do next,” Anne replied, hoping she didn’t sound as helpless and lost and stricken as she felt.

“We gonna climb dem rickety steps?” Eve asked.

“Maybe we will and maybe we won’t,” Anne said.

For what seemed like a long, long time, they just sat there in the carriage and stared at their ruined cottage and kept their thoughts to themselves.

Finally, leaning to whisper in Anne’s ear, Eve said, “Eve kin climb up dem steps, Miss Anne, den holler out to tell the rest of you if they be safe. Don’ worry ‘bout me. I won’t fall. I kin be careful when I wants to.”

Anne surprised herself by agreeing, after she’d

warned Eve that she must not hurt herself. “I’ll never make it to Marietta or anywhere else without you!”

Eve wouldn’t allow Selina to talk her into letting her climb the steps because she was younger. To Eve, Anne said, “No one’s any younger than you—and certainly no one’s as stubborn.”

“I might be stubborn, Miss Anne,” Eve laughed, jumping to the ground from the carriage, “but I kin also git myself up dem steps. You watch.”

Watch they did, and after dropping to her hands and knees for the final stretch up onto the porch, Eve waved triumphantly and called, “De steps be bad, an’ you ain’t eben to try, Miss Anne, but Pete and Selina and Fanny kin git theirselves up here. De four ob us, we tell you eberthing ‘bout what’s inside.”

Lifting her voice, Anne addressed Eve. “All right, Eve, but watch where you walk. You know some of the floorboards were separating before we moved out.” After warning Pete and Selina to be careful, too, Anne sat waiting.

Big Boy, who seldom made a move of any kind without being asked, offered to go in case

someone fell down. Anne refused 433 to let him because of his enormous weight, and so the time dragged by with not another word from Big Boy.

After what seemed to Anne an unnecessarily long wait, she heard voices from the far side of the Lawrence house. Then, Selina, running ahead of Eve, Fanny, and Pete, hurried around the house to where Anne sat.

“Mama, we all think you can’t go inside at all!”

“And why not?”

“Because all three of us had to crawl on our hands and knees through the old, musty-smelling parlor and the dining room to be sure the floorboards didn’t give way under us. We’d try one board at a time with our hands, putting just a little weight, then all our weight down. It’s just not safe. Besides, rats and mice and coons and who knows what else have been leaving deposits all over!”

Eve and Pete, who had rushed up behind Selina, heard most of her report. “She’s told you the truth, Mama,” Pete said, her voice too loud, Anne knew, because she intended to be convincing. “You just must not even try to go

inside, so there’s no point whatever in your taking a chance on climbing those rotten front steps.”

“Selina be right, Miss Anne,” Eve put in. “I’m here to look after your heart first. You gonna be a lot happier in Mar’etta rememberin’ dis ole house wif your purty flowered slipcovers an’ nice clean carpets on de floors. Mind me on dat, please, ma’am! Eve, she know dat heart ob yours better’n anybody anywhere!”

“I’m not sure I accept that,” Pete said, grinning. “After all, she’s my mother, which means I’m her daughter, and the last I heard, you’re not even related, Eve. But”—Pete’s grin looked as bright as her red hair in the November sunlight—“I guess you do know our mama better than anybody anywhere. Even if you are a whole year younger than she is.”

“I don’t find that a bit funny, Pete, but we’ll forget it for now.” Anne turned to Eve. “If you have no strenuous objections, Miss Eve, there is something I intend doing.”

“What, Mama?” Selina asked.

“As soon as we have our picnic lunch, I have every intention of taking a walk—by myself—into the old

woods we always called the Park. 435 Maybe it is better if I don’t go inside the house, but I am going out to the Park. And I don’t want any back talk from anyone. Big Boy, will you bring the picnic basket and the big jug of lemonade from the carriage rack, please?”

“Where will we spread our picnic, Mama?” Selina asked.

“Where we always used to spread it, dear. Behind the house under that lovely old live oak. Your father’s favorite tree at Lawrence.”

“I wish I remembered picnics here,” Selina said, almost sadly.

“But you do remember Papa’s telling you how he loved that old tree, don’t you?”

“No, Mama. I don’t remember that either.” The girl brightened. “But I know it now and I’ll think about the tree, and Papa, while we’re having our picnic. I hope there are a lot of deviled eggs. I’m starved.”

There were, Anne was relieved to notice, more than enough deviled eggs. Considering the undercurrent of sadness because this would undoubtedly be the last time

Anne saw Lawrence, the picnic was pleasant, in part because of the late-autumn departure of the pesky deerflies. Eve seemed to be rather comfortable at times about sitting down with Anne when they were alone, but although she picked at the delicious eggs, ham, and biscuits, Anne’s invitation for her to sit on the ground with them when she ate was too much for Eve to handle. She helped herself to whatever she wanted to eat, but stood the whole time, passing around plates of this and that from the well-packed basket.

“You be goin’ to the Park now, Miss Anne?” Eve asked when Anne declared she couldn’t eat another bite.

“I am and it’s important that I go alone, so no offers of company, please. Not from any of you. The girls can help you clean up, Eve, and repack the basket. Just be sure you ask Big Boy if he’s had enough of everything.”

“You gonna be out dere in the woods all by yourself a long time?” Eve pressed.

“How do I know? I don’t live on James Hamilton’s schedule. I’ll be there for as long as I need to be.”